Wolf! The Legend of Tom Sawyer's Island

by Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  Not realizing what he had done to her, Rose was only concerned about his injuries. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  “No, no. I just got a cramp. This water is cooling. I really should get out of the tub.” He couldn’t wait to turn around and see the outcome of his handiwork.

  “Oh no,” she muttered aloud without thinking. “Towel! You need a towel. A really, really big towel.” Why hadn’t I thought this through before I offered him the tub? “Wait!” She almost shrieked when he started to stand from the tub. She rushed into her small bedroom and flung out a pile of clothes that had been stashed under her bed. She found an old robe of Jed’s that had been under there for…for how many years? She paused, confused, as she couldn’t remember. She looked at the flannel robe in her hands and couldn’t actually recall anyone ever wearing it. She knew it was a robe, a man’s robe, but she had no memory of seeing it before. She stood from her crouched position. Looking slowly around the tiny room, she tried in vain to see some sort of remembrance of that part of her life. Why could she not bring up any memory of the time before she found him bent backwards over the front fence and the cabin set afire? He was a card cheat...that’s what everyone told her over and over again at the Fort...she knew that, right? A wave of panic started to come over her. Something wasn’t right…. Looking at her left hand, there was no wedding ring. She should be able to remember.… When Wals called to her from the main room, it broke some of her trance.

  Walking slowly into the room, she still stared at the robe in her arms. At her unusual silence, Wolf looked up from the splinters of the canoe paddle, concerned. He could see that Rose looked confused and frightened. What caused the sudden change? He followed her wooden movements as she absentmindedly handed the robe to Wals and then sat heavily in her rocking chair, staring into the blazing fire.

  Even self-absorbed Wals noticed the difference. He temporarily forgot his Master Plan, even forgot she was now soaking wet herself. After belting on the long flannel robe, he considerately dropped the crocheted shawl back over her shoulders. Now genuinely worried, he asked, “You okay, ma’am?”

  She looked up at him as if she had forgotten he was even there. “Oh, yes, Mr. Davis. I…I guess I’m just tired.” She sounded far away. “It’s been a long day.”

  He gave a small grin. “I would offer to get out of your hair, but my clothes seem to be in a lump at the bottom of the tub.”

  Glad to have something to do to occupy her mind that was running in circles, she gratefully rose to her feet and hurried over to the tub. “I am so sorry, Mr. Davis. Could you help me here?” She handed him his dripping pants. “I’ll have to hang them up by the fire to dry. Not sure how long that will take. I’m not familiar with this fabric,” as she wrung out his shirt. She fingered the material for a lingering moment before hanging it over a rope that had been strung across the room for just that purpose. “At least, I don’t think I am familiar with it.” She broke off, confused again. “I’m not sure of a lot of things all of a sudden.”

  As Wals draped his pants over the line, he asked, “Would you please call me by my first name, Mrs. Stephens? All my friends do.”

  Some of the disturbed cloud cleared from her face. She seemed pleased by his words. “All right, Walter.”

  He gave her his boyish grin. “You know better than that. You know it’s Wals!”

  She pulled the shawl closer and sat down next to him by the fire. He had added another log. The dancing flames turned his eyes amber. “Yes, I know its Wals. Then you should call me Rose,” she added shyly.

  He wanted to distract her from whatever was troubling her. He preferred her lovely smile to the bewildered expression that had been on her face just moments ago. “Say, did you ever hear how Keel Boat Rapids got its name?”

  Brightening, she gave a little laugh. “Why, sure. Everyone around here knows that story. It used to be just The Rapids. Then some idiot Keel Boat pilot was trying to save a little time on his supply run to Rainbow Ridge. He had to get back to New Orleans with the rest of the cargo and tried to cut through the Rapids. He hit the very first rock in the channel and ‘keeled’ over. All the boxes he was carrying for the ladies of New Orleans got dumped into the River. I heard that the Pinewood women were sporting colorful feathered silk hats and the men were wearing beaver top hats for months after that! I found that black beaded shawl the same way….” She broke off when she saw a look of embarrassment pass over Wals’ face. She started laughing when the realization hit her. “Oh, my! You are that idiot! It was you, wasn’t it?” She tried to stop laughing but just couldn’t. She rocked backwards in her amusement, exposing a little more leg than was proper. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasped at the hurt look on his face. She managed to bring the laugh down to a snicker and had to hide her mouth behind her hand.

