Free The Good Thief by Hannah Tinti Page B

fastened, Ren made his way down the dark staircase and settled himself at the table. There were still a few chunks of bread and sausages and pieces of salted cod, purchased with the money from the parishioners. The boy chose a piece of bread and gnawed at it, even though he was no longer hungry. The bread was fresh, the inside soft and chewy.
     
    The men had left one candle going, and the dim light made shadows on the walls. It felt strange to be there alone. Ren had hardly ever been by himself at Saint Anthony’s. The last time was two years before, when the twins had come down with the measles, and then one by one all the small boys were sick—all but Ren. By the time it was over, three children had died. The brothers had made Ren sleep out in the barn so he would not catch the disease. It had been lonely, and Ren was glad when it was over.
     
    There was whiskey on the table that the men had shared before they left. Tom’s mood had changed with each sip, from an initial jovial gladness at the meal before them, to a numbed silence, and then finally back to his regular irritated state, as if he had not been drinking at all. Ren lifted the bottle and sniffed. It made the hair inside his nose tingle, but when he tried a sip the whiskey scalded his throat, and he spit what was left in his mouth onto the floor. He had never tasted anything so terrible, except perhaps the wine they made at Saint Anthony’s. He’d stolen a bottle once and shared it with the twins. Hidden in the field, the boys had passed the wine among them until they felt dizzy. Then Brom had twisted his ankle doing cartwheels, and Ichy had thrown up, and Ren had caught the hiccups so badly that it was two whole days before he was right again.
     
    Looking back, Ren realized how much he missed his friends and decided right then to write Brom and Ichy a letter. He searched the small apartment and found a pen and a bottle of ink but no paper. He looked through the rest of the room, until at last he discovered a stack of printed advertisements for Doctor Faust’s Medical Salts for Pleasant Dreams. He turned over the bill and began to write. He had never written a letter before, but he had some idea that they should carry good news.
     
     
    Dear Brom and Ichy,
     
     
    First, I should tell you that I’m drunk. I’ve had a whole bottle of whiskey. I will probably throw up before I finish this.
     
    Benjamin bought a horse and carriage and we rode to a town full of ships and sailors from faraway places. Benjamin said we’re going to take one to India to see the elephants.
     
    I have my own room and he doesn’t make me go to church. I hope that you both get a family soon and don’t have to go into the army.
     
     
    Your friend,
    Ren
     
     
    It needed an envelope. And a stamp. And those would cost money, he supposed. He folded the letter in half, and then in half again. With each fold he became less enthusiastic about sending it. He felt somehow they would know that he was lying. Then he realized that all the letters sent from the children who had been adopted had probably also been lies.
     
    Ren heard something outside the door. He crept carefully up the stairs and listened, wishing all the while that he were not alone. He checked the locks again, put his eye to a crack in the wood, and peered out. He could see a bit of the yard, but nothing was there. He waited, and waited some more, then went back down the stairs and took out The Deerslayer .
     
    The Indian gazed at him from the cover, cool and exotic. Ren ran his fingers over the picture, moved closer to the light, opened the book, and began to read. As he entered the story, hemlocks and pine trees soared overhead, a lake spread out before him like a mirror reflecting the sky, and the sound of a rifle shot boomed in his ears. Ren made his way through the dense forest with Deerslayer, chopping down trees and turning them into canoes, hunting and fishing and saving Indian maidens. Then there was an