The Wolf Road

by Beth Lewis

  “What you doing here?” was ’bout all I could say.

  “I needed a change of clothes,” she said. “What are you doing back here so soon? What about the moose?”

  I just shook my head. Shame cut the tongue right out my head.

  I let Penelope lead me inside. She sat me down on the bed and I curled up like a baby ’neath the blanket. I was shivering and sobbing and felt sick all over again. Penelope kept asking me what was wrong, what happened, but I kept shaking my head. Soon she gave up asking and just sat beside me, stroking my hair, cooing and shushing me like a kid what had a nightmare.

  I had had a nightmare. Ten years a’ nightmare, and I was just remembering the details. Reliving it like I’d just woken up. Kreagar was that demon by the lake, horns and claws coming at me in the dark, laughing at me like he knew all along what I done. And he did, ’course he did. I remembered his face after he told me my nana was dead, bite a’ jerky in my mouth.

  “You like that?” he’d said. I did. I did like it. That was why he kept me. I knew it now. ’Cause I liked the flavor of his life.

  Nana…I opened my eyes wide. That bloody sack, full a’ pig what he’d got from town, what he made me cut up. Found your nana.

  I ran outside, emptied out my stomach all over again. Fresh, hot hate boiled up in me, seared my insides, turned my heart to scar tissue.

  Penelope came rushing out behind me.

  Thunder cracked to the north and clouds hid the moon and stars. Only light was from a candle in the cabin window.

  I stood up straight, pulled in cold air, faced out into the darkness.

  “I’m all right now,” I said, but didn’t turn around to Penelope. “I’m all right.”

  “Are you sure? What happened? Did you get a moose?”

  I’d forgotten all ’bout the hunt. Didn’t feel like admitting I’d lost all the bullets, so I just shook my head again.

  She asked me more questions, said things I don’t remember now, mostly words full a’ worry and curious. The more I heard her voice, the more relaxed I got. The more I felt like me again.

  I know now what I did in that hut with Kreagar, at least most of it. I got to live with it. And I will. But Penelope don’t got to know. I couldn’t take the look a’ horror on that pretty face. That bridge we built ’tween us would be smashed to splinters and that weren’t something I’d do, not now, not ever.

  “Did you catch anything else?”

  I turned ’round and smiled at her. “Could say that. I’ll tell you all ’bout it,” I said and, back in the cabin, in the warm, low light beside that wood burner, I did. I told her ’bout Lyon and Delacroix and the damn fine plan and, overhead, a storm rolled in.

  Penelope read every word a’ that newspaper what said Delacroix was dead. Read it twice, three times, more’n that over the next few days, even nailed it up on the wall. Told me she couldn’t believe it. Told me she couldn’t believe leaving that note in Tucket worked. Told me she couldn’t believe everything was going so damn well.

  But for me, the shit was just beginning. I had no idea how I was going to catch Kreagar and get free a’ Lyon, and I weren’t afraid to admit it. Trapper taught me everything I knew, there weren’t no way I could think of to get him on the back foot. Kreagar didn’t have no back foot. All this time I’d had this damn fine plan that I would catch him and turn him in, but it was all hot air. Never figured I’d actually have to do it. Lyon was meant to catch him. Lyon and all that law she had on her side were meant to do my job for me. In truth, I hadn’t given half a thought to how I’d go ’bout it. The down-deep details a’ the thing. And now, when my bluff been shouted in my face, when it true mattered and I was the only one what could find him, catch him, maybe kill him, I was coming up empty.

  “I don’t know where to even start,” I said. “He could be anywhere or nowhere. He could be dead in a ditch in Halveston for all I know.”

  Penelope half smiled at me. “You’ll find him.”

  Easy for her to say. Her demon was slayed, hanging off a tree by her neck. Mine was roaming the woods, hungry and without no hint a’ good in him.

