“I do.” She eyed the boy sternly. If her spectacles had been in place, she would have bent her head and looked at him from over the rims. “You have books overdue, young man. I don’t suppose you have them with you.”
Clay shifted uncomfortably and shook his head.
“Tomorrow. Bring them by.” To Roen, she said, “There’s a large table at the back. You can use that. If you need to use some books to weigh down the corners of your maps, help yourself. Just return them where you found them.”
“Indeed I will. Thank you.”
They found the table shoved indecorously between two stacks. History and geography faced each other on the shelves. There was only a single chair, and Clay set down his map to find another one. Roen had all three maps unrolled and smoothed across the table by the time Clay returned with a chair and a lamp.
“Good,” said Roen. “You found a lamp. It’s hard to see anything back here without one.”
“I can get another if we need it.”
“Mm. We’ll try this first.” He took the oil lamp and placed it where it would be the most helpful. “Put your chair over here next to mine.”
Clay did as directed. He sat on his knees and leaned forward over the table. “Did you notice that she got all twitchy?” he asked, looking at the map and not at Roen.
“Who?”
“Miss Fletcher. She got twitchy when you spoke to her. I only seen her like that once before, and that was when Scooter Banks from over at Twin Star came in to get a book for Mr. Frost. She got twitchy then.”
“Is that right? No, I didn’t notice.”
“Huh. I bet that’s because it happens to you a lot on account of your noble profile and you being a good-lookin’ fella. Sally Clark says you look fine in a suit, like the kind of gentleman we don’t often see around here except at weddings and funerals.”
“Clay. Who is Sally Clark?”
“She’s Hannah’s friend. I like her okay, but she gives herself airs. You know what I mean?”
“I know someone like that,” he said, thinking of Victorine. “Are you done? We have work.”
Clay smiled guiltily. “Done.”
“All right. Do you know what you’re looking at?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Find a reference point. Some feature on the map that you’re familiar with.”
Clay took his time and eventually pointed to the crosshatching that indicated train tracks. They appeared and disappeared as they wound around a mountainside. “These tracks are climbing up to Butler’s Ridge. It’s a fair piece from here, and I’ve only been that way once. Shouldn’t it be marked?”
“We can mark it now. I made this map to evaluate your skill at seeing the land in a different way.” He took a pencil from inside his jacket and wrote “BR.” “Can you find Smith’s Run?”
Clay used his index finger to trace several lines that represented creeks, falls, streams, and runs. He closed his eyes as he visualized the landscape, and when he saw it clearly, he grinned and pointed out the tributary that meandered in the southwest corner of the map. “Smith’s Run,” he said. “I got it right, didn’t I?”
“You did. Are you sure you’ve only been out that way once?”
“Pretty sure. My pa took me with him to Stonechurch when he was lookin’ to buy some silver for a special piece of jewelry. Commissioned, I think he called it.”
“That sounds right.”
“He owned the forge back then. Ma sold it after the fire and now Bertie Graves owns it, but he doesn’t do specialty pieces like Pa did. Not that Pa did a lot of pieces like that. Mostly he did regular forge work. Horseshoes. Wheel rims. Nuts and bolts. Tools.”
“I see. It was good of him to take you.”
Clay shrugged. “I suppose.”
Roen looked down at the boy’s bent head. He didn’t know how to interpret Clay’s response, and following it up with a comment or question did not seem respectful. He said, “Can you locate Butler’s Gorge?”
