Nightwalker 4

by Frank Roderus

  He got up and made a trip to the outhouse behind the cabin, a rare and pleasant opportunity after so many months apart from any semblance of civilization.

  On his way back inside he brought a load of firewood that Miles had split and piled against the back wall. Wolfe slipped his goggles over his eyes and added wood to the coals in the Franklin stove. The wood caught and flared into a bright, warming flame.

  The iron stove clanked when he closed the doors over the flame. The sound disturbed Miles who sat up, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

  “’Mornin’, Mr. Wolfe. Care for more of my special hot water?” Miles grinned. “Better for you than coffee, y’know.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Wolfe answered.

  Miles crawled out of his bunk and set the kettle on the stove before he too went outside, presumably to the outhouse. When he returned, Wolfe asked, “Tell me something, Miles. Are there elk nearby?”

  “Oh, yes. The thing is, come a snowy winter like this one, the passes close and they’re pretty much trapped here in the basin. There’s feed enough that they don’t starve. They’re usually about a mile from here or a little better.”

  “I was thinking,” Wolfe said. “I could knock one down and help you haul the meat over here. That should help you folks get through the winter anyway.”

  “That’s a fine thing for you to do for us, Mr. Wolfe. Thank you.”

  Wolfe nodded. “We’ll do it then. Is there any of that venison left over from last night?”

  “A little,” Miles said.

  “Let’s give the ladies some breakfast, then you and me will go see if we can’t bring down something tasty.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Wolfe’s rifle barked and seventy yards away a large, bull elk staggered. Wolfe fired again and the animal went down.

  He turned to Miles, who had guided him to the stand of quakies where a herd of more than a dozen elk could be found. He smiled and said, “There’s a good amount of meat for you, friend.”

  “Friend indeed, Mr. Wolfe. Thank you.”

  “You know, it would be all right if you were to call me Jim. No need to be formal.” Wolfe reached down to scratch the dog’s ears and only then remembered that his companion was back at the cabin being fawned over by Jennifer.

  “All right. Jim it is. Now let’s go butcher that elk and cool the meat while it’s so fresh.”

  The two of them walked forward through the snow to reach the downed bull. Miles knelt beside it and expertly opened an artery in its throat. “We’ll let it bleed out for a few minutes before we open it up and start cutting if that’s all right with you, Jim.”

  Wolfe nodded and the two men wiped the snow from a fallen aspen trunk so they could sit and make small talk while the elk bled.

  Finally they turned the bull onto its back and got out their knives.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jennifer clapped her hands with delight when she saw the mountain of meat the elk provided. “Can I have some right away?” she asked. “I want to make a broth for mama.”

  “Of course,” Miles and Wolfe both said at virtually the same time. Jennifer laughed and quickly selected some choice bits and put them on the stove in a pot of water. The rest the men packed in snow in a washtub.

  Jennifer sliced steaks for her father and Wolfe and a smaller piece for herself and put those in a skillet with some back fat to sizzle.

  “Do you do all the cooking?” Wolfe asked the child.

  She nodded. “I know how.”

  “She’s good at it,” Miles said. “Ever since her mother…well…you know.” He paused, then brightened. “Say, do you know how to play acey-deucey?” Laughing, he added, “I can’t play with Jen any more. She always beats me.”

  “I don’t know the game,” Wolfe said, “but I’m willing to learn.”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening gorging on elk steaks and playing acey-deucey. And Miles was right. Whenever it was Jennifer’s turn to play, she won handily.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Good morning, Miles.” Wolfe yawned and sat up, stretching and yawning some more.

  “Good morning, Jim.”

  “I was thinking last night. Do you think you have enough meat to get you through or should we knock down another one before I head south?”

  “Another wouldn’t hurt,” Miles said. “But you intend to move on? I was hoping you would stick around. If nothing else, you could teach me how to use that blowgun. One of those would come in handy come springtime. I bet you could take all sorts of small game with one.”

  “You could. And I’ll teach you, but I can’t stay much longer. I want to get home, Miles. Surely you understand that.”

  “Of course I do. Just a minute here. I’ll wake Jennifer. She can cook us some breakfast.”

  “Let her sleep, Miles.” Wolfe smiled. “A growing girl needs her rest.”

  “If you say so. I’ll stir up those coals and get a fire going so we can burn our own steaks.”

  “Fair enough.” Wolfe motioned to the dog and crawled to his feet. “If you would excuse us…” He and the dog – he kept forgetting that it was Buddy now – went outside for their morning relief.

  Wolfe was only halfway through his morning needs when he heard a heart-wrenching scream from inside the cabin.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Wolfe raced inside to find Miles on his knees with Harriet cradled to his chest. Jennifer was at the bottom of the bunk, draped over her mother’s legs. She and Miles were both sobbing.

  Miles looked up at Wolfe, tears and snot running. He said, “She’s gone, Jim. She was my life and now she’s gone.”

  “Oh, Lord, Miles, I am so very sorry,” Wolfe said.

  At the moment he was not sure what he should do. He was, after all, the stranger here. He had not really known Harriet and now never would.

