The Loop

by Nicholas Evans

  ‘Right down . . . Right down into his throat. Then, the moment he closes his mouth on this wide bit, just here . . .’

  He gave it a little squeeze with his fingers and there was a sudden loud snap and three barbed hooks, like a small grappling iron, shot out through the bread, making it explode all over the table.

  Buck Junior jumped in fright and started to bawl. Kathy hugged him and tried to soothe him, but he wouldn’t stop. She stood up and held him to her, patting his back, but it was no good.

  ‘I’m sorry, I better take him home.’

  The old man didn’t reply. He just stood there, staring at the hook in his hands.

  ‘Mr Lovelace?’

  Kathy didn’t know if she should stay and make sure he was all right, but the baby’s hollering was becoming unbearable. She went to the door and turned to say goodnight. But he didn’t seem to hear.

  She would never be sure, for the lamp was behind him and half his face was in shadow, but as she closed the door, Kathy thought she saw, on the old wolfer’s cheek, the glint of a tear.

  In the dead of night, lying in her bed with the baby asleep beside her, she heard him start his snowmobile and she went to the window and saw its light going away across the top meadow and up into the forest.

  It was the last time she would ever see him.

  The Calders liked to get most of their first-time calvers over with first, before the main herd started calving. Luke’s father prided himself almost as much for breeding good mothers as he did good bulls and most of his heifers squeezed their calves out easy as soap in a bathtub.

  There were always a good few though who needed help. And whereas it was fine to let the older cows have their calves down in the pasture, the first-timers stayed up in the corrals where it was easier to keep an eye on them.

  Their times of insemination had all been recorded and as their due date approached, each one of them was doused for lice and given shots against scours and overeating disease. Now, in the second week of calving, they were coming at a rate of around twenty a day and things were getting frantic.

  It was made a lot worse by the weather. Sometimes in late March it could almost feel like spring, but not this year. Every day a new blizzard rolled in and the temperature rarely poked its head above ten below. As soon as a heifer looked like starting they had to whip her up to one of the stalls in the calving barn. And if she’d already lain down and started, immediately the calf popped out, they would bundle it into a wheelbarrow and get it out of the cold before its ears froze up. Sometimes, if the mother didn’t lick the ears out quick enough you had to thaw them out with a hair-dryer, because if you didn’t, you ended up with a load of disfigured beasts no buyer worth his salt would touch.

  Space in the barn was at a premium now and as soon as a calf was sucking and the mother looked like she knew what was going on, out they went into the cold again, some of the poor little mites with duct tape on their ears so they didn’t freeze up again. Turning them out that quick was a risk because they might not have paired up properly and a day or two later you could find a cow feeding the wrong calf.

  The men worked through the night in two- and three-hour shifts, none of them getting more than four hours’ sleep. Luke had taken over from Ray at four a.m. and had a fairly easy time of it. The only drama had been when he spotted a pair of coyotes sniffing around the corrals. They could nip in real quick and take a calf before the mother knew what had happened and there was always a rifle at hand in the barn for just such a thing. His father and Clyde would have shot them but Luke just chased them off, thanking his lucky stars that they weren’t wolves. He only hoped they were steering clear of the other ranches too.

  He finished cleaning the barn then headed down to the corrals to have another look at one of the heifers who was overdue. In the last hour she’d been looking a little troubled and Luke was starting to think something might be wrong. As he walked down there, he thought again of Helen and their sad encounter the day before.

  He hadn’t seen her in over a week. And knowing she was so close, he missed her even more than when she’d been thousands of miles away. He’d been on his way into town to pick up some more Scour Guard, when he had seen her pickup heading out toward him. They pulled up, window to window, and talked for a few minutes. Not like lovers, more like friends, who’d somehow grown awkward.

  ‘I’d have come up, but I can’t get away,’ he said. ‘My d-dad—’

  ‘It’s okay, I understand.’

  ‘Have you been out t-tracking?’

