The Wolf Road (14 page)

“You ain’t wrong,” she said. “Magistrate Lyon arrested her herself and brought her here for justice. After all, we’ve got the best hanging tree north of Couver City.” She laughed and all her flesh bubbled like a stewpot on coals.

That rock in my throat dropped hard into my gut. Lyon. Here. Right now. She knew my face and I didn’t much want a second meeting with her. But hell, something in me, some dark part, wanted to see her again, like I had an urging in me to face down a bear. I wanted to see if she could find me, if she still remembered my face after a winter a’ darkness. There was something about Lyon that scared me right to the core but damn it all, she made me curious. She made me wonder how anyone could get that cold.

“You all right, darlin’?” Maud asked.

I’d been standing still for too long.

“Never seen a hangin’ before,” I said. “Think I’ll stick around a bit longer.”

“She’s swinging at sunset,” she said, and I thanked her and left the store.

Sunset was near and I followed the crowd to the town square. A big oak grew in the middle and they’d slung a rope over the fattest limb and tied it off to a pair of horses ready to run. Rest of the tree had been lopped off. No leaves, no other branches. They’d turned the king of the wood into a death bringer. Like they’d taken a great proud grizzly, shaved off all his fur, and made him dance. Made me sick to see it. Didn’t care much for the woman going to die, but that poor oak didn’t deserve to be the gallows.

Spotted Lyon right away. She stood by the tree, all in black, her lieutenants either side, and a gleaming six-shooter on her belt for all to see. She was all ice. Wouldn’t surprise me if you cut her open you’d find glaciers ’stead of blood and icicles ’stead a’ bones.

Crowd started cheering and I soon saw why. Pair of deputies brought out the devoted mother. Skinny woman, looked like she’d had a hard winter. She’d tried to do right by her son and I found it hard to see the bad in that. Hell, maybe she didn’t even know what he done.

Saw her eyes, that woman, and they didn’t have no fear in them. Then I saw Lyon’s and they may as well a’ been black holes for all the feelings they gave away.

I bet my blade that Lyon had gone ’round questioning folk ’bout her, same as she did ’bout me.
Wanted in connection with murder.
Connection’s all it takes in this godforsaken country. You stand in the same room as someone what done bad and Lyon’ll string you up. Weren’t all that much hope for me, living so long with Kreagar.

Saw myself in that woman, defiant to her fate. She done right by her kid, best she could, and no one, not even Lyon, could take that away.

One a’ the lieutenants looped the rope ’round the woman’s neck. The horses stamped and blew. They were ready. The crowd was baying. Weren’t no stopping this train now.

I closed my eyes when the whip crack set the horses to bolt. Cheer of the crowd silenced the snapping neck. I’d never seen no one hang afore, and a loving mother weren’t going to be my first.

I opened my eyes when I heard the body hit the ground. Lyon hadn’t moved. Didn’t seem affected none by a woman dying beside her.

A kid brushed past me and I felt tiny fingers in my pocket. Thieving beast. I snatched the arm and pulled the kid ’round to face me. Mask of mud and grime but it was a boy no more’n ten.

“Let me go,” he wailed, but the crowd drowned him out.

I dropped to my knees and came nose to nose with him.

“Give it back,” I said, and my eyes told him not to play games.

He opened up his hand, and one a’ my old snares fell into the mud. Must a’ kept it in my pocket and forgot ’bout it. I didn’t have no coin to steal anyways.

“You tryin’ to steal with all these lawmen around?” I said.

Kid didn’t say nothing.

“Do somethin’ for me and I’ll give you silver worth a hundred a’ them snares.”

His baby eyes lit up at that and he nodded.

I whispered my instructions in his ear.

“You understand?”

“Yes ma’am, I do,” he said, and tried to pull his arm free, but I held on.

“You cross me,” I said, and slid my knife out its sheath, “and I’ll slit you neck to navel, get it?”

His body tensed and he nodded again, proper this time, none of that frantic kidlike excitement no more. There was fear in them eyes and fear, when used right, is better’n all the coin in the world.

