Summer of the Wolves (7 page)

“We’re going to slide this log over the fence into the pen,” I said. “You have to help me, Stephanie.”

She didn’t say anything, and for a moment I worried she might turn around and run back to the cabin, but then she whispered, “Okay.”

I was surprised by a sudden surge of emotion starting in my chest and trying to work its way up and out, but I swallowed it down and said, “Okay, on my count, lift and slide it over.” I took a deep breath. “One, two, three, lift!”

We pushed the end of the log up, over the fence. I shoved. The end of the log slid past the fence top, its center passed over, and then the log tipped downward.
Our side rose up out of reach like a seesaw. Now the log was moving on its own. It hit the ground with a dull scraping sound and remained solid, leaning against the fence.

“Whew.” I searched the pen for the wolves but all our noise must have scared them. They were nowhere in sight.

“Waya? Oginali? C’mere, girls, c’mon,” I said, kneeling. Nothing. I glanced over at Mr. Morgan’s cabin, still dark and silent. Found a rock about fifteen yards away from the fence and sat on it. My heart was pounding like a freight train, and I felt completely alive. I watched the moon-bright sky just above the spot where the log met the fence, the place I thought I might see the wolves’ silhouettes right before they jumped to freedom.

Stephanie sat down next to me. “So, you think they’ll jump?”

“If it was me, I would.”

We waited, beginning to notice the noisy woods around us. Wind rustled leaves, an owl hooted not far away, crickets made a racket, and every minute or so a frog burped.

“The stars are so much brighter here than at home.” Stephanie wrapped her arms around her knees to warm herself. “That was kind of cool what Maggie
said today, about the Cherokees believing that the Milky Way was the Path of Souls.”

“I wasn’t listening,” I said. I did notice now, though, that here on the mountain the stars did seem nearer to the earth. And though I knew that outer space was freezing cold, the stars winked in what seemed to be a warm, comforting way.

Stephanie leaned her head back and scanned the blanket of stars above us. She pointed at a dense band arching across the heavens like a luminous cloud. “That must be the Milky Way. I wonder which constellation has the Dog Star and which is Antares, the one they called the Great Mother Wolf.”

“I don’t know,” I said, surprised that she’d remembered the names.

“Russell said that if the spirits don’t like you, your soul can get stuck there, in the Milky Way.”

“That’s a boatload of stuck souls,” I said. I wondered how many thousands of stars made up that swirling arch?

“Yeah,” said Stephanie. “Sometimes I feel stuck, because I’m, you know, so scared of stuff. I wish I was as brave as you are.”

I pretended the compliment didn’t matter, but I felt my arms prickling with pleasure in the dark. “Well, you’re brave with people,” I said. “I wish I could be more like that.”

“Well, Daddy always taught me to be kind, so I just try to do that, that’s all.” Stephanie said.

“You make it sound so easy.” My throat tightened. Stephanie had no idea how hard it was.

“Well, ridin’ is easy for you. So maybe being brave is doing stuff that’s hard for you.”

I couldn’t believe it. The ache in my throat was like a burn. I was about to cry. I couldn’t let Stephanie see. I turned away. Took deep breaths, thankful for the darkness and the cold.

“And what about what Maggie said about everyone having a reflection in a star?” Stephanie asked. “You know, what the Cherokees believe. I like the idea of having my own star up there. I think I’d pick the North Star,” Stephanie added, “because that’s the star people use to find their way home.”

While Stephanie was talking, I wiped my cheeks and took a breath. “There it is, at the end of the Little Dipper.” I pointed. “Mom showed me, in case I was ever lost.”

“Yeah,” Stephanie said. “Daddy taught me, too. If you know which way is north, then you can figure out all the other directions.”

We sat for a minute without talking.

“That’s kind of cool, that our parents both taught us where the North Star is, huh?” Stephanie said.

“Yeah, sure.” I blinked. In a minute I might do something really stupid. Like cry more. The next second I heard something move, and the electric whooshing sound of a body hurling through the air. We turned and saw Waya arcing across the sky above us, the eerie cloud of the Milky Way behind her, moonlight brushing her eyes and teeth and fur. She landed silent as a ghost. She stared us down in a timeless way that seemed like hours, but was still only a fraction of a second. Then, like mountain mist, she melted into nothingness.

A streaking shadow followed just behind.

Something in the universe shifted. The stars slid out of focus, the sky seemed to lighten a bit.

