The Wolf Road

by Beth Lewis

  Her meaning confused me. Maybe that water was poisoned, but I drank it every day and I didn’t see no bad from it for months and they sure as shit weren’t there for months. Days at most, must a’ been right after I left. Her story didn’t right add up to ten but I let her tell it. I weren’t no one to say stick to the facts.

  “I didn’t drink it, there was something wrong in that place.” She sighed heavy but I told her to keep going. “Father started to get despondent, just sat there all day staring into the water. Then came the hallucinations. Then he decided that salvation was at the bottom of that lake so he dove in.”

  “And he didn’t come back up?” I said. She nodded, so I asked, “When’d this happen?”

  Saw tears rolling down her milky cheeks and she said, “Week or two ago. I don’t remember exactly. It was stupid. He was stupid. But he said someone else has camped out here, so it must be safe.”

  I felt a twinge in my chest. “How’d you know that?”

  She shook her head a bit, eyes went wide like she was trying to picture it. “There was a shelter already built, a fire pit. It looked recently used so we stayed.”

  Twinge turned into a drumbeat echoing through me. My shelter. My fire.

  Shit.

  Felt guilt creeping up on my back, using them bandages for footholds. Felt I should take her along to Halveston to make amends for my part in all this. But hell, I thought quick, it weren’t my fault her daddy drank himself to drowning. Weren’t my fault she ended up in a crate, that was her own mess, same as me. Them steps she took from lake to Colby were her path what she made for herself. I ain’t in the business of blaming no one for my situations and I weren’t about to take on some girl’s problems as my own. I got enough. I got demons in my head and I’m sure that one by the lake, whoever the hell it really was, didn’t take too kindly to having his gut slashed. I got Kreagar tracking me, hunting me, taunting me with his boot prints and blood. Lyon half a step behind that. I was one stumble away from her six-shooter and Kreagar’s knife and all them other demons and I didn’t hate no one enough to bring them into that pile a’ shit. Didn’t have no time to play nice with no one.

  “That’s a damn shame,” I said, voice harder than was polite. She looked at me like she was expecting me to say something more. She soon figured I weren’t that kind a’ girl.

  She started flinging bandage wrappers into a plastic bag, sighing, huffing, then stood up and said, “Eat your breakfast then take two of those pills.” She pointed at the pack. “We dock tomorrow morning.”

  Then she left, slamming the door behind her. Cold bacon was still better’n no bacon and I didn’t waste no more time clearing my plate. Full belly, I looked at them pills, the silvery side covered in little spider writing what meant nothing to me. Any other day I would a’ chucked them out the window in favor of what the forest could give me, but I weren’t nowhere close to no broadleaf or witch hazel. I cursed the boat and popped out two a’ them pills. Like swallowing dry stones right off the shore, and I weren’t so sure they’d do anything at all.

  I opened up the round window and stuck my head out far as my ribs would let me. Smelled a sting on the air afore anything else. Thunderhead was coming and I sure as shit didn’t want to be on no boat when it hit. Craned my neck ’round to see north. Black clouds, loaded up with rain and hurt. I let out my breath and closed the window. I had maybe two days afore that storm bore down, and I was off this boat in one. Long as I was in the forest and had a tree to anchor to, I might survive it.

  It was still early but pain and pills and the rocking boat put my mind right to sleep. I lay back on my bunk and didn’t open up my eyes till night came. Penelope snored soft on her bunk like one a’ them wild boar piglets snuffling up to its momma. Sleep a’ someone what lead a gentle life. Life a’ feather beds and doting parents. Life a’ three square meals and china cups. She might a’ had a few years on me, but damn, she didn’t have a day a’ wild in her.

  Lying in my bunk, sore and breathing stiff, I knew she’d be wanting a decision. Take her to Halveston and she’ll help me with letters to find my folks. But Halveston was a week or two’s trek, more for staying off the roads, and I had Colby’s coin to pay someone for the reading. Penelope was sweet and all but she was a millstone and a risk and I didn’t have no time for it. Trapper said once that people are dangerous, some fierce as wolves, some meek as deer, and you only figured which after they got close. I weren’t letting myself get close to no one. Felt sick for it, felt like a dog for it, but I had my own mess to deal with and Penelope had hers. She had her smarts to get her out a’ scrapes and I had my knife, and that left us both in fair shape I reckoned.

