The Wolf Road (32 page)

Penelope sprung up when she saw me leading the Thompson fella to the fire. She grabbed up a thick log and held it ready to bring down on his head. Then she saw the boy, clinging to his daddy’s shirttail. I told her I caught us dinner and laughed. She dropped the log onto the fire and looked at the pair a’ them wary. You got to have a hell of a good reason to be out in a forest this far up the world. They weren’t dressed for it neither. The man’s shirt, green once, was ripped up and muddy, with bloodstains from them two rabbits. The boy had on a T-shirt in much the same state. No coat. No pack.

“We’s tradin’ fire for a full belly,” I said by way of explanation.

“Elka,” Penelope said quiet to me, eyeing Mark, “are you sure?”

I thought a second on what I could a’ done to that boy and said, “Damn sure.”

Penelope nodded, pushed past me to hold out her hand to Mark. “I’m Penelope. Are you going to give us any trouble?”

She weren’t smiling. Weren’t joking.

“You’ll get no trouble from us,” he said, solemn like he was praying, and held his boy close. “I hope you’ll do me and my son the same courtesy.”

Penelope caught my eye, saw me nod. “Well, all right then.” She smiled and winked at the boy. “Hungry?”

She took them rabbits off Mark’s shoulder and took my knife off me. We all sat ’round the fire and her and Mark each skinned a rabbit while me and the boy stayed quiet.

Mark and Penelope was chatting like they was long-lost lovers and I ain’t never seen her so at ease.

“My sister lives in Tucket,” he said, “I’m to work in her lumber yard.”

Me and Penelope looked at each other with a smile. Mark was so skinny he looked like the rumble of a circular saw would shake him to splinters.

I didn’t hear much a’ what they was saying, just kept my eyes and wits sharp. All this noise, all this light and smell a’ rabbit could bring bears. Most though, I kept my eyes on Mark. He had thick black stubble on his face and eyes what looked like they hadn’t seen sleep in days. Figured he was only five or so years older’n Penelope, them lines on his face was hard living, not long living.

“You two traveling on your own?” he said, sticking one a’ them rabbits on the stick over the fire

Neither a’ us said anything.

“What happened to you both?” Penelope said, taking the questioning away from us.

Man put his hand on the boy’s back. “Josh and I were on the road from Halveston. We were attacked. They took everything.”

“Roads is for damn fools,” I said, shaking my head at him.

“You’re not wrong about that,” he said. “I’ll be sticking to the woods from now on.”

The fella had kind eyes and wouldn’t let his son more’n six inches away from him. Felt my muscles relaxing. Conversation went stale and quiet then so Mark turned his attention on me.

“Funny name that,” Mark said, “Elka. I’ve never heard it before.”

I smiled and pulled one a’ the rabbits off the fire. “My momma said my daddy found me out in the forest one day, just a baby wailin’ in the trees. It was only when he wrapped me up in elk hide that I shut the hell up and fell right to sleep. My momma said what’s why they called me Elka, ’stead a’ Elk, on account a’ me bein’ a girl.”

Penelope laughed. She ain’t never asked ’bout my name so she ain’t never heard its tale.

“Is that true?” she said.

“ ’Course it’s true,” I said, smiling. “You think I’d lie about somethin’ as important as my own name?”

The boy giggled then quick went quiet when we noticed.

“Very glad to meet you, Elka,” Mark said. “And you, Penelope.”

I figured it was the fire but Penelope’s cheeks bloomed red and she gave that man a smile the like a’ which I ain’t never seen on that face a’ hers. That smile came right through her eyes.

Mark and his boy stripped that rabbit clean to the bone. I felt bad for the kid and his rumbling belly, so I gave him my share a’ the catch. Mark looked at me smiling, and him and Penelope chatted ’bout things I didn’t care for. I watched the boy scratch patterns in the ground with a stick. Night was heavy on us all and the cold was creeping close to our little circle a’ warm.

“You can both sleep close to the fire,” I said when the chatting quieted and the boy was close to falling asleep ’gainst his daddy’s arm.

“But you even breathe in the wrong direction and that son’ll be the only one you’ll ever have.” I pointed my knife to his nethers and he shuffled backward. “You get me?”

