by Sara Clancy
“People understand better when I use a scream as an example,” Ruby said with well-practiced patience. “I can hear it just fine. The ears work. But there are a lot of reasons why someone might raise their voice. Excitement, rage, happiness, fear. My brain can’t tell the difference between any of them.”
“Can’t you tell by looking at them?” the man asked.
“That would be facial cues,” Ruby said. “And I can’t read them. I see the basic movement but, again, I can’t attach any meaning to it. It’s kind of like every day is Halloween. You know, with everyone in masks.”
Ruby rarely tried to lighten the mood with a joke, mostly because she rarely knew if she stuck the landing. Still, she had learned that people liked the analogy that reminded them of candy better than her life-size humanoid doll descriptions.
“That must be very confusing,” the woman said.
And stressful. Agonizing. Irritating. Terrifying. “It can be awkward,” Ruby said instead. “You’ll just have to be direct with me. And please, don’t use sarcasm. I will not understand it.”
“Right, well. I’m Aaron, this is Betsy, and we’re both honestly pleased that you’re here.” Aaron over pronounced each word as if dictation was the true issue.
Ruby thanked him for his kindness and her fake smile became just a little bit more real.
Betsy clapped her hands together, the sharp sound cracking across the now quiet platform. Once she had their attention, she led the way into the building with a flash of teeth and a wave. That was another typical response to the revelation of her condition. Lots and lots of exuberant body language. It was actually kind of funny, how people’s reaction to learning she didn’t understand subtlety was to become the living equivalent of the inflatable flailing men that were outside of car dealerships. But funny or not, the attempt to communicate in a way she could understand wasn’t lost on her. At the very least, it made them seem like real people, despite appearances.
Heated, humid air washed over Ruby as she followed the Cobalts into the building. While it wasn’t a wide structure, it was long, and a bit over half of the structure was devoted to the town’s supermarket. To her right, behind the stand-alone bundles of fresh produce, a parade of freezers ran the length of the wall. Rows of shelves filled the area closest to the door she had just entered, and people pushed shopping carts around those collecting their suitcases. A cold wind crept in on her left, as one of the station workers kept the door open while he unloaded the luggage next to the sales bin.
Ruby had always idolized those who could travel light. Each time she was planning a holiday, she had this fantasy that she would finally be one of those people that only needed a single carry-on. The reality, however, always fell short. But all those times before were nothing compared to this. The promise of living months on end in a cabin in the middle of nowhere had resulted in her bringing far more than she ever had before. They had to wait a little while for the workers to hurl her three overstuffed suitcases out of the guts of the train. Each one was dropped onto the floor with a loud thud and groan.
Aaron grabbed one of the bags and made the same noise as he struggled to lift it. “What did you pack in here?”
“That one has my books. You said I should bring some.”
Betsy chuckled under her breath, the sound leaving Ruby to wonder if she had said something amusing or was currently being mocked.
“Well, that’s good,” Betsy said. “We’ll also get you set up at the library before we leave. You’ll be surprised how quickly you can get through a good book up here.”
Ruby nodded and thanked Betsy as she took one of the remaining suitcases. The concrete floor didn’t have a smooth finish, but she was grateful for it all the same as she tugged the last bag along. In one lurching group, they crossed the room and exited out into the parking lot. While they hadn’t spent all that long indoors, it had been more than enough for Ruby’s thick winter coat to make her sweat. The wind ravaged the little droplets the first chance it got, freezing them against her skin and making her shiver. The sun might not have been high, but the glare it created made her eyes ache and reduced the world into strips of shapeless color. With her bags to contend with, they had barely made it to the ramp before her eyes had finished adjusting.
A lot of care had been taken to maintain the town of Hidden Valley’s rustic aesthetics. It was old-fashioned and quaint in a way that only tourist towns were. After all, no one traveled this far into the heart of the Yukon to see something modern. They wanted adventure in the great white North. To feel as if they were stepping back in time to the height of the gold rush. To be comfortable while they lived out the idolized version of pioneer life. At least, that’s what she had hoped for, and Hidden Valley hadn’t disappointed. Sure, a bit of it seemed fake around the edges, but it was unique, quiet, and had room enough to breathe.
The locals’ homes were clustered just off the main street, hidden behind hotels and gift shops that were crafted to look like old saloons. They were right on Main Street, and the limited assortment of restaurants all vied for space on it. The streets were clean, and the air held delightful scents of baking bread, spices, and pine. In all, the town wasn’t that large; it seemed that she could see most of it from where she stood, the buildings themselves appearing to huddle for warmth. Or at least to distance themselves from the endless forest that spread out around them, and continued uninterrupted in each direction until the mountains rose too high for the trees to follow.
Betsy led the way to a van. It looked well used but serviceable and had the logo of their dog sled company plastered on the side. With a sharp tug, the unlocked sliding door gaped open. An instant later, Ruby found herself flat on her back, the unforgiving concrete pressing its chill into her bones, while a few pounds of an overexcited sled dog and slobber, strained to reach her face. Neither Betsy nor Aaron seemed to be in much of a rush to pull the dog off of her. Ruby supposed that might have been because she couldn’t stop laughing. Between dodging its tongue, she noticed that its fur was a flawless white and puffed out around its neck and jaw like muttonchops. Its paws were huge, almost as large as her entire hand, and its eyes shone a brilliant icy blue.
