Near the Bone by Christina Henry (the mitten read aloud txt) 📕

bit her bottom lip hard while he was doing this. Then he fetched a fresh cloth to dry it.

“Press that against it,” he said, and started preparing the needle.

William had big hands, and he was often rough with them, so Mattie was always a little surprised that he could do careful, delicate work like stitch up her eye. He could have been cruel about it, could have tugged the needle through any which way, but she could feel him neatly and precisely stitching the thread in an orderly line. She tried not to think about the needle going in and out, pushing through her skin, pulling the thread along behind it.

It seemed like forever, but she knew it was only the work of a few moments. Finally he said, “That’s all done.”

“Thank you, William,” she said, because she knew that she was supposed to.

Then she collected all the dirty cloths and the needle, which was bright with slicks of her own blood, and took everything away to clean it.

William moved around the room, sorting all of his new gear and adding some of the old. Then he sat down at the table to clean and check over the new rifle he’d bought.

As Mattie washed the dirty cloths and hung them up to dry, she wondered where William had gotten the money to pay for all of those things. She knew he must have money in the trunk in the bedroom, but how had he earned that money? He didn’t work any kind of job that she could see, and they didn’t make anything on the mountain that he could sell. Could he really have years and years of money to support them in that trunk?

I have to get inside it. I have to, without William knowing.

The keys that he always took with him when he left the cabin were hanging on a hook near the door now. They seemed to call her, to tempt her.

If you touch the keys, he’ll know. You can’t do anything that will make him angry, that will make him hurt you so that you can’t escape.

She wondered if there was a way for her to jimmy the trunk lock without using a key. She’d have to be careful, though—so, so careful. If there was a scratch on the lock or any sign that she’d been inside it . . .

She put thoughts of the trunk away. There was laundry to be washed, which was always a tiresome task in the winter as the clothes would have to be strung near the fire to dry instead of outside in the sunshine.

Her eye no longer throbbed, but it hurt where William had made and stitched the cut. The lid was slowly peeling back, however, and she could see faint, cloudy shapes again. This was slightly disorienting, as one eye could see clearly and the other couldn’t.

William put on his boots and then took one of the bottles from the table, tucking it in his pocket. “Going to take that trap out and lay it now.”

Mattie glanced at the heavy-looking metal object. “Do you need me to help you carry it?”

He snorted a little laugh. “You’ve got no muscles to carry something like that, Mattie my girl. I bought a sled when I was in town, in any case. How do you think I carried all those things up the mountain by myself?”

She didn’t answer, because that little laugh had made her pause. When was the last time she heard William laugh? Years. It had been years.

He’s never been so happy as he is right now, preparing to go out and kill an animal he’s never seen and doesn’t understand.

He opened the cabin door and pointed out into the snow so Mattie could see the sled he’d bought. Its runners were shiny and clean. William lugged the trap out and placed it on the wooden platform. Then he waved at her and went off, pulling the sledge behind him, whistling as he went.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Mattie watched through the front window until he disappeared into the woods. Then she abandoned the washtub and hurried into the bedroom, kneeling down before the trunk to examine the lock. It looked like an ordinary lock to her, but she couldn’t imagine how she might get it open.

You have to pick the lock.

Pick the lock—a strange phrase. It meant something, something just out of reach, but she couldn’t grasp it. It wasn’t something she’d ever done, she was certain of that. No, it was something she’d seen, but the person she pictured in her mind wasn’t familiar and appeared distant—physically distant, like Mattie was watching the person from a long way away.

In her mind’s eye Mattie saw the person—a woman—inserting a pin from her hair inside the lock. The woman moved the pin around carefully, her ear pressed against the door so that she could hear something.

The pin catching the lock.

Would that work on this trunk? Mattie thought it might, but whether or not she was skilled enough to actually open it was another matter.

She decided to leave the trunk for the moment. William had only gone out to lay the trap and would return soon. She was supposed to be washing the laundry.

Mattie collected the pile of dirty clothes from the corner of the bedroom and carried them out to the washtub. She pushed up the sleeves of her dress and used a cake of soap to scrub one of William’s shirts against the washboard. After she completed washing and rinsing each item, she squeezed out the cloth and then clipped it on the short line of rope that William had strung in front of the fire for her.

She checked the pockets of William’s pants for any forgotten items. He was always leaving things in his pockets and then blaming her when they were ruined by the wash water. She felt a thin roll of paper in one and pulled it out.

It was a roll