Spirit of the Wolf (16 page)

The man
doubled
both
fists. "I won't say it again, W.C.; mind your own business!"

Chance
crossed his arms over his chest. "Seems to me you're makin' it my business
,
makin' it
everybody's
business
since you insist on
bellowin' like a bull." He'd
snickered. “Moo
in' like a cow, I shoulda said,
'cause no
real
man would terrorize a
helpless woman.”

Horace shook a fist under
Chance
's nose. "Back off, man, or...."

Chance
took a calculated and
confrontational step forward. "Or
what
,"
he’d
demanded, his voice dangerously low.

In anticipation of a brawl, the store emptied. Even Francine slipped away from what was threatening to become a full-fledged fistfight. Later, she testified at
Chance
's trial that she'd left the store to fetch the sheriff. "I didn't want
Chance
gettin' on Mr. Pickett's bad side on account of me. I been
on his bad side
long enough to know he kin make a body wanna lay down an' die...."

Though well-intended, Francine's testimony hurt
Chance
more than it helped him, because in the end, the jury had focused on his anger and his threats instead of on
Chance
's attempt to protect her from the shame and anxiety induced by Horace's wrath
ful intimidation
.
Chance
could only thank his lucky stars she hadn't been present to witness the meanest part of his dispute with Horace:

"
Why,
I've a mind to
—“

Chance
's harsh, angry laughter had interrupted Horace's sentence. "You hardly have a mind at all, Horace. But I'll tell you what you'd better remember in that pea brain of yours
. I
f I ever hear-tell you're threaten' Francine again, it'll be the
last
t
ime you
terrorize
a woman!"

Horace swallowed and took a step backward. "You threatening me, W.C.? 'Cause if you are...."

"No-sir
. That
wasn't a threat
.” A second ticked by before he added, “I
t was a
promise.
"

"Who do you think you are, telling me how to run my business?"

He'd followed the banker outside, onto the porch. "Maybe I didn't say it plain enough: Pester Francine again, and I'll break your fat red neck."

Horace grit his teeth, whirled around, and began stomping toward the bank. "You don't scare me, W.C.," he'd repeated. "Don't sca
—“

"Boo!"
Chance
hollered, stomping his boot on the board walkway outside t
he store, laughing as Horace
hot-footed it to the other side of the street
, each step raising little clouds of dust
.

"That mean streak of yours is gonna get you in a heap of trouble some day, son."

Chance
hadn't known his uncle was in town, let alone there beside him on the steps of the general store. "Uncle Josh," he'd said, forgetting about the joke he'd played on Horace, "I'm gonna have to put a bell around your neck."

"This is no laughing matter, W.C.
You've got to learn to exercise some restraint. The Good Book says
—“

Chance
held a hand up to silence the man. It had been years since he'd tolerated a whipping from
him. H
e wasn't about to listen to a lecture. "Spare me the sermon. You've been singin' that same old tune since I was twelve. Well, I'm a man now."

"Threatening to kill someone doesn't make a man of you. Praying for the wisdom to solve problems as Jesus would have solved them.
That's
what a man...a
Christian
man would do."

Chance
walked down the steps and hoisted himself onto his horse's back. "You took me in when my Mama and Daddy died, put food in my mouth and a roof over my head, and I'm grateful for that, Uncle." He made no mention of the scars he'd wear on his back for the rest of his life...scars inflicted by leather straps and tree branches when Josh believed
Chance
hadn't behaved 'right'. He'd heard enough fire-and-brimstone sermons, both at his uncle's home and at the church, to last him a lifetime.

"I know I've been a burden,"
Chance
had continued, "but I've always tried to earn my keep. I've got nearly a hundred dollars saved up. In a few weeks, I'll be leavin' for good. You'll have one less mouth to feed, and one less worthless soul to try and save." With that, he rode off.

The next time he saw his uncle, Josh was in the witness chair beside the imposing figure of Judge Talbot.
Chance
had listened in stunned silence as Josh told a packed courtroom that, yes, he'd heard his nephew threaten to kill Horace Pickett, and yes, he believed the boy capable of such violence.

Later, deputy Buddy Smith
testified that
he'd found Horace's body in the alley between the bank and the post office. The banker's pockets had been turned inside out, he'd been savagely beaten, and his neck was broken. And, whoever killed Horace had run off with the pocket watch his wife had given him on their wedding day.

After the arrest, they'd shown
Chance
's watch
to
the distraught widow.
The watch that,
after
a week of polishing away soot and grit, he’d carried since
the prairie fire
.
"That's it. That's Horace's watch
,
"
she’d accused, sobbing into her brother’s chest, turning
the thing that had been such a comfort to
Chance
into the
piece of evidence that marked him a killer and a thief.

It was an ugly little story, and the
decade
that had passed since hadn't made it any prettier.
S
ince there wasn't a b
lessed thing he could do to change the fact,
he made a decision.

