The Call (The Great North Woods Pack Book 2)

by Shawn Underhill

  “They can look all they want,” the old man proclaimed surely into the microphone, “but it won’t do a bit of good. I shot that cougar that killed the young lady. One shot was clean through the chest. The second, possibly a grazing shot, was in a hind leg. If he survived the night at all, believe me, he’s in no shape to do anyone else harm. But I doubt he survived.”

  “And you are an experienced hunter?”

  “Yes Ma’am. I’ve been hunting these woods since I was knee-high to a nine foot Indian. Born and raised right here in Ludlow,” he said proudly.

  The reporter cleared her throat and muttered, “Yes, well.” Interviews with backwoods people were always a risk on live TV. “It’s odd to have a mountain lion prowling these foothills, isn’t it?”

  “Says who?” Ed blurted. “Wardens and experts maybe, but not me; I live here. Hell no it’s not odd. They’ve always been here. What is odd is folks being attacked by ’em. I got no problem with animals, but attacking folks is where I draw the line.”

  “Authorities are searching the area,” the reporter said as the camera panned back to her. “Tracking dogs are on the scene and will be searching diligently until the attacker is either found dead or captured by game wardens. Multiple sources have assured me that the culprit will be found in spite of the rains that passed through the area.”

  From off camera came the sound of Ed scoffing in disbelief. “Go ahead,” he jeered. “A lot of good those dogs will do!”

  “Why do you say that, sir?” asked the reporter as the camera swung back to him.

  “Why? Because I know dogs, that’s why. They love hunting and love tracking people. If need be they’ll search till they drop to find what they’re looking for. But that cougar was a specially nasty one. Once any dog worth his feed follows it long enough to understand what he’s following, he’ll quit. Mark my words, if they think that cougar is still alive, those dogs will quit.”

  “You heard it here first,” the reporter said with a funny, disbelieving expression. She signed off quickly before Ed could break in again.

  The following report was given from inside The Kitchen. Most of the booths and tables were full as the camera panned around, and not a stool was empty at the counter as regulars sat deliberating over coffee. Celia Ludlow was interviewed briefly. Below her face a banner read: FRIEND OF VICTIM.

  “It’s awful,” she said. “Nothing ever happens around here. We’re a quiet little town and we like it that way.”

  “And you told me earlier that you knew the victim personally?”

  “I did,” Celia nodded. “She was a little girl when I first started working here. She’d order hot cocoa and chocolate chip pancakes, then pick all the chips out and leave most of the pancake. Lately she worked over at the store, and everyone loved her.”

  “Sad,” said the reporter casually.

  “I’m just glad the animal that did that to her is dead,” Celia said with a stern face.

  “Have you any idea why the victim would be outside around dusk? Isn’t that one of the most active times of day for wild animals?”

  “I don’t know,” Celia replied with a look of frustration. “I’m no hunter and I’m sure not an investigator. All I know she’s gone and I’ve got customers waiting.”

  “One last question,” the reporter pressed. “How will this tragedy affect your day-to-day life?”

  Celia shook her head and stepped away behind the counter. The reporter quickly took over.

  ***

  “Wow,” Evie said. “She did amazing not to attack that reporter.”

  “They’re pressing for emotion,” her grandfather said. “That’s what they get paid for.”

  “I wouldn’t want a camera in my face and some woman asking me how I felt,” she thought aloud. “I wouldn’t have handled it that well, that’s for sure.”

  “I just hope Ed’s remarks aren’t inflammatory,” Joseph said. “Weekend warrior hunters bent on becoming heroes are the last thing we need. By noon these woods could be crawling with camouflaged buffoons believing themselves to be Clint Eastwood riding in to save the town.”

  “Ed meant well,” Evelyn said.

  “He did,” her husband agreed. “And hopefully the wardens will discourage such activities. They usually do.”

  “Will wardens and police come near the farm?” Evie asked.

  “Quite possibly. It all depends where the dogs lead them.”

  “The rain will help,” Janie said.

  “Help,” her father agreed. “But it’s no failsafe. Never underestimate a dog and his nose. They’ve little else to do in life but follow its strong leadings.”

  “What did Ed mean about that?” Evie asked.

  “That’s what worries me most,” Joseph said. “I’m sure he didn’t intend to, but vaguely he implied that he shot something other than a normal cougar. He is absolutely correct about the dogs. I’ve witnessed it myself. Once their noses recognize that they aren’t tracking a common animal, fear will set in on them. In most cases they’ll simply sit down and refuse to continue. Their handlers will be baffled, because tracking dogs live for the chase. It’s just one more example of a simple animal possessing deeper understanding than given credit for.”

  As the conversation unfolded, though she was hungry and the food was doing her good, Evie felt a growing nervousness from the pit of her stomach. The nerves found vent by a twitching of her leg and a tapping of her foot. “So what do we do now?” she finally asked.

  “After breakfast you’ll find out,” her grandfather told her.

  ***

  ~9~

  The horses seemed jumpy. All the while Evie and her grandfather prepped and saddled them they grunted and tossed their heads.

