“Wolf, it’s you! I’m so glad it was you who found me!” She nimbly climbed down the stairs and dropped down next to him, hugging his neck. “I just knew you’d come.”
He carefully pulled away from her, not wanting her to accidentally find what was tied around his neck. That was for Wals and the doctor. Not wanting to loiter around the treehouse, he walked to the edge of a small ravine. Below was the little stream that cut through part of the Island and dumped into the River. It was obvious they needed to go. Now. He whined and looked back at her.
“All right. All right. I get it. Can’t a girl be glad to see you?” She balked, though, when she saw where he was heading. There was a suspension bridge that would take them across the ravine and a mile closer to her cabin. She was afraid of heights. “Uh, Wolf, can’t we go back the other way? What about the barrel bridge? Or, we could go back through the caves.”
He ignored her hopeful plea and started across the long wooden-planked bridge. He didn’t have the benefit of hanging onto the thick cables of rope on either side of the bridge, but with the agility and balance of his four legs, he didn’t really need them. He walked the first thirty feet and looked expectantly back. Rose was still frozen in place, pale, and for some reason had a rock gripped in her hand. Wolf made sure his feet were all on solid boards and then he lay down to show her there was nothing to be afraid of. When that didn’t work, he rolled on his back then got up again. He gave a short yip.
“Okay, you don’t have to shout. I’m coming, I’m coming.” Breaking out in a sweat, Rose put a tentative slippered foot on the first plank. She reached up to grab the rope and found she still held the rock she had found in the cave. Turning, she gave it a mighty heave in the direction of the Fort. Hearing it crash into the forest, she smiled a little, picturing it hitting Private Crain smack in the face. When she heard another yip, she turned to the bridge again, her tormentor forgotten in the face of this new terror. “Yes, Wolf, I know.” Her fingers closed in a death-grip on the chest-high ropes on both sides of the bridge. When the plank didn’t break beneath her weight, she carefully moved to the next board.
Wolf just sat there impatiently waiting for her to trust that it was going to be all right. With her going only one plank at a time, he could tell this was going to take a while. He had been hoping they would get back to the cabin before dark. Now he wasn’t sure.
To cover her nervousness, she started talking to Wolf like she always did. “I really did miss you, Wolf. I haven’t had any visitors lately. That nice Mr. Davis, well, he never came back. I, oh!” She gave a small shriek as her foot slipped sideways on some rotten leaves. She hadn’t even reached Wolf yet and was already breathless. “I...I was saying, I thought he might come calling as we seemed to get along all right. But, no, he never came back. It’s only been a couple of months. Maybe he’s busy. Did you know that awful Private Crain tried to come after me again today? I know I should have taken the mare to the Fort, but it was such a beautiful day that I decided to walk. I wanted to do some baking tomorrow and knew I would need some more flour from the miller. I didn’t know the Mill had closed. It was all locked up!” She stopped in her rambling discourse and looked up from her feet to Wolf. She was dismayed at how far away he still was. “Gosh, how long is this stupid bridge anyway!? Oh, dear. I’d better hurry a little.”
Wolf had decided to show his support by moving beside her. The bridge tilted with his extra weight. She gave a scream of fear. “Don’t rock it! Don’t rock it!”
With an exaggerated sigh, he moved in front of her another thirty feet. She watched how easily he did it and managed to step board to board a little quicker. He glanced at the sun and groaned. It was definitely going to be dark before they made it back to her cabin. Now he wouldn’t be able to look for Wals until tomorrow to try and find out what has been going on. Or, according to Rose, what has not been going on.
As soon as it was light the next morning, Wolf left the little cabin and again headed toward the Fort. He had to find Wals and get things in motion.
The stockade gate was still open. The few remaining soldiers seemed to have no reason to go to the trouble of barring it every night. The Major General was long gone to another assignment and the soldiers were more or less doing what they pleased. And it pleased them to do very little. There was debris littered all over the parade grounds.
Wolf quickly ran past the open gate and headed for the raft landing. If Wals was working, he would be there. The Mark Twain was in her berth. The canoes Wals used were all there. One of the rafts was still tied to the dock. It was quiet along both sides of the River and the wharf.
Not wasting any more time, Wolf turned and ran the mile back to the Fort.