  The storm what started in the north a few days ago was coming in slow; weren’t bad though, weren’t no thunderhead at least. Every time I thought it would hit, it stayed that little bit out a’ reach, kept its insides to itself. It would come, a’ course, right when I didn’t want it to. I spent more’n more time on my own, climbing trees, doing this and that, I only went in the cabin when chores needed doing. Every day I was in that place, fixing up the smokehouse though I didn’t have nothing to smoke in it, and making the shutters for the window, I kept my eyes on the forest, searching for a flash a’ gray fur. I kept my ears open for any growl, any sound a’ padding feet. I missed Wolf something awful in them days. Not sure why then after so long without him, maybe ’cause he was wild and I was just remembering I was too.

  Weren’t no sign, a’ course. I had me human work to take care of and there ain’t much a wild thing hates more’n human work. I’d most finished the shutters and smokehouse and I thought ’bout going on another hunt afore winter set in proper. We’d need the meat and we’d spent near half my parents’ gold in supplies to get us this far. Weren’t no one in Tucket this time a’ year what would part with a moose haunch.

  Penelope took a trip into town to see her sweetheart and I found myself at a loss a’ what to do. I’d tended the fire. I’d checked and reset my snares and I’d washed my smalls and set ’em to dry near the burner. In just my shirt and slacks, I went outside with my knife and picked a tree. Scratched a target into the bark and stepped back ten foot. I aimed and threw the knife. It slammed into the wood ’bout six inches south a’ the circle. Threw it again and it glanced off the tree and stuck deep into the dirt.

  When I picked up my knife I told myself this was how I’d have to do it, when the time came. This was what would bring down Kreagar. I couldn’t shoot him, the rifle was too heavy and bulky ’case I needed to run and if he got it off me, hell, he was a crack shot and I’d get no more’n five steps. I couldn’t get in close with my blade, he was stronger’n me times ten, I wouldn’t stand a chance. But he couldn’t throw a knife on target even if he was chucking it in a bucket. That was where I’d get him. A talent I’d made myself, a skill I’d trained, what he didn’t have no idea of. Only way to slay a demon was to do what he weren’t expecting. A hit to the leg would cripple him but a hit to the heart would kill him. Lyon said she wanted him breathing, but I wanted him dead. It was the only way I’d be sure. If he was dead, so was my secret and I could throw away that last key to that last door in my head.

  I threw the knife at the tree with that knowledge sat square at the front a’ my head. The blade stuck deep into the middle a’ the target. Gave that wooden thud what sent birds to wing in the meadow. Saw Kreagar pinned to that tree, right through the tattoos on his chest, bleeding out his mouth and nose, choking out his last. I pulled the knife out, let him slump.

  I was starting to understand what he meant in the reverend’s basement a whole year ago. I was figuring out why he didn’t kill me. I was figuring out what plan he had for me, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  I practiced all day, till my arm ached and I couldn’t see the tree for darkness. Penelope didn’t come back that night and I didn’t expect her to. She was seeing more’n more a’ Mark and always came back to the cabin smiling and talking ’bout how well he was doing at the lumberyard, how Josie was thinking of raising his wages, how he was thinking of heading back to Halveston after winter for a better job, better prospects she said.

  “He’s asked me to live with him,” Penelope said, fingering a rip in her denims. “Even Josie said it was OK, can you believe it?”

  “ ’Course I can,” I said. You’s family to them folk.”

  Then I remembered that little boy’s drawing, that black circle. “How’s the kid doin’?” I said, “Still havin’ nightmares?”

  “Josh? They’ve gotten worse. He doe
sn’t sleep much now.”

  “Josie said it was him bein’ foolish on account a’ him seein’ the posters a’ Kreagar ’round town.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you…” she started saying, then got all quiet.

  “Tell me what?”

  She kept on at that rip in her trousers.

  “Tell me what, Penelope?”

  “In case you did something stupid…”

  “Tell me what, goddammit?” I stood up and stamped hard on the boards.

  “He was spotted,” she said, “Kreagar. About a mile outside Tucket.”

  My heart went hard and Penelope carried on.

  “A pair of hunters checking their trap line found a fire and spotted a man running through the trees. The man, they said, had black marks all over his face. When they saw the poster, they said it was uncanny. He’s here, Elka.”

