Seasons of Wither (The Great North Woods Pack Book 3)

by Shawn Underhill

  “Good,” Evelyn said. “I believe we understand one another.”

  ***

  “That’s right,” Joseph said. “Rowan Merrill is a woman.”

  “A woman,” Lars muttered, thinking, so I have to kill a woman … That would be a first. Granted, there’s been a few I wanted to kill, but the idea of actually going through with it doesn’t set too well.

  “And she’s asked us both to dinner,” Joseph said, looking to his wife.

  “Of all the bull and horse—” Evelyn grumbled.

  “Easy, darling.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Tough to read,” Joseph admitted. “Very bright and positive on the outside. We didn’t speak long enough for me to grasp the full picture. Perhaps that was by design.”

  “I suppose we’ll see her true colors over dinner.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Was she accompanied?” Lars asked.

  “Four men. Professional bodyguards by the looks. There was a lot of luggage for five people. I can’t help but thinking there might be heavier equipment hidden in those suitcases.”

  “If they’re worth their fee, they came prepared.”

  “Have you got your plans to paper?”

  “Roughly,” Lars answered.

  “Let’s go over them. Then we’ll discuss how to approach this evening’s dinner arrangements.”

  ***

  “Again,” Lars said hesitantly. “Setting up a defensive scheme is far from my specialty.”

  Joseph looked up from the sketches. “From what I can see here, we think in similar fashion.”

  “Good,” Lars exhaled. “If they come in by chopper—I don’t know what fool would attempt using roads—”

  “Assuming their plan would even include a significant number of survivors.”

  “That makes me sick to think of,” Lars said. “But you are right. It’s true.”

  “Your plan closely matches mine,” the old man said. “With our numbers we can stretch our forces, while keeping the majority of us near Oak Hill.”

  “Whether they drop men here at the farm or on Oak Hill, the trail between will be impossible for them to survive, even with night vision and all the other gear they could manage. But,” the mercenary hesitated. “As far as the center of town goes, I strongly suggest the use of guns in the first wave. Of course I can’t predict the size of the force or the number of choppers they would send, but if we could down just one or two of them in the first wave …”

  “They might abort.”

  “That’s the hope.”

  “Your rounds are that powerful?” Joseph asked.

  “It only takes one in the cockpit to disable the pilot. Or a few in the engines. Birds are amazing tools, but they are sitting ducks when hovering.”

  “As far as timing, do you have any guesses?”

  “Obviously nighttime,” Lars answered. “They could come at any point. If I was a betting man, I’d bet on them arriving between midnight and dawn. Preferably closer to dawn.”

  Joseph nodded in agreement.

  “As far as Miss Merrill,” Lars said.

  “I will deal with her personally. Her chopper is secured and will be low on fuel. She arrived on her own terms, but she’ll leave only on mine.”

  “Excellent,” Lars said. He felt a sudden wave of hope. Maybe there would be no battle, or a minimal one at least.

  “I just hope,” Joseph said, rising from his office chair, “that we are greatly overreacting. Perhaps just once in my lifetime, a Merrill will exceed my expectations.”

  ***

  Joseph’s phone rang before the two could exit the house. He excused himself after viewing the ID and took the call, while Lars stood outside, pacing by his truck.

  “Interesting,” the old man said as he stepped outside. “My computer man has proven himself most useful.”

  “Is it good or bad news?” Lars asked.

  “Well, Miss Merrill is in fact her real name. It seems she was once a married woman. Her business dealings are under the name of Tanner. And Portland Diagnostics does appear to have ties to several larger establishments.”

  Lars watched the old man closely. He appeared almost too relaxed, considering all that was on the line.

  “The lab appears to be in financial distress,” Joseph continued. “They’ve lost out on several recent deals and have failed to produce anything worthy of significant defense spending in several years. Miss Merrill, in all likelihood, is broke.”

  “Yet she arrived in a luxury chopper?”

  “Those are leased often enough.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “We will move forward as planned,” Joseph said. “But now I can do so with a lighter heart. My feeling is that she has little to back a threat, if she does indeed try to threaten us at all.”

  Lars took a deep breath. “It seems too easy.”

  “Which is why we’ll prepare all the same.”

  “What else could she do if she’s got no backing?” Lars asked, wondering just how desperate this woman might be.

  “I don’t know. The fact is that we have something she wants. We could guess all day at how she hopes to attain it.”

  ***

  The weak autumn sun was low on the horizon when the jet touched down in Ludlow. Paul noticed the strange chopper right away, but Evie, her mother and aunt were too distracted to notice. They were gazing through the side windows at the small party that had gathered to welcome them: Earl and Matthew, Joseph, and David Wilson.

  “Did he see you off?” Janie asked her daughter. “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she answered herself before Evie could speak. “Welcoming you home is better anyway.”

  Evie gave no response. She was glad to see everyone, but she could not get away from the gloomy thoughts her Uncle’s words had left swirling in her head.

  “All right,” Joseph said after everyone had had time to hug and chat. Everyone calmed and paid him their attention. “I’m sorry to be a downer, but we have business to attend to, and I have only a short time before I am needed elsewhere.”

