The Wolf Road

by Beth Lewis

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Good-looking guy?” she said, and I heard something close to one a’ them stuck-up tones. Met a few people with them, Lyon a’ course, and the good reverend.

  “Not that it’s your business, but he’s damn fine,” I said, and pictured Colby’s smiling lips.

  Girl went quiet for a few and I thanked her in my head for shutting the hell up.

  ’Cept she didn’t for long.

  “Are you his ‘opportunity’?” she said, and that picture in my head cracked.

  I shifted close to the hole and found them eyes again. “Why you say that?”

  She laughed, sour as unripe apples, and said, “Because I’m James’s opportunity too.”

  James. Colby. That lying son bitch. Felt that strange sharp pain in my chest again, the thought a’ him looking and talking to other girls, spinning ’em the same lines he used to hook me. Ain’t no way I was waiting for him to come get me; I would go find him and make him choose me or her, I wouldn’t be no one’s seconds.

  Gripped my knife tight and dug it into the gap ’tween lid and wood, started twisting hard. Somewhere outside, in the mountains ’round the edge of the lake, a wolf started howling. The wild part a’ me said it was my wolf, said he was following me along and keeping me safe, ready to come back to me on the other side a’ the water. I know wolf howls like I know my own heartbeat, spent so long in the woods with ’em. Some types a’ howl were celebrating a kill and the next morning I’d find naught but scraps and blood in the snow. Some types a’ howl were for fighting ’tween the pack, keeping ’em all in line, keeping the ladies happy. But this howl weren’t none of them. This was a howl a’ warning, told a’ danger and I knew enough to listen to the wild when it spoke to me.

  Scraping clang of metal on metal and a creak as a door opened somewhere in the hold. My toes went cold.

  “Hush,” the girl hissed like an angry garter.

  Heard voices a’ two men and I recognized Colby’s right away. His was crystal where the other’s was rough like leather not scraped right. Wolf howl kept going and I hid my knife where I could grab it quick.

  “Which one?” leather voice said.

  “That one. The other is paid-for property,” Colby said, but he didn’t sound like he did on land. That fox in him had turned feral.

  Next I know, someone’s kicking my box.

  “Still alive in there?” leather voice shouted, then laughed like a donkey choking on hay.

  I quick caught sight of the other girl’s eyes, but then I heard an almighty splintering and a crowbar came ’tween lid and wood. My heart went like galloping hooves and I didn’t have time to get into a striking pose, didn’t have no time to wonder what was coming for me, didn’t have no time ’cause the lid got thrown off. Colby stared down at me, crowbar in his milky-white hands. ’Side him stood something between man and hog. A beast I recognized. He was the harbor master, that fat, boil-covered thing. Stood there with his mouth open, dripping grease and sweat, and looking at me like I was a pork chop.

  “Twelve for this one,” Colby said, smiling at me. I wanted to rip his pretty face right off his pretty skull.

  The hog snorted. “Twelve? Dog like that ain’t worth eight.”

  “She’s an ugly sort, I’ll grant you,” Colby said, “but you don’t have to look at her face.” Then he sneered at me like he was looking at rotten fruit. “Probably best you don’t.”

  Felt like crying, felt like shouting, You said I was pretty, but I weren’t stupid. It was all lies. All goddamn lies.

  “Let me see the other,” the man said.

  Colby put his hand on the man’s shoulder and I wondered if I could stand up quick and grab that crowbar off him.

  “I told you, the other one is bought and paid for by someone you don’t want to piss off. They have big plans for her. It’s this one or nothing.”

  I shifted my feet to get a better spring, but Colby heard me, dropped the crowbar out a’ reach. Swore at him in my head.

  The beast looked back at me, then his fat, sweating hand grabbed my hair and yanked me up. Can’t tell you that pain, thought he might pull my head clean off. I screamed bansheelike. Pain shot down my neck and I grabbed his hand, trying to get some kind a’ relief. He pulled me up to my feet and dragged me awkward out that box. My knees hit the deck with a crack and I screamed up fresh.

  “Get your goddamn hands off me,” I shouted, gritting my teeth ’gainst the pain, but he kept his hand on my head and pulled me standing again.