I took a breath. I was shaking. The wolves were free. Soon, I would be, too.

I
turned on the little nightlight by the bathroom sink and sat on the edge of the bathtub. Trying to be quiet, I ran a thin trickle of water to rinse the blood and dirt from my feet. I bit my lip when the water stung the cuts and scrapes.

My heart still pounded like crazy when I thought about riding on the bikes so fast in the darkness, about climbing that rock face, about lifting that gross log over the fence. About the glimpse I’d gotten of one of the wolves’ sharp white teeth reflecting the moonlight.

I thought about Diana leaning down from the top of the rock face and saying, “Take my hand.” And then later, when I came up with the idea to move the log, she seemed impressed.

That had been so cool, Diana and me just sitting on that rock, talking about the stars like good friends. I understood Diana better now. Diana was afraid her daddy didn’t care about her, and now she was wondering about her mama. Being around Diana had forced me to admit that I was afraid of the same stuff myself. I was always trying to pretend those feelings weren’t there, and she just came out and talked about them. I had a feeling she’d been about to talk to me about stuff that was going on with her, but then it seemed like we didn’t really have to.

I was proud of myself for not giving up on Diana. I felt like we’d really become closer, and I felt like Daddy would be pleased.

I dampened a washcloth and wiped off my arms. I probably had bugs and cobwebs all over me. Yuck. I wished I could take a shower, but Daddy and Lynn might wake up. I let warm water run over my feet for another minute, then patted them dry, real gently, with a towel. They felt so raw. Putting on a pair of boots tomorrow would be torture.

Finally, I tiptoed into the bedroom and slid under
the covers. The other bed was empty. When we’d gotten back from freeing the wolves, Diana had said she was going on the early morning advanced trail ride with Maggie. She’d grabbed her riding boots and got ready to leave again. “Tell Norm and Mom where I’ve gone,” she said. “And thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome.” I was pretty sure I’d convinced Diana not to run away, and that felt pretty good.

The glow on the side of Diana’s face from the nightlight in the bathroom made her features look weird and a little bit scary. “You know you can’t tell anyone about the wolves. I mean anyone. Not your dad. Not my mom. Especially not Maggie or Russell. No one.”

“I won’t,” I said. Then I added, “Maybe you should comb your hair. Maggie might get suspicious if it’s all full of sticks and leaves.”

Diana had acted like that didn’t matter and headed down the steps, then changed her mind. She’d come in the bathroom, combed her hair and washed her face, and then gone back downstairs again. I listened to the squeak of the screen door and the soft click of the lock as Diana left. Then it had been silent as snowfall.

A
s soon as I got out of earshot, I pulled Mom’s cell phone from my pocket. I’d noticed some people from the lodge standing under a certain tree on a hill to talk on cell phones. Figured that was a spot where I’d get service. The light was grayish, the way it is in the hour before the sun comes up. I hiked to the tree and stood up against the trunk so no one could see me. I called Dad.

“Hello?” Dad’s voice sounded growly.

“Dad? It’s me.”

“Diana! What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just … was thinking I’d come for a visit.”

“Diana, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Oh, sorry.” My heart started squeezing itself. Dad sounded mad. “Well, you know, I’ve been texting you about coming to visit, but you didn’t text back.”

“Uh, Diana, things aren’t great here right now.” His voice sounded thick with sleep.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not a good time,” he said, sounding very groggy.

“Why?” I asked. He didn’t say anything. I waited for him to answer. “Dad?” Still nothing. “Dad!”

“Wh … Diana! It’s five thirty in the morning!”

“I want to come stay with you,” I cried. I felt the corners of my eyes prickling. The pounding in my ears grew louder. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“I could take a train,” I said. I felt desperate. “Kids travel by train on their own all the time, if you could just give me a credit card number.”

“Are you out of your mind?” he asked. “Your problem is you don’t think things through!”

He sounded so mean. I wished I was Waya, that I could tear something apart with my teeth. “I can
take care of everything on my own,” I said. “You won’t have to worry about anything, if you could just give me a credit card number …” My arms started shaking, and I hugged myself.

“Work is really stressful. A visit is out for now.”

At that moment, I hated him. I wanted to smash the phone on a rock. I hated Dad’s guts.

After a long silence, I heard Dad take a deep breath. “How’s the riding?” he asked, more calmly.

