The Wolf Road

by Beth Lewis

  I got the cabin ready best I could, dug the larder, piled up the wood, even made myself a straight up-and-down smokehouse—all that was missing was its hat. Only thing we was having trouble with was the food. My snares were coming up cold and we didn’t have no bullets for the rifle. Cold was crisping up the air and hunger was barking at our backs. Snow started crawling down the mountains and we woke up more’n once to frost on our window.

  Penelope, on her trips to town, would get Mark to carry sacks halfway into the woods and dump them ’neath a twisted oak. Once they’d said their cooing goodbyes and he was out a’ sight, I’d pick up the sacks and take ’em rest a’ the way home. Tatoes, carrots, even a bag a’ cabbages. People in Tucket and all ’round were preparing for winter and stocking up their larders so wouldn’t part with their food for nothing. That jar a’ gold went low quick, but we got rounds for the rifle, a great wad a’ zip bags, and a nice fishing rod and net off a lady what broke her arm and couldn’t use it no more.

  Penelope said the posters a’ me were either blown off by the wind or torn down by folk what were tired a’ seeing my ugly mug, and no one put up no fresh ones. She said too that the note I left for Lyon was gone but nothing else been put up yet and there weren’t hide nor hair a’ any a’ them dandy men.

  “You watch, I’ll fill up that larder in a day,” she said, smiling when she came back with that fishing pole.

  “I’ll believe that when I ain’t died a’ hunger halfway through winter.”

  Penelope was useless with that rod. She landed maybe one out a’ every ten bites she got and that one was a two-bite tiddler. All I heard all day was her shouting she had a fish on, then cursing she’d lost it.

  “Mark and Josie said the salmon would be running up this river in a few days, maybe a week. She said they can run late in the year in these parts but we have to be quick, they come and go in a day or two,” Penelope said, throwing the pole on the bank. “We can pick them out with the net instead of wasting time with this thing. We just have to be careful of bears.”

  Them few days went by and I had so much to be doing ’round the claim that I near forgot about Bilker and keeping an eye out for the salmon. Figured if the law was going to come down on us, it would a’ happened by now. Maybe his friend really did trip and hit his head and was now gurgling away in a bear’s belly. Maybe Bilker just didn’t pay him enough to care.

  One morning I was shoring up the sides a’ the larder with poles and laying a board down on the floor to keep the bugs out when Penelope gave a whooping and shouted at me to bring the knife. I ran outside and damn near fell over when I saw it.

  The river was full and raging with silver. The salmon thrashed about, squeezing over and under each other trying to move ’gainst the current. I ain’t never seen nothing like it. A ways up the river I saw a momma bear flinging fish to two cubs sat patient on the bank. So easy and quick like she was flicking ants off a mound. That bear didn’t even know we was there and ’sides, there was plenty for the both a’ us. Bears are good like that. In times a’ plenty there ain’t no sense in fighting for the sake of it. Humans could learn something from ’em. Only fight when you got no choice.

  Penelope jumped up and down on the bank, grin like a new moon on her face. She was shouting at me to hurry and I didn’t need to be told twice. I waded into the water and, on account a’ me being stronger and salmon being all muscle, swapped knife for net. I dumped fish after fish out onto the bank and Penelope made quick work a’ cutting out their gills and stopping ’em wriggling.

  “Hot damn,” I shouted over the splashing and rushing, “this is the way to fish!”

  “Keep going!”

  We got near fifty pounds a’ salmon and Penelope cut ’em all down to fillets. She wrapped ’em up in them plastic bags and we put ’em down in the larder ’neath the cabin. Winter was half a breath away and that larder was near freezing. The river still ran with them fish and we sat out and watched ’em. That night we made a fire outside and roasted up one a’ the salmon whole. It spilled all its bright-orange eggs and we scooped ’em up with spoons.

  “I could get used to this,” Penelope said, mouth full and popping with roe.

  Close to that fire, smell a’ woodsmoke and barbecue salmon, I felt just the same. Penelope and me talked and laughed ’bout things I don’t remember now. We talked until the fire turned cold and we didn’t have no more wood close to hand to feed it. Slept sound that night, above a proper food store what, once I got us a moose, would last us all winter.