  That’s what I told myself anyhow, and that’s what got me back to sleep.

  We’d be docking in the morning and I’d be off this boat, walking right into a thunderhead. Give me that storm over rocking and rolling on waves, give me earth and dirt and mud over water any day. Rain started pattering on the roof a’ the boat and got hard fast. The round window streaked and spotted and the walls shook with the wind.

  This wasn’t the thunderhead, no sir, this was the calm. This was the easing you in and it set ice right in my heart. That storm was talking to me, a warning like that wolf howl when I was in the crate. The wild was helping me survive in the world a’ men and, curse me, I should a’ listened closer. Maybe all them other pieces a’ darkness kept the truth out a’ me. The storm was telling me what was waiting on the other side of this lake but my demons plugged my ears. Colby’s words a’ beauty. Hog man’s ragged breathing. Kreagar’s black lies. I was deaf to it all.

  Last thing Penelope said to me afore she slammed the cabin door in my face was “Don’t take more than two of those pills at once.”

  Then I heard her shoes storming down the corridor. I’d told her I wouldn’t be escorting her to Halveston. Told her the road would be safest for her and she should find a nice fella to keep her safe. She didn’t much take to that idea but I didn’t want no traveling companion, ’specially one who probably couldn’t tell a snare from a stocking.

  I put on that blue shirt she got me, hid my bloody one in a cubbyhole, and pinned up my coat. Said to myself, the first thing I’ll do in Halveston is buy some damn buttons.

  I hadn’t been out the cabin since I got in and I hadn’t seen another soul on this boat save for Penelope. I left slow, checking every corridor, scared someone would ask me for a ticket I didn’t have, and tried to figure my way off the boat. Other people were doing the same, lugging trunks and packs full a’ blankets and tents. Some had pots and plates strapped on the outside, clanking ’round with every step. They didn’t need half a’ that in truth. I had my coat, my knife, and a bag what was almost empty. No more a’ the reverend’s cans, no more spoons, just his tinderbox and a scrap a’ blanket. Didn’t need naught else. I kept my head down and my arm ’cross my ribs. I weren’t in no mood to be nudged or jostled. Found my way out onto the deck and got myself in behind a group a’ fellas all dressed about the same as me.

  The dock was much the same as the other side a’ the lake, ’cept the road led north into the mountains, there was a few more trees dotted about, and a bunch a’ snakes touted cart rides, equipment, and claim papers. Three dandy-dressed men stood smoking by a pile a’ crates, one watching for someone coming down the plank, the other two watching the cargo offload. Didn’t see Penelope nowhere but tell the truth, I weren’t looking. Little part a’ me hoped she’d be all right and I’d see her up in Halveston. She’d patched me up good and I was thankful for that. I told her as much, but she still scowled at me something rotten when I said she was on her own.

  I didn’t understand it. I’d saved her, taken her out that crate. She’d paid me back with pills and bandages. We was square. Weren’t no reason for her to be grumbling at me.

  I followed the group a’ same-dressed fellas off the boat and onto the dock. Rain came down hard and I smelled the thunderhead over the hills. My feet sure felt good on land eve
n if it was churned-up mud. They belonged there, that’s for sure. My body felt like it was still swaying with the waves. Felt sicker on dirt than I did on the boat in them first few minutes and I didn’t have no choice but to walk it off.

  The few buildings around the dock mostly sold gear and food and were strung along the road like hooks on a longline. Most a’ the folk in them buildings were closing the storm shutters, locking up doors, and tying down their wagons. Men with cheap suits and greasy mustaches shouted things like Ruby and gold claims just fifty bucks, millions of dollars just waiting for you and waved about sodden bits of paper what were probably worth more’n the land they was selling, if they was selling land at all. They didn’t seem to pay no mind to the thunderhead rolling in. No doubt they had rat holes they ran to at the last minute.