“Bannock,” Betsy snapped as the dog yelped and lurched for Ruby’s face again. Once more she managed to squirm out of the way, although that didn’t deter it from trying again. “Off.”
At the command, Bannock backed up a few steps, just enough to place its massive paws on either side of Ruby’s hips. The order to keep his distance didn’t stop the dog from stretching his tongue out in an endless attempt to lick Ruby’s face. His tail swished so hard that his hind legs staggered back and forth.
“Sorry about that. He’s just excitable,” Aaron said as he rubbed his hand into Bannock’s scruff. “He knows you’re the one who’s looking after him for the next five months and he’s trying to suck up.”
“He’s still really a pup. But once he settles down, he’ll follow your commands well enough,” Betsy said.
Sliding back to avoid Bannock’s affections, Ruby sat up. She couldn’t resist sneaking a quick pat before getting to her feet. Bannock’s fur somehow managed to be even softer than it looked. And while the tips held the nip of the cold air, the lower layers were thick enough to hold in his warmth. He pressed into her touch as he stomped one paw, trying to loop his long limb around her arm and pull her closer.
“Well, hey there, Bannock,” she laughed. “Aren’t you gorgeous?”
“Can you read dogs?” Aaron waited for Ruby to look up to him before he continued with a flurry of hand movements she didn’t understand. “I mean, they don’t really have facial expressions, but they have basic body language.”
“They’re a lot easier to read than people. Mostly because of the one for one correspondence. One emotion, one motion.” she said as she got to her feet.
Aaron nodded as he began to load the bags. With a yelp, Bannock lumbered over to Betsy’s side. On all fours, his back still almost reached the w
oman’s hip. The colossal dog bumped his weight against Betsy’s leg until she agreed to pat him.
“Bannock’s our bear dog,” Betsy said.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means.”
Aaron loaded the last bag and slid the door shut. At the same time he crouched slightly, the motion instantly grabbing Bannock’s attention.
His words came out at a fast pace. “What do you do if you see a bear?”
Bannock threw his head back and barked at the sky, his enthusiasm drawing him up onto his hind legs, making him lurch and leap. His reward was some praise and a dog treat Aaron pulled from the pocket of his khakis.
“Remember to take him along if you go walking beyond the main area of the dog yard,” Betsy said. “He’ll raise the alarm as soon as he catches a stray scent. Keep you from crossing paths with a wolf or bear. You can also keep him in the cabin with you, if you want. The others are fine to take in, but Bannock’s a giant lumbering baby He’s grown used to the privilege and will whine all night if you leave him out. Come on, then. Let’s get the errands out of the way. Aaron, grab that book of yours.”
Ruby didn’t know what surprised her more, that the library was next door to the train station, although it shared some space with a hardware store, or that dogs were allowed inside. Bannock wasn’t the only one that was trotting around the shelves. One was currently using the line waiting at the counter to scout for someone to rope into a game of fetch.
While Aaron and Betsy joined the cue, Ruby was left to drift around the store. The rows of shelves were stuffed thick with novels. Some of them looked new, others with spines that had been broken a thousand times over, but all of them were in remarkable condition. It all spoke of a town that took care of the one sure form of entertainment they had to get them through the long winters. She brushed her hands over their spines as she sought out the sci-fi and fantasy sections. Her suitcase was filled with the books she had put off reading because of her final exams, and the desperate search for some kind of employment after leaving school. It seemed like a lofty goal to make it through all of them. But she had a feeling that five months of nothing to do would turn out to be far more time than she had been anticipating.
Rounding one of the shelves, she caught her first glimpse of the far wall and the rows of black framed pictures that covered it. Sunlight slipped through the window to flare over their glass centers, and the flare seemed to draw her near. Vaguely, she was aware of Bannock by her side, his nails clipping against the bare wood floors. As she drew closer, the figures in the old photographs became clearer. Judging by clothing style, they seemed to have been taken during the gold rush, back when the town and surrounding areas were first being settled by the hopeful and desperate. Each one had a small patch of writing nestled at the bottom. Her attention brushed over the names of those pictured with little interest. Below each one, there was a strip of red writing, the ink faded with time. She had to squint to read the short lines; a place and date.
A last known location? They had gone missing? She studied the rugged men of the picture with more interest before another strip of red caught her attention. Then another. And another. Walking along the walls, she found a dozen more frames that marked the people pictured as missing. Some had been noted as lost. Others as murdered. And the numbers kept growing. Some of the pictures were of small parties, made up of just a few miners that could have been lost in a single landslide. But some of the others were whole families. Or groups of dozens. Reaching the far end of the wall, she paused and glanced back over the display. How can such a small town see so much death? Bannock nuzzled at her hand and she reflectively reached to scratch his ear.
“That’s a lot of people,” she told him.
“It was a harsher time,” a voice said.