  Woke up next morning to Penelope prodding me. “Come with me to Tucket today.”

  “Why?”

  “Mark and Josie have been asking after you. There are only so many excuses I can give.”

  “Tell ’em I’m dead.”

  “They’ve met you, they wouldn’t believe it.”

  I smiled and figured they was smarter than they looked.

  “What is it about that Mark fella that gets you so wound up?”

  She shrugged, all coy-like. “He’s nice. He’s kind and so many men in this world aren’t. He’s also got work and money, and just as many men in this world don’t. He’s a good prospect.”

  I weren’t at all sure if those was reasons for being sweet on someone, but I figured Penelope knew more ’bout that than me.

  “Come on, please,” she said. “You’ve been out here for weeks and haven’t seen anyone else. It’s not healthy.”

  “You and I got two meanin’s for healthy.”

  “You keep saying we need proper wood for the shutters and roof of the smokehouse,” she said, sounding like she was leading me down a path. She was. Josie had a damn lumberyard.

  Shit.

  “Fine,” I said, “but we ain’t staying the night.”

  Penelope’s voice went all high-pitched and she shook my shoulder near out the socket.

  “And none a’ that!”

  We got to Tucket afore noon. It was quieter’n last time. A lot a’ folks had packed up and gone south for winter and I couldn’t blame ’em. Winter in Ridgeway was bad enough and these northern folk said us southerners had hot beds and soft heads all year ’round.

  We went straight to the Thompsons’. Mark came running out the door a’ the mill when he saw us coming over the bridge.

  “Penny!” he shouted, waving, and his boy came running behind him.

  “Penny?” I said quiet to her afore he reached us.

  She told me to hush and greeted Mark with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Did the same with the boy.

  Mark then turned on me and wrapped me up in a hug what I weren’t too pleased about. He weren’t all skin and bone no more, Jethro’s cooking fattened him up nice. Over Mark’s shoulder I caught Penelope’s eye and shook my head. She tried not to laugh.

  “So good to see you, Elka,” Mark said. The boy stayed behind his legs like he’d forgotten he’d fallen asleep on me last time I seen him.

  “And you,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it.

  “Josie around?” Penelope asked. “Elka needs some wood.”

  “Aye, she’s just inside,” Mark said, and called her. “She won’t take your money, but if you cut the wood yourself you can have it.”

  I raised up my eyebrows. “You got one a’ them circle saws?”

  He nodded.

  I ain’t never used one but I seen ’em and figured they’d be fun. “I’d be happy to.”

  “We’re about to break for lunch,” he said. “Join us?”

  Josie came out and hollered Penelope’s name. Saw someone else moving about in the barn and figured it was one a’ the mill hands. Didn’t think nothing of it.

  “Elka,” Josie said in that voice a’ hers, like hot honey dripping into your ear.

  She came right up to me and kissed me on both cheeks. I done told you afore I ain’t the kissing type, and along with that hug from Mark I wanted to kick Penelope for making me come here.

  Penelope winced at me like she was waiting for me to th
row a tantrum and run away but I didn’t. Human rules say you ain’t allowed to do that.

  “Nice to see you ’gain,” I said, and Penelope relaxed. “Fella here says you can give us some wood if I cut it myself.”

  Josie smiled out one side a’ her mouth and looked at Mark. “Did he?”

  Mark studied his shoes. “I did, yeah.”

  Josie took in a long breath and said, all breezy-like, “Well then, I suppose we can spare a few planks.”

  Then she gave her brother a look what said that wood was coming out his pay packet, and said to us, “Hungry?”

  Just like last time, Jethro was cooking up a feast. He hugged me when he saw me too. The only one a’ this family what didn’t was the little boy clinging to his daddy’s legs. That made him my favorite, and I gave an inside smile when he was sat next to me at the table. Mark made puppy eyes at Penelope, and she made ’em right back at him, but I weren’t sure no more if hers were real or just ’cause he was a good prospect. Didn’t think I’d ever understand Penelope all the way through.