  Years back when I told Trapper ’bout my parents, he told me stories a’ the first fools’ dash north. Said his daddy told him all about it, read it to him right out a book so it must a’ been truth. Trapper said men and women full a’ dreams and hot blood went into the mountains. They bought their gear and scraps a’ land from mustached men like them crowding ’round the dock, thinking the whole North was so rich, so full a’ that yellow metal that people didn’t have no more reason to lie and swindle. Those same fools came south just a few months later, pale skin, dead eyes, no more dreams, no more blood. ’Course that’s if they came back at all. They didn’t have thunderheads back then like we do now, but the weather still killed ’em just the same. Thunderhead’ll rip the shirt and skin off your back and all folks knew it. All folks had plans for when they came. This dock weren’t no different.

  But I weren’t making no mistakes like them hundreds-a’-years-ago idiots. I weren’t looking for no claim, I was looking for people even though most a’ them was just as worthless ’neath the surface. I held on to the knowing that my folks were wily as me and had set themselves up on a claim full a’ worth. Tell the truth, seeing all these people headed to Halveston, same idea stuck firm in their heads, I wondered brief how much land there was to go between them. My parents had been up there near fifteen years, they probably had a palace by now, no doubt paying these dreamers to dig the gold up for ’em.

  “Almost there,” I said to myself. Felt my hair and shoulders soak and it was like the thunderhead was washing away the stink a’ that boat and the hog man with it.

  Them fellas dressed like me broke off toward the gin house, collars turned up ’gainst the weather, and I was left standing stupid in the middle of the street. A cart selling gold pans was quick battening down afore the storm, chained up with heavy iron cables to a stand a’ thick pipes what must run deep underground.

  Still no sign a’ Penelope, though I told myself I wasn’t really looking for her, just keeping an eye out for unsavory types. Caught the eye of one a’ them dandies. The one who was watching the passengers. He took a step toward me then stopped, backed away like a wolf been told off by his alpha.

  “Papers,” voice said behind me. I turned and saw that alpha. Woman the size of a truck, all shoulders and arms and hair like a mountain man’s stuck out ’neath a black hat. Gold badge on her chest and a worn-out red jacket what weren’t even close to fitting, all said she was the law up here.

  “Papers,” she said again. “Quick now, ain’t got all day.”

  She weren’t even really looking at me, more like right through me. Seen so many people up here she probably didn’t give two shits if they were legal or not. She was watching the town lock up, board up doors and windows, bracing itself for the storm.

  But I didn’t have no papers and she quick noticed I wasn’t handing her nothing. Them eyes hit mine hard and she puffed up her chest. Another red jacket came up beside her.

  “Where are your papers? Your ticket,” she said.

  “Don’t got no papers,” I said and it was true. “A man paid for my passage.”

  “This is the town of Ellery,” she said, grander’n the place deserved, “and we don’t accept excuses. No papers means a night in the lockup and morning passage back south with the cargo.”

  I weren’t no stranger to the cargo, but I didn’t much fancy another two full days rolling about, feeling green. I quick scanned the place, looking for the road out, braced my legs for running, and prayed my ribs would forgive me. But the big woman took a hold a’ my arm and started pulling me toward one a’ them buildings, the one with the sign hanging out front painted with the same shape as her badge.

  It happened all too quick for me to stamp and swear. She grabbed me up like I was a salmon she clawed out the river and the other red coat trotted on behind. Them dandy men took notice, squinting through the rain. They was close enough to hear what she said. Girl on her own, no papers, man paid for passage. They was expecting Colby, no doubt, watching for crates they thought me and Penelope was in. Now they figured something must be wrong.

  “Hey, no,” I said, “I got my ticket paid for. You got no right.”

  “Show me your ticket and you’re free,” she said, bored, heard it all before.

  We got close to the lockup building, rain got harder and louder, and I saw something that made me want to run right for the hills. My face. Staring blank-eyed at me off a poster tacked up to the wall. Right next to that same poster a’ Kreagar I saw in Dalston and Genesis. Ink on both was running with the weather but it was me, anyone could see that.

  They know my face. Lyon knows my face. Whole world gonna know my face and put me behind the same bars as that murdering son bitch. I tried pulling away but ain’t no way I was getting free a’ this woman. My other hand started looking for my knife.

