The Woodlander

by Kirk Watson

“That’s right,” he said. “Since my wife died.”

  It seemed strange to hear the words out loud. He had never allowed himself to think it, let alone say it. But there it was, hanging in the cold air, as real as the embers rising from the fire before fading away forever.

  Since my wife died…

  Lisa placed a paw on his arm. “I’m sorry about your wife, John. Truly, I am. But I don’t see why that means you can’t write anymore. Ray could really use your help—”

  “I just can’t do it anymore!” John snapped. “Okay, Lisa?”

  Lisa pulled back, shocked. John immediately regretted the harshness of his reply.

  “I’m sorry,” he sighed, holding his head in his paws. “That part of my life is over. It died with my wife. I’m not a reporter anymore. I just can’t do it. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for Ray.”

  “You shouldn’t bother,” Rollie said. “We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for that freak of nature.”

  “Ray didn’t have a choice,” Lisa said. “The haakönen had his daughter. Besides, if he hadn’t delivered us to the haakönen, somebody else would have. At least Ray never hurt us.”

  “Never hurt us?” John said. “He knocked me out—twice!”

  “Well, he didn’t hurt us much, anyway. Relatively speaking—just bumps and bruises.”

  “He broke my jaw,” Hugh said.

  “You mean when you were planning on stealing a knife and attacking the haakönen, Hugh? That would have been suicide. Ray probably saved your life.”

  “I suppose,” Hugh said, rubbing his jaw.

  “And that wasn’t the last time he saved us, I’ll remind you. Ray also got us to Cecil. And Ray saved Violet from that sick ermine. And Ray got us off that mountain. You have to help him, John.”

  John rubbed his temples. “Skallagaan said they took his daughter to the West. Far from Woodland, I would imagine. Until the haakönen kidnapped us, I’d never even been outside of Langley. The Far West? I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”

  “I’ve been to the West,” Hugh said. All eyes turned to the mouse.

  “You have?” Lisa asked.

  “Once, when I was a child.”

  “What’s it like?” Violet asked, her eyes glowing with excitement.

  “Nothing like Woodland, that’s for sure. Out West, there are great fields of grass that stretch as far as your eye can see, without a tree in sight.”

  Violet gasped.

  “And if you go far enough,” Hugh continued, “you’ll come upon a great body of water—bigger than any lake in Woodland. The water stretches all the way to the sky, then falls right off the edge of the world.”

  “Turtlecrap,” Rollie said.

  “No, it’s true! I’ve been there. On the coast lies a magnificent city, unlike any in Woodland. And the strangest people you could ever imagine live there—people of all shapes and sizes—they all come to the great city by the bay.”

  “And just how did you come to see this great city?” Rollie asked.

  “One summer when I was just a boy, my family headed west. We reached the plains and just kept on going—all the way to the bay.”

  “I thought you said you grew up on a farm.”

  “Before they were farmers, my parents were wanderers. We traveled from village to village, trading goods and services—just living free.”

  “Wanderers? You mean gypsies,” Rollie said, spitting into the fire. “Don’t listen to him, Violet. These stories of his, they’re just gypsy lies.”

  “I’m not lying!” Hugh protested. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

  “Right, and I’m a fairy princess.” Rollie pulled out his lucky spoon and waved it like a wand. “I’ll grant you one wish, o gypsy king from the West. Choose wisely.”

  “Well, as long as we’re dreaming, I wish you’d shut up.”

  As Rollie and Hugh quibbled, John stared into the fire. The words still echoed in his head.

  Since my wife died… Even if I do get back home, Sharon won’t be there to greet me. I’m all alone now.

  He thought of his empty tree, his empty bedroom, his empty office, and all the empty awards he had won as a reporter. They had meant so much to him at the time, but now they just seemed hollow. His reporting days were over. When he got back to Langley, he would have to tell Mr. Finn he could no longer work for him—there would be no more stories, no more awards. And that space he had cleared on his award shelf would remain empty as well, mocking him as he sat in his office. He couldn’t even remember why he had cleared it in the first place.

