Wolf! The Legend of Tom Sawyer's Island

by Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  Wolf walked cautiously across the lawn, instinctively aware that he was now in full sight of both the house and the nearby river. Ears erect and forward, he was alert for any noise. His muscles were tense, poised for instant flight. The sharp blue eyes caught a movement; his nose caught the smell. A cat. Small. Frightened. Easy kill.

  In a flash, he turned with a snarl, and bounded after the terrified tabby. Dodging to avoid tree trunks, he easily followed the scent. When the smell suddenly ended, he knew to look up into the tree in front of him. Lips pulled back, he growled deep in his throat. The tabby climbed to a higher branch.

  Breathing hard, fangs dripping, Wolf paced back and forth beneath the tree. The cat had to come down sometime. And he would be there when it did. A snapping branch on the other side of the tree startled him, catching him unaware of any other presence. The wolf jumped around to face the new danger. Head down, ears flat, the fur on his neck bristled as he snarled in the direction of the noise.

  “Hau Misun.”

  Wolf backed up a step when the brave, Mato, emerged from behind the tree. There was an arrow cocked in his bow, but it was relaxed at his side. “Hau Misun.” Mato squatted down on his heels, calmly looking at the defensive posture of the wolf.

  Taking another step back, the wolf was confused. He looked up at where the cat was still hidden by the protecting branches, and back at the human in front of him. The instincts within him braced him for a fight. Wolf’s muscles bunched, yet the brave didn’t appear worried. Not smelling fear off the man, not sensing danger, the wolf was even more confused. Mato slowly extended his hand, palm down, toward the sharp nose of the wolf. Teeth bared, Wolf was ready for…. He couldn’t remember what he should be ready for. As the hand got closer, the smell of the man emerged over the tang of the crushed pine needles underneath and the fear of the cat overhead. The black-lipped mouth closed, hiding the rows of sharp teeth. He cautiously sniffed the hand in front of him. The hair on the back of his neck lowered.

  “Hello, Little Brother,” Wolf repeated back, his voice a hoarse whisper as if he hadn’t spoken in a long, long time. “Mato? Did it happen again?” Wolf’s head drooped as he sat back on his haunches.

  “Don’t worry, Sumanitu Taka. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” The dark brown eyes regarded Wolf closely. “It took longer to remember who you were this time, didn’t it?”

  Reluctantly, Wolf nodded. There was no point denying it. “Yes. It gets more difficult each time I go through.”

  “Maybe you should quit going through.”

  “You sound like father.”

  “Perhaps he’s right,” Mato pointedly told him, as they all did to no avail. It was hard for them to understand Wolf’s need to go to the other world so many times. Actually, it was hard for Mato to understand any of it. He watched as Wolf got back on his feet and turned towards the deeper part of the forest. “Tokhiya la hunwo?”

  Wolf gave a snort of a laugh. “It should be obvious where I‘m going. I need to see my father.”

  “Wašté kte šni.” Mato turned to follow.

  Wolf’s sharp hearing caught the muttered words and gave a sigh. “Yeah, I know. It won’t be good.”

  Mato chuckled. “I keep forgetting you can hear like a wolf.”

  “I am a wolf.”

  “You are a filthy wolf, actually. You look like you’ve been rolling around in the mud.”

  “I think the mud rolled around over me. The current was deadly last night.”

  Mato nodded. “We saw the oskeca. We wondered if that storm brought you back. It’s been a long time.”

  Thinking about his father, Wolf missed the remark. He veered off toward the river. “I’ll meet you back at the village.”

  As his brother ran off, Mato glanced up into the branches, hearing a movement. Seeing the cat’s tail nervously switch back and forth, he knew it wouldn’t come down for a long time. With a sigh and muttering about “stubborn men,” he went to where he had tied up his brown and white pinto. Grasping the horse’s mane, he easily swung onto the broad back. Guiding with his knees, he, too, headed for the wicote.

  Plunging into the green water, the wolf easily paddled with the current as it took him downstream toward their encampment. He glanced across the wide River as he swam past Rose’s cabin. That would be his next stop.

  Then he had to find what happened to Wals.

  “Owákaȟniǧe šni.” Confused, Wolf looked at the Shaman. They were seated in front of the deerskin that was stretched across the back of the rocky overhang.