  “Is it because Abel’s still here?” Evie asked.

  “He’s not here. Not close, anyway.”

  “But they won’t forget, will they?”

  “No,” her grandfather said, running his hand softly over the cheek of Frost—his prized white Thoroughbred. “You won’t forget will you, old friend?” he said directly to the horse, holding his soft cheek in his palm.

  Frost whinnied low and deeply, his big dry lips working nervously and his ears twitching. His head lowered as if to show reverence, as though he understood the words—or at least the base nature of their good intent.

  “No, he says,” Joseph confirmed.

  With wide eyes Evie gasped, “You hear him now? Human?”

  “Of course. I can hear them all, just as you did last night.”

  “Why can’t I?” she asked, even as she thought, the words passing by her lips, she wouldn’t want to hear their sadness even if she could.

  “You’re not listening,” he said simply, then commenced to making his final checks.

  “I asked Eli about this. He didn’t say he could hear them.”

  “Your cousin is very well along for his mid-twenties. But he hasn’t been listening as long as I have.” He gestured toward the lower cow barn. “Besides, his morning work would be a grievous task if he heard all their complaints this morning.”

  ***

  The final item to his saddle Joseph Snow added after Evie had climbed up on Chappy’s back. The aged Winchester rifle fit into a leather sheath like an old western movie as she watched. Then her grandfather climbed up, moving with his inhuman ease.

  “I hate them,” he replied to her stare as he took the reins. “But in times like these we must appear as human as possible.”

  Striking the southern trail through the cornfield they plodded along easily. For Evie it was the first time in over a year she’d actually moved through the woods at such a relaxed pace. Rather than everything rushing by in a blur, every detail seemed to stand out to her sharp eyes, bold and bright. And as badly as she felt about things, it was hard to remain despondent while surrounded by such tranquility.

  “Is there a plan or are we just riding?” she asked after a while.

  “We’ll stay south a while, then east,” her gra
ndfather said. “Aside from regular patrolling, my hope is to run into some wardens and trackers.”

  “You want to meet them?”

  “Absolutely. Like I said, we need to give the impression that we’re typical folks. We’re deeply concerned about the attack and ready and willing to take a shot at that cougar. Also I’d like whatever information I can get from them. People love to talk, even when they aren’t sure what they’re talking about.”

  The word attack jolted Evie’s thoughts from the quiet of her surroundings—from the rough patterns in the bark of ancient trees they passed, the play of early sunlight through the leaved branches, the jittery movements of squirrels and small birds flitting about, and the steady pace of Chappy’s rhythmic steps clomping along beneath her. For a long minute she held a nagging question at bay with a bite to her lip.

  “What’s on your mind?” her grandfather finally asked. “Even Chappy senses your tension.”

  “Where is she?” she said. “I mean Emmy. Is she … okay now?”

  “Do you mean ‘in heaven?’ ”

  “I’m not looking for a church answer.”

  “And I’m not offering. My surest answer is that I don’t know by experience. Much can be learned by study of the ancients, but nothing equates with experience. If you’re asking my opinion, yes, I believe her spirit is now free and comfortable, awaiting the day when wrongs are finally made right. How’s that?”

  “Okay,” Evie mumbled, staring straight forward.

  “It sure gets you thinking, doesn’t it?”

  “I’ve never lost anyone.”

  “Not that you can recall, no.”

  “My dad is just … I don’t know. I feel something, but it’s not like this.”

  “I understand.”

  “I dreamed about her, Papa. Early this morning she called me out and I tried to catch her and I couldn’t. She outran me like I was slow. And when she finally did let me catch her, she just looked at me. She looked happy, but still I felt sad. And then I woke up and she was gone.”

  “We were never meant to die,” he said through a sigh, “never meant to be disembodied. The foods and waters of Life were withheld to put a cap on evil, so for a time we suffer decay. But the day is coming when, as the saints surmised, the world now groaning as a woman in labor will finally give birth to the new. Death will be over, and goodbyes will be no more. That is my consensus and my hope. Otherwise I would despair.”

  “So my dream isn’t crazy?”

  “No. Clearly you two bonded very quickly. That happens sometimes, and once it does, you aren’t meant to be torn apart. Perhaps the dream was simply to make it a little easier on you, however little comfort it may actually be.”

  “I can’t imagine how the Wilsons feel.”

  “And may you never find out,” he said with weak smile. “We’ll look in on them later. And of course, there will be a service for the whole town. As for the pack, we’ll bounce back. Eventually the weight will lift. But not for a while.”

  ***

  Within a half hour they met their first outsiders.

  Two wardens on foot appeared ahead of them. Moving toward them on the trail leading southwest, they were moving back to the quads they’d left parked on the trailside. Both carried rifles slung over their shoulders, and both had side arms on their belts. Joseph Snow had smelled and heard the men several seconds before the horses made their own alerts.

  “Good morning,” said the older of the two.

  “Morning it is,” said Joseph Snow with Frost fidgeting slightly beneath him, “but I’m not yet convinced of its goodness.”