He'd leave Foggy Bottom after the harvest.

As always, he'd leave
without a word to anyone, and he’d leave
alone.

Life on the run
was no life for a woman. He loved Bess far too much to subject her to
years of hiding, of
looking over her shoulder, worrying that around
every corner or
the next bend, the hangman
c
ould be waiting.

Bess hadn't seen
Chance
in hours.

She'd looked for him as Pastor Higgins said a blessing on those gathered
to celebrate her bi
rthday. Looked for him as her guests sampled the Widow Rennick's apple butter. And an hour later, when the pastor's wife dished up the peach pies she'd baked and brought to the party, Bess searched for him again.

Halfway through the festivities, Micah announced they'd gather in the parlor in an hour to watch Bess unwrap the remainder of her presents. Overwhelmed by the surprise party
and Micah's extravagant gift
,
Bess found herself needing a moment to gather her thoughts.

She headed for her favorite spot on Beckley property, her
“
thinking place,
”
she'd come to call it, where she went when the trials and tribulations of being mother and father and overseer threatened her sometimes precarious hold on calm. Without exception, she always left the rocky precipice overlooking Freeland's wide valley feeling all was right with the world.

She looked forward to that feeling now, a
s she neared the path that
led
to the huge boulder where she perched to ponder life's difficulties
. Already,
the peace of the place
began to
embrace her.

The serenity was short-lived, however, interrupted by
a
deep, mournful
sound
. Quietly, she tiptoed closer, closer, until a silhouette came into view. There, between the leaning pines that flanked the big rock, sat
Chance
, his broad shoulders lurching with each agonizing sob.

She hadn't intended to eavesdrop
, b
ut once she'd
made it
that far, Bess couldn't think of a way back down the incline without alerting him to her presence. She'd spent her whole life around men, and knew he'd sooner die than let anyone see him in such a state. So Bess stood stock-still, scarcely breathing, lest she give her position away, and listened:

"Lord,"
came
the cracking, rasp
y
voice, "it's been a long time since you and I have talked." Head in his hands, he continued. "I'm no saint, but I'm none of the things I've been accused of, either."

The burly
shoulders
lifted slightly, then dropped
slumped with
defeat and dejection. "You're a harsh God
.
I
’ve never done a
nything to deserve a life like the one I've lived, yet You've let me live it
all these
years. If I knew why, maybe
—“

He drove both hands through his hair, swiped angrily
his tears,
and then
held his breath for a long, silent moment. "I suppose Uncle Josh would say You're trying to teach me some kind of a lesson."
Chance
punctuated the idea with a short, bitter laugh. "What am I to learn...that if I live life looking over my shoulder, I'll be better company for You and the angels? That if I live out the rest of my days without Bess...."

Without Bess?
It was all she could do to keep from running up to him, wrapping him in a comforting hug, and promising he'd never have to live another day without her. But how could she do that
and spare him the humiliation of having a witness to his grief?

Still, Bess couldn't bear to listen to another moment of his torment. Carefully and quietly, she picked her way back down to the roadside. Once both feet were on firm soil again, she made as much noise as possible going back up
, chattering as she went
. "
Chance
? Are you up here?" She took her time getting to the top, intentionally stepping on crisp leaves and unearthing as many rocks
and pebbles
as possible. "They're going to cut my birthday cake soon," she was saying as she reached the rim. "You don't want to miss that, now do you?"

Bess heard him clear his throat. He'd
moved
to the other side of the boulder, and now stood beside one of the huge pines.

Very deliberately, she faced the wrong direction, to give him as much time as possible to get hold of himself. When she turned, she put on her brightest, happiest smile. "So
there
you are!" she said, forcing
cheeriness
into her voice that she didn't feel. "I see you've found my secret place," she added, heading toward him.

He
sat
on the boulder
again,
elbows resting on his knees, staring straight ahead.

Bess stared straight ahead, too. "Suffering from a summer cold?" she asked when he sniffed.

"
I reckon
."

"Pity," she said, "because they're the dickens to shake...."

Chance
nodded. "That they are," he said softly, still st
udying
the horizon.

"It's an amazing view, isn't it?" she asked, shrugging. "I've been coming here for years, when sanity eludes me
.
" She sighed. "So tell me, what do you think of the place?"

He took a deep breath, let it out again. "I like it. I like it a lot."

"I was about six years old when first I found it." Bess joined him on the rock. "Even then, before I was old enough to truly appreciate the magnificent view, I loved it up here." She looked toward the Gunpowder River Valley beyond them. "I feel as if I can see...forever!"

She took his hand in hers. "
Back then,
" she continued, "I did some of my most serious contemplating here. Funny
,
but I remember
spending part of
my eighth birthday
here
, too. I was sitting right
w
here
you are
when I decided I would
not
marry Bobby Brown," she said, giggling, "even if his daddy did own the only confectionary for miles and miles."