The Wolf Tree (5 page)

“Can you imagine eternal Darkness, sir?” Mister Bradshaw asked, looking at Nel. “And cold. It’s turned our flesh this fearsome shade. I had to leave. Fever took me after I left. No doctor can cure it. It’s a slow, lingering killer. I’m afraid I’ve got it.”

Nel’s eyes widened with apprehension, and Mister Bradshaw waved a hand. “Don’t worry, sir. It’s not contagious. It comes from being in contact with the Darkness. Your people are safe.

“As I was saying, Omphalosa ain’t the same town I helped settle years back. People are scared, powerful scared. Preacher says the Darkness and the discoloration of our skins are plagues. A curse laid upon us by God for our wickedness. We are good people, as good as you’ll ever meet. But something about the Darkness, sir, it’s turned us. Family against family. Brother on brother. Fingers pointing. Accusations swirling about what others done to bring the Darkness on us.

“My brother got shot ’cause some folks said his black dog was seen wandering around the churchyard by his house. A dog! What kind of foolishness is this, I ask?” He spread his hands with the question, then, shaking his head, dropped his
arms to his knees. “Superstitious idiots. I knew it had to be something else, but I weren’t going to stick around to find it out.”

“You said you knew Water Spider?” Nel asked.

Bradshaw sat up straighter. “Right. Water Spider. I met him trading horses. We hit it off, you could say. Like to play cards and such whenever I’m over his way. I rode out to consult him. The Darkness didn’t reach as far as the Indian country, but he was already aware of it. Got an Indian boy with him said you raised.”

“Redfeather.” Nel nodded.

“The boy was about to come back here, he says, to tell you about it. I told them I’d had enough. I’m heading back to my people in Virginia, but I needed to find you and deliver the news. Redfeather says you can help.”

Mister Bradshaw coughed deeply, finally seeming to remember the mug of cider cooling in his hand. He drained it in a long gulp.

“That’s a strange story, Mister Bradshaw,” Nel said. “I know you’ve come far out of your journey to relay it to us. But … I’m not sure what we can do for you—”

“You ain’t doing it for me,” Mister Bradshaw answered quickly, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “I’m finished with Omphalosa. I feel the effects of the Darkness. It pulls on me. I’ve got this terrible urge to return, and many days in my travels I had to force myself not to turn back west. It works on you. The Darkness draws until I feel like some reverse moth—not longing for the flame but for the dark beyond.

“I had to leave before … Going to start me a farm and
hope the Darkness don’t reach the East. But it’s the people in Omphalosa. There’s still good people there. It’s them you’d be helping. They ain’t all like the ones that shot my brother. And if somebody don’t help them, there’s to be a lot more burying before it’s all done.”

Nel turned to Buck, whose silver-streaked locks nearly hid his closed eyes.

“Sir,” Ray began tentatively. “Were there any strangers in your town back when the Darkness started?”

“Strangers? There’s workers for the mill, and I guess there’s always the rare traveler passing through.”

“Men wearing bowler hats?”

Mister Bradshaw snorted. “I don’t keep track of the fashion of everyone who sets foot in Omphalosa.”

“Ray,” Nel said, frowning.

“You know what I’m asking, Nel,” Ray said, his voice respectful and calm.

“There could be another explanation for all this,” Nel said.

Then Buck said to Mister Bradshaw in his gravelly voice, “I think what young Ray is asking is, are there agents who ever work in Omphalosa?”

“Agents? Like Pinkerton detectives?” asked Mister Bradshaw.

Buck nodded.

“Well, there’s a man who built a mill a decade or so back. That’s why them foreign workers been coming in. He had a few detectives overseeing the construction to make sure there weren’t no local trouble with the business being started.”

Nel gripped his knees, glaring at Buck and refusing to look at Ray.

“Come to think of it,” Mister Bradshaw began, but broke into a wracking cough. “Those Pinkertons …” His coughing got louder and his face turned a darker gray. “Those agents …,” he tried again, but could not get the words out.

“They … they …” Bradshaw slipped from his chair, but not before Ray caught him. Bradshaw’s horrible cough grew deeper and wetter.

“Marisol!” Nel barked, getting to his feet and clapping his hand against Bradshaw’s back. “Get that jug of water.”

Marisol rushed to grab the crock and filled Bradshaw’s mug. But Bradshaw could not drink the water, his coughing grew so fierce.

“The agents …” He choked again. Before he brought his handkerchief over his mouth, a splattering of blood hit Ray on the back of his hand. Bradshaw looked up at Ray and choked, “They … wore … bowlers.”

Bradshaw’s eyes rolled, and he passed out.

“Ray, Buck,” Nel ordered. “Get him on that cot. Bring me damp rags.”

Ray stared at the speckle of blood on his hand.

“Ray!” Nel barked.

Ray touched his finger to the blood.

“What is it?” Nel asked.

Ray looked at Nel in shock, dabbing his finger across the blood. He sniffed it and held his finger up. The smear was not red, but dark, inky black. “His blood … it’s oil!”

3
WINTERGREEN

B
Y THE NEXT MORNING, THE GUESTS HAD ALL HEARD
about the man burning up with a strange fever. Nel tended him, trying tonic after tonic, sending Dmitry or Mattias out to find this herb or that root. But no matter what Nel tried, Bradshaw got worse as the day went on.

Bradshaw, no longer conscious of where he was or the people around him, began periodically screaming. The guests anxiously started leaving, and soon all were gone but the Everetts, who agreed to stay and help distract the children by taking them fishing or anything to keep them away from the lodge, where Bradshaw’s terrible cries unnerved them all.