I let him go and he run off in the crowd. I stood up and watched him push through and walk right up to Lyon. She knelt down to greet him, muddied up her black pants and didn’t seem to think nothing of it. The boy passed on my message and I held my breath waiting for her reaction.

Lyon’s head snapped ’round to her lieutenants and she said something I couldn’t hear. Then she smiled at the kid, gave him a coin, and sent him away. She quick stood up, said something to her stocky lieutenant, and strode off, both men right behind her.

The kid arrived back to me a few seconds later.

“I told her what you said.”

“You sure? Tell me exactly what words,” I said.

Boy took a deep breath and said, “ ‘My cousin saw a man with tattoos all over his face down in Martinsville not two days ago; he was saying the law burnt down his house.’ I told her that the man was hollerin’ about how he was going to kill all the lawmen he sees. I said I thought you should know, Miss Lyon.”

“Good,” I said, and felt a swelling a’ pride at my plan. It weren’t a total lie, after all, Kreagar could a’ been near Martinsville and the reverend, but that would a’ been six months ago ’stead a’ two days. I wanted to know for damn sure he weren’t in one a’ Lyon’s cells or hung already from that poor oak.

“What she do?” I said.

“Do I get my silver now?” he said, holding out his hand, skinny eyebrows crossed up like I’d swindled him already.

I growled like Wolf and said, “What did she do?”

He huffed and finally said, “She asked if there was a girl with him.”

Lump grew hard in my throat. “What you say?”

“I said I don’t know nothing about a girl.”

A flutter of relief went through my chest but did nothing to break up the lump.

“Then what?” I asked.

“She shouted at them men to saddle the horses. She said, ‘I’ll watch that bastard swing for what he did to my boy,’ then she run off.”

Shivers went all through me.

I gave the kid one a’ them spoons and sent him on his way. My head was dazing worse than it was by the lake. Kreagar weren’t caught yet and Lyon’s boy had been one of his kills. No wonder she was so fierce about him. She’d ride clean across the country to find Kreagar, that was clear as day, and I bet whoever stood in her way would get a bullet and all. I felt cold. I had stood in her way, and now I was in her sights. I hadn’t told her the truth in Dalston and I felt sick for it, knowing what Kreagar’d taken from her. Maybe she figured me and him was in it together. Maybe she thought I’d known all about his wolf hunts. Maybe she was right. There was so much I didn’t remember from my life with that man. But the longer I was away from him, the more and quicker it was returning to me.

I don’t much like roads. Roads is some other man’s path that people follow no question. All my life I lived by rules of the forest and rules of myself. One a’ them rules is don’t go trusting another man’s path. No matter if that’s a real one trodden into dirt or all them twists and turns his life has taken. People do it, they do what their mommies and daddies did, they make them same mistakes, they have them same joys and hurts, they just repeating. Trees don’t grow exactly where their momma is; ain’t no room, ain’t enough light and water so they end up wilting and dying off. It’s the same with us humans, though you wouldn’t know it to look at them most a’ the time. Ranches and stores are passed father to son, momma to girl, but there ain’t no room for it. Son tries to run things like he wants, father ain’t having none of it, they start feuding and soon that family ain’t no more.

I weren’t following no one up through life. Sure Kreagar taught me skills but I weren’t going to walk his line, ’specially knowing now where that line took him. Certain things I did when I was with him, certain steps I took along his path, are things I’d rather be forgetting. When I was staring into the flames of his hut I swore I’d never walk in another man’s steps ever again and I just hoped all them gods out there would forgive me for ’em afore too long.

Weren’t no telling what was along that road going north out a’ Genesis. A road is a draw to thieves and unsavory types. They go where the fools go, and I weren’t no fool.

I went back up the hill to where I left the wolf. He weren’t there, a’ course. Can’t be expecting a wild thing to stay in one place for too long. He knew my scent, he’d find me when he wanted feeding or comfort. I was fixing to walk when my eye caught something that sent midwinter chills all through me.

Boot prints in the dirt.

Right where I’d left Wolf. Right where, not a few hours past, I’d been lying on my belly staring out over the ridge. They was half a foot bigger’n mine. The right had a chunk taken out the tread and the left was worn down smooth on the inside. I knew them boots. I’d cleaned them boots and set ’em to dry by the stove after rain. Running prints, walking prints, they ain’t that clear. These been made on purpose, these were a message made special for me.