  “Which part do you not understand? That we found your odd clothes floating in the River, or that you’ve been gone over a year?” The Shaman was glad the wolf headdress hid his eyes. The humor in them belied the seriousness of his facial expression—and he wanted Wolf to take this seriously.

  One of Wolf’s ears turned backward as he thought. “A year! How could it be a year? I just went back knowing I needed to get my friend’s help. It had to be only a few days.”

  “And yet it isn’t. Mato said you chased a cat up a tree.”

  “Bear needs to mind his own business.”

  “Mato is your older brother. It is his business,” the Shaman reminded him. “He said you didn’t know who you were or where you were.”

  Wolf looked out over the River. “It took longer to remember this time.”

  “One of these times you might not be able to remember at all.” The words were spoken softly, but they conveyed the fear his father felt deep inside.

  “If we can get Rose and the Doctor safely to their time, perhaps my mission will be over.” Wolf was hopeful, but there never seemed to be any explanation or solution. There never had been.

  The Shaman just grunted. He didn’t know, either, and changed the subject. “You saw the new white house?”

  “The Mansion?” Wolf nodded. “I knew it would be built, both from talk at Fort Wilderness that Rose told me about and from plans in the other world. The story is that there’ll be a tragedy and eventually nobody will live in it. Yet, it will continue to have many visitors.”

  The Shaman chuckled. “Now you sound like me! Talking in riddles and mysteries. That is a good sign, my son.”

  Wolf’s lip peeled back in a toothy grin. “I guess I do. I need to watch myself. Where did you put my clothes, by the way?” He looked around the rocky enclosure. “I’ll need them when I go back.”

  His father folded his arms over his chest. “Perhaps if I don’t tell you, you won’t go back.”

  One black shoulder raised in a shrug. “I left more clothes here and there in the other world.”

  “You would.”

  Wolf came over to lean against the older man. It was his version of a hug. He felt a tug on his left ear. “Have you seen any strange boats recently? It might be good to know before I head over to Rose’s cabin. She’s probably worried sick about me being gone so long. A year?” Amazed and alarmed, he hoped nothing bad had happened to her without his protection.

  The Shaman ignored Wolf’s concerns over the wiya. He knew she was safe. Mato would sit on his pinto across the River from her clearing, just to see if all was well. But there was no need to tell Wolf this. He would need to find out for himself. “There have been no strange boats. Only the fancy white paddlewheeler with its smelly black smoke stacks. The double-decked little brown boats no longer go by. You called them keel boats.”

  Wolf just nodded as he listened. So the Keel Boats were gone here too. Only one was left in the future, the Gullywhumper, and it just sat in the water as something to see along the River. “You didn’t happen to see a stranger in the River last night, did you? I brought my friend Wals back to help Rose and Doctor Houser.”

  “No, just your clothes came to our shore. That’s how Mato knew to go looking for you. Are you leaving already?”

  Wolf got to his feet and stretched his aching muscles. “Yes, atewaye ki. I’ll be back,” he promised. “Maybe I’ll bring Wals to visit.” He thought he saw his father roll his ey
es before turning away.

  “Do what you must. Be safe, my son. Doka.”

  “Yes, see you later.”

  Sukawaka, Rose’s brown mare, touched noses with Wolf. Long accustomed to Wolf’s special scent, she was no longer afraid of the huge animal. Sensing no fear or urgency from the horse, Wolf turned to the log cabin. The split-rail fence around the cabin was leaning in a couple of places. The dead tree off to the side now had a huge nest built in the bare branches. The garden looked a little overgrown with weeds, giving an air of neglect to the front. A splash of color came from some blue gingham curtains Rose had added to the two front windows. He recognized them from an old skirt she used to wear. He heard something drop inside and went to stand in the open front door until she spotted him.

  The shadow of a wolf fell over the floor where Rose was sweeping up the fragments of a broken mixing bowl. The straw broom was quickly dropped as she gave a happy cry of recognition.

  “Oh, Wolf! You’re back!” When he walked in, she threw her arms around his thick neck. Closing his eyes, he leaned into her embrace. She smelled of lilacs and bread dough. “Where have you been all this time? For the longest time I was afraid the soldiers got you.” She pulled back, tears in her eyes.