As evening fell, Bradshaw finally quieted. Ray helped Nel, as they put cloth after wet cloth on the man’s burning forehead. Bradshaw’s vision failed, and he stared blindly at the ceiling mumbling about the Darkness. By midnight, he was dead.

*   *   *

Ma Everett fried up fish for supper the following night. It had been a long day. Mister Bradshaw was buried on a knoll beyond the millpond, and an unsettling quiet descended over the residents of Shuckstack. As Ray sat down at the table, weary and exhausted, he noticed that Nel had not joined them.

To be certain, someone would have to see this Darkness. That would mean going west. All day—as he had helped Buck dig Bradshaw’s grave, as he had covered the man with earth—he had been thinking about the strange story. With sick reluctance, Ray realized there was nobody else from Shuckstack who could go. He had to find out. He had to go to Kansas and investigate the Darkness.

The following morning, Ray was helping Mattias and Sally till the garden plot. The topmost crust of earth was still brittle with frost, but below, the dark, moist soil crumbled easily around their hoes. As Mattias and Sally discussed what vegetables to plant, Ray saw Nel walking along the far bank of the millpond.

“I’ll be back,” Ray said, leaning his hoe against the split rail fence that bordered the garden.

When Ray rounded the millpond, Nel had already disappeared into the forest. He was easy to track. Ray scanned the brown carpet of leaves until he found the circular breaks made by Nel’s wooden leg. He knew he was following the right path, as ferns, flattened with Nel’s passing, were slowly rising back into place. Soon Ray caught up with Nel kneeling to collect a bright cluster of wintergreen.

“Making a Gambler’s Hand Rub?” Ray asked.

Nel shook the loose dirt off the roots and wrapped the herb in a wet cloth before placing it into his sack. “No, Missus Maynard’s still got plenty on her shelves.” Nel took Ray’s hand as he stood. “Have you noticed any cinquefoil around?”

Ray nodded. “I think there should be some over this way.” He led Nel toward the creek that fed the millpond. Pushing back the leaves and ferns, Ray exposed the early shoot of a plant with five leaves. “Five-finger grass?”

“That’s the one,” Nel said. “Still too early for the flowers, but take some of the leaves.”

Ray plucked the small leaves. “Cinquefoil’s for gambling also. You planning a card game with Mister Everett?”

Nel chuckled. “You’ve picked up a thing or two from me about my tonics. I’m glad I’ve taught you something. No, these aren’t for me. Wintergreen and cinquefoil are good for gamblers’ luck, but they’re protective herbs also. Good for those making long journeys.”

Ray turned sharply. “Are these for me?”

Nel’s careworn face tensed as he nodded. “To protect you from the Darkness.”

Ray didn’t reply. Nel continued walking, looking around at the trees. “The ash tree,” Nel pointed up the slope. “Also good for safe travel. Ensures that those who leave will also return.”

Ray followed him. “I didn’t think you’d want me to go.”

“I didn’t. I don’t.” Nel pushed a hand to his knee above the wooden leg as they climbed through the forest. “But we
have no choice. Ray, I didn’t want to believe that the Machine was still powerful. I believed … I hoped that with the Gog’s death, the Machine was, for all good purposes, dead with him. All I’ve wanted is for you and the others to be safe here at Shuckstack.”

He sighed before continuing. “But that’s changed. Bradshaw brought a piece of the Darkness, a sign of the coming threat of the Machine, to our very doorstep. It fills me with a deep and weary sadness, Ray, but I have to finally face the truth.”

Ray was not sure if he felt relief that Nel finally agreed with him or sad that he was right all along about the Machine’s threat. “What do you want me to do?”

“Go first and find Redfeather and Water Spider. I trust Water Spider’s counsel. He is wise, and I’m sure he has been looking into what is at the root of this Darkness. Meet with him. Then find out what’s going on in Omphalosa. Investigate the town and the Darkness. See if these agents are really Bowlers or ordinary Pinkertons. Be careful. No unnecessary risks. I want you two to come back safely—”

Startled, Ray asked, “I’m not going alone?”

Nel’s wooly brows lowered over his eyes. “I’m sending Marisol with you.”

“Marisol?” Ray asked.

“Yes. She was the one who convinced me that you two needed to go investigate the Darkness. She said you’d already discussed it, and that she was joining you.”

Marisol! With all that had happened, Ray had forgotten about his promise to Marisol.

“You act surprised,” Nel said.

“I am,” Ray said as he followed Nel through the forest. “I told her I’d take her with me on a trip, but that was before Bradshaw arrived. I didn’t mean to take her on something like this. What about Buck? Why can’t he help me?”

“Buck can’t risk leaving Shuckstack now. He’s wanted for the murder of a law man. He can’t go, not with a bounty on his head.”

“Si, then!”

Nel shook his head slowly as he placed the cinquefoil and wintergreen in a small pouch. “I wish she could. She’s still too weak, Ray. If she travels now, if she comes in contact with that illness from the Darkness, she might not recover. It’s too much of a risk. No, Marisol will go with you. I wish she didn’t have to, but it is the best of a bounty of bad options.”

Ray looked down at his feet as he walked.

“Have faith in her, Ray,” Nel said. “I think we have all underestimated Marisol. I especially have been guilty of it. She will prove herself.”

Nel reached the ash tree. He bent to collect several of the leaves lying on the ground. Crushing them in his hand, he sprinkled them into the pouch.

“Ray, the Nine Pound Hammer is broken. And so we have no means to destroy the Machine. You’ve become a powerful Rambler. But make no mistake, son, you cannot destroy the Gog’s Machine.”

Ray considered this for several moments before replying, “Then who will, Nel?”

Nel handed the pouch of protective charms to Ray. “That is an important question, isn’t it? I’ll seek Mother Salagi’s counsel. Come on. Let us get you ready for your journey.”