  ~15~

  “These are not the same men,” Erica said quietly. It was nighttime, more than twenty four hours since her ordeal, and they were stalking again around the wildlife preserve where they had stolen the two deer.

  “No,” the old one agreed. “That is often the case. Humans pass steadily in and out by the week throughout the warmer months. And come winter, some may still come, but by machine on the trails.”

  “Snowmobiles.”

  “Are you satisfied?”

  “I don’t wish to kill them.”

  “Good,” Abel said, “There is no need.” He stood to his full height. “The easiest way to test them is thus,” he said, breaking his speech into a long and drawn out howl.

  Instantly there was a rise in the voices of the campers. Then, they began howling themselves, laughing and chattering loudly. “Did you hear the bass in its throat?” one said loud and clearly. “That’s no coyote.”

  “Keep it up,” another one said. “Maybe it will answer us.”

  “Harmless campers,” Erica determined.

  “The kind to be left in peace,” Abel said, then slowly started marching away.

  The young wolf arose and caught up, and they moved on steadily through the dark until they found the place where they had feasted on the deer. All that remained was scattered bones and rough ground churned up by many feet.

  “See,” the old one said. “The killing of those bucks was not entirely wasteful. Many animals have fed here since our departure. What those men intended for their own greed has profited them nothing, and in fact has assisted many others.”

  “And they are not as likely to come back.”

  “No, not nearly as likely. It is very rare to scent again a man you have once driven off by fear. If ever you do, you will know that you are dealing with an uncommon being. That, or an exceedingly stupid one.”

  The young wolf
exhaled humorously. She had met plenty of the stupid ones in her time working in the diner—a concept that now felt very distant and unrelated to her new life; her actual life.

  “The man in Ludlow—the one my brother kept …”

  “The hunter?”

  “We have crossed paths before. Here in these woods I drove him west many years ago. Imagine my surprise to smell him again, stalking the borders of my brother’s farm.”

  “For whose sake did you let him live, his or Grandfather’s?”

  “My brother was interested in him, and so was I. He was rightfully afraid of me but was not a coward in action. If he can serve some use, he is best left to do so.”

  “Is that not dishonorable? To accept the help of a human? A hunter?”

  “That is not for me to decide in his case. I am not the one attempting to live in a town alongside men. If you return and live as they live in Ludlow, you must submit to the decree, whether you like it or not.”

  Erica moved forward. She was twice the animal she had been when she left Ludlow, and after living weeks unencumbered by the regard for humans, she could not yet imagine returning to live among them again—not with all these miles of woods to tramp and explore, and not with the sole attention of a great elder rendering her lessons and skills.

  She had gone a few dozen yards before she realized that Abel was not with her. When she turned back she saw him standing silently in a patch of light. His head was slightly raised, and his eyes were gazing deep into the starry sky.

  “I will return to my lands,” he said after a long silence.

  “So soon?”

  “Normally I would roam, and my heart desires to do so. But, I cannot shake the feeling that has hung over me of late. I have not felt it so strongly in many, many years. A fight is coming, I have little doubt. And if I must fight, I prefer to be near my lands when I make my stand.”

  “Then I will fight with you,” she said, an unintentional growl escaping her throat.

  “I do not ask you to.”

  “It is my decision.”

  “Yes, it is your decision. However, I have little choice.”

  The young wolf tipped her head curiously.

  “I am well accustomed to defending myself after long decades of solitary living. It does not mean that I always enjoy it. These particular humans, some years back—perhaps when you were an infant—shot me with a strange bullet. The wound closed quickly, yet it pained and bothered me for some time after like no bullet had before. I—”

  “Did you kill them?” Erica interrupted.

  “Of course I killed them. All but those that remained in the air. But that is not the point. After, I submitted to an inspection by our relatives, and by a device they determined that I had been somehow tagged, somewhat as we tag the cattle, but mine being internal. As a result, certain men are able to find me wherever I am, far and wide. Though it’s often many years in between their visits, their success in locating me is consistent.”

  “They track you,” Erica said. “It must be a sort of transmitter.”

  “I know nothing of what it is, only what has resulted. And now, the way I feel, I am all but sure that similar men are again seeking me. If you accompany me, you too will be easily found, unable to hide when they chase from the skies. They are soldiers; dealing with them is very different than stalking campers and sport hunters. That is my warning to you. Do what you will.”

  Without intending to do so, the young wolf curled her lip as her disdain found release in the form of a low growl. “Weaklings,” she complained. “They desire the secrets of our powers. Cowards! Sneaks! Rotten—”

  “Calm yourself,” the old wolf cautioned her. “Save your venom for their arrival, if that is your desire. Unless my senses have become overly active and untrustworthy, I believe they will be upon us soon enough.”

  ***

  They moved at a comfortable pace through the night. Stopping only now and then to drink or snag a fish or two, they made good time by using the logging roads until they neared the village of the smaller eastern branch of the pack.

  “I would prefer to leave them out, if possible,” Abel told her when he cut suddenly from the road into the trees. “They are well secured here and unlikely to be attacked. Unless overwhelming numbers of men are en route, to attempt to penetrate that village would be a suicidal endeavor. I doubt even fools wish to die in such a manner.”

