Little Wolves (31 page)

“They won’t let me get near.”

“And the town may hunt them again next year, if they keep going there.”

“It may be that they already have a taste for killing, for housecats and such.”

Lee walked outside. Deep ruts in the gravel driveway had become small ponds where the moon’s face came and went. When the moon appeared the fields turned luminous. The little wolves were in the meadow, under the
cliffs Lee had fallen from. The sound of rain still dripping through the trees filled up the dark woods.

The coyotes romped in the grasses, scaring up mice, their spines arched. They cackled when they caught one and lapped it up with their long tongues. Then they turned, the wind having carried the scents of Grizz and Lee out to them. They smelled Seth on his clothes and the gray loped toward him, his tail bristling. A warm breeze from the mountain washed over them, rippling the clothing they wore, like the sweet breathing of some benevolent giant. Lee didn’t hesitate to go forward, and Grizz shut his eyes and whispered a prayer that no harm would come to the boy. He had to let him go, for both their sakes. Lee was among them now, the coyotes circling him as he walked in the meadow. They passed from the waving tallgrasses into the dark trees where the shadows were dancing, a boy and three little wolves who came to him when he held out his hand.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

T
HE MURDER STORY THAT
sparked this novel is based on true events in the town of Morgan, Minnesota. I heard only the barest details—a boy with a shotgun tucked into his coat going to his teacher’s house and then killing the sheriff by shooting through the car door. In my original draft, I had not intended to write anything about it, but I woke up one morning hearing the voice of a father wondering over his son and what he has done. I had to set it down, and when I did, his voice took over this story. Jessamyn West once wrote, “Fiction reveals truths that reality obscures.” While writing
Little Wolves
I intentionally avoided finding out any more details about the actual case. New to parenthood myself, I had to follow this father’s voice, and this novel is where he led me.

As I wrote, other stories came to me. A Lutheran pastor who had just finished serving a congregation out on the
prairie told me about her church’s strict rules regarding the burial of the dead and her struggles with these customs. In the cemetery behind the church, suicides were not allowed to be buried with the saints and instead went into a separate corner. As far as I know, the congregation continues this practice to this day.

These stories form the skeleton, and they are both true, but all else is purely a work of the imagination.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

N
O WRITER
I
KNOW
of is able to function without a supportive community. With two young children at home, I would not be able to find time and energy to write without the loving support of my wife, Melissa. Years spent visiting and sometimes living at my in-laws’ farm has taught me time and time again the vital connection between land and families. For the stories and knowledge they have shared with me I am grateful, as I am grateful to my own parents for raising me with the freedom to take risks, for forgiving me when I fail, and for teaching me how to go on.

As a graduate of the creative writing MFA program at Mankato, I’ve been fortunate to have stayed in touch with many friends. Nick Healy, who read this story when it was just a kernel, is one such wise voice who guided me along the way. Nick also introduced me to
the Wednesday Writers in Mankato: Nate Leboutillier, Nicole Helget, Tom Flynn, Aaron Frisch, Rick Robbins, and Gordon Pueschner all provided inspiration and help. Here at Normandale Community College, where I’m part of a thriving AFA program in creative writing, I’ve been able to work with other fiction writers like John Reimringer, Alicia Conroy, and Charlotte Sullivan and many others, gifted writers who understand the importance for teachers of writing to stay active in the craft. They’ve read various chapters, giving encouragement at just the right times.

I’m grateful to the state of Minnesota for an Artist’s Initiative Grant that allowed me travel to Southwest Minnesota and see the places featured in this novel as well as mentor with accomplished writers like Caroline Leavitt.

Along the way I’ve also made friends with good people like novelist Peter Geye, whose exciting feedback about the novel this summer gave me the courage I needed to send it out. Peter also introduced me to agent Laura Langlie, who has been wonderful every step of the way.

Editor Mark Doten at Soho Press believed in this book enough to take a chance on it. Read this work knowing that his keen insights and brilliant edits helped make this what it became. If it shines, it’s because Mark saw the raw material and helped polish it into the present form.

Invariably, this will go out into the world and I will realize that I have forgotten someone here. There are too many to list. I knew a long time ago that I wanted to be a writer.
I was only able to become so because of the great teachers and books and friends and family and students who’ve inspired me.

I’m grateful. Thank you one and all.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

T
HOMAS
M
ALTMAN
’
S ESSAYS, POETRY
, and fiction have been published in many literary journals. He has an MFA from Minnesota State University, Mankato. His first novel,
The Night Birds
, won an Alex Award, a Spur Award, and the Friends of American Writers Literary Award. In 2009 the American Library Association chose
The Night Birds
as an “Outstanding Book for the College Bound.” He’s taught for four years at Normandale Community College and lives in the Twin Cities area.
Little Wolves
is his second novel.