  “So, I guess you did hear.” His mutter caused her to break out again. She looked so cute he had to smile himself. Well, that certainly didn’t work out the way I planned, he thought to himself. Oh, well, at least she’s smiling again.

  When it got to be even later, it was obvious that Wals wouldn’t be able to leave the cabin before the morning. Rose tried to excuse herself to go to bed in her little room.

  Wals caught her hand as she attempted to get up from in front of the dying fire. “Please don’t go,” he begged, looking into her clear blue eyes. “Stay and talk to me. This has been so nice.” He was inwardly surprised that he was truly honest.

  Looking deep in his brown eyes, she could only see sincerity in them. She glanced down at his suntanned hand lightly holding her white one. As she looked, his fingers entwined with hers and he gave a little tug. “Please?”

  She allowed him to draw her down to the rug on the floor. Fingers still entwined, they stared into the glowing embers, sitting in companionable silence. When they did talk, it was in low tones, necessitating leaning closer to each other to be able to hear. He pulled a rough blanket around their shoulders and they sat together through the rest of the night.

  When Rose finally dozed off, leaning against his shoulder, Wals glanced over and noticed the wolf was gone. Figuring the animal had gone into the bedroom to sleep, he turned his mind to something that had begun to bother him. He knew the story had to be true because it had been told so many times. He had heard it over and over again—usually because he himself had been the one telling it.

  But, the thing that bothered him the most was that he could not for the life of himself actually remember ever steering a Keel Boat.

  The Island – 1817

  Wolf accompanied Rose and the banged-up Wals to the edge of the River. He wanted to make sure Wals was well on his way back to Fort Wilderness and not trying any more of his shenanigans with Rose. The idea was for Wals to help get Rose back to civilization, not get her to fall in love with him and start a cozy life together in the little log cabin.

  Wals’ canoe was half submerged at the entry of the Keel Boat Rapids. Wedged between two rocks, it appeared undamaged. Half amused, half disgusted, Wolf noticed that Wals’ arm had made a miraculous recovery during the night and he was able to free the canoe without much problem. The only paddle in the canoe had been snapped in two during Wals’ accident. When Wolf found it the night before, he had drug it into the cabin and promptly destroyed what remained of it. Noticing the paddle was missing and then remembering the wolf chewing on something during the night, Wals glanced sharply at the huge animal standing protectively next to Rose. If the wolf had been human, Wals knew the look on Wolf’s face would have been described as supremely smug. His eyes strayed to the white patch of fur on the wolf’s chest. A hazy memory tugged at the back of his mind—a man he used to know had had a similar white patch of hair on his chest. Then, reminding himself this was just an animal and animals couldn’t look smug, Wals shook off the thought and decided to leave the canoe at Rose’s unused dock and walk back to the Fort.

  Rose was quiet and thoughtful as Wals waved good-bye and disappeared up the trail toward the F
ort, hating to see him leave. She hadn’t had such a pleasant visit in a long time. After seeing Wals at the Fort every now and then and hearing so much about him, she wanted a chance to get to know him. Now she had gotten to know him very well and she was smitten. Giving a sigh, she put a hand on Wolf’s head. He looked up at her. “You coming in, Wolf, or do you have big plans for the day?” Her voice was tinged with hope.

  Not needing to look down the trail, Wolf could no longer smell Wals’ new lilac scent, and knew his friend was long gone. Wolf allowed himself one wag of his bushy tail before he headed into the forest. Glancing back once, he could see Rose still watching him, a lonely sag in her shoulders. He gave a short apologetic “yip” and vanished into the thick growth.

  When he had traveled far enough to be unseen from the cabin, he emerged from the forest and walked to the River’s edge. He entered the green slow-moving water for the long swim across to his father’s village.