She wasn’t expecting a response and almost yelped at hearing one.
Spinning around, Ruby found herself being watched by a woman with large eyes and straight brown hair. The woman stepped closer to the wall but kept her eyes on Ruby.
“Many people came out here seeking a fortune. Very few of them had any actual idea of how to survive in such an environment. Some learned quickly. Others, well, not quickly enough.”
“Why were so many of them murdered?” Ruby asked.
“Cabin fever,” the woman said. “Shove a bunch of people into a small cabin in the middle of nowhere, leave them for months on end with the cold, the dark, the silence. Under conditions like that, people find out that they weren’t as sane as they assumed themselves to be.”
“They killed each other?”
“Most likely. In some cases, members of the party would band together and kick others out of their camp or cabin, let them freeze to death. If the animals didn’t get to them first.”
It didn’t matter how much Ruby searched the woman’s features, how hard she listened, there was nothing for her to gather. No way to tell why the woman was offering her this information. Ruby tensed a little as the woman turned her dark eyes onto her.
“The Yukon isn’t like other places. It’s not forgiving of weakness. Of body or of mind.”
Not knowing what to say, Ruby fell back onto her standard response. She nodded and slightly turned her head. It let people know that she was listening but also gave off a nonthreatening, submissive vibe. This time, the move allowed her to study the wall of photographs again.
“There aren’t many places around here that don’t have a dark history. The cabin you’ll be staying at is very close to where those people went missing. And near where they were murdered.”
With her stomach twisting up in knots, Ruby turned to see the woman pointing to a spot about halfway down the wall. There was no way to tell which picture she was actually pointing to, and the woman didn’t seem keen to clarify her statement. Does she tell everyone this sort of stuff? Like a weird ice-breaker? Maybe she’s the local historian? Ruby didn’t want to contemplate the other option, the one that suggested that anyone without the shackles of her condition would be seeing blazing red flags right now. Still, it bubbled up into her head as she pulled the large dog closer to her side. Is she threatening me?
“There you are,” Betsy said as she came around the aisle. After a moment, she caught sight of Ruby as well. “Good, you’re here, too. Ruby, this is Esther. She runs the hardware store and is a good friend of ours. She’ll be staying in town while we’re gone. If you need anything, you just come right here and ask her.”
Ruby nodded her understanding. “Okay. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nicer than you think,” Aaron said as he came into view. Bannock instantly trotted over to him, tail wagging and head high. “Her house is two doors down, the one with the pink front door, and she’s also agreed to let you use her washer and dryer. And her shower. That might not sound like much now, but when it’s twenty below you’ll appreciate it.”
“That’s really kind,” Ruby said, remembering to add a ‘thank you’ a second later.
While her resolve might break as the winter came in, Ruby knew she wasn’t going to be quick to take Esther up on the offer. Still unable to tell what the woman had been trying to achieve with their previous conversation, Ruby was hesitant to even be around her. In fact, going into her home, alone, seemed like far too big of a risk. That was a rule people with her condition lived by. Never go anywhere you don’t feel completely safe, because you’ll never know you’re not. Not until it’s too late.
Esther didn’t say much more, just the normal pleasantries, and Ruby found herself watching the woman’s joints more than her face. She might not be able to tell when someone had it out for her, but she could definitely see when someone was about to take a swing at her. She doubted the older woman would. But life was full of surprises.
“We have your library card all sorted,” Betsy said. “Let’s go introduce you to the dogs.”
Ruby nodded and followed the two out of the store. Esther’s final words chased after her, and Ruby’s shoulders flinched at hearing it.<
br />
“Good luck.”
Chapter 2
The damp air within the van had the distinct smell of wet dog. A bed sheet was draped over the back seat and had done its job well, gathering up so much dirt and fur that Ruby couldn’t believe any would have slipped under it. Artificially warm air spilled from the heating ducts and filled the space, creating a fine layer of fog that clung to the edges of the windows. Bannock was in the back with her, resting his head on her thigh and begging for attention as the van lumbered deeper into the forest. Snow and rain had worked together to gouge deep holes into the dirt road, and it was impossible to miss them all. Still, as she sunk her hands deep into the warmth of Bannock’s fur, Ruby felt more comfortable than she had in years.
Sunlight played through the trees, turning the few stubborn bits of ice that clung to the braces into crystals. Patches of snow melted away, turning the ground into a sodden mess. It had been at least half an hour since they had left the concrete road behind, and there hadn’t been another turn-off or passing car since. Just the single solitary path that squirmed through the towering pines and twisted brush.
“We’ll be leaving you one of the vans, probably this one,” Betsy said. She didn’t bother turning around from the front seat and Ruby was grateful for it. For some reason, eye contact made things difficult. It made people forget that she couldn’t read them. “It will do you well enough for a while. The road’s built on a hill, so it will last the first couple of snows. But once winter sets in, there will be no getting through here. You can park it next to the cabin when you switch over to the snowmobile.”
“Okay,” Ruby nodded as she watched the forest pass by. It was so thick that it was barely possible to see more than a few feet beyond the roadside. “How do you get the sled through here?”