  Wolf reached up and caught one of her tears with the tip of his rough tongue. He felt badly that he had worried her. He lay down at her feet and gave a small whimper. Good thing Mato can’t see me. He would never hear the end of it.

  “There has been so much going on.” Happily dropping on the floor next to him, she stroked his head and forgot the bread she had been attempting to make. He sighed as he put his head on the white apron that covered her lavender-colored skirt. “I’ve missed having you to talk to. Let’s see, what’s first? Oh, that big white Mansion way across the River was finally finished. It’s so far from New Orleans, though, I don’t know what they were thinking. I could see it through the trees last time I went to the Mill.” She giggled. “Some of the soldiers at the Fort say it’s haunted and nobody will live in it. Can you believe something that silly? I can’t imagine living in a place that big! They say it has a ballroom for dancing! I’d love to see that. I haven’t been dancing in….” She broke off, confused. The hand on Wolf’s head stilled. “That’s funny. Have I ever been dancing? I can’t remember. I’ve been here so long it’s hard to remember ever being someplace else.”

  That’s why I need to get you out of here now, Rose. You don’t belong here.

  “There’s a new man coming and going out of the Fort now.” The quaver in her voice betrayed her intense interest in him. “His name is Mr. Davis, but his friends call him Wals. Isn’t that cute? Wals. I think it is short for Walter.” Wolf’s head shot up. “What’s wrong, Wolf?” Worried, she looked out the door. “Is that despicable Private Crain back? Not again! Go look. Out!” she commanded, pointing outside.

  Already aware there was nobody out there, Wolf still obeyed one of the commands she “taught” him and did a quick run around the house. He was more interested in hearing about Wals. It sounded like he had already been here for a while.

  When he came back inside, Rose had her flintlock rifle in her hands. Apparently Daniel Crain had become even more of a problem while Wolf was gone. Wolf certainly did know this coward. In the future year of 2002 Daniel had kidnapped his own niece, Kimberly, and held her for ransom to get Walt’s red diamond pendant away from Lance. He had even threatened Walt and all that the Guardians were trying to preserve. When the chance came, Wolf brought him here—where he could never harm or threaten Walt or Kimberly again. Little did he know that Daniel would become a threat to Rose, and that he would still be a troublemaker for Wolf in this time period. He was also one of the soldiers out to add Wolf’s hide next to the other pelt on the wall of the Fort.

  Knowing Rose, he knew she would relax only if he was relaxed. Wolf went to his sleeping pallet that was always waiting for him in the kitchen area. He just didn’t know how to get her to resume talking about Wals.

  Rose replaced the rifle on the hooks over the fireplace and went to sit in her rocker by the fireplace. The fire was low and warming her dinner. She used the edge of her apron to mop her forehead. “Oh, Wolf, that man will not leave me alone! It took a few months, but somehow they figured out that you weren’t around. I’ve had to keep to this cabin most of the time. If not for the mare warning me, I would’ve walked into their trap more than once. I’m so glad you’re back!” He silently moved beside the rocker and put his head in her lap. Slowly petting his fur, she calmed down. “Oh, let me finish my story! There’s this new man at the Fort. Mr. Davis. I’ve only had glimpses of him, but he is so handsome. He seems to be quite a ladies’ man. My, excuse you, Wolf!” She stopped when Wolf snorted disgustedly, shaking his head. “Anyway, he took over the supply runs on the rafts going back and forth to the mainland, oh, a long time ago. Sometimes he goes by here in a canoe heading downriver. There used to be more trade downriver, but with many of the miners leaving over the last few years, that’s all changed. I heard they just abandoned a little mine train engine and coal car on some of the old track next to the River. Not sure why they would paint it yellow….”

  She kept talking to Wolf, but his mind was churning. What happened to Wals? How come he was a known figure already? Why wasn’t he trying to help Rose? And, most importantly, why did he have a job and seemed to be settled in Fort Wilderness?