He nodded frantic and said, “Yes ma’am, I get you. Nothing will happen, I swear it. You saved my son, I owe you.”

I nearly killed your son, I thought, but didn’t say nothing.

“Good night, Mark,” Penelope said, smiling soft, then stood up with me and we both moved a few steps farther from the fire. We lay down side by side and I put myself and my knife ’tween her and him.

“They’re good people,” Penelope said right in my ear so they couldn’t hear. “You could be nicer.”

“All people are good till they ain’t no more,” I said. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

Heard her sigh and heard the man whisper calming words to his boy. I turned onto my side so I could keep my eye on them. Mark sat up ’gainst a tree with the boy nestled up comfy by his side. Mop a’ black hair head resting on his daddy’s belly. Mark saw me looking and gave me a smile and a nod. Then he closed his eyes, rested his head back ’gainst the tree and tried to find sleep. Maybe he was a good sort. Ain’t never seen a man take care a’ his kid like that.

Trapper once gave me the warmer blanket when we was on a two-day hunt. Said I didn’t have no meat on me yet, least not enough to keep the chill out. That weren’t Kreagar doing that. Kreagar wouldn’t a’ given me shit. He’d a’ let me freeze if it meant he didn’t. Trapper was the man I called daddy when he weren’t close enough to hear. Kreagar was the man I wanted to kill. They was two men in my head what just happened to have the same face. I had made peace with that. It was the only part a’ my past what I could make peace with. Everything else was a fog stuck ’tween my ears. But hell, that fog was clearing quick and for the first time I had an idea a’ what I’d see on the other side.

I stayed awake all night. I watched the moon through the trees start on one side a’ the sky and end on the other. Mark and his boy didn’t stir. Nor did Penelope. I woke her up afore dawn, gentle and quiet.

“We got to move,” I said. “Afore they wake up.”

“What? Why?” she said, all blurry from sleep.

“You know why. We fed ’em, we kept ’em warm, we can’t be babysittin’.”

She sat up, looked ’tween me and them, still sleeping ’gainst that tree. I thought she’d argue with me, talk about “moral duty” and “he’s just a kid,” but she didn’t do none a’ that.

Instead she said, “You’re right.” Then got up, silent as a snake sliding through grass.

We collected all our things and crept away without waking them. I felt a mite a’ guilt ’bout leaving them but Penelope laid out three branches into a big ole arrow and scratched the word
Tucket
in the ground.

“I won’t leave them to get lost,” she said, and I didn’t say nothing about it.

Once we got far enough away, and the sun was just starting to pull itself up the sky, I said, “What made you think they was good people?”

“Just a feeling. Instinct.”

“You trust that?”

“Yes,” she said, firm. “I just don’t always follow it. Like with James. My instinct said he was trouble but he was just so charming. I won’t make that mistake again.”

I laughed. “My gut don’t know shit when it comes to people. It told me every word out a’ Colby was God’s truth. It didn’t say nothin’ about Kreagar neither.”

Penelope laughed too and told me to stick to the forest.

“Only time my gut been right about someone is when it told me to get away from Lyon, far and fast, and don’t be lookin’ back.”

“She’s relentless,” Penelope said, shaking her head. “I heard she started off as a sheriff a few towns west of White Top. There was a shooting in a gambling den and a kid who was washing dishes got killed. She didn’t know the boy from Adam but she tracked the shooter all the way to Couver City, found him in a rail station. Rumor was she tied the man to the back of her horse and dragged him the whole way back to White Top.”

I swallowed back stinging bile and asked her if the fella lived. Couldn’t keep the tremble out my voice.

“After a three-day ride? I heard that when they untied him and rolled him onto his back, there wasn’t a scrap of skin left on him. You could see his skull, ribs, pelvis, all the way down to his feet. His bones had deep scratches from the road, they guessed he died early on the first day. She told everyone exactly what she did. The dead boy’s parents called her a hero.”

Tremble moved into my hands, into my fingers. I held the filed-down handle of my knife.

“She was made magistrate soon after that,” Penelope said. “She won’t stop until she has Hallet. Who knows what she’ll do to him for murdering her own son.” Then she shivered, though it weren’t cold. “God help him, because He’s the only one who can.”