  ‘Yes. And I think you’re right. There don’t seem to be more than three or four of them now. Not so many kills either.’

  ‘Have you f-found any snares or anything?’

  ‘No, but I think there’s somebody around up there.’

  ‘Why?’

  She shrugged. ‘Tracks and things, I don’t know. And I found this place where someone had been camping out. It’s probably nothing.’

  She said that from the signals, it seemed the wolves were moving down, getting close to some of the ranches, as if checking out the calving.

  ‘Inc-cluding ours?’

  ‘Including yours.’

  She made a sad, wry face and for awhile they stayed silent. There was both too much to say and nothing at all.

  She shivered. ‘I’m tired of the cold.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘No. Are you?’

  ‘No.’

  He reached out and they held hands for a moment. It was then that he noticed the door of the pickup. Someone had scratched WHORE in large letters, right across it.

  ‘Oh, God,’ he said.

  ‘Nice, huh?’

  ‘When did that happen?’

  ‘Last night.’

  Luke saw a truck heading out of town. They were blocking the road. Helen saw it too and quickly let go of his hand.

  ‘Did you tell the sheriff ’s office?’

  ‘That’s where I’ve just been. Deputy Rawlinson was very sympathetic. He said it was probably city kids, come out to party in the forest. He said if I was worried, I should get myself a gun.’

  Luke shook his head. The truck was nearly up to them.

  ‘Anyway,’ Helen said. ‘I’ll see you.’

  ‘I’ll find some way of g-getting up there.’

  ‘It’s okay, Luke Maybe it’s better not to for awhile.’

  The truck sounded its horn. They said a sad goodbye and drove off their different ways.

  He was down at the corral now and he stood on the fence and searched over the rail with his flashlight for the heifer he wanted to check.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  He looked around and saw Clyde, who was taking the next shift.

  ‘Okay. There’s one here I’m a little w-worried about. She’s been acting kind of fidgety. I think she may have got a t-twisted uterus or something.’

  Clyde asked him to point her out.

  ‘No way,’ he said dismissively. ‘She’s okay.’

  Luke shrugged. He told Clyde about the coyotes, then left him to it and went back to the house to get an hour of sleep before sun-up.

  He overslept. When he’d showered and dressed, the others were already having breakfast in the kitchen. He could tell right away that something had happened. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife. Ray and Jesse were eating in silence. His father had a face like a thunderhead.

  His mother caught Luke’s eye in warning as she filled his glass with milk. For awhile no one said a word.

  ‘So how come you let that heifer die?’ his father said at last.

  ‘W-what?’

  ‘Don’t you w-what me, boy.’

  ‘Which heifer?’

  He looked at Clyde, but Clyde was keeping his eyes on his plate.

  ‘Clyde found a dead heifer in the corral. Had a twisted uterus.’

  Luke frowned at Clyde with disbelief.

  ‘B-but I showed her to you.’

  Clyde glanced up briefly and Luke
could see the fear in his eyes.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I showed you the heifer and y-y-you said she was okay.’

  ‘You did not. Jesus, Luke!’

  ‘Come on, boys,’ Luke’s mother said. ‘We always lose one or two—’

  His father cut her off fiercely. ‘You keep out of this.’

  ‘I even t-told you what I thought was wrong with her. And you said she was okay!’

  ‘Hey, look, kid. Don’t you try and pin this on me.’

  Luke stood up. His chair grated on the floor.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ his father said.

  ‘I-I-I’ve had enough.’

  ‘You have? Well, I sure as hell haven’t. You sit down.’ Luke shook his head. ‘No, sir.’

  ‘You damn well sit down if I tell you to.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  For a moment, his father didn’t seem to know what to do. He wasn’t used to defiance. Ray and Jesse got up, looking at their boots, and quietly left the room.

  ‘You damn well stay put till I’ve had my say. Your mother tells me you think you’re going off to college in Minnesota, is that right?’