  The Island – One Year Earlier

  Groaning at the ache in his head, Wals tried to get his bearings. He was near the wooden Mill, its huge waterwheel slowly turning. Unable to reach the edge of the wooden fishing dock, he pulled himself out of the River and tried to stand. The world tilted and he fell into the tall reeds at the edge of the mud. “I need to call someone.” With a moan, he reached in his side pocket for…. His hand patted the empty pocket. What was he trying to find? He couldn’t remember. There were voices approaching him down the dusty walkway. Maybe one of the guests could help him get to First Aid.

  Strong hands reach under his arms and pulled him to his feet. He moaned with the sudden movement. “You all right?”

  Wals’ eyes tried to focus, but he was having difficulty. All he could see was something dark blue and something shiny. “My head,” he managed to croak out.

  He could feel a rough hand feel over his scalp. “Yep, you got a whopper back there,” when he winced in pain. “You the new canoe man?”

  Canoes? He remembered canoes. He tried to nod, but it hurt too much. “Yes, canoe.”

  He felt himself being roughly drug along between two people. “Let’s get him to Doc. Not very chatty, is he?”

  “Nope,” the other blue shirt replied. “Meebe he’s simple.”

  “Could be. Hope not, if’n he’s the new man.”

  It felt as if they drug him for a mile along the dirty path. When his vision finally cleared, Wals made out the tall pointed stakes that made up Fort Wilderness. The huge gate was open and he was pulled along toward the barracks across the parade grounds. “Haven’t been in here in years,” he whispered more to himself as his eyes tried to make sense of where he was. He became more baffled and tried to pull back, looking around the dusty expanse. “This is in the wrong place. Where are the caves? Thought the fort was further back on the island. This isn’t right.”

  “Thought you was new to the area.” One of the voices sounded confused. “Where else would the Fort be? It’s protecting the island, dummy. Wouldn’t do no good way back in the forest. Hey, Doc, we pulled the new supply man out of the River. He’s talking kinda crazy. Must have capsized his canoe somehow and hit his head. Hope he floats a raft better’n that if he wants to keep his job.”

  Wals was dumped onto an uncomfortable cot and his two rescuers strode out without a backward glance, mumbling the word “idiot” as they went. The small cot rustled as he moved about on it. Doc Houser moved into his line of vision. He, too, was dressed in a blue uniform. Calvary, if Wals was thinking straight—and there was no reason to th
ink he was—with gold trim on the shoulders and a double row of gold buttons down the front of the tunic. He lifted a candle up close to Wals face, examining his eyes. “What’s your name, son?”

  “A candle? Did the lights go out?.... Lights?” Wals broke off, his head throbbing, as he tried to looks upward at the ceiling that was shrouded in darkness.

  Doc looked at his candle. The flame was perfectly visible. Must be a harder hit than we thought. “Don’t you worry about the candle, son. Do you remember your name?”

  “Yeah, I’m Walter Davis. My friends call me Wals.” He looked over the man’s outfit, trying to think back. “When did they bring the soldiers back to the Fort?”

  “Back?” Doc scratched his head and leaned back on his heels. “We’ve been here for a lotta years now. I myself was sent for, oh, golly, how long ago was it?” he broke off, perplexed, trying to figure out dates and time. Sitting for a moment staring at the tiny flame in his hand, he finally muttered, “Time has a way of being….”

  “Vague?” Wals added, feeling somewhat lost himself.

  Doctor Houser looked up and grimaced. “I was going to say unimportant, but vague works, too. That is so odd. There was the war.…”

  “In the Middle East?”

  He slowly shook his head side to side. “No, it wasn’t east of the city. Mostly along the water and backcountry. There was an emergency here at the Fort, and I was sent for. During the Battle for New Orleans they needed a field doctor.”

  New Orleans. Wals grasped onto the name he knew. “How long were you assigned in New Orleans?”

  “Assigned? I lived in the French Quarter. Right friendly place,” he added with a smile that did nothing to hide the confusion in his eyes.

  “I never got to work there. I was always on the River. But I thought the Fort was closed.”

  Doc shrugged. “There’s always talk. Most of the soldiers have been transferred to different posts since the hostiles went away, but some are still assigned here. I liked the pace here better’n New Orleans, so I stayed on after the war ended, you see.” Shaking off the vague feeling of displacement, he got back to what he knew for sure: doctoring. “Follow the light with your eyes, Mr. Davis.”