  Oh, that’s right, Mr. Finn’s pet project—the one about the missing kids. Sharon had been so upset when I told her it would be a big story for us; she was more concerned about the kids, as usual. She even knew one of them. What was that mouse’s name again?

  As he looked at the faces around the fire, a sudden thought struck him:

  “Say, Hugh, when you were being held captive at Highcastle, did you ever meet a mouse named Samuel? Samuel Labbot?”

  Hugh turned to John with an astonished look. “Sam? Yes, I knew him. We were brought to Highcastle together. He was a sharp fellow. Studying to be a lawyer, I believe.”

  John blinked in surprise. “What happened to him?”

  “I’m afraid he didn’t survive the first hunt. That haakönen Geirleif set a trap in the valley. Poor Sam never saw it coming; he was skewered alive.” Hugh shuddered. “At least he went quickly. Did you know Sam?”

  “Not really. I came across his file back when I was a reporter.”

  “His file?” Lisa asked.

  “A missing persons report. There were dozens of them. Mostly young, like you. They were all… disadvantaged, and none of them were ever seen again. I didn’t see the connection at the time, but now it seems so clear.”

  “You think the haakönen took them?”

  John nodded. “Skallagaan said they had been doing this for years. Since before we were born. Can you fathom how many innocent Woodlanders must have died in those hunts?”

  Lisa shook her head. “How awful. Just like Billy.”

  John stared into the fire. “There was a picture of Sam in his file. He was wearing a graduation gown and standing with his parents, just a normal Woodland kid with his whole life in front of him. Then he fell on some hard times and… well, you know the rest. It could have been any one of us.”

  “I can’t even imagine what his parents must have gone through.”

  “We should find them,” Hugh said, “let them know what happened to their son. Maybe that will bring them some peace.”

  “What?” Rollie asked. “Tell them their son was murdered by a royal family of haakönen? Even if they did believe you, what peace could that possibly bring?”

  “We have to tell them something,” Hugh said.

  “I agree,” John said, “but we need to be careful. We don’t want to incite a full-blown panic in Woodland.”

  “I say let sleeping haakönen lie,” Rollie said. “We already killed most of them, anyway.”

  “Except for Geirleif.”

  “True,” Rollie said, looking up at the sky. “But we have no proof. No one will believe us. They’ll throw us in the looney bin.”

  John scratched his head. “Maybe I could find some proof, put together some evidence to take to the authorities.”

  Lisa smiled at John. “I thought you said you weren’t a reporter anymore.”

  “Huh? I’m not.”

  “Well, you sure sounded like one just now.”

  John gave her an apologetic smile. She winked back at him.

  “But what about Ray?” Violet asked. All eyes turned to her.

  “What about him?” John asked.

  “Won’t he get in trouble?” Violet asked. “For helping the haakönen, I mean.”

  “And don’t forget, Ray still needs to find his daughter,” Lisa said.

  “I hadn’t really thought about that,” John said. He shook his head. “Nah
, Ray’s a big squirrel. He can take care of himself.”

  “But Ray’s all alone, John. He needs our help.”

  “With that winning personality? Pfft… I’m sure he has plenty of friends.”

  Lisa crossed her arms and frowned.

  John sighed. “Well, maybe I could make a few inquiries—”

  “Shh,” Lisa said. “He’s coming back.”

  Ray returned with an armful of wood and replenished the fire. The group sat staring into the flames for several minutes before John broke the silence:

  “We’d better get some sleep. We still have a long ways to go before we get back to Langley.”

  “I’ll keep watch,” Ray said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Grimm.”

  “Grimm?” Rollie asked, raising his eyebrows. “Your last name is Grimm? Well, isn’t that appropriate?”

  Ray narrowed his eyes.

  “I mean,” Rollie stammered, “it’s appropriate that you keep watch over us, Mr. Grimm. Thank you, sir, for your vigilance.”