  He did know Miles and Jennifer, though, and he liked them very much. There surely could be something he could do for them. Food was one thing that came to mind. There was meat in the house. He built up the fire and set a skillet on top of the stove then went out to the shed and sliced some steaks off the haunch that was hanging there in the cold.

  He sliced away some bits and pieces as well and once inside dumped those into a pot along with enough snow to cover the meat once the heat melted the snow. In addition to the steaks he was cooking he wanted to make some broth. He suspected Miles and Jennifer would be more likely to take broth than to properly eat.

  Wolfe fed Buddy and then took the dog outside so the two of them could finish the business that Miles’ cries had interrupted.

  He found a shovel in the shed and made a few stabs at the ground with it, but the soil was rock hard and would remain that way until spring. He suspected that digging a grave right now would be difficult in the extreme.

  They could build a bonfire, he supposed and burn it until the ground beneath it was thawed enough to allow them to dig a proper grave for Harriet. He would talk about that with Miles when the man seemed ready to discuss such arrangements for his wife. But that would come later. For the moment he wanted to get the family to at least drink some hot broth.

  “C’mon, Buddy, Let’s go in and see can we offer some comfort.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Miles would accept neither meat nor broth; Jennifer took both and ate with the gusto of the growing child that she was, Wolfe was delighted to see the girl get something hot into her stomach. And Buddy benefitted from the steak that Miles rejected.

  After breakfast, Wolfe tried again to separate Miles from his dead wife’s body.

  “This isn’t healthy, Miles,” Wolfe said, tugging at Miles’ arm to no avail. “At least move back a bit so I can cover her for you.”

  Miles swung around so quickly that Wolfe thought the smaller man was attacking him. “You leave Harriet the hell alone. You don’t know her. You got no business messing with my beautiful darlin’,” Miles snapped.

  Wol
fe backed away from the grieving man and turned to Jennifer. She was on the floor, on her knees, hugging Buddy and softly crying, her face pressed into Buddy’s fur, her tears lost against the big dog.

  There seemed little Wolfe could do to help so he did the best he could, going out to collect more snow to melt and more bits of elk to cook into a rich broth.

  When he returned and the new batch of broth was cooking he sat and drank the mug of broth originally intended for Miles, who was still cradling Harriet in his arms, his face pressed to her bosom, the man’s body shaking in spasms of grief.

  If they could just get through this first day, Wolfe thought, perhaps he could get Miles interested again in the needs of the world around him.

  Chapter Forty

  They bedded down early, each silent with his own thoughts. Buddy, he noticed, curled up tight against Jennifer. That was fine by Wolfe; the little girl needed some comfort.

  He stoked the fire again and pulled his borrowed blanket high under his chin. He could hear someone sobbing but whether that was Jennifer or her father he could not tell.

  Wolfe slept fitfully and sometime in the night woke to a chill in the room. He got up and added wood to the fire. He stood beside the stove until he was warmed through and heat was returning to the place. When he turned to go back to his pallet he saw that Miles was not in the bed beside Harriet’s body.

  That explained the cold temperature, Wolfe thought. Miles had gotten up and went outside, probably to answer a call of nature after being so long on his knees. His leaving allowed the cold, night air to invade the cabin.

  That was good, Wolfe thought. Any separation from Harriet’s body was a good thing for Miles, no matter how small it might be. The man needed to return to some semblance of the ordinary, and if a trip to the outhouse was the best he could manage that would just have to be enough.

  Wolfe lay awake for a few minutes thinking he really needed to resume his march south. But this was no time to leave Jennifer and Miles. The two were not coping well with the loss of wife and mother. They needed someone to help tend to their needs and to the routine chores until they were ready to resume their lives without Harriet.

  And what were they supposed to do with the body, Wolfe pondered. Burn all their available firewood or let the body freeze and bury her when the ground thawed?

  Wolfe had no idea if the family had suffered past losses or if there might already be an area set aside as a cemetery. He would have to ask Miles in the morning. Or Jennifer if Miles was still so distant. The man had been silent, other than his weeping, ever since his wife died.

  That could wait until morning, however.

  Wolfe rolled onto his side and let himself drift back into sleep.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Miles’ side of the bed was empty when Wolfe woke in the morning. He assumed the man was out doing chores of some sort and thought nothing of it.

  Wolfe made a trip to the outhouse without seeing Miles and returned to the cabin where Jennifer was beginning to stir, her hair tousled and tangled and down in her eyes.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Wolfe said with a grin. “Did you sleep well last night?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “Y’know, Jen, you don’t have to call me sir. Jim will do.”

  “Could we settle for Mr. Wolfe, sir? I don’t think I’m ready to start calling grown-ups by their first names yet.” Jennifer sat up and pushed the hair back from her face. She very modestly tugged her pajamas in place, not that she was showing anything.

  “Mr. Wolfe will do just fine, Jen. Whatever is comfortable for you.” Wolfe picked up an armful of wood from the pile, noting that he would need to bring more in soon. He opened the cast iron doors on the Franklin stove and carefully placed the billets of firewood inside. The fire caught and flared up quickly.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. I could eat a horse,” she said.