  I sat back down slow. I’d had a feeling Kreagar was in Tucket but didn’t right believe it. It weren’t solid. It weren’t concrete. But now. Hell, now I didn’t have no choice but to honor my bargain with Lyon. There weren’t no other way. I looked out into the trees, into the wild, and wanted to run but Lyon’s words kept repeating in me like rotten meat. I’ll take that pretty blond friend of yours to Genesis instead.

  This time last year, when I was walking away from my burning home, I’d a’ said shit, what do I care ’bout some prissy southern girl? Hang her twice if you want. Now I looked at Penelope, thought a’ her picture in the newspaper, swinging from the tree and near reached out and hugged her. There weren’t no question a’ me leaving.

  Next day I went to Tucket and I found the site where them hunters said they saw Kreagar. All was left was a black scorch in the dirt and a few heavy tracks leading north, what meant he probably went south. Them tracks disappeared like someone had taken a wet cloth to a chalkboard. Just like Trapper always done when he was hunting. I weren’t going to find him like this, ’specially once winter hit. He never did his killing in winter, said the snow told tales. He went to ground and slept most a’ the days like a plump grizzly in his cave. I’d have to lure him out, and that meant putting his favorite treat on show.

  But I didn’t know if I had it in me to do that no more. Year ago, maybe. Two year ago, ain’t no question. I couldn’t figure how a person could change so much in such a short time. Maybe I weren’t as wild and heartless as I thought I was. But then again, maybe I was just as rotten as Kreagar for even considering what I was about to do.

  Back at Tin River, I lay awake while Penelope slept and thought all ’bout how I’d have to do it, all the tos and fros, backs and forths. I didn’t like it, what I’d have to do, but way I saw it there weren’t no other option. It’d be safe a’ course, but it weren’t a good thing to do. Took me most a’ the night, till it was pitch outside and the chill was coming through the walls. That chill went right into my bones and woke up the devil and angel on my shoulders. One said no then the other said hell no but they weren’t changing my mind. Not now. Not when so many lives was riding on it, mine n’all. By the time I figured it all, the snow started falling and I was right out a’ time.

  Woke up to white. Two foot a’ snow covered Tin River and turned down the volume a’ the world. Snow did that, made everything feel calm and distant. Made me calm and distant. Penelope lit the burner with shivering hands and her breath came smoky out her mouth. I’d slept a few minutes here and there and I had about me a feeling a’ numbness what weren’t the cold. I kept running it through my mind. Was it worth it? Could I risk it?

  I sat on the porch outside the cabin, boots soaking in the chill and wet a’ snow. I pinched up flakes ’tween my fingers and watched ’em melt to nothing. Thought it strange how the snow could turn the world on its head then just disappear like it weren’t never there. When the ice melted in the spring, sometimes it left behind bodies what got caught out and froze. Nobody would find ’em for months, oftentimes longer. Made me sad to think a’ them out there, tired come the night and thinking they’d just sit and take a snooze. Never woke up. Never knew what hit ’em. Winter was the beast of the world. The great demon what locked up the rivers and stole away the food, turned the days to night and killed old folks in they sleep. I’d all but missed last winter, stuck by that poison lake, but this far north, I’d have no chance of escaping it again.

  “Aren’t you freezing?” Penelope said behind me.

  I shook my head but didn’t say nothing. My thoughts were in the dark, in the heavy marsh a’ shame, and I couldn’t wade myself out. Wondered brief if I ever would.

  “Can you believe this snow, it’s so beautiful,” she said, but like she weren’t expecting an answer, then she didn’t speak for a while. I felt her eyes on me, heating up twin spots on my back.

  “What?” I said, flicking snow with a twig.

  “You’re different. These last few days.”

  “What you know of it?” I said, meaner’n I should a’.

  Penelope’s hide was thick to my words now and she didn’t go raging at me. I blew a stream a’ smoke out into the air. Penelope sat down next to me, shoulder to shoulder. Felt her warmth through the layers a’ coat and fur and felt sick by it. She nudged me but I looked to the other side a’ me, away from her. Was all I could do not to weep and shout my sorrys.

