“Well, you didn’t. And at least I didn’t break the law!”
“Oh, don’t give me that! You’re so out of touch with reality. Think you know everything. Well, you don’t!”
Seth squared his shoulders. He didn’t have to take this.
“At least I think with my brains,” he said, glaring, “not with my butt.”
Matt lunged, hitting Seth with full force. He grabbed Seth around the waist, tackled him into the snow, and slammed the air out of his lungs.
“Oof!”
Seth crumpled and felt himself plow backward against a bush, slide downward—bump, slam, crunch—over rocks beneath the snow. He grabbed for a hold on a passing bush, on Matt, anything to slow his fall. But Matt was clamped on like iron, plowing him inch by inch to the bottom of the slope. Snow iced down his neck and up his wrists.
Finally, Seth stopped, his head jammed into a rock.
“Back off!” he shouted, his arms exploding, forcing Matt away.
Matt collapsed backward in the snow, facing the sky. “That felt good!” His chest rose and fell.
Seth scooped two handfuls of snow, smashed them into Matt’s face, then jumped to his feet. “How ’bout that? Does that feel good?”
“You little …” Matt was on his knees, slamming into Seth’s legs again, bringing him down with a thud.
“Hey!” yelled Kruppa. “You two!”
Matt stopped, pulling back. Seth rose to his feet and looked up the hill.
At the top, Kruppa was standing outside the den, the still form of a gray wolf at his feet. The heather gray wolf they’d watched. The animal that had disappeared into the woods—shot. Seth felt sick. He’d sensed it might come to this. Sadness and anger rose up in him, and he turned away.
Chapter 15
Kruppa rummaged in his backpack, whipped out a camera, and snapped pictures of the wolf, then pulled out a clipboard and pen. “Gut-shot,” he said, his voice somber, filling in a form. “Someone shot it, then it came back here … to an abandoned den. Body’s still a touch warm. Lost lots of blood, so it couldn’t have been shot too long ago, yesterday at most. Made it here, obviously, before the snow came.” He looked up, his eyes stormy. “I see too many like this. Unless someone steps forward and confesses,” he said, voice controlled, “we’ll never know who did it.…”
Matt hung back, his gaze fixed on the wolf.
Seth swallowed. Did Kruppa know? Of course not. How could he? Seth felt the knowledge of Matt’s secret smoldering in his mind, like a fire in a peat bog, quietly burning beneath the surface. He hated this. He wanted to say something, to shout it out, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t turn in Matt.
Calling loudly, a pileated woodpecker flew overhead. Seth watched it land on a dead tree riddled with holes. Dat-dat-dat-dat! It pounded with its beak, flecks of wood flying, its red and black foot-long body bobbing.
Seth trudged closer to the wolf, the shh-shh of his hunting pants rubbing together as he moved. He brushed melting snow from his face, then squatted next to the wolf’s large head and long snout. Its black lip was lifted slightly, revealing sharp teeth. He pulled off his glove and touched the white and gray long hairs, the ruff, a regal fur collar, around its face. He tried to avoid, but couldn’t help seeing, the dark blood matted on the animal’s sides.
“Think it had a family?” Matt asked, his voice startling Seth. What did he care?
“Used to be part of a pack,” Kruppa replied. “He’s a three-year-old male that might have been trying to prove himself. I have the feeling he was recently booted out by the alpha male and female. The pack only allows for one breeding pair, and so occasionally, a wolf like Big Gray here will move on, traveling alone, joining another pack, or following his own pack from a distance. They’re highly intelligent animals, with their own rules of order.” Kruppa looked somewhere beyond the boys. “What a waste,” he said. “I just don’t understand it.”
Seth glanced at Matt, whose eyes were glistening, fixed on the motionless form. Kruppa attached a rope to the wolf’s collar and pulled it through the snow. The boys walked behind in silence. When they finally reached the trail, Kruppa asked Matt, “Mind if I strap Big Gray behind you?”
Matt stared straight ahead, waiting, then started his snowmobile and slowly headed home.
When they returned to the Schultzes’, a white van marked NORTHWOODS ANIMAL HOSPITAL was parked under the leafless willow between Stubby’s red pickup and Kruppa’s truck.