  Luke’s mother stood up. ‘Buck, for heavensakes, not now—’

  ‘Shut up. To study bunny-hugging or something. Is that true?’

  ‘B-b-biology.’

  ‘So it is true. And you don’t think to consult your own father about this?’

  Luke could feel his legs starting to shake. But it wasn’t through fear. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid of the great bull face glaring across the table at him. All he felt was a pure anger, distilled over all these years. It was almost exhilarating.

  ‘Have you lost your tongue?’

  Luke looked at his mother. She was standing by the sink, fighting hard to keep herself from crying. He turned again to his father. Have you lost your tongue? He took a deep breath and felt a surprising calm rising in his chest. He shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said simply.

  ‘Then you’d better damn well explain yourself.’

  ‘I d-d-d . . .’

  His father smiled in satisfaction.

  It was the moment. There was a white bird loose in the room and all Luke had to do was reach out and gently take hold of it and he would be free. He took another breath.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ His father smiled sarcastically and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘I knew you w-wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘Well, you were wrong the first time and right the second. I am interested and, sure as hell, I don’t approve. You’ll go to Montana State, boy, and see if you can learn how to be a good enough rancher not to let good heifers die.’

  ‘If he’s too much of a c-coward to admit it, I don’t care. And I’m not going to M-Montana State, I’m going to M-Minnesota. If they’ll have me.’

  ‘Oh you are, huh?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  His father stood up and came toward him and for a moment Luke felt his courage falter.

  ‘And who the hell do you think’s going to pay for it?’

  ‘I’ll f-f-find a way.’

  ‘I’ll pay.’ It was his mother who’d spoken and they both turned to look at her.

  ‘I told you to keep out of it.’

  ‘W-wh-wh ...’ Oh God, Luke thought, don’t desert me now. Don’t let the white bird go.

  ‘Ww-ww-ww . . .’ his father mimicked.

  Luke felt a river of cold anger sweep the words out of his mouth.

  ‘Why do you have to go on b-bullying everyone? Haven’t you done enough damage? We all have to be just like you want us to be, don’t we? Anything you c-can’t understand, you have to hurt. Is it because you’re scared or something?’

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that.’

  ‘Is it?’

  His father took a step toward him and hit him hard across the face with the back of his hand. His mother screamed and covered her eyes. Clyde was on his feet now too.

  Luke could taste blood starting, salty and metallic, inside his mouth. He stared at his father, who stood glaring back at him, his massive chest heaving and his neck flushed with anger. It reminded Luke of the grizzly who’d chased them in the forest. Luke wondered briefly why the sight no longer scared him.

  ‘I’m going now,’ he said. He felt blood trickle from the corner of his mouth and he saw his father notice it and maybe just the faintest flicker of doubt in his cold gray eyes.

  ‘You get back to work.’

  ‘No, sir. I’m going.’

  ‘You do and you’ll never set foot in my house again.’

  ‘I don’t b-belong in it anyhow. I never did.’

  And he nodded to his mother and walked out of the room. Upstairs, he fetched two long canvas bags from the closet and packed some clothes and a few favorite books and one or two other things he thought he might need. He heard the kitchen door slam and out of the window saw his father stomping through the snow to the corrals, with Clyde at his heel. It was getting light. All the while, Luke wondered if the calm would suddenly desert him, but it didn’t.

  As he came to the top of the stairs, he looked through the open doorway of his parents’ bedroom and saw his mother was packing a suitcase on the bed. He put his bag down and walked to the door.

  ‘Mom?’

  She turned and the two of them stood looking at each a moment. Then she came toward him with her arms outstretched and he went to her and put his arms around her too. He didn’t speak until he felt the shudder of her sobs subside.

  ‘W-where will you go?’

  She was wiping her eyes. ‘I called Ruth. She said I could stay with her for awhile. You’ll go to Helen’s?’

  He nodded. His mother lifted her head from his chest and looked at him.

  ‘You love her very much, don’t you?’