  I kicked at him and spat and my boot landed square on his shin, my gob on his eye. He growled and his grip loosened and I got free. Colby was laughing and I turned on him. Fire blazing in my eyes. Fires of hate and killing.

  But I didn’t get a chance to reach for my blade. Colby slammed that crowbar into my gut. All my air rushed out a’ me and I was on my knees afore I knew it. Took a second for the pain to come but when it did, I couldn’t see straight. Saw only bright spots. Gulped for air like a fish on the dock. Clutched my stomach tight, felt like if I didn’t, all my innards would spill out right on Colby’s shiny shoes.

  “There you go, now she’ll be friendly,” Colby said, and the other man just growled.

  “Fine,” Colby said, “ten and you can do whatever you want to her, just as long as you don’t kill her. She’s going to a dope house in Halveston; they don’t need them pretty there.” He laughed and nudged the beast.

  The beast grunted and said, “Ten.”

  I couldn’t be hearing this right, I thought, I couldn’t be.

  I couldn’t get enough air in my body, felt a spiky pain when I tried. Figured he might a’ broken a rib or two.

  Heard the clink a’ coins and Colby said, his voice turned back to a ringing bell, “Have a good time, put her back in the box when you’re done. I’ll be on deck.”

  Then Colby left, heard his shoes clacking on the floor and the door creaking open and closed. Bright spots in my eyes were ’bout cleared and I could see the beast staring at me, mouth hooked up at the edge.

  “Just you and me,” he said, voice all breathy and rumbling. Hog man let out one a’ them wracking coughs and spat a gob on the deck.

  He knelt down in front of me and his gut near touched the floor.

  “You touch me,” I said, calm as I could, “and you won’t never see the sun again, I promise you that.”

  He pulled back his lips to show off cracked, yellow, and missing teeth and I got a whiff a’ his breath. Give me rabbit guts lying in the sun all day, that was like roses ’gainst his mouth. Rest a’ him weren’t much better.

  I tried to move away but my belly and ribs was raging and I couldn’t do naught but stay right where I was and try to look fierce.

  “Aw, come now,” he said, shuffled a bit closer, “I’ll be gentle.”

  Then he shot out his hand, quicker’n I expected for a man that fat, and grabbed me ’round the throat. He squeezed tight, forced out all that air I’d just put back in my body. He pushed me backward and my belly sent spasms through me. I couldn’t scream out the pain, my eyes started streaming and hot blood rushed to my face. He scuttled on top of me and drove his knee ’tween my legs.

  All that weight on me, smell a’ him, his breath heaving on my face, bile rose up in my chest. I pushed and fought ’gainst him, but no matter how hard I hit, how much I kicked and thrashed, it didn’t make a dent in him.

  “Stop it,” he said. His hand still on my throat, he lifted my head and slammed it back on the deck.

  Blinding white agony. Felt like I was underwater, cold muffling in my ears, blurry nothing in my eyes, arms and legs heavy and useless.

  Felt the beast’s hands ripping open my coat. Ripping open my shirt. Felt cold air on my skin. Then his tongue was on me. Slobbering all over. Then his hands was ’tween my legs, tugging at my belt and trousers.

  That shocked me back out a’ the water.

  He had my belt open and started pulling down my unders, rough and frantic.


  I didn’t know right what was happening. Didn’t know how it got to this.

  “I’m gonna make you hurt for kicking me,” he said, spit dripping off his beard.

  Hunting is all about staying still till you got the right shot. This weren’t no different. Ain’t no way I was letting this hog get any part a’ me. I ain’t no prey. Never have been and damn well never will be, ’specially not to a lumbering dolt like this.

  His breath was racing, his heart was thumping so loud I could hear it. He started moaning threats and calling me a dog. His head was on my neck, licking me like a bear ’bout to take a bite. But I was the one taking the bite.

  I whipped my head ’round and clamped my teeth down on his ear.

  He let out a high scream and put his hand on my face, trying to push me off but my teeth was sharp and my jaw strong as a wolverine. When he yanked his head away, he left the best part a’ his ear in my mouth.