  Mato was waiting for him when he emerged from the water. “Théhaŋ waŋčhíŋyaŋke šni.”

  “It hasn’t been that long,” Wolf retorted.

  Mato, who had been watching his brother from across the River as Wolf interacted with Rose, gave him a cocky grin. It was the kind of grin brothers use when they are about to start pushing each other’s buttons. “I wonder if you’ll be chasing sticks next.”

  Not bothering to answer, Wolf suddenly shook himself, sending muddy river water flying over his brother. Calmly walking away to go see their father, it was Wolf’s turn to grin. He wondered where Bear had learned those new words he just muttered in disgust.

  The Shaman was talking with the gray-haired Cooking Woman as she stirred the huge pot hanging over the community fire. One of her daughters was nearby cleaning a staked-out deer hide. Instead of approaching the elders, Wolf waited patiently near the stacked canoes until his father was finished.

  The Shaman took his time walking past Wolf to go stand in his position under the rocks. Wolf followed and sat across from him. Out of respect, he would let his father speak first. He might have to listen to a long story before he could bring up what he wanted to say but it was the proper thing to do. And, knowing his father, he would probably launch into one of his favorite windy tales just because he knew Wolf would have to sit there and listen.

  “Théhaŋ waŋčhíŋyaŋke šni.”

  Wolf gave a surprised snort. “What is it with this ‘long time, no see’ business? I just got that from Mato as well.”

  “It’s been two moons. We missed you and we worry. That’s all.”

  Wolf’s head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed. “Two months? Really? It didn’t seem like that long,” he muttered, more to himself than to the Shaman. “Time must be moving differently again.”

  His father watched one of their canoes go by. Mato was teaching his son, Igmutaka, how to paddle and control the canoe. Once they floated past the beaver dam, Mato had him turn back toward the encampment. “Time passes as it always does.”

  When it became obvious the Shaman was not going to launch into one of his tales, Wolf decided it was all right to bring up the reason for his visit. “Things are getting overly complicated.” If he had had hands, he would have run them through his hair. Since he couldn’t show his frustration that way, he began pacing the rocky ground, his ears laid back on his head. “I don’t know where the doctor has gone. He isn’t in the French Quarter of New Orleans any longer. My friend Wals doesn’t remember his other life at all. He seems content and happy here with his new life and his new job.”

  The wolf headdress turned to face him. The unseeing, glassy eyes always bothered Wolf. “Did you ever think that perhaps they both belong here in this time? That they should stay? Also?” he couldn’t help throwing in.

  “You know as well as I that Wals does not belong here.” Wolf tore his eyes away from the spooky headdress. “I thought he’d be able to help me with Rose and Doctor Houser, but she seems ready to worship the ground he walks on. He, in turn, is starting to lust after her. Even worse, the women at the Fort are falling all over him. The soldiers think that he is their long-lost buddy. Even my brothers here welcome him and include him in their canoe races! And what if Doctor Houser decided to jump on the paddlewheeler in New Orleans and move away? How in the world am I supposed to find him then!?” Wolf broke off, flustered, and looked to his father for some kind of wisdom or guidance.

  The black eyes regarding him twinkled under the mask. “Perhaps you didn’t think it through well enough when you were in the other world. Didn’t you prepare your friend?”

  Wolf resumed pacing, his tail switching angrily from side to side. “I tried. There wasn’t enough time! After I called it, the fog came quicker than I expected. Then he banged his head pretty bad in the whirlpool.”

  “I hear a lot of excuses as to why everything is going wrong. I hear nothing as to how you’ll make it right.”

  Wolf held himself back from actually growling. “I. Am. Working. On. It.” At the dark look on the Shaman’s face, he took a deep breath and began again in a more respectful tone. “The power of the Island is strong. It seems to be working against Wals, draining him of his past memories. Since nothing here will make him remember, I think I need to go back to our time. Maybe I can bring something back, something that may jog his memory.”

  He was met with stony silence, as he had expected. He knew his father wouldn’t like the idea of him going through the fog again so soon and would offer no encouragement or advice.

  “So,” Wolf tried to lighten the mood, “where’d you hide my clothes this time?”

