The Walking (25 page)

She didn't know what to make of this, didn't know what to do. He was fading fast. The color in his face was, if anything, even worse than it had been before: white and pale and dry. But he was now pacing around the perimeter of his room, when for the past six days he had been unable to get out of bed at all. He looked like death warmed over, and the juxtaposition of his cancer-ravaged body with this strong purposeful stride that seemed not to be his but appeared to have taken over him, forcing his body to go along with its aggressively inhuman rhythm, terrified her.

The hospital had support groups for relatives of cancer patients, doctors and psychologists who were willing to provide advice and assistance, but the thought of turning to one of those people about this was out of the question. At work, she thought about telling Donise, the only person at the store with whom she was at all close, but Donise had her own family problems, and the two of them were not yet intimate enough that she felt Comfortable imposing upon her friend.

She should really be talking to his doctors. This was not a feeling or an emotion. This was something physical, concrete, an action that could be seen and measured and documented. He needed to be examined by a professional, and it was her responsibility to call the hospital and tell someone.

But she didn't want to.

She was afraid.

He had started walking the day before yesterday, and she did not think he had stopped since. It could not be good for his condition, but she still did not want to alert the doctors. She had the sense that this was entirely unconnected to his cancer, that its cause was above and beyond anything with which she was familiar, and that no doctor on earth would be able to tell her what was happening.

She did not want to hear that.

And she did not want to know what was behind this unless it was simple, logical, and completely ordinary.

The truth was, she wanted her uncle to die.

It was a hard thing to admit, but at this point, she honestly felt that death would be better for him, for her and for the rest of the family.

He had nothing to look forward to other than increased pain and decreased quality of life.

She drove straight home after work. She could see from the street that there was a crowd of kids gathered around the duplex, and the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that it had something to do with her uncle. Sure enough, he came walking around the side of the house, wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms. The kids started laughing and yelling, throwing dirt clods at him. One hit the side of his face, another clump of mud spattered against his bare chest, but he seemed oblivious and kept walking, never varying in his stride.

Janet slammed to a halt in front of the driveway and ran out of her car, furious. The kids scattered at her approach, and she yelled at them that she was going to tell their parents.

Her uncle had disappeared around the east side of the duplex, and she chased after him, catching up to him in the backyard.

"Uncle John!" she called, but he did not stop or slow down. He continued walking, moving past the stunted juniper tree and around the opposite side of the duplex. She ran and caught up with him.

"Let's go inside. Come on." She reached out, grabbed his wrist, but then instantly recoiled. His skin-was cold and rubbery, lifeless, and the muscles beneath felt lax and totally without tension.

He was dead.

She knew it instinctively, and she was filled with horror and revulsion as she dropped his hand and backed away. He continued walking, ignoring her, his dead eyes stating at a fixed point in the sky, his mouth hanging slightly open, a hint of tongue poking between parted teeth.

She followed him to the front, ran up the porch steps into the house, closed and locked the door.

Only then did she start to scream.

Then

Outside, winter winds were howling through the canyon.

William lay awake in the darkness, next to the sleeping Isabella, feeling her comforting warmth beneath the quilt. Her skin was so smooth, she seemed so soft when she was asleep, but there was an inner core of iron within her, and whether this was hardness or strength he had never been able to tell. Her gifts were obviously powerful, very powerful greater perhaps than his own, but this he knew only through conversation and observation. She had told him of conjurings she'd performed, and he had seen her do magic that was beyond the capabilities of anyone else in Wolf Canyon. But he could sense nothing from her. He felt no power, could not read her or in any way gauge her abilities objectively. She was a cipher to him--to all of them, he suspected--and there were times that he wished he had never brought her back to Wolf Canyon.

But he loved her, loved her deeply, passionately, obsessively and that made up for all doubts and questions, over came all regrets.

He closed his eyes, tried to sleep. He was riding up the canyon tomorrow. According to Joseph, who had just re turned from a cattle-buying trip to Prescott, a family in a wagon had set up camp at the head of the canyon next to the river. Ordinarily, that would not be a problem, but Joseph said that it looked like this family was fixing to stay. The

man had all sorts of gold-mining equipment, sluice boxes and the like, and was planning to stake a claim on their land.

Isabella had wanted to go, but William had overruled her and said that he would take care of the problem. She'd known why he didn't want her to accompany him, and she'd only looked at him in that hard way she had and said, "Make sure you do, take care of it."

"I will," he told her.

His greatest regret had always been that Isabella was not able to bear him children, that even their combined powers had not been enough to create life from their loins. But for the first time he thought that that might be for the best. He was not sure what kind of mother she would be and was not at all certain that he wanted to see the type of child she would produce.

The night wore on, the wind eventually dying down, but he could not seem to fall asleep naturally, so William wove a spell about himself, inducing sleep and guaranteeing that he would awaken just before dawn.

He set out immediately after a quick breakfast of steak and eggs.