Hiding again in the thick bushes, he watched and waited as the remaining horses were exercised in the yard and returned to the livery stable. Smoke started rising from the cook shack. One of the soldiers got some water from the well. He didn’t see the doctor or Wals. Not yet giving up, he settled back further in the bushes, watching.
A squeal of feminine laughter came from one of the lookout towers above him. Two of the Fort women ran lightly down the wooden stairs, one of them carrying a tarnished silver serving platter. Heads together, they were laughing with each other as they headed for the dining room across the compound.
Wals’ head appeared in the larger window of the tower. Looking down, he was buttoning his worn yellow shirt. As his arms moved, it was apparent some of the fringe was now missing. Glancing quickly into the open gate and seeing no one, Wolf stepped out into the open and let out a yip to get Wals’ attention.
At the same moment, two Privates came out of the barracks when they heard the women’s laughter, and they watched the door of the Cantina close with a bang. Smirking and nudging each other, they headed for the tower’s stairs. Daniel Crain yelled up, “Hey, Wals, that you up there?”
“Maybe,” came the familiar voice. “Can’t a man enjoy his breakfast in peace?”
The three humans all heard the wolf yip at the same time. “Oh, crap.” Eyes wide, Wolf dove back into the cover of the bushes. Wals headed for the stairs. Private Crain ran for his rifle. And Private Billy ran for his life.
Daniel was jamming a ball into his gun as he emerged from the barracks. “I’ve got you now, you filthy wolf.”
Wals hesitated in the gate of the Fort. Again he had seen the white patch of fur on the wolf’s chest before it disappeared from view. That, combined with those startling blue eyes, was again pulling at his memory. Daniel tried to push past him.
“Out of the way, Wals. I’ve got me a wolf to kill,” as he tossed aside the ramming rod.
His mind still trying to grasp the fleeting images, Wals attempted to stop him. “Wait a second, Daniel, you can’t.…”
“No, no waiting. I’ve been waiting for that son of a gun to show his ugly face for years now. He’s going to join his brethren on that there wall. And I’m going to put him there!” He raised the rifle to his shoulder and aimed into the bushes where he had last seen the wolf. He pulled the trigger before Wals could stop him.
There was a flash and a puff of smoke emerged from the rifle barrel. Leaves flew up where the ball passed. There was no other movement or sound. With a shout of triumph, Daniel headed toward the bush. Crouching down, he tried to peer through the thicket. A loud, menacing growl greeted him. Wolf’s face slowly emerged out of the greenery, teeth bared, eyes a slit.
“You got any more shot there, Daniel?” Wals asked, backing up slowly. The wolf didn’t seem to notice him, but was staring straight into the Private’s terrified eyes.
Daniel turned a ghastly shade of white. “Thought I only needed one. Give me your knife!” he hissed at Wals, holding his hand out behind him.
“Don’t have one. Looks like you’ll have to take him with your bare hands.” Wals was enjoying this. He knew he was safe. Well, at least he thought he was safe. The wolf knew him. But, then again, the wolf might be injured and could turn on anyone. Maybe I s
hould rethink this safe part. He backed up a step.
With a girlish shriek, Daniel jumped to his feet and ran all the way back into the Fort, slamming the barracks door behind him.
Not knowing if the Private would come out with another loaded rifle, Wolf emerged from the bushes and tried to turn toward the forest. Wals could see blood running down his leg. The ball seemed to be embedded in his back leg and the intense pain prevented the wolf from being able to run. With a last, pleading look at Wals, he limped as fast as he could down the path in the direction of Rose’s cabin.
Wals heard the commotion coming from the barracks and knew Daniel was fortifying himself with a drink for another go at the wolf. With that white patch of fur in his mind’s eye, he turned and ran after the injured animal.
Wolf glanced back, hoping it was Wals coming after him so he that wouldn’t have to make a fighting stand. He might be able to protect himself against a knife, but not another rifle. In a haze of pain, he waited to let his friend catch up, his leg throbbing and bleeding.
Wals held his hands palms out to the wolf. Probably showing me he was unarmed? Wolf wondered, swaying from the shock. Wolf took a step toward Wals and let himself collapse at Wals’ feet. If that doesn’t do it, nothing will.