The forest turned silent. Every sound turned mute by my heart beating in my ears. Kreagar was coming up right behind me, snapping at my heels. He had stood here, looking down at Genesis, knowing right where I was. Was he still here, behind that log, over that rise, just waiting for me to come back? I spun on my heel, looked for sign a’ him on every branch, every twig, then I saw it. Brown smear a’ blood on a tree. I wondered brief if it was his or someone he’d killed. My mind went dark and cold. I could smell him in the trees, see him moving ’tween the trunks, hear him whispering my name.

I ran.

Made a path in zigzags and switchbacks. Covered up my tracks best I knew how. I kept the road mostly in sight and picked my way through the woodland. That night I found a shallow cave and made me a rough camp. Tried to forget them boot prints, what they meant, who they meant. I built a big fire in the mouth a’ the cave so bears wouldn’t be tempted to go cozying up to me. I ate my last can a’ the reverend’s food and soon as that first bit of meat hit my stomach I realized just how long I’d been without a proper meal. I guzzled all that can like one a’ them gulls taking a whole fish in its gullet.

Dog tired by fear and days a’ stamping through woods meant I didn’t have no trouble sleeping. Next morning I woke to cold sunlight and quick spotted bear tracks, but thankful no boot tracks, close to my cave. Them bears must a’ come over for a sniff and didn’t fancy taking on the fire. At least it let me know they was awake and roaming. I kept north for two more days, didn’t see hide nor hair of Wolf, and I got a little worry in me for him. I hoped he weren’t hurt or nothing, hoped he was keeping fed and clean, hoped I’d see him again soon.

I didn’t see track nor trace a’ Kreagar neither. Must a’ lost him, must a’ run rings ’round him and sent him following my boot prints over some cliff. He weren’t right over there, behind that dead fall, weren’t in that cave or hollow, no sir. He was long gone.

Hell if he was.

But that’s what I had to tell myself, else I’d go mad all alone in them woods, seeing demons and devils in every shadow. I had to keep going because we was sharing this forest and it weren’t that big.

Forest trees had turned to spruce and pine. All drooping boughs and thick needles. They gave off a heady smell of sap and resin and I sucked it in. Usually I didn’t much care for pretty smells, my nana would a’ told you that, but I was learning to look at them things as all part of the forest. Them smells had a purpose. They told critters not to go chewing on the poison leaves and sent signals to bees and other buzzing flies letting them know which flowers to feed off. ’Sides, it was more friendly on the nose than the rotten mulch a’ some woods.

I spent three more days walking north. Made sure I covered my tracks and could see that road least twice a day. Saw a horse and cart dawdling like a fat snail trying to slide up a rock and one time I spied a line of men, packs on their backs what looked like they weighed twice their carriers.

On the fourth day I climbed up a slope a’ loose rock and shale and came out on the top of a wide flat-top ridge. No trees up this high and some scraps a’ snow still clung in the shaded parts ’neath boulders. Fresh, cold wind blew right through me and for the first time in a while, I buttoned my coat right up to my chin. Wished I had a hat then. Trapper had a hat and he never complained a’ chilly ears. Once I put on one a’ my nana’s big-brimmed fancy hats and she said I looked like a toadstool. Didn’t wear no hat ’cept in the rain, though I wanted one just then. That wind was fierce and pushed ice right in my eyes. Didn’t stop me from seeing something that made my stomach churn up like a whirligig.

Big damn lake. More like an ocean to tell the truth, I couldn’t see the end of it, even from the top of a mountain. I gulped hard and swallowed sand. I didn’t like open water like that. Weren’t no trees, weren’t no food ’cept slippery fish, weren’t no firm ground just rocking wood. At the southern edge of the water, there was what looked like a dock. People like ants was running about in a line ’tween a square thing on the water, guessing it were some kind a’ boat, and a row a’ squat buildings. Couldn’t tell if they was carrying anything, too far up, but I could see a cart and I wondered if that was the same one I spotted on the road.