But, more important, where was it now?
The stranger must have returned and taken it. He may have been merciful by letting her go, but that was probably the extent of his good will. She would never see her camera again.
A tree branch snapped in the woods behind her, and Sadie turned at the sound. Had she unnerved the animal by stopping here? Was it growing impatient for her to move on?
Sadie looked around the small clearing one last time, but when her things did not magically appear, she gave a sigh of regret and headed for home.
She walked for a good half hour before the bandages on her feet wrinkled enough that walking became impossible. She sat down on a fallen log and was just leaning over to untie her boots when she saw it.
The animal stepped silently out of the forest less than thirty feet from where she sat.
He was absolutely the largest, most magnificent, most regal-looking coyote she had ever seen. His eyes were two calm liquid pools of iridescent green. The fur around his face was full and fluffed out at the jowls, swept back against two large, alert ears. His shoulder blades would come to her waist if she were standing, and his long legs were placed solidly over huge, broad-toed feet. His dense, unruffled fur was the color of cedar sawdust sprinkled with hues of variegated grays.
He was truly the most beautiful animal she had ever seen.
Sadie didn’t dare move a muscle. In fact, she nearly stopped breathing. What was he doing, showing himself to her? No coyote with even an ounce of instinct would dare approach a human this close. They were hunted animals, killed for the simple reason that they competed for the deer that humans prized so highly.
But coyotes simply weren’t this large. Or this bold. A thought came to her then, that she was staring into the eyes of a wolf.
Sadie immediately dismissed that notion. It simply wasn’t possible. Wolves hadn’t been seen in Maine in more than a century. They’d been hunted to extinction and smart enough to never return. Until now?
Sadie didn’t know if she should keep such direct eye contact with the animal, for fear that he might consider it an aggressive action on her part. Then again, she wasn’t quite brave enough to look away, either.
The animal yawned, nicely showing off every one of his lethal teeth, and leaned back on his haunches, flexing his shoulders into a stretch. But instead of straightening up, he lay down right there in the middle of the path and began licking his paws.
Just as Ping did when she was bored with human company.
Sadie could only stare. He was acting as if he had stopped in for a friendly visit.
She didn’t know what to do.
Could she just get up and quietly walk away?
Nope. He might consider that rude.
Unless he wasn’t a coyote or a wolf at all but a domestic hybrid. There were often classified ads in the paper that offered half-wolf pups for sale. God, she hoped that was the case. If he were half domestic, he might not mind that she didn’t return his desire to spend some quality time together.
Her sore feet forgotten, Sadie slowly stood up, careful not to make any sudden movements. The animal lifted his head from his chore and looked at her.
“Nice fella,” she said in a calm and soothing voice. “I’m just going to continue my walk home now. You can keep cleaning your feet if you want. I can find my own way from here.”
As she spoke, Sadie took small, guarded steps away from the animal, keeping her back to the trail and her eyes on him.
“That’s a nice boy,” she whispered, slowly turning around and widening her stride. She took at least ten steps before looking over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.
He was gone.
Sadie picked up her pace, not knowing if his disappearance was a good thing or not. A branch broke in the woods off to her left, and Sadie let out a shaky breath. It seemed they were back to the same routine as before, her walking the path and the wolf following in the shadows.
The final mile was the longest she had ever traveled before her cabin finally came into sight. Sadie decided that her career as a woodswoman was being sorely tried. The forest was suddenly crowded with all manner of beasts she wanted nothing to do with.
As if to prove her point that the valley had turned into Grand Central Station, Sadie spotted a strange-looking man, a hundred years old at least, sitting on her porch and scratching an ecstatic Ping under the chin.
“Aye, there you are, girl,” he said, standing up and walking toward her.
He had a thin, delicate cane he used for support—probably to catch himself when his feet got tangled in his long black robe—and a wild mane of white hair and a perfectly trimmed beard. A crisp white collar peeked out above the top button of his robe.
A priest?
Wasn’t this a bit remote for a parish call?
Sadie took the hand he offered and shook it, surprised by the strength of his grip, which was nothing compared with the direct stare of his crystal-clear, bright blue eyes.
“Are you lost?” she asked, taking a quick scan of the cabin grounds, looking for either a vehicle or a traveling companion.
“Nay. I’m right where I want to be, girl. And I apologize for showing up on your doorstep without notice,” he said, not releasing her hand. “I’m Father Daar. And you would be?”
“Ah…Sadie. Mercedes Quill.”
He cocked his head at her, his wrinkled face forming a smile. “I’d be knowing that name, Quill. Is your mother Charlotte, by any chance?”
He still hadn’t released her hand. Sadie didn’t really mind, though. She liked old people. She liked their old-fashioned manners, their straightforward talk, and their spit-in-the-eye attitude toward life.
“Yes. Charlotte’s my mom. How do you know her?”
Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he began to lead her toward her own cabin. “We have a mutual friend. Callum MacKeage has been spending a wee bit of time with your Charlotte, I believe.”
Yes, she knew that. As a matter of fact, Callum was all her mother had been able to talk about since Sadie had returned to Pine Creek. Charlotte had met Callum at a grange supper last winter, and the two had been dating ever since.