Wals knew time was running out, but also knew he wouldn’t be able to carry the huge animal all the way to Rose’s cabin without being caught by the soldiers. His canoes were almost a mile in the other direction, plus they’d have to go past the entrance to the Fort to get there. It wouldn’t do to try and hide in the caves because he hadn’t been inside them since he started his job and didn’t know his way. He was about out of options when he spotted a native canoe coming toward him from the direction of the village. He picked up Wolf and gasped at the sheer weight of him. “Good thing I’ve been hefting crates for a few years,” he grunted as he tried to jog toward the canoe.
Always watchful of the goings-on at the cabin and the Fort, Mato had seen what happened to Wolf and angled his canoe to meet Wals. The soldiers hadn’t emerged from the Fort yet. They were probably waiting for blood loss to help even their odds.
“Hau kola.” Mato greeted Wals as he braced the canoe for the extra weight.
“Hello, friend,” Wals quickly repeated back as he set the wolf on the floor of the canoe and climbed in after him. He hoped to get to the pleasantries later when Wolf was safe. He tried to duck down out of sight as best he could so it would look like the canoe was occupied only by Mato. He didn’t know if that would work as Mato calmly paddled the canoe out into the current and headed back downriver. They seemed to be moving awfully slow. When he heard shouts coming from the direction of the Fort, Wals resisted the urge to raise his head. From the amount of noise, the men apparently had regained their courage and were spreading out en masse to find the injured animal. They didn’t seem to give Mato a second look.
When the canoe rounded the big bend of the river, and they were shielded by the density of the forest, Wals lifted his head to the edge of the canoe and looked back. He could see no one from the Fort. Sitting up, he ran a hand over the wolf to try and determine the extent of his injury. Wolf’s eyes were closed, and he felt hot to Wals’ touch. Considering how little Wals knew about wolves, he thought the animal felt hot. That could have been normal for that thick coat of fur.
Looking up, Wals realized Mato was going to pass up Rose’s cabin. He pointed at her clearing when it came into view, indicating that was where he wanted to go. Mato shook his head and pointed downriver. He was heading for his village. Wals didn’t fear going to the village; he just wanted Rose to know what had happened and allow her to tend to her wolf.
As they got closer to the cabin, they could see Rose working in her garden. Her long rifle was nearby, propped up on one of the rails. Wals quietly called out to her. He knew how far sound could travel in the still air, so he hesitated saying too much and told her about the wolf. Wolf raised his head and whined at Mato. The two brothers locked eyes. Mato said something unpleasant under his breath and brought the canoe around.
Rose met them at the water’s edge and gave a little cry when she saw the blood all over Wolf.
“I think it is just a flesh wound, but I haven’t had time to really check,” Wals explained to her as the canoe got closer.
Mato beached the canoe and carried the wolf into the little cabin. He seemed to be muttering to the wolf in his language all the way up from the River. He received an answering growl when Wolf was placed on his pallet. Once his brother was settled as comfortably as possible, Mato looked around the little cabin with interest. He had never been inside before. Resisting the urge to pick up little knickknacks and examine them, he instead headed for the door.
Wals practiced a word he was learning: “Philámayaye.”
Mato nodded once to him and silently left. He needed to report to the Shaman what had happened. He didn’t figure it would be taken well.
“What did you say to him?” Rose wanted to know when Mato left.
“I think it was thank you. At least I hope it was thank you. If it wasn’t, they might come back and burn your cabin down again!”
Paling, her eyes widened until she realized he was just teasing. She lightly slapped his arm and turned back to her injured wolf. “Wals?” Her voice sounded shy as she started tending to Wolf’s needs. “It’s good to see you again. I…I missed you…I mean, I missed talking to you.”
He looked into her lovely eyes and wondered why in the world he had stayed away and wasted all that time with the women at the Fort. He gave her a smile. “Thank you. I missed talking to you too.”
Brightening a little, Rose got some clean rags out of her basket and tore them into strips. She wet them in the warm water hanging over the fire. Kneeling down next to Wolf, her smile faded as she gently dabbed the blood seeping out of his leg. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily. It hurt like the dickens.
When she touched the entry point of the shot, he couldn’t help wincing. “Here it is,” Rose told the hovering Wals. “Sorry, Wolf, but this is going to hurt a lot. I need to see if the ball is still in there.”