  “No,” said the warden heavily, moving his eyes from the old man to the young girl with red hair tied back in a ponytail. As a trained observer, he noticed the white mingling with the deep red and wondered what kind of crazy notion had driven such a pretty girl to attempt such a strange coloring job.

  “Found anything?” Joseph asked.

  “It’s hard to say,” replied the elder warden. “There are plenty of signs out here. Lots of activity on these trails. Unfortunately the rain really hurt us.”

  “I don’t doubt.”

  “Do you ride out here often?” asked the younger warden. His eyes were on Evie as he spoke.

  “As often as possible,” she said, patting Chap’s muscular neck.

  “Where are you visiting from?” asked the older one with a quick look. “If you don’t my asking.”

  “Good ole Alabama,” she said with a smile.

  The faces of both men visibly softened.

  “Well, I hope your vacation is a good one,” said the elder. “It’s a terrible tragedy what happened here last night. Most of the time these woods are very safe and very hospitable to visitors.”

  “She’s been coming here all her life,” Joseph said. “Looks forward to it year round. I couldn’t talk her out of joining me on the search.”

  Evie nodded as he spoke.

  “But I figured whatever was around has probably moved out with all the commotion.”

  “So you’ve seen nothing strange to the area?” asked the younger warden, more serious again.

  “Nothing apart from your quads parked back a ways.”

  “That’s a beautiful animal,” the elder warden said, nodding towards Frost.

  “That he is. And gets better fuel mileage than your quads,” Joe smiled.

  Both men smiled in a friendly manner.

  “I see that you’re armed,” said the elder. “That’s good.”

  “Can’t be too careful.”

  “Well, mountain lions are very fast, very capable. Your horses will know of its presence before you. Probably become quite unsettled. If you do see one, shoot cautiously but quickly. Shoot until it retreats. Then ride the other way as fast as you safely can.”

  Joseph nodded seemingly thoughtfully. “So that is the official suspect?”

  “Nothing else but a black bear has claws like that,” the younger warden answered. “The witnesses unanimously agreed that they saw a big cat, not a bear. Still … something about it stinks.”

  “It doesn’t go with a black bear. I’ve lived here many years and not once dealt with such aggression in any bear. But in truth I have heard rumors of cats. Not bobcats, either. I’m talking bigger cats. I’ve heard this from folks I well trust.”

  Both wardens nodded but seemed unsatisfied with the consensus. Their charts and maps and years of schooling had ingrained in them the fact that large cats had long been driven from the White Mountains and North Woods. Exceptions existed to most rules, but still the rules usually prevailed.

  “If you do see anything,” said the elder, “make sure to call dispatch and give as precise of a location as you can. It would be greatly appreciated.”

  Joseph Snow patted the cell phone clipped to his belt. “Will do.”

  “Have a wonderful day.”

  “And a good vacation,” said the younger man to Evie.

  “I hope so,” she smiled.

  ***

  “You did wonderful,” Joseph said softly when the two wardens had disappeared in the distance. “I could have played mute if I wanted.”

  “Why are they so frustrated?”

  “Because there’s a big cat roaming where it statistically should no longer exists. It baffles and worries them. And the fact that they can’t find it hurts their pride.”

  Continuing northeast, they plodded on for well over an hour. Sometimes they spoke but mostly they were silent, letting the stillness settle their minds. Finally they struck west, in Evie’s memory doing the trip she’d run with Emmy in reverse.

  “Do you hear that?” Joseph asked. They had stopped to let the horses drink from the oasis. They themselves sat in the moss to eat their packed lunches.

  “Hear what?” Evie said between bites of her sandwich.

  “Nothing and everything. Perfect peace.”

  “I feel it more than I hear it.”

  “That’s how the knowledge begins. These woo
ds are at rest, so we are at rest. Wildlife takes note of our presence, but we do not worry them. The birds talk of sweet nothings, the deer and moose are bedded down at rest, and the rodents chatter only about their loot. That tells us plainly there has been no recent distress this far north. In other words, it’s the best kind of patrol we could have hoped for.”

  “How long will it take for my senses to catch up with yours?”

  The old man laughed. “You may feel dull compared with the wolf, but trust me, you’re sharper now, human, than you’ve ever been before.”

  “I won’t catch you?”

  “Not for a good while.”

  “I can see the leaves starting to change,” she commented. “In August it’s always a deeper green.”

  “That’s right, you’re about to enjoy your first northern autumn outside of a postcard. I assure you, after all my years it’s never gotten old. In a few weeks these woods will be on fire. Shy of the need for meals and rest, you’ll have to force yourself into the house.”

  “So these patrols will be daily?”

  “Absolutely. Until we’re sure the threats have passed, we will watch with all diligence.”

  ***

  She listened quietly after eating. She felt the peace of her surroundings as clearly as she’d felt the stress and grief from the prior night. The nearest sensation she could equate it with was wonder. The image of Lucy in Narnia came to mind, listening to the trees as she wandered through the magical forests. Even though she wished she could, Evie couldn’t perceive a fraction of what her grandfather perceived. Her young ears could not hear all the details through the combined hum of all those small sounds.