“Looks like she beat us,” Kruppa said. He carefully placed the wolf’s stiff body into the back of his pickup. With a wrench, he loosened the bolts of the radio collar, removed it, then shut the tailgate. “Maybe that wasn’t such a great experience for you two after all,” he said, looking out at the sky, wispy with pale clouds. “Would have been better had we been able to free an animal from a trap, do something good, eh?” Kruppa sighed. “A shot wolf. Means I’ll have to bring in a federal agent now.”
Matt’s lips parted as if he were going to say something, but nothing came out.
Then Kruppa led the were inside the metal barn, where Mr. and Mrs. Schultz stood beside Star’s body. The vet rose from her squatting position.
“Ray,” she said, a quick smile crossing her face like sunshine. “Glad you’re here.” Seth quickly put it together. He wasn’t stupid. There was something between these two.
“It died of blackleg,” she said. “Your suspicions were right. You can feel the bubbles under its coat.”
“But we were there!” Matt blurted. “We saw the wolf tracks, the blood. What do you mean, ‘blackleg’?”
Kruppa looked at Matt, as if studying his sudden outburst.
“Well, the wolves obviously fed on it after it died,” said the vet, “but from what I can see …”
“The blood,” Kruppa interjected, “for one thing, was a darker blue color and blotted, not spread out on the snow.”
“Right,” said the vet. “Wolf predation wasn’t the cause of death. It died of natural causes.”
“So what’s blackleg?” Seth asked.
Matt glanced at him, muttered under his breath, “As if you care.”
Seth pretended he didn’t hear and squared his shoulders.
“Well,” the vet explained, brushing bangs off her forehead with the back of her rubber-gloved hand, fingers tipped reddish brown. “It’s a disease that strikes suddenly in the fall. One moment, you have a healthy cow—or calf—and the next thing you know, it’s down. The bacteria cause a swelling and blackening of infected muscle tissue. Comes on with no warning.” She glanced over her shoulder at the corralled cows. “And the real problem is that it can rapidly spread to the rest of the herd. Finding that calf and calling in help immediately was the best thing that could have happened.”
“Oh, thanks,” Matt said sarcastically. “That makes me feel a whole lot better about losing my calf.”
“What I mean is,” the vet continued, “the wolves helped alert us to the real problem sooner. Now, the next step is to vaccinate the whole herd. Immediately, with your okay,” she said, nodding at Mr. and Mrs. Schultz.
Mrs. Schultz spoke up. “I don’t think we have much choice, do we?”
“Not really,” replied the vet. “If we do it now, the vaccine will still take five days to take effect.” She headed toward the door. “I have supplies in my van. Be right back.”
“Well, I’ll be …,” Mr. Schultz said, arms crossed. “Blackleg. Now you don’t have to go kill a wolf, Ray.”
No, someone’s already done that job, Seth thought.
Kruppa nodded, but something seemed to be rolling around in his mind, his gaze falling somewhere beyond Mr. Schultz.
“But,” Matt said, turning to Kruppa, almost pleading, “wolves trespassed, came right into our pasture!”
Kruppa nodded again.
“So who’s to say they won’t come back?” Matt continued.
Kruppa scratched at his beard, scanned the whole Schultz family. “You mentioned before that th
is calf’s mother died of pneumonia.…”
“Yeah,” said Mr. Schultz. “What’s your point?”
“To be direct,” Kruppa said, rubbing the beard hairs along his jawline, “where did you dispose of the body?”
“Dragged it out beyond the north fence line, like always,” Mr. Schultz volunteered.
“Perhaps that’s part of the problem,” said Kruppa. “Wolves probably fed off the carcass, then returned, looking for more. This time, make sure that calf’s body is hauled away, and you’ll minimize the risk of having wolves return.”
“And if they do?” asked Mr. Schultz, sweeping his arm to the north. “I mean, it’s miles of woods out there. There must be some blasted way to keep the herd safe.”
“You might try dogs—Great Pyrenees—or a llama or two,” suggested Kruppa.
“Llamas?” Mr. Schultz snorted. “A joke, right?”