They climbed the stairs together, her hand still in the priest’s possession, and stopped at the door. Ping rubbed up against Sadie’s leg. Sadie pulled free and scooped up the cat, looking back over her shoulder at the forest.
“We should probably move inside, Father,” she said, pushing open the door. “A large dog followed me back to the cabin, and I don’t want him to catch sight of Ping.”
“Ping, is it?” the priest asked, not stepping inside. He scratched Ping under the chin again, then looked out at the woods and grinned. “No worry, lass. Dun…er, I mean Faol has always had a soft spot for cats. The wolf will not hurt your friend.”
“Wolf? You’ve seen him, then?” Sadie asked. Realizing he’d called the animal by name, she added, “Is he yours?”
The priest lifted his bushy eyebrows into his shaggy white hairline. “Wolves know no owners, girl. They’re independent beasts.”
The beast in question stepped out of the woods just then and sat down at the edge of the clearing, facing the cabin. The hackles on Ping’s back rose in alarm, and four sets of claws dug deeply into Sadie’s arms. Sadie all but ran into the cabin and pushed her frightened pet under the bed. She ran back, took Father Daar by the arm, and pulled him inside the cabin and closed the door.
“Ah…I just thought we’d be more comfortable sitting inside, out of the sun,” she said lamely, peeking out through the broken shutter. “Have a seat, Father,” she instructed.
He didn’t sit down but walked over to the corner and stood studying the large four-by-eight-foot model of the valley.
“What would this be?” he asked, running his finger along the tops of the mountains.
“That’s a model of this valley,” Sadie explained, moving to stand beside him. “This is where we are,” she said, pointing to a black dot ne
ar the center. “And this is Fraser Mountain, Pitts Mountain, Yawning Ridge, and Sunrise Peak,” she added, moving her finger along the tops of the eastern range. “This side of the valley is nicknamed Thoreau’s Range, made up of these six mountains,” she said, pointing to the other side of the model. “And in the middle is Prospect River, running the length of the valley.”
“Where’s TarStone Mountain?” he asked, leaning closer and scanning the names taped onto the mountains.
“TarStone would be here,” she told him, placing her hands just off the southeastern edge of the board. “It’s not on the model because it won’t be part of the park.”
Still bent over the makeshift table, he turned his head to her and waved his hand over the valley. “This is all supposed to be a park?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here. I’m mapping landmarks and cataloging the various ecosystems, so that I can help put together a proposal for a nature preserve.”
He straightened and turned fully toward her. “A proposal? So it’s not really a park yet?”
Sadie shook her head, absently running her finger along the edge of the model. “No, not yet. I was hired by a group of people who are working up a feasibility plan to present to our state legislature. It’s still in the early stages. Surveys have been done only on paper, not in the field yet. It’s my job to propose a basic layout for the park, with suggestions on where to put the trails and campsites and roads, locate the best place for a visitor center, and highlight prominent landmarks.”
“All by yourself?” the priest asked, looking back at the model. “It’s a mighty large task for one person alone.”
“I’m only the beginning of what will take years to develop,” Sadie explained, walking toward the window.
She looked outside, and, sure enough, the wolf was still there, lying down now, grooming himself again.
“I’d be liking a cup of tea, Mercedes, if you have some,” Father Daar said, heading back over to the door and opening it. “You got anything sweet to go with it?”
Sadie smiled as she moved to put the kettle to boil on the gas range in the kitchen area. “I have some brownies that my mother made,” she told him, getting two cups down from the shelf and quickly rinsing the dust off them.
“Would you be having something Faol could eat?” he asked.
Sadie looked past Father Daar at the napping wolf. “I don’t think we should feed him, Father. He might hang around if we give him free handouts.”
He turned and smiled at her. “You would not care for a wolf as a pet?” he asked, lifting one brow. “You don’t think a great beast like Faol would be handy to have around on occasion?”
“If he really is a wolf, then he’s wild. And it’s dangerous to endow him with human emotions.”
Father Daar left the door open, returned to the table, and sat down. “You haven’t much magic in your soul, have you, girl?” he said, taking a sip of his tea and setting the mug back on the table. His eyes suddenly lit with speculation. “How about this? What if I tend to those cuts on your feet and promise they’ll be completely healed by tomorrow? Would that not seem magical to you?”
Sadie was dumbfounded. “But how did you know?” she asked, looking down at her boots.
“You’re limping. And I see the glass on the floor,” he said, using his cane to point at the broken window littering the floor. “And I see tracks of blood,” he added, now pointing at the obvious path leading from the table to the counter and back.
Sadie sat down so she could untie her boots, thankful for the opportunity to straighten her bandages at last. They did hurt, but she had thought it would be rude to undress her feet in front of a guest.
“Thank you for the offer, Father, but I can tend myself. You sit back and enjoy your tea.”
She used the table to conceal the mess of her feet and slid out of her boots. The socks did not come off quite so easily. They were stuck to the bottoms of her feet.
“Here, child. Let me do that,” Father Daar said, slowly getting down on his knees in front of her.
Sadie was horrified. She hid her feet under the chair.