  “Yes, and before things get back to normal…if they ever do…you may very well have to.”

  “Ugh!” Jennifer grimaced, her nose wrinkling when she did so.

  “Oh, it isn’t all that bad,” Wolfe told her while he used a greasy rag to wipe the cooking surface on the stove.

  “You’ve eaten horse meat?”

  “I have. There was a restaurant in…it was one of the small towns in eastern Colorado, I can’t remember which one. I was driving a truck through to someplace. Stopped there for lunch and they had horse meat on the menu. Buffalo too. I’d already tried buffalo. Liked it too. Anyway, I thought I’d give horse a try. It wasn’t bad. A little grainy. Nothing special though.”

  “I still say ick.”

  “Lucky for you,” Wolfe said, “we still have plenty of elk, and before I leave I’ll shoot another for you. Two if your dad wants them.”

  “I like elk meat,” Jennifer said. She stood and began the process of getting dressed, standing there in the open but managing to not show anything that she should not.

  “I’m with you, kid.” Wolfe dropped some fat into a skillet and set it on the stove. “We need more elk steaks. How big do you want me to cut it for you?”

  “This big,” she said, holding her hands a good two feet apart.

  “Listen, if you will eat that much, I will cook it for you.”

  “Don’t you dare.” Jennifer giggled and went back to dressing.

  Wolfe picked up a butcher knife, ran a sharpening stone over it for a few licks and went out to the shed where the elk carcass hung.

  “Oh, Lord!” he said when he entered the shed.

  There was more than an elk carcass hanging there.

  Miles hung from one of the meat hooks too, his neck encircled by a sturdy rope and an empty nail keg tipped over at his feet.

  Miles’ body had already cooled in the frigid, winter air, so Wolfe judged the man must have come out and killed himself fairly early the night before.

  How could the son of a bitch have left his daughter like that, Wolfe asked himself, more annoyed with Miles than saddened.

  And how was he supposed to tell Jennifer about it. Wolfe hung his head and said a short prayer over Miles and his inability to cope with the present instead of seeing that his daughter needed him. For that, Wolfe could never forgive the man. Although he could understand a grief so terrible that it darkened his soul, he would not leave a child by herself.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  When Wolfe returned to the cabin, Jennifer was standing with her back to the stove, brushing her hair with long, slow strokes and humming something under her breath.

  Wolfe sat at the table and watched her for a moment. Jennifer noticed his interest and his sorrowful expression.

  “Is something wrong?” She stopped brushing.

  Wolfe pushed the other kitchen chair away from the table. “Come sit down, please, Jen.”

  The child’s expression changed to show sudden alarm. “What is it, Mr. Wolfe?”

  “Sit down, please.” When she did so, perching on the edge of the chair, he said, “There is…a problem, Jen. No, a tragedy really. It’s….”

  “Is something wrong with daddy? Where is he, Mr. Wolfe? Has something happened to him? He’s always here when I wake up, but this morning…where is he, Mr. Wolfe?”

  If he thought he could get away with a plausible lie, he would have told one. If Jennifer had been a few years younger, he could have lied to her and been believed. But the child was half grown and smart. And there would be no way to hide the truth.

  Wolfe took a deep breath, took Jennifer’s hands in his own and began talking.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The girl broke into a torrent of tears. It was to be expected. First her mother and now her dad too. Wolfe ached for the child, but there was no comfort he – or anyone – could give that would assuage the pain of those losses coming one right after the other.

  Frustrated and feeling helpless, Wolfe left Jennifer to her sorrow and went out to the shed where Miles’ body hung.

 
He cut the body down and did what he could – it was not much – to arrange the dead man’s face into a normal appearance. The act of hanging had left Miles’ face disfigured. And Wolfe did not want the man’s daughter to see him like that.

  There was nothing he could do about the discoloration, though.

  Bad as Miles looked when Wolfe was done with him, he had looked even worse, almost like a Halloween mask of himself, when Wolfe started.

  Finally, unable to put the unenviable task off any longer, Wolfe picked Miles up and carried him inside, miserable about the task but grateful for the heat that radiated from the Franklin stove.

  He carried Miles to the bed he had shared with Harriet and placed the body down gently beside that of his wife. Wolfe immediately tried to pull the covers up over Miles, but Jennifer stopped him.

  “Wait, Mr. Wolfe. I want to see.”

  It was not a request Wolfe could deny. He nodded and stepped back away from the crudely built bed containing the bodies of the two people Jennifer loved most in this world.

  “I’ll leave you alone for a while,” he mumbled. Motioning for Buddy to follow, he went back outside and busied himself splitting the wood that Miles had sawed and piled but had not gotten around to final stage of making it kindling and fit for the woodburner.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Wolfe cooked a big breakfast and insisted Jennifer eat some of it. She did so, but without appetite or enthusiasm. When they were done Wolfe moved his chair so he sat facing her. He leaned forward and took her hands in his.

  “This is lousy, kid, but there’s no help for it. Things are what they are, and we have to live with them. I’m sorry about your parents, but it is what it is. Do you have family somewhere? Anywhere?”