  Sharp metal tang a’ blood filled up my throat and I spat it clean across the hold. He roared and sat up on his knees, taking all that weight off my chest. This was my shot. I twisted, pulled my knife out from the back a’ my trousers, and, trying to ignore my cracking ribs, buried it right up to the hilt into his gut. It went in easy, like cutting butter.

  He quick stopped roaring. Blood poured down his neck and out his belly, splashed onto my skin. I ripped my knife out, and he gurgled, spat up some red. I squirmed out from under him.

  “You…bitch,” he said, and staggered to his feet. “You’re dead.”

  One arm round my stomach, other clutching my knife, slick with his blood, I faced him on my feet.

  “I told you, you son bitch, I told you,” I said. “Women ain’t yours for coin, ’specially me.”

  He bared his teeth and ran at me. I didn’t have the strength in my belly or the clearness in my head to move quick out the way. He fell on me hard and got both his hands ’round my throat. Rage made him stupid and he didn’t even notice I still had my knife. He started wringing the life out a’ me, put all his weight on it, started grinning like he’d already killed me.

  Men got one hell of a weakness, and when it ain’t their arrogance, it’s their dangling bits. I drove my knee right up into his. He groaned, grip went slack for less’n a second. My eyes were going sparkly ’gain and that water filled up my ears. He’d made a mistake, see, he had both his hands on my neck but I had mine free.

  I whipped up my hand and dug my knife deep into the side a’ his neck. I looked him right in those beady hog eyes and I saw his life leave him, same as he saw his death coming. Saw that light flicker out like I was snuffing out a candle. He slumped down dead on top of me, so heavy it was like a foul-smelling tree felled right on my chest.

  Just like that.

  I ain’t never killed no one afore.

  Seen that light go in deer or moose but never in a man. Weren’t that different really, ’cept the man deserved it.

  I rolled him off me and lay there for a minute calming my heart. I was bloodied and bruised but breathing and still whole. My hands shaking, I buttoned up my trousers and tightened my belt. Tried to do up my shirt and coat but the bastard had ripped off the buttons. Girl in the crate was calling for me to get her out but I weren’t in the right mind for a rescue. I stood up on trembling legs and pulled my knife out the hog’s neck. Didn’t bother cleaning it. I was gonna be using it again real soon.

  I left that hold with one thought in my head and no man or god could a’ stopped me.

  Found Colby on deck, cigarette ’tween his fingers, standing ’gainst the railing at the back a’ the boat. Right where he said he’d be, lit up by the moon. Weren’t no one else around and I weren’t bothering stepping silent. Colby heard my steps, no doubt, but he didn’t turn, just kept staring out into the white water kicked out by the props.

  “That was quick, Tony,” he said, “you must have liked her more than you let on.”

  I stood right behind him, knife in a back-side grip, back of the blade running along my arm. Hate burning in me, turning all my sweat to steam, making the fat man’s blood sizzle.

  “He didn’t like me much,” I said, and he spun around. Cig fell out his mouth.

  I grabbed his scruff and shoved him back against the railing, other arm across his chest, knife to his throat. He put both his hands up high in surrender but I weren’t in no mood for mercy. His eyes was wide like he was looking at a devil crawled right out a’ hell. Blood streaked down my face, out my mouth, and my eyes was red with tears and rage. My chest was bare but for the blood and in truth I must a’ looked like some kind a’ monster.

  “E-Elka,” he sputtered. “Shit, Elka, what did he do to you?”

  I tilted my head to one side and thought, You really gonna try to run this line with me?

  “You tell me,” I said.

  “I don’t…” His eyes kept looking ’round for help or for a lie to pluck out the air. “I thought you’d like him, thought you two would get along. W-Where is he?”

  “You wanted to set me up with a husband? Is that right?”

  “Elka, please…let’s talk about this.”

  This was goddamn priceless.

  “Ten,” I said.

  He scrunched up his forehead like I was speaking in a different tongue.

  “I don’t think he’ll be makin’ any woman a husband anytime soon,” I said, and pushed the knife hard ’gainst his neck, “so I want them ten dollars he paid for me and all the rest what you got, you know, for my trouble. Quick.”