  John chuckled as he lay down by the fire. He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t get to sleep; he kept imagining the black haakönen Geirleif swooping down, invisible against the night sky. After what seemed like hours, he rolled over. Ray was still sitting upright against the tree, keeping watch over the group. John smiled.

  The girls are right; we’re lucky to have that brooding bastard. I’ll do what I can to help him find his daughter.

  Feeling better, John closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  The next morning, the group awoke to the sound of Ray kicking dirt on the smoldering coals.

  “What is it?” John asked.

  Ray pointed to the river. “Somebody’s coming.” He motioned for the others to take cover. John hid behind a pine tree and listened. From the river came the sound of singing. John recognized the last lines of the familiar shanty:

  And if by chance or if by choice

  The river, she will pull me down

  Gary the river rat guided his barge up the river. The faint trail of smoke from the campfire drew his attention. Spotting the overturned wagon, he pulled his barge to the bank and jumped ashore. He looked around, but no one was in sight. He approached the campfire.

  Behind the trees, John and the others readied their weapons. Gary kicked at the extinguished campfire and placed his paws over the coals—they were still warm. He drew his pistol.

  “Come on out! I know you’re there!”

  Ray stepped out from the trees with his knife in paw.

  Gary sneered at him. “Why, Ray. What are you doing all the way out here? And all by your lonesome.”

  “Shut up, Gary. I’ll be taking your boat,” Ray said.

  “It’s a barge,” Gary corrected.

  “Call it what you want; I’m taking it.”

  Gary snickered in his high-pitched squeal and leveled his pistol. “Like hell you will. It’s just like you to bring a knife to a gunfight, Ray.” He cocked the pistol.

  The other squirrels stepped out from their hiding places with their guns pointed at the river rat. Gary spun in a circle; he was surrounded.

  “Well, what a lovely surprise,” Gary said, his nose twitching. “It’s certainly good to see you all again. And in such fine health.”

  “No thanks to you, river rat,” Lisa said. “Now drop the pistol!”

  “Now, wait a minute. Can’t we talk this over?”

  Lisa cocked her revolver.

  Gary dropped his pistol and held his paws in the air. “Okay, okay. Don’t shoot.”

  “Yeah, save your ammo,” Ray said, brandishing his knife. “I’ll take care of the weasel.”

  “River rat,” Gary corrected.

  “No, keep him alive,” John said. “We’re not like them.”

  Ray scowled but put his knife away. He retrieved Gary’s pistol and boarded the barge. Returning with a length of rope, he tied Gary up in the same manner the squirrels had been bound on their trip to Highcastle.

  “We should deliver him to the haakönen,” Lisa said.

  Gary’s eyes grew wide as apples. “No! Please, just take the barge.”

  “Oh, we’ll take the barge,” John said, “but you’re coming with us.”

  Gary wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or not. They marched him onto the barge and sat him in the middle of the deck. Lisa stood over him with her pistol in paw. John and Ray pushed the vessel from the shore, and were glad to have dry feet for a change as they floated down the river.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Gary said to Lisa, “just how did you escape the haakönen?”

  “We killed them,” Lisa replied, fingering her revolver.

  “Oh… well, imagine that.”

  They continued down the river in silence. Lisa looked over at John and caught his attention, nodding her head towards Gary. John gave her a puzzled look.

  “Emily,” she mouthed.

  John sighed and handed his pole to Hugh. “Take over for a bit, will you, Hugh?”

  John sat across from the river rat. Holding his pistol in his lap, he swung out the revolver’s cylinder, spun it, and snapped it shut. “We need some information, Gary.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Where is Ray’s daughter?”

  Ray stopped pushing the barge and listened intently.

  “How would I know?” Gary asked.

  John pointed his pistol. “Wrong answer.”

  “I’m telling you the truth! Last I saw her, she was at Highcastle.”

  “The haakönen moved her. But you already knew that, didn’t you? In fact, I bet you were the transporter.”

  “No! I swear I haven’t seen her. Not since I first brought her to the mountain.”