  “All set for winter?” Josie asked me, then spooned green beans on my plate.

  I took a chunk a’ corn bread from the heap in the middle of the table and said, “Most done, ’cept the shutters and smokehouse roof, what we need your wood for.”

  “Elka’s dug us a larder and made a woodpile big enough for three winters,” Penelope said, grinning, and I felt my cheeks go hot.

  I’d been thinking long about my hunting trip, and I didn’t have much time left afore the snow shut me out. “I need to get us a moose or caribou, but I ain’t happy ’bout leaving Penelope all alone in that cabin, middle a’ nowhere with all them bears and wolves.”

  Penelope frowned at me and said, “You never mentioned anything.”

  “I don’t tell you everything, Penny,” I said, winking at her. “I was wonderin’ if you good folk would mind taking her in for a few days?”

  Mark’s face near exploded with happy. Even the boy perked up and said her name a few times, smacking his spoon ’gainst the table like a drumbeat.

  “Of course, that’d be wonderful,” Mark said, then looked at Josie and faltered. “If it’s OK with you and Jethro.”

  The husband and wife exchanged a look and Josie said, a little like she’d been bullied into it, “We’d be proud to have you.”

  “Elka, are you sure about this?” Penelope said.

  “It’d make me feel a whole lot better ’bout a huntin’ trip if you was here.”

  Mark banged his fist on the table and a square a’ corn bread toppled off the heap, caught by the boy and turned quick to crumbs.

  “Settled!” he said, and put his hand over Penelope’s.

  “That’s very kind,” Penelope said, blush coming up on her cheeks like she’d flipped a switch. “Thank you, Josie, I won’t be a bother.”

  “It’ll be nice to have a lady ’round the house,” Jethro said, nudging his wife, “instead of this old hen. Pen, promise you won’t come in covered in sawdust.”

  Penelope smiled, said she wouldn’t, and the smiles and laughing went on from there.

  I figured I could deal with these folks every now and then, ’specially if Jethro kept his cooking this fine. Maybe it would be good for me to have people in my life after so long with just me and Kreagar, then just me and Penelope. Humans is meant to be together, so they say, that’s why we make towns and cities. Wondered brief if I was going ’gainst my nature by staying out in the wild, or wanting to at least. Then I figured too many people together had made the Damn Stupid so I weren’t at all sure.

  We finished up the meal and while Penelope helped Mark with the dishes and clearing, Josie took me out to the lumberyard.

  “Really going to hunt a moose on your own?” she said.

  “Why not? I shot plenty in my time.”

  “Won’t you have trouble getting it back?”

  “No, ma’am, I got myself a ways a’ doing it that served me fine so far.” And I did. Simple really, a sled, with wheels if necessary. I’d learned to haul meat on my lonesome from the age a’ twelve.

  “If you say so,” Josie said, and pushed open the doors into the barn.

  Sound a’ saws running off generators and smell a’ hot wood hit me. The barn, huge and square, was full a’ machines and stacks a’ smooth, even planks. A giant pile a’ sawdust sat in the far corner and I just wanted to jump into it and throw it all around like it was a snowdrift.

  Whoever was in the barn when we arrived weren’t there no more. Figured a worker on lunch break same as Mark. Josie showed me to a pile a’ die-straight, perfect round tree trunks, long as I’d ever seen. Beautiful white spruce, shame to shave it down to planks, but I got to have me some storm shutters.

  Afore Josie did anything, she turned on me and said, hard voice, “I saw those posters of you.”

  My throat dried up.

  “Should I be worried?” she said.

  “No ma’am,” I said, but I was lying. They should be worried, though not a’ me.

  “I built a good life here for me and mine and no matter how sweet you and your friend are, if anything threatens my family I’ll turn you and Pen into sawdust. You get me?”

  I nodded. “I get you just fine.”

  She held my eyes a moment longer, made sure I looked like I was speaking true.

  “Help me lift this,” Josie said, and took one end a’ the top log. That was that, no more said ’bout it.