  His hands fumbled about in his pocket. I held out my other hand and he dropped them coins right into my palm. I put them in my coat and smiled wide, showing off the blood ’tween my teeth. Now I had coin. Nothing else I needed from James Everett Colby.

  “Is…is he dead?” he asked.

  “What do you think?” I said, and I took a step back, let the blade off his throat. I let him take a breath, let him think for a second I’d done with him. I spun the knife ’round in my hand then smacked him square in the side a’ the head with the horn butt a’ my handle. He cried out but weren’t no one ’round to hear him. Dazed, he stumbled ’gainst the railing. I grabbed him by the collar, fished out his cabin key from his pockets, then put my head right close to his ear.

  “I hope you can swim,” I said. Using all the strength I had left, I flung that skinny man over the railing, right into the foaming wake. Barely made a splash. No shouts a’ “Man overboard,” no one come rushing to see what the fuss was over, no one on this boat cared for the loss a’ that man.

  I could a’ stuck him or slit his throat afore sending him to the waves and I thought I might at one point but when I saw him and looked him in the eye, fear stayed my hand. Not fear a’ Colby a’ course, but fear for me. Fear for what it might do to me to watch that light go out again. Colby no doubt would a’ killed me first chance he got, but he weren’t right that moment. That hog man had been crushing the life out a’ me and would a’ taken more’n that if I let him. I did what any animal would do. I fought for myself. That’s when a kill is lawful in my eyes, when it’s him or me. Weren’t like that with Colby. If I’d killed him right there on that railing, no weapon in his hand, I’d be no better’n Kreagar.

  Little bit a’ doubt crept up and sat on my shoulder. Maybe I should a’ made sure he was dead. I stared out into that black water, didn’t see no flailing arms nor hear no shouts for help. That water was colder’n snow, ain’t no way he could a’ lived through it.

  Water killed him. Not me. And that’s the way I left it.

  All my fierce left me. My body started shaking, my head started pounding like a boy just got a drum for his birthday. I fell down on my knees on the deck, hanging my hands off the railing, and breathed in slow and long. Pain hit me something wicked then, rushing through my stomach to my back, my chest, my head. I stared at the black water, spiked up with foamy white, and thought about jumping in right behind Colby. But I weren’t no quitter. No wolf nor bear just gives up when
they get beat or hungry. You ever seen a bear jump off a cliff ’cause life handed him a few rough draws? No, you haven’t. The wild keeps going till it don’t have strength in its muscles and bones. The wild don’t give up; it’s forever, and so was I.

  I made my way slow back to the cargo hold. Soon as I walked in, the smell of blood and bowels came at me hard and I didn’t have a chance a’ stopping it. I threw up everything in my gut behind a pile a’ boxes.

  Felt better after that.

  Found the crowbar by the door and went to the girl’s crate, trying not to look at the hog man’s body, unzipped and standing to attention.

  “You alive in there?” I said to the box.

  Heard scrambling and her hand poked out one a’ the holes. “Please. Get me out of here.”

  I looked quick at myself, all the blood and the purple-black bruise across my belly, thought I better warn her. Girls scare easy.

  “I don’t look…” I said, and a wave a’ sickness hit me from the rocking boat. “Don’t be screamin’ or nothin’.”

  My ribs didn’t like me for it, but I dug the crowbar into the join and levered up each corner a’ the girl’s box. I threw the lid off and saw her, dressed in frills and flowers, kneeling in the middle of the crate. She had pillows and a bottle of water. She was bought and paid for, all right.

  “Any left in that?” I asked, pointing to the bottle.

  She handed it to me, staring openmouthed, and said, “Just a few drops.”

  I gulped it down, swilling it ’round my mouth, and spat out some a’ the acid and blood taste.

  “Come on,” I said, “you got to help me with him.”

  She climbed slow out the box like she’d just learned to walk. Reed of a girl, arms thinner’n saplings and body to match. Light yellow hair and twinkling hazel eyes. No wonder Colby didn’t want the hog man grunting on top a’ her. She was a goddamn peach and worth far more to them types a’ men than I was.

  “God,” she said, looking at the dead man, then back to me, “are you all right?”

  I didn’t say nothing. Truth was I weren’t all right. I weren’t even close to all right and I had doubts I ever would be again.