  Ray growled at the river rat. “So you’re the one who kidnapped her?” He put his pole down and drew his knife.

  “I don’t kidnap them,” Gary said, “I just transport them. You know that, Ray. I took her to the mountain, but it was just business. I didn’t know she was your daughter—I didn’t even know you at the time.”

  Ray grabbed Gary by the collar and lifted him to his feet. “But once you found out she was my daughter, you still didn’t say anything.”

  “Easy, Ray,” John said. “Let’s get the information we need, then you can do what you want with him.”

  Ray grunted, but dropped the bound river rat back to the deck.

  “Look,” Gary said, struggling to right himself, “I just run the river. I can tell you she didn’t come back by water, but I’m not the only courier the haakönen employed. They must have used someone else, maybe taken a different route. They could have moved her by land, or even by air—they’re haakönen, for crying out loud!”

  “Who transported her?” John asked.

  “Transporters are on a strictly need-to-know basis, and I didn’t need to know where she was going. But it wasn’t by barge, I can tell you that. Only the haakönen know for sure. You should ask Skallagaan.”

  John’s heart sank. “Skallagaan’s dead. I’m afraid you’re no use to us, Gary. You can get rid of him now, Ray.”

  “Wait!” Gary said. “There’s another—Skallagaan’s brother-in-law. You didn’t kill Geirleif, did you?”

  “No,” John said. “Unfortunately, he got away.”

  “On the contrary,” Gary snickered, “I’d say that’s rather fortunate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Geirleif conducted all of Skallagaan’s business for him. If the haakönen traded your daughter, Geirleif would know where she is. You can count on that.”

  John and Ray looked at each other skeptically.

  “Thank you, Gary,” John said. “You’ve been extremely helpful. Now you can get rid of him, Ray.”

  “Gladly,” Ray said. “Stand up, Captain Gary.”

  Gary stood, shaking. “Wait! Maybe I could talk to Geirleif for you, find out what he knows?”

  “Turn around,” Ray ordered.

  Gary reluctantly turned his
back to Ray, pleading for his life: “I know people. People who know people. I can help you, Ray!”

  Ray brought the knife up high over his head. The steel blade glinted in the sun.

  “Wait!” Gary screamed.

  Ray brought the knife down, severing the rope binding the river rat’s paws.

  Gary sighed in relief. “Thank you, Ray. Just let me live and you can keep the boat—”

  “It’s a barge,” Ray corrected, kicking the river rat in the back and sending him flying over the edge.

  As Gary sputtered to the river’s surface, Ray called back to him, “Bring me some information, weasel. Or next time I won’t be so gentle.”

  The vessel pressed on down the river, leaving Gary splashing in the cold water. “You’ll pay for this!” he shouted, shaking his paw after his beloved barge.

  “Shut up, Gary!” Lisa called back.

  Violet giggled, adding, “And watch out for river monsters!”

  Lisa turned to John. “Do you think he’ll find anything?”

  “I doubt it. Gary’s just a lackey, but at this point, we need as many pokers in the fire as possible if we’re going to find Emily. Ray, I don’t suppose you know where we could track down Geirleif?”

  “He’s probably off somewhere licking his wounds,” Ray said. “Or he could be in the clouds above us, watching us as we speak.”

  As the barge floated down the river, the squirrels looked to the sky.

  Chapter 27

  I’LL BE BACK TOMORROW

  balance

  /´baləns/

  noun

  1. An even distribution of weight.

  2. Mental or emotional stability.

  3. Harmony.

  verb

  1. To hold in a steady position.

  2. To disallow falling.

  For two more days the escapees floated down the river. The sound of the poles plunging into the water provided a stark contrast to their eerily silent surroundings, producing an almost hypnotic effect on the exhausted squirrels. John struggled to remain focused; the rhythmic beats reminded him of the Post’s press as the freshly printed pages rolled through the machines. What was more, they reminded him of home: a thought he had pushed far from his mind until now.