  “Hey, hey, excuse me,” sweet voice said, and my heart both sunk and burst to see Penelope walking toward us, picking her way ’cross muddy streams in the road.

  “Help you?” the other red coat said.

  “You seem to have stolen my partner,” Penelope said, eyeing me hard to say shut the hell up. Her pretty white dress was soaked through, showing off her unders, and her hair was flat ’gainst her head.

  “Partner?” Big Betty said.

  “Yes,” Penelope said, holding on to a wet bit a’ folded-up paper and putting on an even more dainty voice, “her name is Porter, we’re heading north. Forgive her brashness, she’s a little…touched,” she said, tapping the side of her head. “She’s a good worker, I need her to run the mine.”

  Felt my back prickle. Wind started picking up and Betty got impatient.

  The woman looked around. “Where’s your equipment?”

  Penelope sighed all fake and loud and said, “On the boat, of course. Here, here’s her ticket, now let her go.”

  Other red coat took the paper and Big Betty’s grip went slack. My eyes kept flitting between Betty and that poster a’ me. Last thing I needed was her realizing my papers was already tacked up on her jailhouse. Penelope looked at me like I was something stuck on her boot and I weren’t at all sure if it was part a’ her act.

  Red coat opened up the papers, read out the name, “Porter McLeish,” then he gave the paper to Betty.

  “I need her. I know she’s got a mouth on her but come on,” Penelope said, more friendly to Betty, “give a girl a break.”

  My heart beat heavy in my ears and throat, drumming along with the rain. All them seconds they spent looking over that paper, words what meant nothing but a headache to me. These three people around me all had a magic I didn’t and I sure as shit didn’t enjoy feeling like that. Them words on that piece a’ nothing could send me back south on that boat or could set me right on my path north. All from paper. That rubbish that rips easier’n cotton, breaks down to mush in water, bleaches out its meaning after too long in the sun. That paper right there in Big Betty’s meaty fingers, and the people who could make sense of it, had total power over me.

  That weren’t no fun.

  “Seems to be in order,” big’un said slow, and looked down at Penelope. Her eyelids didn’t have no lashes, just creases a’ skin and puffy bags �
�neath her eyes. Made her look like a frog taken unawares by a heron.

  But Betty weren’t convinced. She squinted them bug eyes at Penelope and said, “And where are your papers, miss?”

  Pink flushed Penelope’s cheeks and she opened her mouth to give some new excuse but didn’t get a chance. Shout went up from the dock. Dandies stood up straight and a crane winched up a crate too heavy for the deckhands to lift.

  I knew that crate. Penelope knew it better. Bloodstains covered the yellow wood. Penelope stared at me, eyes glistening with fear.

  “What in the hell…” Red Coat said, and tapped Big Betty on the arm.

  Betty growled somewhere deep in her throat and let me go like she was flinging mud off her fingers. She pushed the papers back to Penelope and said, “Get going.”

  Neither a’ us needed to be told twice. Betty and the red coat strode toward the boat just as the crate was set down in a splash a’ mud. I looked at Penelope, saw her panic, and the devil and angel on my shoulders just shrugged and said, Elka, you don’t got no choice.

  “Come on then,” I said, and started walking fast out a’ Ellery. “We got to get shelter.”

  Penelope followed and we only looked back when we heard the splintering of wood and the screaming from the women.

  “Just keep walkin’,” I said, and pulled Penelope along with me. I couldn’t afford to have her lagging behind, ogling the crowd.

  Word spread quick around Ellery but even a dead body weren’t enough to tempt people out their homes when a thunderhead was coming. We kept our heads low and our stride fast and I found myself wishing to heaven we’d get to shelter afore the storm hit. Hell, I could a’ wished for anything but just like almost all else in this life, you wish in one hand and shit in the other, see which fills up quickest.

  We got out the town and I quick dragged Penelope off the road and into the forest. Smell a’ trees and sap and rain and leaf litter mixed up with the sting a’ the coming storm, filled me up and set me smiling for the first time in too long. Thunderhead was coming quick. Rain was heavy and cold, like the world was dropping rocks on us. Sky was dark and full a’ fat black clouds.