We got to Tucket close to sundown. Both a’ us weary and hungry and without so much as a penny ’tween us for room or board. Penelope’s story ’bout Lyon was playing out in my head over and over. I saw that shooter’s skull, scraped clean a’ flesh, laughing at me.

Kreagar done the bad to Lyon’s son but she figured I knew about it, helped him maybe, knew where the poor kid’s body was. There weren’t no way I was going to convince her otherwise ’less my plan, my damn fine plan what I’d ground my knife handle down for, worked. Shit, it had to work ’cause there weren’t no way I was running for the rest a’ my life. In truth, I didn’t know how much farther I could go, there weren’t all that much land left ’tween me and the great blue. I was living on borrowed luck and there was only so many times it would get me out a’ scrapes. Figured my chances were just about used up.

At least in Tucket I’d bought me some time. It was barely a town, but first thing I saw was there weren’t no charcoal pictures a’ me or Kreagar on posts and walls. Long arm a’ Lyon hadn’t got this far north yet, but it wouldn’t take long—couple a’ months, weeks maybe. Them feelings and fears ’bout her and Kreagar got pushed back in my head and a bigger worry came smashing ’tween my ears.

My parents. After so many years, so many miles, so many people ’tween there and here, I found it hard to believe they could be so close. This was the top a’ the world, a handful a’ buildings smack in the middle a’ Nothing and Nowhere. All the smarts said they was here. The words from my momma’s letter said they went through Halveston. Permit office said they went to Tucket. Weren’t no death notices for ’em. All I knew led me here but hell, my gut was churning and saying, Don’t be so foolish, Elka, you ain’t that lucky.

Saw a few people wandering about Tucket. My momma could be that woman sweeping her porch. My daddy could be that fella pushing a barrow. I didn’t even know what they looked like.

Tucket weren’t big. It was a curve of a town, following the path of a narrow river. The lumberyard Mark talked ’bout sat sprawling and low on the other side of the water. Clunky wooden bridge joined up the two halves a’ the town. Heard the chug a’ the generator and the buzzing of a saw cutting beautiful spruces down to planks. Made my stomach turn but I suppose most people expect a roof over they heads. Ain’t going to get a roof just by wishing for it.

Rest a’ Tucket was a group a’ small wooden shacks and one a’ everything. One general store. One claim office. One gold buyer. One boardinghouse. One drinking hole. All fitted with heavy storm shutters and public shelters in case a’ thunderheads. The only people ’round were more mud and shame than men. They sat quiet on stoops and doorways, hats pulled down on sleeping faces outside the bar, sense a’ loss and disappointment weighed heavy on that town, pushing it down deep in the mud.

’Course, not all folks wore their melancholy so open. Few men—women too—were strutting ’round like roosters showing off their combs. As Penelope and me trudged through the town, we saw them roosters all had one thing in common. Everyone one a’ them carried a mason jar full a shining golden flakes. Out in the open, proud as a stag just got his sixteenth point. Had me a feeling that all them folks sobbing into a finger a’ whisky used to have jars just like ’em.

“What they do with it?” I asked Penelope. “That yella stuff. Who’s buyin’ it?”

Penelope spotted a rooster and her jar and figured out my meaning. “I’m not sure. But I heard some of the southern cities have pretty much rebuilt themselves. They’ll want jewelry.”

Felt a fishhook in my lip at mention a’ jewelry. “All this diggin’ and toilin’ for a couple a’ shiny trinkets?”

“Shiny trinkets and frivolous spending make people forget what world they’re living in. Why do you think it’s so valuable?”

I huffed. Seemed a fool way to spend your coins but if it made my parents richer’n God then I suppose I couldn’t much complain. Though looking ’bout the town, it didn’t look like anyone was rich, not really. Doubt was heavy on my shoulders and I didn’t like it, not one bit.

Night was coming up quick and it brought with it a breath a’ cold what told a’ the coming winter. This far north we had maybe a month and half afore the first snow, less if it was one a’ them years with a sting in its tail. Some years snow comes right when you’re having your midsummer cookout. Sometimes it won’t come till you’re putting up the streamers for Christmas. Ain’t no way of knowing for certain; you just got to listen to the wind, feel it on your skin, hear what it’s telling you. This wind was telling me don’t get too comfy, Elka girl, you got a long, dark night ahead a’ you.