Chapter 6 - The Broken Lock
That night, the storm broke into full fury.
Thunder shook the heavy wooden beams of the main house, and lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the dark cottonwood tree on the rise in stark, terrifying white flashes.
In the west wing, the triplets were screaming.
It was not loud screaming—they were far too weak for that. It was a high, pitiful, rhythmic whimpering that cut through the thunder like a dull knife.
Clay Mercer was out of his mind with despair.
He paced the length of the front parlor like a caged wolf, his eyes wild, his dark hair tangled over his forehead, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He had drunk half a bottle of whiskey, but it seemed to have no effect on him other than to make his hands shake harder.
"I can't sit here!" Clay roared, slamming his empty glass onto the side table so hard the wood split. "I can't sit in this room while my girls die in the dark!"
Nurse Lorna stood in the parlor doorway, her face pale, her hands clasped tightly over her apron. "Mr. Mercer, please! Doc Crow said the excitement will burst their blood vessels! You must stay out here!"
"Get out of my way, Lorna!" Clay bellowed, stepping toward her.
"No, Clay!" Lorna cried, placing herself directly in front of the west hallway door. "If you go in there now, you will kill them! Do you want to kill your own daughters like you killed your wife?!"
The words hit Clay like a physical blow.
He stopped dead in his tracks, staggering back two steps as if she had struck him across the face with an iron bar. All the air seemed to leave his lungs in a single, agonizing gasp. He collapsed into his dead wife's armchair, burying his face in his large, scarred hands, his broad shoulders shaking with silent, wracking sobs.
Lorna watched him, a cold, calculating look of victory passing over her thin features before she turned back toward the sickroom.
Ruth stood in the dark shadow of the dining room archway, watching the whole horrible scene.
She waited until Lorna had disappeared back down the west hall.
Then Ruth stepped forward into the parlor light.
She did not tread softly. She walked with heavy, deliberate steps until she stood directly in front of Clay Mercer’s chair.
"Get up, Mr. Mercer," Ruth said.
Her voice was not loud, but it possessed a strange, commanding clarity that cut straight through the thunder outside and the grief inside his head.
Clay slowly lifted his head from his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, wet with tears, and completely hollowed out by pain. "What did you say to me?"
"I said get up," Ruth repeated calmly.
Clay’s brow furrowed in sudden, dangerous anger. "You... you insolent girl. I told you to stay out of this room. I told you—"
"I don't care what you told me," Ruth interrupted, her broad frame standing firm against him. "Your daughters aren't dying of cancer, Mr. Mercer."
Clay froze. The room seemed to plunge into an absolute stillness. "What did you just say?"
"Your girls don't have cancer in their blood," Ruth said, her eyes burning into his with absolute certainty. "They are being poisoned. Every single day. By the bottle Doc Crow brings to this house."
Clay stood up slowly, towering over her, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white as bone. "If this is a sick joke, Ruth, I swear to Almighty God I will kill you where you stand."
"It's no joke," Ruth said, reaching into her heavy work apron pocket.
She pulled out the dark green glass bottle she had stolen from Doc Crow’s bag and slammed it down onto the mahogany side table right beside his split whiskey glass.
"That is sheep-dip poison," Ruth said, her voice ringing like an iron bell. "It’s arsenic, copper, and sulfur mixed with syrup. It’s what’s burning their stomachs. It’s what’s making their mouths bleed. It’s what’s keeping them in that dark room while your doctor waits for you to sign away your land."
Clay stared at the green bottle sitting under the lamp light. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. "No... no. Stephen is my friend. He tried to save my wife. He’s been coming out here for six months..."
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"He didn't save your wife," Ruth said mercilessly. "And he isn't trying to save your girls. If you want to see the truth, come with me right now. Or sit in this chair and let them die before sunrise."
She turned her back on him and walked straight toward the forbidden west wing corridor.