  We rolled the log onto the saw bench and lined up the end with the blade.

  “Hold it and push once I turn it on,” Josie said, nodded to me. “This will cut inch-thick boards.”

  “Sounds right,” I said, and braced myself ’gainst the log.

  Josie fired up the machine and I damn near went deaf. It was simple work and made my arms ache in that good way what meant you had used ’em right. Josie helped me cut the first log, but after that she just watched.

  “This girl,” she said, loud above all the roaring, “Penelope, what’s her story?”

  “What you mean?” I said, paying more attention to the wood than her.

  “She a good sort?”

  I looked up at Josie, then I got her meaning. She had a look a’ concern on her. “My baby brother, he’s a head-over-heels type, you know?”

  I cut the last plank out that log and switched off the machine to make sure she heard all I had to say.

  “Penelope’s best sort there is,” I said, meeting Josie right in them brown eyes a’ hers. “Saved my life more’n I can count and didn’t ask for nothing from me. Could a’ screwed me over a hundred times but she’s got one a’ them pure hearts. Your brother’d never do better in this life.”

  Josie, hard woman that she was, kept my gaze a bit longer, seemed she was in the habit a’ that. She must a’ seen what she wanted ’cause her face broke into a wide, white-tooth smile.

  “Thank you,” she said, nodding, and turned the machine back on.

  I cut four more logs and she said that was enough, told me we could take as many planks as we needed from the pile what had been treated and dried on the other side a’ the barn. She said that she made me cut ’em so she wouldn’t have to pay her hands to replace the stock. I told her fair enough and we figured the best way to get them to Tin River. Weren’t no roads for a cart, so we settled on floating ’em upriver. I ain’t never been much good on the water, last time it was in a crate, but I didn’t much fancy carrying ’em one by one through the woods.

  Josie and I went back in the house and found Jethro and the young boy in the kitchen and Mark and Penelope nowhere.

  Panic poured over me like rain but before I could say nothing, Jethro held out his hand and said, “They went for a walk, you know, as young lovers do.”

  Then he grinned wide and Josie rolled her eyes.

  Not sure why but I had a question in me what just needed to come out. “What happened to the boy’s momma? She gonna cause trouble for Penelope if she finds out ’bout them?”


  Josie looked at the boy, then me, then took up a cloth and started drying a plate what weren’t wet. “Childbirth got her. No trouble.”

  Part a’ me was relieved that Penelope weren’t going to get some jilted wife coming raging at her. Other part of me was sad for the boy. Growing up without a momma weren’t fun and I knew it just as well. Felt a pang in me for the momma I lost, the loving arms I’d never have.

  I washed up and sat down at the table, opposite the boy. He stared at me with button eyes and I felt myself smiling along with him. He had a pencil in his fist and was drawing pictures on faded newsprint.

  “What’s that you drawin’?” I said.

  He lifted his hand and turned the paper ’round to me. Then he jabbed a finger down. “That’s our house,” he said. “That’s Daddy”—he pointed to a rough circle next to the square, no arms no legs just a blob—“and Auntie JoJo,” another circle, this one with a scratch a’ hair on top. Then he pointed to Jethro, himself, and Penelope and even I was there, a scratch on the corner a’ the page. There was one left, a filled-in black circle near the top a’ the house.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  The boy went quiet, scared almost, then said, “That’s the boogeyman. Looks through my window.”

  Josie shook her head. “He has nightmares.”

  Boy stabbed his pencil into the circle and started scratching deep grooves into the paper. “He’s real, JoJo, he has black lines all over his face.”

  My insides turned to ice.

  Josie huffed and grabbed the paper off him, screwed it up in her hands. “He’s seen those posters around town and now he thinks there are monsters under his bed.”

  The boy started wailing for his drawing then when he figured he weren’t getting it back, his bottom lip wobbled and fat tears came rolling out his eyes. Josie told him to stop being a nuisance, Jethro tried to quiet him, but the boy weren’t having none of it. He ran from the room and I heard his footsteps and bawling all the way upstairs.