Kruppa shook his head. “No joke. I’ve seen a big dog try to go after a calf. The llama spotted it from far away, then walked straight for it. The dog bolted, tail between its legs. Anyway, they’ll scare wolves off, too. But they spit,” Kruppa added, “green stuff. So if you get one, stay alert.”
Matt stood by Star’s form, shoulders hunched. Seth started to feel sorry for him, but then turned silently away and started toward the door.
He stopped when the vet stepped back into the barn. “Ray?” she asked, passing him with a black supply case. “That wolf in your truck. What happened?”
“Shot,” he said. “Senselessly. Seth was telling me about some hunters he overheard, and maybe there’s something there.… But if it was a minor,” Kruppa continued, “someone younger, you understand, who thought it had killed a favorite calf from their herd.…”
“Hey, now,” Mr. Schultz said, pressing both palms forward. “If you’re suggesting that Matt did anything …” His bulky frame seemed to puff up.
Seth’s feet were planted in the dirt floor.
Mr. Schultz took two steps closer to Kruppa. “My son is a quarterback, a fine athlete, and there’s no way he’d go breaking the law, like you seem to be suggesting. Matt,” he said, his voice controlled, “you set him straight here.”
Matt, chin quivering, spun toward his dad. “But I really thought it had killed Star,” he said in a rush, “and I was so mad!” He choked out the words. “Then all of sudden, Seth and I, we’re out hunting, and there it was … and before I knew what I was doing …” He paused, lowered his head.
Mr. Schultz froze; only his eyes moved, looking to his wife. Mrs. Schultz removed her hand from her jacket pocket and touched her fingers to her lips.
“Wait a second,” Mr. Schultz said. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about here.”
“No,” Matt volunteered. “I knew what I was doing. I shot it.”
“You what?!” Mr. Schultz boomed.
Matt didn’t answer, didn’t look up. His voice came like a whisper. “You always said you hated wolves. I thought…”
Mr. Schultz heavily shook his head. “Oh, I talk tough,” he said, “but I never really meant…”
Mrs. Schultz stepped closer to her husband, whispered in his ear, then nodded at him.
“Sometimes I say a lot of things I don’t really mean,” Mr. Schultz said. He gnawed at his lower lip.
Seth felt like he shouldn’t be there. It had turned into a family thing. He walked over to the four-wheelers, ran his hand along one of the handles. He couldn’t believe it. Matt had actually confessed.
“What does this mean for Matt?” Mrs. Schultz asked quietly.
Matt’s shoulders drooped. His head hung low.
Seth knew. Jail time. Maybe thousands of dollars in fines.
Kruppa took a deep breath. “In this case, because he’s young, a juvenile, and because he reacted to what he thought was predation, I’ll probably talk to the federal agent and county prosecutor. Maybe suggest a different arrangement.” He paused, working his finger across his beard. “Depending on his plea, of course, but possibly community service hours or working with me from time to time, helping follow the wolves from the air.”
Seth watched Matt, who stood frozen, as if he’d stopped breathing.
“You know,” Kruppa continued, “follow the pack, see where they travel, what their habits are … and understand them better.”
What? Seth couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Kruppa was actually going to consider letting Matt-the-jerk work with him—study the wolves—as a form of punishment? What kind of punishment was that? Matt was the last person who deserved that opportunity. A chance of a lifetime. It wasn’t fair. Not at all.
An awkward silence followed until Matt broke it. He looked beyond Kruppa and met Seth’s eyes. “Urn …” He cleared his throat. “If I do that stuff, do you think Seth could come, too?” he asked, his voice raspy but sincere. “He loves wolves.”
Seth felt all eyes suddenly on him. He lowered his chin and swallowed around the tightness in his throat, trying to make sense of the events of the last few days. Not only had Matt confessed, but in his own way he’d just reached out, forgiving him. Seth was stunned. For the first time he could remember, Matt hadn’t tried to get the upper hand, hadn’t tried to stay a notch above.
And Seth didn’t know what to do with that.
Chapter 16
The barn phone rang and Mr. Schultz snatched it from the wall “Yup,” he said, nodding at Seth, “he’s here. I’ll send him right home.”
