The Coffin Maker: A Silverpines Companion Tale (Silverpines Companion Tales Book 1) by Christine Sterling

Author:Christine Sterling [Sterling, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Christine Sterling
Published: 2018-09-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Tess sat on a chair folding sheets and placing them in the basket.

She had been helping Hattie for not quite two weeks now. Hattie had her hands full, especially now that the young boy Marshal Sewell brought to her had decided to look at Hattie as his new mother. He didn’t speak, so Hattie named him Kijab, which meant Silent One. Tess wanted to help. If washing sheets relieved the stress and pressure on her friend, she would wash sheets until things returned to some semblance of normal.

Tess wasn’t going to lie. The chore was made easier because her father brought a Pastime hand-powered tub with them from Boston. It was unlike anything they had seen since they arrived.

Milam washed, cranking the tub to agitate the clothes. Tess would then hang the sheets on the lines set up at the back side of the Undertaker’s office where Clive strung several lines between the buildings. It also meant that she could spend as much time as possible with him. She would still read to him in the evenings before she headed home. They finished Robin Hood a few days ago and she was now reading The Leavenworth Case by Anna Katharine Green out loud while he worked. Dawson appeared with the book one day and placed it in her hands. She wasn’t sure where he had gotten it, but she thought she saw him talking to Miss Edie and Miss Ethel, two sisters who were known for their fondness for reading.

Tess left every evening and he stayed to continue his work. He had been sleeping in the back studio in the same casket as when she found him that first night. The Inn was occupied with ailing folks, so it was just easier for him to stay there.

He spent his early mornings digging holes in the graveyard with Marty and when the sun rose high in the sky, he was inside the workshop crafting boxes for Hattie. The deaths were averaging two a day. Most were from internal wounds or secondary infections. Hattie insisted that the dead be buried as quickly as possible to prevent infections from spreading and Dawson readily complied.

He would dig the grave and lay the sod over, but each time it came to say a prayer for the dead, he would disappear back to the studio. This morning, however, Marty came over and said he was needed at the saloon, so he donned his hat and went with the young man. That was well over an hour ago. She finished folding the last sheet and stood to stretch her back.

That was when she saw Dawson driving Hattie’s wagon with the Indian doctor right next to her. Marty sat on the back edge of the wagon, his feet swinging as the ride made its way past the park and stopped at the apothecary.

“No ma’am, that sure doesn’t look good,” Milam said, as she stopped turning the tub handle to stare. Marty hopped off the wagon and came around to help Hattie down.

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