  “In my tipi.” The words were quiet, resigned. There was no point arguing. Before, they had made a game of hiding Wolf’s clothes. Once he had found them stuffed in the blackened chimney of Rose’s cabin. It had been difficult explaining that mess to the Costume Department. “Mato told me something you should know. He would have told you if you had been here.” Wolf refused to be baited. “There’s a new doctor at the Fort.”

  Wolf’s ears perked up and turned toward his father. “There is? How old is he? Did Bear get his name? How long….?”

  The dark eyes stared at Wolf until he stopped asking questions. Pulling the wolf skin tighter across his shoulders, the Shaman turned just in time to see his grandson ram the canoe into the beaver dam. The chapa watching from the safety of the pool angrily slapped his tail on the water. “All he said was that the pejuta wica sa was a kind man with hair the color of tree bark.”

  Knowing that was all the information he would get from either his father or his brother, he wondered how he could get into Fort Wilderness to check out this new man. He couldn’t simply walk through the gates, stick his head in the Infirmary, and ask if his name was Doctor Claude Houser. His father looked over when he heard the wolf chuckle. Wolf remembered that Dr. Houser had brown hair when he brought him to New Orleans, but a lot of years had passed in the other world. Wouldn’t he have gray hair now? He gave a sigh and shook his head. The amusement quickly faded. His father didn’t have a handy calendar pinned up in his tipi to check the current year, so Wolf could only go by the appearances of the Island and the Fort to determine when in time he was. Would the doctor age here like he would have in his proper place in time? Or, did Wolf come farther back in time than he thought so that the intervening years would not come into play? More questions and no answers. Well, he was grateful for the new information, at least. “Philámayaye.”

  “You are welcome, my son. When do you go back?”

  “Hopefully tonight, atewaye ki.”

  His father turned toward the River again, watching Mato’s son trying to master stroking against the current. At that moment, Wolf knew he was dismissed.

  Disneyland – 2007

  A huge, three-masted sailing ship floated majestically past, all sails furled. The calmness of its passage was belied by the frenzied activity on its deck as a rowdy sword fight was in progress. A young girl wearing a blue nightdress was tied to the tall central mast. She was
mostly ignored by the pirates as they swarmed over the deck, some up in the rigging, all of them waving swords and shouting. Their captain, dressed in flamboyant red with a large feather sticking out of his hat, was engaged in a one-on-one sword fight with a young boy dressed all in green. The boy, who held a small dagger, taunted him and called him a ‘codfish’ as he nimbly jumped out of reach of the longer sword. Suddenly losing his balance, the captain caught a dangling rope and, calling for help from his first officer, swung way out over the green water of the River and then back onto the ship again. He seemed terrified because a huge ticking crocodile was slowly chasing the sailing ship.

  Wolf sunk deeper in the reeds on the water’s edge, trying to remain hidden as the Columbia went past his submerged body. He knew the Mark Twain would follow in a few minutes with all the costumed cast members waving brightly colored flags as part of the grand finale of the show, Fantasmic! Spinning pinwheel fireworks lit the all-white ship as it, too, sailed slowly past his hiding place.

  Wolf waited patiently in the water while his mind cleared and the ships were far enough away on the other side of Tom Sawyer’s Island. He had come out of the vortex close to the entry of the canoe dock. Disoriented from the turmoil of the storm, he almost swam straight into the middle of the ongoing show.

  He knew the canoe dock would definitely be empty of people this long after sunset and he could get past there easily enough. But, it was the Hungry Bear Restaurant that gave him worry. Two levels of people having a late dinner of hamburgers and hotdogs would probably notice a naked man swimming by.

  Near the loop the Splash Mountain boats made into the River, he carefully crossed underwater to give himself distance—distance from both the people and the flocks of ducks and mud hens that congregated around the Restaurant hoping to get fed French fries and hamburger buns. The last thing he wanted was to have to swim through that mess. Once across the River in relative darkness, he swam past the silent Settler’s Cabin and then through the rapids. When he was far enough from any prying eyes, he crossed the River once more.