V

Caff worked the metal handle of the water pump, hinge creaking as it spilled cold, clear water over his outstretched hand. The blood on his fingers and beneath his nails was drying out, turning tacky and sticking unpleasantly to his skin. He rubbed his fingers together beneath the spray, scrubbing off Barney's blood as best he could in an awkward, one-handed manner. Piece by piece, it flaked away beneath the water's pressure and his own efforts, leaving behind a faint stain to his skin that he deemed acceptable. He gathered a handful of water in his cupped palm and splashed it on the handle, wiping away the small stains his other hand had left on the metal. Then he cleaned that other hand in the same manner. It took some time, the water's cold sinking beneath his skin in contrast to the day's rising heat.

He didn't mind, neither the cold nor the time it took. There was something grounding in this, in the squeak of the pump and the splash of water on the dry, dusty ground. It helped to settle him, to make the image of Ruby's corpse walking seem more distant in his mind. The glitter of droplets in the morning sun helped diminish those burning orange eyes. Why, he couldn't quite say. Perhaps it was more familiar. Sure, there was blood on his hands, but it's source was mundane; a wound in a man's arm. Almost as common as dirt in a town like Calavera. Wasn't even the first time he'd helped patch one up. Or perhaps it was the complete absence of that nameless, horrid stench. The not-death, not-decay that hung in the air like fog around Ruby's corpse. He cupped a double handful of water and splashed it across his face. The slight scent of iron was much more welcome.

He stood straight, shaking the damp from his hands. Water ran in rivulets down over his cheekbones, the lines of his jaw, his neck, and dampened his collar. He put his hands on his hips and looked out over the rising hills to the east. His thoughts went back to what Barney had told him, just before they'd patched him up. The corpse had eaten what it clawed from his arm: blood and small scraps of flesh. Caff shuddered at the image his mind conjured. That withered arm, bringing stained fingers to a burned ruin of a face. Its swollen, bruised tongue snaking out to lap up the blood before retreating into a cave encircled by yellowed teeth.

He wondered what had been driving that corpse. If it had been Ruby, then he didn't know why she had tried to eat someone. He didn't know why her eyes had become those burning orange flames. Perhaps her character had been changed by the nature of her death, or her return from it. In that passage between this world and the next that she had twice traveled, she may have become vengeful. And hungry? He pulled his damp collar away from its awkward cling to his neck, just for a second. It could have been that. It could have been.

If it wasn't, though, he wondered what it could have been. If Ruby had returned to her body, then something else must have. What thing that else was, he didn't know. Perhaps it was some formless thing that lurked in that passage Ruby's soul had traveled, taking advantage of her passing to fill the space she once had. He snorted humorlessly, a wry smile crossing his lips. He was familiar with the strange and mysterious. To some extent, everyone in Calavera was. But the finer details of that school of thought were beyond him. When it came to filling these gaps in his knowledge, he had a pair of ideas.

First was the library. After the Mayor's house, it was the oldest building in town. If there was anything written about circumstances similar to these, it could probably be found there. Births, deaths, marriages, significant events. Librarians were meticulous people, in his estimation, so if ever there came a time like this one, they'd probably written it down. That uncertainty, though, was the sticking point. What he was looking for could just as easily not be there. His other idea was named Madeleine Booke. She was as much an institution in this town as his job, and just about as old. She lived alone in the house she had once shared with her husband, who was decades in the ground, and was generally known to have forgotten more about most anything than most people know in the first place. Of course, among her forgotten knowledge could be what he needed to know.

Uncertainty. How he hated it. The constant presence of it, of not knowing what to do, was getting under his skin. Made him feel a failure, and wonder why he was elected in the first place. It made him wonder why, of all the people in Calavera, he was the one considered fit for the job. Surely there was someone else who would be better. Someone who would have found Elijah, who would have kept Ruby alive, who would not agonize over every choice to be made. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms into them, letting out a deep sigh.

He wanted a cigarette. He wanted to sleep. He needed to do his damned job. After a moment, he headed back in to Barney's back room. The man himself was in the midst of gingerly changing his shirt, sliding his bandaged arm through the sleeve with utmost care. The bloodstained, ragged remnants of the ruined shirt lay on the same table Ruby had earlier. When the opening door clattered gently against the wall, Barney startled and spun, relaxing when he saw Caff.

