Green.
Untouched.
Samuel looked over her shoulder.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Clara finally said:
“No.”
Samuel frowned.
“What?”
“We bought one.”
“Yes.”
“You carried it.”
“I remember.”
“I sliced it.”
“I watched.”
“We ate it.”
“Most of it.”
Clara pointed.
“Then what is that?”
Samuel stepped past her.
He lifted the cabbage.
Turned it slowly.
Small-to-medium.
Firm.
Cold.
A little dirt remained near the stem.
Clara stared.
“Maybe you bought two.”
Samuel looked offended.
“I can count to two.”
“Usually.”
“I bought one.”
“Maybe the trader put another in the sack.”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I carried the cabbage separately because you complained I crush vegetables.”
“You do.”
Samuel looked toward the shelf.
Clara’s smile disappeared.
“Was that there before supper?”
“No.”
“You checked?”
“I took onions from that shelf.”
Samuel became very still.
“So did I.”
Silence filled the pantry.
Clara looked behind them.
Kitchen empty.
Front door bolted.
Back door barred.
Window latched.
Samuel set the cabbage down.
He checked the pantry window.
Closed.
Frozen at the corners.
“No tracks outside?”
Clara asked.
“I haven’t looked.”
Samuel reached for his boots.
Clara followed.
He glanced back.
“Stay inside.”
She stared.
Samuel stopped.
Then corrected himself.
“Would you prefer to come?”
Clara smiled faintly.
“Better.”
They put on coats.
Samuel carried a lantern and rifle.
Clara carried another lantern.
Outside, cold hit immediately.
Snow had stopped hours earlier.
That was useful.
Any recent tracks would remain.
They circled the cabin.
Samuel’s boots left large impressions.
Clara’s wider boots made shorter, deeper ones.
No third set.
No horse.
No sled.
No marks near the pantry wall.
Samuel checked windows.
Smokehouse.
Barn.
Nothing.
They returned inside.
Clara stared at the second cabbage.
“What are you thinking?”
Samuel removed his coat.
“That I dislike things entering my home without using doors.”
“Things?”
“People.”
Clara folded her arms.
“You said things.”
“I was trying not to say ghosts.”
She stared.
Samuel smiled.
“Poorly timed?”
“Yes.”
He became serious.
“Someone could have entered earlier.”
“When?”
“While we were outside this morning.”
“And hidden cabbage in the pantry?”
“That seems like a strange crime.”
“Exactly.”
Clara looked at the floor.
Old pine boards.