  “Do they not wish to fight?”

  “Many would gladly fight. The decision to exclude them in this is personal. None from the village have been tagged as I have, therefore I view it as a personal challenge. I wish to defeat my antagonists or die trying, on my own lands. I do not wish these others to bleed on my behalf, though many would be willing.”

  “Have you changed your mind about me?” Erica asked from his side, unable to see his eyes and read their feelings.

  “I hope,” the old one said slowly, “that the nearer we get, your own mind will be changed without my input.”

  “But they are our enemies, not only yours.”

  “True enough, young one. But the fight in question is mine. They know nothing of your existence or presence. You have earned your rank in my eyes, and so you are welcome and free to do as you feel led to do. I ask nothing and offer nothing. That is how I have lived, and that is how I will die.”

  Erica walked on silently for a time. She could tell that he was no longer testing her or baiting her to reveal her thoughts. He was being straight with his opinion, while respectfully leaving the option up to her. She could ask for no more respect than what he offered her, and because that respect was mutual, she marched on, making both her answer and her loyalty clear to him by her deliberate action, her refusal to leave his side.

  ~16~

  “I smell a phony,” Evelyn muttered as she entered the grand resort at her husband’s side. Paul and his wife, Ellie, followed close behind. From a long distance they could see the woman waiting alone at a large table. She was watching them just as closely as they were watching her.

  “Patience, darling,” Joseph replied. “Let us hear the woman out before we condemn her.”

  “She was condemned in my mind the moment she sent that letter.”

  “You’re not alone in that sentiment,” Joseph said. “Offer your best.”

  Miss Merrill arose, smoothed her suit, met them halfway across the room, and greeted them with overt enthusiasm. As they extended their hands to her, she clasped each one between her own two hands. “Leave us,” she ordered the guards in nearly a barking tone, then turned and led her guests to a large table at the center of the otherwise empty lounge.

  Joseph Snow kept his eyes on her while stealing brief glances about the large room. The table was set with appetizers and wine glasses that a waiter filled one by one as they took their seats. Soft music was playing in the background. Near an adjoining table stood two large pieces of luggage. The suitcases were of fine, strong-smelling leather. Their contents gave no obvious or alarming odor. Once the wine glasses were filled, the waiter returned to the corner of the room and stood near the door.

  “Forgive me if I sound like a skipping record,” Miss Merrill said. “I just can’t thank you enough for agreeing to meet me on such short notice. Believe it or not,” she said with her eyes locked on Joseph, “this is in many ways the fulfilment of a lifelong dream.” She raised her wine glass. “To you, sir.”

  Joseph nodded and drank—after lightly sniffing the wine. The others did likewise. After his sip of wine, the old Snow spoke:

  “I will forgive you, Miss Merrill, if you will forgive me in return. I appreciate your enthusiasm and your grand gestures. But, at the end of the day, I am one who prefers straight talk and straight dealing.”

  “Of course,” the woman said, smiling largely. “I would expect nothing less.”

  “What exactly do you want from me?”

  The woman shook her head lightly, still smiling. “Oh, Mr. Snow, if only I could find simple words to sum u
p my great interest in you and your family. Alas, I cannot do so—not with the deep regard I have for you. To say everything would sound so greedy. But that’s exactly what I want from you, sir. Everything I can possibly learn from you, I want it. There’s no price or possession that could be mentioned in comparison with the great gift you possess, the great wisdom you have surely gleaned in your unusually proficient lifetime.”

  Joseph glanced quickly around the table. His wife was swirling her wine. His son and daughter in law were both testing the appetizers. All eyes were moving between himself and Miss Rowan Merrill. “Everything,” he said. “Is that all?”

  “What a dreadful statement,” she mused, swirling her wine in the glass. “My sincere apologies. It seems my excitement has clouded my judgment.”

  Joseph now noticed that the waiter had left the room. The five of them were alone. He stared hard at Miss Merrill, making no effort to lessen the radiance of his eyes.

  “Ah, what a relief, and what an honor to see that my grandmother’s stories were true,” she said. “All true. How magnificent.”

  “As far as that goes,” Joseph said, “how well known are such stories among the circles you move in?”

  “Not well, sir. Not well at all. I could list the names on one hand.”

  Joseph nodded subtly, beckoning her to do so.

  “I have a brother several years my junior. Arthur. He is the next in line, so to speak. Then there are a few business associates that know less than we do. That’s all. They aren’t the kind of stories one tells freely or lightly in adulthood. My grandmother herself didn’t tell them lightly. I would not either.”

  “Did she do well for herself?” Evelyn asked.

  “Monetarily? Not so much. Not until later in life. Germany was a hard place to thrive in, as you might imagine. Her happiest years were her later years, as with many of that era fortunate enough to survive. If you’re wondering,” she said directly to Joseph, “she never forgot you. Never forgot a detail of your brief meeting. The man with the strength of three men in his grip … eyes greener than emeralds. The man that could have destroyed her for firing on his mates, yet for some reason … allowed her life. Allowed … my father … life. No, how could she forget?”