  Felt her shivering and she got in a bit closer to me. All I kept thinking was, You don’t know nothing ’bout me, you’d hate me if you knew. Thought a’ her hating me was worse’n anything right then. It’d happen soon, when she figured it all, but till then I could hold on to her like clutching a rope over a crevasse. Weren’t no way I could climb back up it, didn’t have no strength, way was blocked by a ledge a’ rock, but I could hold on a bit longer. Just a few more days.

  “When’s it good,” I said, blinking at the sun, “to do somethin’ bad?”

  Saw a puff a’ her breath but couldn’t look at her face.

  Took her a while to say something, and when she did her voice weren’t light with talk a’ twinkling snow. “When you have no other choice.”

  Tone of it made me turn.

  “Ain’t we always got a choice?”

  “Not always. When it’s your life or theirs.”

  Thought brief she was talking ’bout Bilker but there was something in her face, stony white like a smooth wall built up to keep out wolves, that said otherwise.

  “Your daddy?” I said, and she met my eyes. She looked like she was ’bout to deny it, ’bout to try to bluff her way clear.

  We was beyond that.

  “He sold me. To Delacroix.” She sniffed up the cold, then smiled. “But you already knew that.”

  “Had me a feelin’. Why’d he do it?”

  “Morphine habit and no money to pay for it. We were at the lake and I overheard him one evening talking to a Frenchwoman in a clearing between the lake and the road.” Her voice turned bitter. “It was strange because there was no one else out there, you know, I hadn’t seen anyone else for days and days. That’s what made me listen. They agreed on a price and Delacroix said she’d send men to collect me in the morning. My father…God…he said he got the better deal.” She shook her head then kept on. “I was so angry at him. He was meant to protect me, not throw me to the dogs for a fix. I let my anger get the better of me. I waited until he was addled, dragged him to the lake, and swam him out to the middle of it. He couldn’t swim, you see. When I got to Genesis and met Colby, I was too messed up to realize what he was doing or that he was Delacroix’s man. I was on my own for the first time, he was there and he offered to take me to the ferry boat. He was kind and handsome, you know how it goes.”

  “Why’d you lie ’bout it?” I said.

  “It’s not that easy to admit to murder.”

  Wanted to say, I know. Dammit, I know. The face a’ that hog man, turned slack when my knife stuck his throat, still came to me when I shut my eyes. Still felt his breath. I murdered him, but he weren’t the one locked in my head. He weren’t the one. But my mouth woul
dn’t make the sound. My throat wouldn’t give it breath. You can’t admit to someone else what you’re too damn afraid to admit to yourself. We was all allowed secrets and me and Penelope had figured that between us a long time ago.

  “I trust you, Elka,” she said, so tender I put my arm ’round her.

  Then she leant her head on my shoulder and said, “Are you going to do something bad?”

  Felt heat in my eyes, like sparks come straight out a fire. I already done something bad. So many bad things. What was one more? I didn’t answer her ’cause in them moments, them quiet, still, perfect white moments outside our cabin, on our land, with naught but each other and a fire in the grate, I couldn’t tell her a lie.

  In my head, lying now would be the worst thing I could do. Better to tell her nothing than a lie.

  She felt me tense up, felt my chest go tight ’neath her head. She sat up, took my hand, and said, “What you did with Kreagar…it doesn’t matter now. You’re not the same person. You’re not him.”

  My chin started trembling. “How’d you know?”

  “Kreagar wouldn’t have pulled me out of that crate. Or out of that river. Would he?”

  He would a’ pulled her out just to kill her himself later.

  I said no.

  “Underneath all the grime,” she said, smearing a spot a’ dirt on my cheek with her finger, “you’re a diamond, Elka, clear and tough and priceless.”

  “But you don’t know…” I said, in no more’n a whisper. That heat in my eyes burned, everything went flickery and blurred up with tears.

  “I know enough,” she said, but she said it in a strange way. That same way she said it to me ’bout her daddy. I hadn’t told her ’bout the…what Lyon made me remember. The way she was looking at me, mix a’ humoring and pity, same way she looked at me back in Halveston when we found out ’bout the doctor’s boy and his poor legs, that same look what said she knew what Kreagar done and she knew what I done.