He looked up at her and grinned. “You’re a mite shy when it comes to your perceived flaws, aren’t you, Mercedes? I promise not to laugh if you have six toes.”
“You’re not tending my feet, Father. You’re a guest in my house.”
“The Son of God was not above washing a man’s feet,” he said, grabbing her by the ankle and pulling her foot out to inspect. “Besides, how can I make you believe in the magic if you don’t let me do my work?”
Her face flooded with heat. Lord help her, she would either have to kick the man or let him clean and bandage her feet.
“Where’s the salve?” he asked once he had the bandages off. “Ah, here it is,” he said, seeing the first aid kit on the table. “And now for the magic,” he whispered, opening the salve and ceremoniously dipping the head of his cane into the jar.
Sadie was fascinated as well as entertained. He was a funny old priest, making a production of magically healing her feet.
Well, if he’d wanted to put her at ease for his doctoring, it was working. She didn’t mind so much anymore that he was doing this humble chore for her.
“Mercedes is a beautiful name,” he said as he fingered the salve from his cane and worked it into the cuts. “Is it a family name? From a grandmother or great-aunt, maybe?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Sadie said, tucking her crossed fingers under her thighs. She wasn’t about to tell this man she was named after a car. Especially not the car she had been conceived in.
Frank Quill had had a warped sense of humor.
“There. How does that feel?” he asked, patting the last bandage into place and straightening up, giving her an expectant look.
“Hot. My feet feel warm as toast.”
And they did. Warm and tingly and wonderfully soothed. Sadie wanted to hug him, they felt so good. She smiled instead.
“Thank you, Father. You really did work magic.”
He narrowed one eye at her suspiciously. “You think I’m jesting about the magic, don’t you?” He lifted his cane and showed her the salve-covered burl of wood at the top. “I wish I could be here to see your face in the morning, when you wake up and find your feet completely healed.”
Sadie patted his shoulder. “Magic is the stuff of fairy tales, Father. I’ll put my faith in modern medicine. And your kindness, too, because I know it helps.”
Still kneeling in front of her, his eyes not quite level with hers, he gave her a fierce glare. “The magic isn’t here,” he said, touching her forehead with his finger. “It’s here,” he continued, touching her just below her collar bone. “It’s deep inside, in your heart. It’s the belief that anything is possible, against any odds, as long as you’re open to the gift.”
“You’re very sweet.”
“Nay. Never call an old man sweet, child, unless you’re wanting to prick his temper. Even priests have pride,” he finished, leaning on his cane to stand up. He walked around the table, sat back down, and took up his tea again.
Sadie ignored his scolding and sipped her own tea as she stared at the strange man sitting across the table. Where had he come from? And why was he here?
“Why do you call him Foul?” she asked, waving toward the wolf. “He doesn’t stink.”
“It’s spelled F-A-O-L, and it means ‘wolf.’”
“In what language?”
“Gaelic. I’m a Celt, girl, in case you haven’t noticed.”
The man did have a mean accent. Gaelic, huh? Maybe he would recognize the word the giant had used yesterday when he’d told her to take a care until they met again.
“Father? Do you know what ‘gray-agch’ means?”
He scrunched up his face. “What language would that be? You sound like you have a frog in your throat.”
“I don’t know what language it is.”
“Where did you hear it? That might help me decide.”
<
br /> Well, now. What to tell him. She wasn’t saying spit about yesterday’s encounter. “It’s just something I heard someone say,” she prevaricated. She shrugged. “It’s not important. I was just curious.”
He finally put his brownie into his mouth, chewing and grinning and then taking a sip of his tea. He stood up suddenly.
“I’ve enjoyed our visit, Mercedes. And now I was thinking ya could give me a ride home in that comfortable-looking truck you’ve got parked out back.”
Sadie stared up at him. What had been the point of his visit? And now he wanted a ride?
“Did you walk all the way out here from town?”
He started for the door, waving his cane in the air. “Nay. I live on the west side of TarStone Mountain.”
“Good Lord. That’s nearly ten miles away, cross-country. And a good fifteen miles by road. You walked?”
He turned to her and thumped his chest with his cane. “Walking is good for the heart, not to mention the soul. But then you already know that, don’t you, Mercedes? You’ve covered every inch of this valley in the ten weeks you’ve been here, most of it on foot, I would guess.”
Now, how had he known that?
Dammit. Who was this strange man?
He suddenly turned and was out the door and already down the steps before she could respond. The wolf—Faol—stood up and watched as Father Daar quickly walked around the cabin and disappeared from sight. Sadie heard the door of her truck open and then slam shut.
She could only stand there, immobilized with confusion, finding herself with many more questions than answers for a visit that had lasted less than an hour.
Chapter Six
Sadie wasn’t waiting two days to visit her mother, she was going home tonight. She was taking a long weekend, hoping that was enough time for the green-eyed stranger to move on, the wolf to move on, and the priest to forget where she lived.
Talk about weird. The old man had eaten her food and drunk her tea, doctored her feet, urged her to make a pet of a wolf, and scolded her for hiding her scars. It hadn’t been Sunday, but Sadie felt as if she had sat through a four-hour sermon.
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