As she prodded, the wolf shook with the pain, but remained stoically quiet. Wals squatted down near Wolf’s head, hoping to himself that the animal didn’t snap out in his misery. Somehow, though, Wals knew he wouldn’t. As he found himself again staring at the unusual white fur on the wolf’s black chest again, he reached out to touch it when the wolf’s eyes suddenly popped open. Those eerie blue eyes stared back at him. Wals looked from the white fur to the blue eyes.
Not sure why it looked so familiar, Wals ran a comforting hand down the wolf’s neck. “You’ll be okay, Wolf.”
Finding that the ball had passed right through his leg, concern etched on her face, Rose concentrated on cleaning and bandaging the wound and didn’t pay any attention to what Wals was doing.
As he tried to comfort the injured animal, Wals’ hand suddenly came across what felt like some kind of twine tied around the wolf’s neck. Curious, he lifted it away from the fur and looked at the tight knot. The wolf was closely watching him. He thought he saw the wolf nod to him as if telling him it was all right and to continue. That couldn’t be, mentally chastising himself for such a foolish notion. Not getting any resistance from the animal, he slowly followed the cord until it disappeared under the thick fur on his neck.
His fingers finally found some kind of pouch hanging off the cord. Feeling through the satiny material, he could feel two items inside. Pricking his finger on one of the things, he found it might be easier to remove the cord. As the pouch loosened from the twine and fell into his hand, he pulled open the black silk. He recognized the first item as a cigarette lighter, not even thinking about the incongruity. Reading the face, he mumbled, “This must belong to Doc Houser,” his lips moving as he read. “Hmm. Wonder what the numbers one, nine, six and two mean?” Confused and frowning, wondering what a wolf was doing with the doctor’s lighter, he set the silver Zippo aside
on the floor and felt inside the bag again to locate that first item that had pricked him. It was smooth and cool to the touch. As he pulled it out, his fingers could feel some deep indents on the surface of the oval item.
The pain-shrouded blue eyes were unblinking, staring right at Wals as he brought the object out into the light of the cabin.
Wals’ mouth slowly dropped open as he let the twine and pouch fall unnoticed to the floor of the cabin. Heart pounding, he couldn’t take his eyes off of his find.
He stared at what inexplicably appeared to be an oval nametag from Disneyland that cast members wear on their costumes. It had a drawing of the tell-tale Disneyland castle at the top, and it had the name Wals engraved in deep blue letters.
Disneyland – 2007
Working under the cover of darkness, long after the Park had closed and the guests were fast asleep inside their hotel rooms, hardhat-wearing, competent workers invaded Tom Sawyer’s Island. Referring to the large roll of blueprints, his men armed with jackhammers, dynamite, backhoes, shovels and hammers, the foreman, John Lafferty, had already directed the closing of a portion of Injun Joe’s Cave. At the same time, another part of his crew was busy altering what was left of the inner tunnels and caverns.
Huge halogen lights were raised on the backside of the Island to illuminate it in the darkness. A walkway had been constructed to tote the heavy construction materials onto the Island. An army of rafts had been borrowed to ferry over the goods that had been stacked on the dock on the other side of the Frontierland River near the Mark Twain. New sea chest props were brought in, existing caves were reinforced with heavy-looking barred doors, and some of the existing mining equipment was taken away. All traces of the peaceful fishing spot had been removed. The old treehouse behind the Fort had been discussed and left untouched as unimportant. Holes were bored into the ceiling of the caverns to wire for light fixtures that would glow eerily on the grisly scenes below. Skeletons, dressed in ragged costumes, were shackled to the walls of the newly-constructed dungeon. Pieces of treasure were placed into glowing inlets—inlets that were wired to grab at the hand of a greedy visitor hoping to claim more souvenirs for himself. A protective walkway and railing was constructed around the Bottomless Pit to insure that the guests didn’t accidentally fall in while stumbling past it in the darkness. Just out of reach, dull tin swords were stacked in the Hidden Alcove, realistic pistols and shot, even a few kegs stenciled ‘gunpowder’ were nearby as if ready at hand lest they be needed in a hurry to ward off invaders.
Wolf! The Legend of Tom Sawyer's Island Page 18