  He shrugged and tried to smile. For some reason, suddenly, he wanted to cry too. But he didn’t.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Does she love you?’

  ‘Oh, Mom, I . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry, it isn’t my business.’

  She gave him a final little hug and kissed his cheek.

  ‘Promise you’ll come see me?’

  ‘I promise.’

  He dumped his bags in the living room and went to the gun rack in his father’s office and took down the .270 Winchester that had become his when his brother died, though he had hardly ever used it. There was a box of cartridges in the drawer below and he took them and put them with the rifle in one of the bags. From their hooks in the kitchen, he collected his coat and hat and slicker and took a spare pair of boots, then carried everything out to the Jeep.

  As he pulled away from the house, he looked down across the pasture and saw Moon Eye standing with the other horses near the tree that grew from the old Ford. They were too far away for Luke to be sure, but the horse seemed to be staring back at him.

  When he drove under the skull of the gateway, he looked over his shoulder toward the ranch. His father and Clyde were moving some heifers up to the barn. Clyde turned and stood there a moment, watching him go. But his father kept on walking.

  Before he died, the wolfer wanted to say sorry but there was no one to say it to.

  The only person who’d understand was Winnie and she was dead. He wondered how long she’d known about ‘that little flicker’, as she’d called it, and why she hadn’t told him before, though he knew in his heart he’d never have listened.

  He had thought of going to the biologist woman’s cabin and saying sorry to her. But he didn’t know her and he was too ashamed to tell her what he’d done. And anyhow, it wasn’t just this he needed to apologize for. It was a whole lifetime. In the end, he’d come straight to the mine. It was as good a place as any.

  When he’d first gotten here, his mind was racing so crazily that he thought maybe the pup he’d shot the night before might no
t be dead after all and if he could only find the entrance to the mine, he might yet be able to save it. He’d hunted all around, but he couldn’t find it and in the end he’d come to his senses and remembered the damage the bullet had done.

  Now he sat naked, with his back propped against a tree at the edge of the clearing where the covered airshaft was. He’d thrown all his clothes down there and imagined them lying on top of the wolves. His withered skin was almost as pale as the snow. He watched the stars grow dim and disappear one by one in the dawn sky.

  The cold was taking possession of him. He felt it creep up his legs and up his arms, closing in stealth upon his heart. He felt it coalescing on his scalp like a cap, while his breath slowed and froze and stiffened in his beard.

  He was so cold that he wasn’t cold at all. In fact, a dreamy kind of peace was settling on him. And as it did, his thoughts began to play tricks. He thought he heard Winnie calling him and he tried to call back to her, but his voice was frozen inside him. Then he realized that all he’d heard was a pair of ravens, flapping across the salmon sky above the clearing.

  He had dealt in death all his days and thus had little fear of it. And when at last it came, there was no clamor or fanfare of pain, nor any vengeful recitation of his sins.

  Instead, in his reverie, he saw a baby’s face, by the light of a candle, staring at him. Perhaps it was the baby down at the house, though it seemed somehow different. Perhaps it was the child he and Winnie had never had. Then, suddenly, the wolfer knew it was his own young self. And in that moment, the shadow of his unknown mother leaned toward the candle flame and gently blew it out.

  SPRING

  32

  The second thaw of the year came with more discretion than the first. There was no sudden, ardent wind to melt the snow in a rush and the Hope River, satisfied perhaps with earlier extravagance, confined itself, brimming but benign, within its banks.

  By now, the first week in April, the snow had left the plains to dry dun-colored in the watery sun and had retreated like a tide up the valley. It lapped awhile from the fringes of the forest and reached in streaks of foam into the shaded folds and runnels of the higher ranches. It was too early yet for any tree to trust this wasn’t merely another trick of winter, and though the forest’s warmer clearings clicked and fluttered and prepared to unfurl, the cottonwoods that ribboned up along the valley would stay cynically gray and leafless for at least another month.