The outcry was so sharp, Greer covered her ears, flinching against the onslaught.
“One day? We had two weeks—now just one day? Impossible!”
Hessel’s weary brown eyes searched for the dissenter. “We would not ask this if it was not deemed necessary.”
“You ask us to perform miracles!”
The thin line of Hessel’s lips thinned further. “I plan to temporarily halt work at the mill”—several gasps rang out—“so that our men may assist however they can. They will help cut wheat, dig up vegetables. They can haul and clean. Pick and prepare.”
Tywynn Flanagan raised a shaky hand. “And what happens if theBenevolence aren’t in a waiting mood? The Stones could move again tonight.” He glanced at the pocket watch hanging at his waist, calculating the minutes until they’d find out.
Greer glanced out the windows behind the Stewards, doing her own estimates as she studied the purple sky. Twenty minutes, maybe a little longer.
“The council and I discussed such a possibility. Already, we have laid out gratitudes of our own beside each of the Stones, with the hope that our reverence will be noted. Should anyone else like to offer additional contributions, their generosity would be most welcome.”
Lachlan Davis jumped to his feet. “As you know, I plan on taking part in the Hunt this year.” His gaze landed meaningfully on Greer. “And I have been taking my responsibilities as a soon-to-be husband most seriously. My larders are already well stocked, in preparation for the coming winter.” He straightened, drawing up every inch of his squat frame, his chest puffed with pride. “I’d like to be the first to offer additional gratitudes tonight.”
From the other side of the room, Elsie Thompson, one of the youngest women who would be hiding in the Hunt, began to clap with adoration.
“Mistaken thanks you.” Hessel bobbed his head toward the young lad with warm appreciation, and Greer realized they must have planned the entire outburst, both angling to cast themselves in a good light.
“I, too, would like to offer early gratitudes,” Struan Galt announced, his voice cracking mid-sentence, several pitches too high. His ears flushed scarlet, but his eyes burned bright with his eagerness to take part in whatever glory and accolades were being handed out.
“And I!” Kenneth McNamara chimed in, nearly knocking his stool over as he shot to his feet. “I’ve two ham hocks I can spare, and so many baskets of onions.” His eyes darted to a group of young women in the far corner of the room. With audacious daring, he winked.
Tywynn shook his head, unimpressed by the young men’s grab for attention. “Gratitudes are the least of our problems. We ought to be figuring outwhythe Stones moved.Whythe Benevolence is angered. How else are we meant to prevent it from happening again?” Gripping his cane, he turned to face the gathered crowd. “If someone hasdone something, anything, that might have brought this about, please confess now.”
Greer shot a surreptitious glance to Ellis.
His body was still and rigid, like an animal deciding upon fight or flight. His eyes darted about the room as he listened to conversations he was not a part of, scorn and fear clouding his features as he tried to guess where the first strike might come from.
Greer longed to take his hands and race from Steward House. She wanted to pull him to safety, but in her heart she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. There was nowhereto go,not really. They could flee into the woods as deeply as they wanted, but would eventually have to return, tails between legs, before sunset.
“There’ll be none of that,” Hessel warned, struggling to carry his voice over the mayhem. He struck the gavel against the table, as loud as a gunshot. “Quiet, now! Quiet, I say!” He hammered again, and a third time for good measure. “We understand the urge to demand answers. The desire to find meaning within such senseless tragedy. But now is not the time for accusations or atonements. Reaping is upon us—a time when we’ve always come together. We each sacrifice to show our gratitude toward the Benevolence for use of their lands, for holding the Bright-Eyeds at bay. We do this together, united as one. We receive their blessings together, as one. No one man is given more or less than his neighbor. If one falls, we all fall. If one should fail”—he paused, his gaze slowly dragging over every person in attendance—“it brings disaster upon us all. Now, more than ever, we must set aside our fears and do what we must, for the good of everyone. Mistaken, are we in accord?”
Slowly, carefully, heads began to nod.
Lachlan, still standing, looked pleased, as though he’d somehow orchestrated the town’s acceptance all on his own. He glanced at Greer, his dark eyes lingering. “Steward Mackenzie—what does this mean for everything else?”
“Everything else?” Hessel repeated, eyes narrowing.
“With Reaping now tomorrow…will the Hunt move ahead as well? It has always taken place the morning after.”
The Stewards frowned before falling into conference.
Greer looked to Ellis again, and this time he was staring right back. Despite everything, his lips raised in a small smile, kindling a warm spark within her.
If the Stewardsdidmove the Hunt, their waiting was nearly over. She would be just two days away from becoming his wife. Greer dared to shoot him a hopeful grin.
Behind the Stewards’ table, hands gestured, heads nodded, assents were given. Eventually, Hessel turned.
“It has always been tradition to begin the Hunt directly after Reaping.” His words were slow and drawn out, like a spoon pulled through molasses, making it impossible to guess which way the council had ruled. “Given the enormous task being asked of you all, it seems cruel to delay an event so anticipated by many…”
For one bare moment, Hessel’s gaze fell upon Greer, his expression completely foreign to her. He looked…wistful. Maybe even a little sad. Her heart thumped in her chest, and she wondered if his reaction was a show for the town or if he felt it in earnest.
“The Hunt will still take place the morning after Reaping,” he announced, pushing away whatever emotion had stilled him. He cleared his throat. “As it has been…”
Third Bellows blasted over Steward House, causing some to jump before he recited the four words that always drew every town meeting to a close. “…so shall it be.”