I couldn’t help myself. The words flew out of the intense rage lodging itself deep inside my chest. “I hate you!” I shouted.

“That’s it, I’m hanging up. I’ve got enough problems. I don’t have to listen to this. And don’t call at five thirty in the morning like this. It makes me think something terrible has happened.”

Something terrible
has
happened, I thought. I wanted to scream. I wanted to jump off the mountain. I slammed the cell phone to the ground. I punched the tree and screamed as loud as I could as a wave of fire traveled up my arm. Hot, angry tears burst from my eyes.

I stared off to the east where brightness began to spread across the horizon. I was wide awake, probably because I hadn’t taken my meds, but I felt like every ounce of my energy was drained out, like I was a wet
sack of sand. Moronic Mood-o-Meter crashed from the red zone down to about two point six.

At the sound of wheels on gravel I looked toward the lodge and saw Maggie park and get out of her black truck. I wiped the tears off my face. She spotted me and waved me over. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do except head over there. I couldn’t visit Dad. Where would I go? I had no idea what to do now. I’d need a day or so to figure that out.

“You doin’ okay, Miss Diana?” Maggie asked. She smiled at me.

I knew she could tell I’d been crying, but she didn’t say a thing.

“You’re quite the early bird this mornin’. Come help me saddle up. A married couple was supposed to go on the advanced trail ride with us, but they canceled at the last minute. It’s just you and me.” I stood watching as Maggie headed down the path to the barn, assuming I was coming. “I bet you want to do some galloping, don’t you? I can tell you’ve got a way with the horses.”

Galloping! If I said no, she’d get suspicious, and the thought of galloping made something flicker in my chest. A spark. I found my feet falling into step beside Maggie, our boots scuffing the pebbly surface of the dirt road to the barn. When Maggie opened the barn
door, a stripe of pale morning sun fell on the two barn kittens, one tabby and the other black with white feet and a white face. They stretched, blinking, and tumbled out of the stack of horse blankets where they were sleeping with their mother. They followed me around, scuffling with each other to get my attention.

I felt funny; I could feel everything starting to zoom around, up and down. It was like the blood was louder pulsing through my veins, like a waterfall in my ears. But being in the barn, going through the familiar horse routine, gradually calmed me down. I helped Maggie saddle up Copper and Chief Tenkiller and felt proud when Maggie complimented my confidence and knowledge.

Fifteen minutes later I was racing on horseback behind Maggie across the high mountain meadow. The wind whipped through my hair, and it seemed to blow away all the pain. My heart pounded with the rhythm of Copper’s hooves. Not far ahead was Chief Tenkiller’s tail, like a white flag. And just above it Maggie’s long gray braid thumped her back like a Cherokee drummer. Maggie rode like she was part of the horse.

Now THIS was riding. Galloping, free of gravity, free of the earth, practically flying.

Maggie had seen me crying, but she hadn’t asked a single question.

I imagined the wolves, right this minute, running free on the mountain, exploring woods and meadows, drinking from streams, climbing rocks to check out their territory. Maybe just inside that row of trees they were moving in and out of shadows, their gray coats nearly invisible, and their yellow eyes absorbing everything.

Up ahead, Maggie slowed the Chief to a walk. The meadow narrowed into a trail that wound down the mountain and through the woods again. Copper trotted right up behind the Chief and began to nose his way up past his flank. I saw the Chief turn his head sideways, threatening, and I wanted to gallop right by. My heart was kind of skipping.

It was like slowing down a team of oxen, but I reined Copper in. At the same time, Maggie made that strange sweeping gesture with her arm I’d seen the first day on the mountain. Copper stopped on a dime and walked along innocently just like he’d never tried anything.

“What is that motion you make?” I asked. “Copper gets right back in line.”

“It’s a version of horse whispering.” Maggie turned in her saddle as Chief Tenkiller picked his way over rocks and tree roots on the path, in and out of shadows and sun. “I taught myself several years ago. Wish I could have used it yesterday with your sister, but I was just too far up the trail.”

“I’d love to know how to do that. It would be like really talking to animals.”

“It’s all based on the idea of the herd, the pecking order. Usually the number one horse in the pack is the alpha mare. You know that from your time at the barn, right?”

“Right.” As Copper walked, I let my backbone relax into his gait. The saddle squeaked rhythmically. Bugs and butterflies darted through the columns of sun slanting through the trees. “Is Chief Tenkiller high in the pecking order?”