"Sorry,” Caff said. “didn't mean to scare you.”

Barney shook his head, saying, “It's fine, it's fine. I suppose I'm a little on edge right now, what with...well.”

"Everything?” Caff offered.

Barney smiled briefly. “Quite. I should thank you again, Sheriff, for your assistance. It's possible to bandage one's arm by themselves, but very tricky.”

"Sure,” Caff nodded, then said, “You think you can get your wagon up by Leland's?”

Barney began to button his shirt and considered the question, frowning at the floor. “To retrieve Miss Ruby's body? I believe so, yes.”

"That's good to hear. I'd be obliged if you could do that, soon as you can. Don't want to leave her out there longer than I have to.”

Barney nodded. “I'll be on my way shortly. And yourself?”

Caff was already headed for the front door. He said, “I left Jennie keeping an eye on. Don't want her on her own for too much longer. I'll meet you there.”

"Of course,” Barney answered, “I shall see you there.”

Caff made his way out. Using the door next to the hugely broken window felt oddly silly. Down the road he could see that quite the crowd had gathered in front of Leland's and, judging by the shouting coming his way, they were quite agitated. Dismayed, he wished for today to give him a damned break already and sped into a jog. He didn't think it likely he would get one.

- - -

As Caff drew closer he slowed back to a walk. He wasn't sure what those folk would think if they saw him haring about, but he had his suspicions. None of which he was eager to see come to pass. Their fear, their rising panic, it created a tension in the air around them. He could feel it, like it was pressing against his skin and burrowing beneath. If these people, already on a knife's edge, saw him running around looking scared, it would be bad. What form that badness would take, he didn't know, but he knew it would be bad indeed. He took a moment – just a short few breaths – to settle himself.

The crowd's shouts ran into each other, blending and overlapping to the point of being mostly incomprehensible. Small fragments of phrase could be picked out, like she done it once already and can't know for sure and next it'll be one of us! Jennie could also – just barely – be heard. Aiming for a calming presence with words like burial and Sheriff and so on. It wasn't having much of an effect, to his estimation. Or perhaps it was and he was not giving his only deputy enough credit, he just couldn't see its effect from here.

Either way; he squared his shoulders and began to press into the crowd, passing by faces familiar and not. Moses Adler, arm around his wife Dora's shoulders, stepped out of the way without a word. Gus Swanson with his handkerchief pressed to his mouth and pale in the face, grasping Caff's shoulder for a moment before letting it drop. Miss Annabelle Bessler, waitress at O'Neil's, pale and trembling and standing tall despite it. Arnold Leeds, standing in front of Caff and staring daggers at the woman who stood between him and poor Ruby's corpse.

Claudia. Jennie was there, standing by the body and clearly frustrated, but the first line of defense against Arnie's shit was Caff's own sister. She had a truly thunderous look to her: all drawn brows, flashing eyes and balled fists, planted firmly on her hips. Behind them all, sat on the steps up to his laundry, was Leland. He had relinquished his 8-gauge at some point, which was reassuring for Caff to see. It was Leland who saw him first, quirking his mouth into a wry grin and dipping his head in a nod. Caff returned it. He watched Claudia pull herself up in preparation for a tirade, squaring her shoulders in the exact way he himself had done not moments ago. Then she saw him, standing just behind Arnie, and relaxed. She called out, “Addison, you're here! Finally, someone who can see reason!”

"Reason?!” Arnie snarled, stepping forward to loom over her, “I'll show you reason, you–”

Caff caught his shoulder and interrupted him, “As much as I'd like to hear the end of that thought,” he pulled Arnie away from his sister. “best not.” Anger smoldered in him at the threat, implied or not, Arnie had given. He put himself between them, stepping in front of Arnie's own anger and the crowd's fear. It was important that he at least appear to be calm, to that end he fished a cigarette from his breast pocket and stuck it between his teeth. He waved a hand at the crowd, asking, “What's all this about?”

"This is about the safety of our town!” Arnie said, biting out each word. There was a general murmur of support from the crowd behind him. Caff noticed that it wasn't everyone, that they weren't as united as he'd first thought. It was uncertain as to whether or not this was a good thing. “That...that creature has risen once already! What's to stop it from doing it again?”

