Scryer's Gulch

Episode 15: What's in Its Pocketses

Between the pricking of her detector bracelet and John Runnels' cutting words, Annabelle had a time of it keeping her concentration on teaching. No one else in town seemed to have any inkling she was anything other than she seemed. Why did the Sheriff suspect her of something--and had he guessed her real mission, or did he suspect something else? And what? She couldn't help but wonder if he were in on the scheme himself. She was almost certain he had no encoding knowledge, but perhaps he was protecting the real culprit.

When she brought Jamie up to her desk from his seat in the second row to go over his spelling words, the pricking of her bracelet turned unbearable as she leaned over his slate. She had to find whatever set off the detector, if only to save her wrist. So far today he'd behaved himself; normally she'd be glad of it, but today she needed a pretext to search him.

His attitude had improved, she thought as he shuffled back to his bench. He didn't scowl at her as much, and he did his work without too much complaint. The empty space beside him where Georgie Prake usually sat seemed to bother him, but he said nothing. He was a bright boy, and she liked him; she only hoped that however this all shook out, the Runnels family wasn't involved.

All was quiet until after lunch, when she got the chance she'd been waiting for. Fanny Lockson was dutifully reciting her piece before the class--"The friendly cow all red and white, I love with all my heart"--when Annabelle looked up to see Jamie carving something into the bench. Perfect, she thought.

"James Runnels," she said in her sternest voice. "You will see me after class." Jamie jumped, eyes wide and scared, and snuck his penknife back into his pocket.

The rest of the children filed out not long after, and Jamie faced Annabelle across her desk, sullen and scuffling his feet. "Do you know why I kept you after?" she said.

"I dunno," he scowled.

"So you didn't know you were carving something into your seat."

"Oh," squirmed Jamie. "That. Yes'm."

Annabelle rose and walked to the bench. She squinted at the faint scratch: "'Georgie plus Lily'--is that what you were attempting, Mr Runnels?"

He met her gaze. "Please don't tell my Pa, Miss Duniway!"

"We'll see," she said, returning to her desk. "Empty out your pockets." After a moment's reluctance, Jamie fished out a top, a penny, a length of string, two marbles, a rusty nail and a piece of penny candy covered in pocket lint. Annabelle shook her head. "All of it, Jamie."

"There ain't no more!" he said.

"'Isn't,' Jamie. We'll see," she said again. She came round the desk faster than Jamie could escape, and turned his pockets out as he twisted in her grasp. She let him go, and scooped up the penknife. A faint gleam caught her eye, and she put her foot atop it as if she hadn't noticed it; the bracelet burned, and she stifled a cry. Jamie bent down, searching the floor in a panic, until Annabelle's voice caught him up. "I'll keep this knife for now, Mr Runnels. If you behave yourself for a week, I'll give it back, with no word to your father. I think that's more than fair."

"Yes'm," said the miserable Jamie.

"Very well, then, go on home."

Jamie fled.

Annabelle waited until she was certain she was alone, and lifted her foot. The pain at her wrist abated, and she slid the bracelet into her pocket; the skin underneath looked sunburned, an angry red. She picked up the object on the floor. As she'd expected, it was a nugget of hermetauxite. She set her mouth in a satisfied line, and put it in her other pocket, unsure what the bracelet would do if the two came in contact.