Without a word, Seth raced out the sliding door, down the driveway, and across the road to his own house. Tire tracks rutted the snow and disappeared into the closed garage. Seth ran around to the back door, then caught his breath, slowed himself down. A baby, he thought, might need some quiet.
He stepped in, the noon sun falling on a bouquet of roses on the kitchen table. “I’m home,” he called.
That afternoon, Seth learned that his sister’s toes and fingers were tinier than he could’ve imagined, with perfect little fingernails and toenails. On the back of Lizzy’s neck was a small red birthmark, “an angel kiss,” his mother said. In front of the fireplace, bundled in a white flannel blanket, Lizzy rested in Seth’s arms, his parents’ voices filtering from the kitchen.
He lightly touched the fine wisps of hair on her head, her rosy red skin. Smelling of baby powder, she gripped his finger tightly, opened and closed her dark eyes, then drifted to sleep.
While his mother napped on the couch, Seth held Lizzy, until she woke, that is, with a piercing cry.
Mom lifted her head. “My turn,” she said.
Over the following two weeks, Seth learned to change diapers, give Lizzy an evening bottle, and wrap her snugly in a blanket. To his surprise, it wasn’t that bad. Along with his studies, he took care of the moose calf. While Quest was outdoors, Seth kept the barn doors open wide, so Fudge’s coat wouldn’t grow too thin. Twice, Seth got out with his dad to hunt, but he didn’t see a thing. And more than once, he thought of calling Matt, but never knew what he’d say.
The day after hunting season ended, when the grandfather clock gonged four times and the sun slanted across the living room floor, Seth finally picked up the phone. He dialed the number he’d known by heart for years. “Want to come over for a few minutes?”
“Why?” Matt said, hesitantly. “To talk to your dad?”
“No,” Seth said, fingers twisting the phone cord. “I haven’t said a word to him about anything. I figure that’s between you and Kruppa.”
“What then?”
“Just come. You’ll see.”
Seth waited at Fudge’s stall, feet perched on a stall board. Fudge was pacing, snorting, nibbling at branches of dried cedar in the hay bin, then leaving it.
The wooden barn door creaked open, and Matt stepped in, his gait less springy than usual. “Hi,” he said, a football grasped between his hands.
“Hi.”
Matt walked past Quest’s stall, which Seth had just mucked out and refloored with shining gold straw, and approa
ched the moose.
“So,” Matt asked. “What’s up?”
“You and your dad okay?” Seth asked, watching the moose calf rub against the wall.
“Yeah. Actually, we had a good talk.” Matt snapped and unsnapped the bottom of his letter jacket. “Anyway, I still don’t know what I think about wolves, but I screwed up—big time.” He paused, hands still. “First time I saw that wolf, all I could think of was Star—and I hated it. Later, when I saw it close up—dead—I couldn’t believe I’d actually killed it. I don’t feel very good about it.”
Neither spoke.
Seth knew what it felt like to waste an animal. When he’d killed the wild rabbit, it felt good for a moment, but when he realized what he’d done, and why, guilt had knifed him under the ribs. Now Matt knew what that was like.
“Hey, and I’m sorry I took off on you,” Seth said. “I mean, you could have died out there.”
Matt smiled. “In your shoes, I might have done the same. Forget it.”
Seth hopped down from the stall board, reached for the stall latch, and clicked it open. “This is why I wanted you to come over,” he said. “If you’ll open that door,” he pointed to the swinging door beyond Quest’s stall.
“You mean …,” Matt said, eyebrows tilting inward. With a spiral, he tossed his football into a corner. A pitchfork clattered to the floor.
“Yup,” Seth said. “I’d love to keep him, tame him, but it’s not best for Fudge. And look at him. He’s better now, at least over the wound. He’ll find food.”
“And what about wolves?” Matt asked, facing him. “I mean, aren’t you worried …?”
“You said,” Seth said, leaning against the stall door, “that if I really cared about wolves, then why wouldn’t I let Fudge go, something like that. Well…” He paused, pulled his chapped lip in, ran his top teeth over the edge, and let it out again. “Sometimes, you have to let go. I want wolves, moose, all of it. But in order to have wilderness, I figure we can’t control every part of it, and that includes Fudge.” He paused. There he went again, spouting off like a brain-on-wheels. “Does that make sense?”
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