"Her name was Ruby!” Claudia shouted, storming forward to shove Arnie in the chest, rocking him back on his heels. “And she weren't no creature, Arnold Leeds, which is more'n I can say about you!”

Arnie Leeds, despite current evidence to the contrary, was not an angry man. Stubborn, bitter, more than a little greedy, yes. Man could and did hold grudges for years. But anger, true anger, was not something Caff thought of him. If today was a normal day, perhaps Arnie would not have struck Claudia across the face. The dull crack sounded in the tension-filled air as her head snapped to the side, a bright red palm print blooming on her cheek. Tears welled in her bright eyes, hand coming up to trace the outline of the mark Arnie had given her.

Fury ran hot through Caff's veins. The screaming urge to lay Arnie Leeds out on the ground, to return his sister's injury seven times over, rose in him. He bit clean through the butt of the cigarette between his teeth, the bite of tobacco and paper on his tongue as the rest of it fell to the ground. He could do it. Brawling wasn't his forte, to be sure, but neither was it Arnie's. It would be easy. He was the Sheriff. Nobody would stop him. He wanted to bloody his knuckles, to split their skin on Arnie's teeth, to strike and strike until someone pulled him away. If they'd even dare.

He was jolted from that line of thought by Jennie shoving past him. She was about as gentle with Claudia, seizing her by the elbow and pushing her towards Caff. Then she turned her attention to Arnie, her father, pushing up onto her toes to scream, “What is wrong with you?!” in his face. Shock and surprise showed in his wide eyes and slack jaw. “What were you thinking, dad?! Ought to lock you up for that!”

“I–” Arnie stammered. He was interrupted, not by his daughter, whose anger had overwhelmed her to the point she struggled for words, but by Gus Swanson. Still pale, but looking more grounded now, solid in a way. The handkerchief he had once pressed to his mouth was now gripped tight in a calloused hand.

“What was you thinking, Arnie?” he asked.

Claudia came to Caff, hands trembling. Her eyes were bright, her jaw clenched. She looked to be frightened and angered in equal measure. He cupped her chin, tilting her face to the side so as to study the mark the slap had left behind. A round, misshapen outline in fading red. It didn't look like it'd bruise, or that anything had been broken. Just hurt like hell and delivered quite a shock. “You okay?” he asked her quietly. She shook her head, tucking her head into his shoulder. He hugged his sister while the shakes left her, leaving Arnie to Jennie and Gus. They seemed to have things well in hand, and he wasn't eager to get involved at the moment. Breaking every tooth in that man's head was still a little too appealing.

“I didn't – I don't,” Arnie was saying. “I was just trying to–”

“To what?” Jennie challenged, having apparently tempered her anger to point she could speak. “Get everyone all worked up? Scare the pants off them?”

“The corpse!” he shouted, waving in the direction of Ruby's covered body. “It – she – was walking, Jennie! Ain't natural!”

“Course it ain't!” Jennie threw up her hands. “Don't give you the right to go around hitting folk!”

Gus nodded, saying, “Especially not no women, Arnie. You know better'n that.”

Caff had to stop himself from saying otherwise. Claudia squeezed him around the middle and pulled away, wiping under her eyes. She looked better. Not happy, but centered. It helped soothe the rage he'd been riding herd on, let him look at things and see them true. Arnie Leeds looked as shocked in and disappointed with himself as did his daughter and Gus. Maybe now that he'd been jarred from whatever frame of mind he'd been in, he had been able to grasp what he'd actually done. “I...” he said, and this time no one interrupted him. He hung his head. “I do. I am – I am truly sorry, Miss Caffey.”

Claudia said nothing. After a moment, still looking at the ground, he nodded. Then he turned and left in silence, the crowd parting to allow him passage. The further he got, the more Caff's rage cooled. He looked through the gap in the crowd and saw Barney heading their way, leading a donkey-drawn wagon by the stubborn animal's bridle. Relief filled the places rage left behind. This looked to be over, and he would be forever grateful if it never happened again. He cleared his throat and raised his voice, calling out, “Alright, everyone: clear on out!”

With a few, lingering looks at Ruby's shrouded corpse, they did just that.