At that moment Chief Tenkiller’s silky tail arched. He let fly with a couple of clumps of grassy yellow dung without missing a step.

Maggie guffawed. “Oh, yeah, can’t you tell what a classy guy he is?”

I laughed, too.

“He’s big,” Maggie continued. “But he’s a teddy bear. The alpha mare in our barn is named Duchess. She’s a skinny red mare who is quite the witch. But the thing with horse whispering is you telling the horse that
you’re
the alpha. Copper’s pretty new to the barn, and I’ve been working with him some because he’s just a big ol’ mess, always trying to cause trouble.” Maggie was still turned backward, one hand resting on the back of the saddle, the other propped on the pommel.

“So Copper thinks you’re the alpha mare?”

“That’s right.”

“So, you act like a horse?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Could you teach me how to do it?”

“You’ll only be here a couple more days, and that’s not anywhere near long enough to really learn it. I mean, I’ve been working on it for years. But there are books and tapes you can get when you go home.”

“That would be fantastic.” I stroked Copper’s damp, solid neck.

“I’ll write down some stuff for you before you go home. You’ve got a good feel for the horses, that’s for sure.” The skin around Maggie’s brown eyes crinkled when she smiled. “You’re a natural.”

Maggie’s praise was like sunshine on my hair and face. Like pouring warm water on the places that were still hurting after the phone call with Dad. Hoof beats pounded the path behind us. Maggie quickly collected Chief Tenkiller’s reins. I tightened my hold on Copper. From around a bend in the path galloped a large gray I hadn’t seen before. Russell was riding bareback.

“Gran!” he shouted. “Stop!”

Copper and Chief Tenkiller pricked their ears and danced into each other as Russell slowed the gray to a trot before stopping a few yards away. He was breathing
hard. Without stirrups, his long legs hung down past his horse’s ribcage.

“The wolves got out!” he cried. “They’re gone!”

Maggie sat forward in the saddle. “What?”

“Someone let them go,” said Russell. I could tell from his expression when he looked at me that he didn’t even remotely suspect me. I remembered the way we’d talked last night, sitting with the wolves. The way Russell had laughed when Waya touched my hand with her nose. “She likes you,” he had said. “And she doesn’t like just anybody.” I remembered the things I’d told Russell about third grade, the things I’d never told anyone.

Maggie demanded, “How do you know that?”

“Someone dropped a log into the pen and propped it up on the fence. All Waya and Oginali had to do was walk up the log and jump. Dad is going to be so pissed when he finds out.”

“Hey, I’ve threatened to let them go myself a dozen times, but I’d never really do it. Not that I care about what your father thinks. But someone could kill them if they’re out running free.”

“I know,” said Russell.

Kill them?

Maggie turned Chief Tenkiller around on the path. “I’m sorry, Diana, I’ve got to get back. I’ve got to figure out what to do about this.”

In my imagination, Waya and Oginali slunk through the woods alongside us, stealing in and out of sight. Silent, listening, their hooded heads low and wary.

“They’re wild animals—won’t they be okay?” I tried to keep my voice neutral.

“Waya and Oginali don’t know how to kill in the wild,” said Maggie.

“Next thing you know they’ll be raiding chicken coops,” added Russell, ducking a low-hanging tree limb. “They’re not scared enough of people.”

“What do you mean, not scared enough?” Goose-bumps pricked their way up the back of my neck into my hairline.

“Full-blooded wolves from the wild are terrified of people. They won’t come near farms or communities,” Maggie explained. “Hybrid wolves are used to people. They’ll venture closer. If they’re hungry, they’ll raid a chicken house or even chase down somebody’s cat.”

“They’d eat somebody’s cat?” I felt my face start to burn. I thought about the barn kittens. And Waya’s razor-edged teeth.

“Yeah, if they’re hungry,” said Russell.

“And then you can count on some hotheads taking a shot at them,” said Maggie, nudging Chief Tenkiller into a brisk walk. “You just wouldn’t believe how much some people hate wolves.”

We started the horses down the mountain, with Russell in the lead and me in between him and Maggie. I liked Russell and Maggie so much. I hadn’t meant to do anything to them. I thought they’d be happy for the wolves to be free.

“Whoever let those wolves go could have signed their death warrants,” said Maggie.

I looked at the way Copper’s reins crossed my palms and felt coldness seep to the ends of my fingers and toes.