Isabella warned him once again that he had better get rid of the interlopers, and he assured her once more that he would do so.

It was a half-day's journey to the head of the canyon, and he followed the path of the river, passing through narrow marshy stretches where ferns grew high above his head in the cracks of the rock wails, tiding over wide sections of sand and boulders as the canyon expanded outward, the trees and plants remaining close to the cliffs, the open middle area arid and dry save for the banks immediately flanking the flowing water.

It was nearly noon when he reached his destination. There was indeed a family camped at the head of the canyon. They were living out of their wagon, but foundation space for a cabin had been cleared next to a small stand

of cottonwoods, and it seemed obvious that they were planning to settle here.

A woman was kneading dough on a flattened board stretched between two rocks, while a young boy watched her from his perch atop another ock. A heavy, bearded man was standing shiftless and shoeless next to the river, attempting to push a large wood-and-metal contraption into the water.

"Hello!" William called, dismounting from his horse. All three looked up, and the bearded man scowled, abandoning his device and picking up a rifle from behind a small bush. William made his way straight toward the woman, stood, dusting off her hands on her dress. The man hurried over as the boy quickly jumped off his rock and ran next to his mother.

"What do you want?" the man demanded, brandishing the rifle.

William removed his hat, bowed to the woman. "I merel'

I stopped off for a friendly visit. My name is William. I live farther down the canyon, in town."

'Town?" "Yes. The town of Wolf Canyon. I am the mayor. In fac that is the reason I have come to see you. if you would like to camp here for a few days--"

"Camp here? We're settling. This is going to be our home. "If you would like to camp here for a few days," Willia continued, "you are welcome to do so. But you cannot live here." "Who says so?"

William looked at the man. "What is your name, sir?" "I don't have to tell you my name."

He was starting to become annoyed, but William tried remain calm and reasonable. "You must leave," he said gentley. this is not free land.

It belongs to us."

"Who is us the man asked belligerently.

The town of Wolf Canyon."

"Yeah?"

William smiled. "We are witches."

The man and woman exchanged a frightened glance. The boy grabbed the edge of his mother's petticoat. It was the reaction he'd expected, and William could not help feeling a twinge of satisfaction as he saw fear overcome the bluster in the man's face.

"You're--"

"We're all witches. Everyone in Wolf Canyon."

The man took a step forward. "You are the ones who must be gone from here," he said bravely, brandishing his rifle, The woman grabbed his coat, tried to pull him back. "The Bible says, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." I suggest you leave here now before I shoot you as you stand."

"We have been deeded this land by the United States government,"

William said.

"And it will be taken from you by--"

The man's oratory was cut off by the rifle flying out of his hand and sailing through the air to land against the wagon. William looked at the man, met his eyes levelly so he would know that he was the cause, then let his gaze wander over to the river. There was a sound of thunder, and the mining equipment that had been so carefully set up in the sand burst apart, the pieces falling into the water.

William said in a low ominous voice.

"Begone,"

He was tempted to add an explicit threat, to tell the man that if he did not hurry, his wife and son would be next. That was what Isabella would do.

But that was exactly why he had come himself. He would not make threats he was unwilling to carry out. He would not kill the woman or the boy--and would only kill the man if forced to do so in self-defense. His goal was merely to frig ten the family away.

You have until dawn," he said. \020They were frightened, and he swung back atop his horse, heading slowly back the way he'd come. Before disappearing around the bend, he stopped, turned the horse, and for several moments watched as the family started to gather up their belongings and hurriedly pack the wagon. Satisfied that they really were leaving, he pushed the horse into a trot and headed back through the canyon toward home.

He heard Kate's screams even before he reached the corral outside of town. He willed the horse forward and held on as the animal galloped over the dusty road between the buildings.

Outside Kate's cottage, a small crowd had gathered. The young woman's face was a splotchy angry red, streaked with bloody scratches. Her enormous mane of hair was tangled and flying out in all directions and looked almost as wild as her eyes. "I wanted that baby!" she screamed. She threw herself at Isabella.

Isabella smiled. In her hand she clutched a bloody lifeless infant.

Even from here he could see that the blood was not from the birth but from long slices which ran along the length of its small body.

She stepped easily aside, and Kate went sprawling into the dirt.

Grabbing the other woman by the hair, Isabella lifted her up and threw her back toward her husband, Randolph. Her grip on the baby tightened, and William saw blood streaming down Isabella's arm as she squeezed the dead child.

A chill passed through him, and he jumped off the horse and hurried over. "What's going on here?" he demanded. "She killed my baby!"

"One hundred," Isabella said quietly, "is a magic number."

"What?"

"We have one hundred people in town. Until one of us

dies or moves on, no new members will be brought in, no babies will be born."

"I would have moved!" Kate screamed.

'Then we would have been ninety-nine."

"Damn you!" Kate tried once again to attack, but her husband held her back. He and the rest of the onlookers seemed frightened.

"Isabella," William said sternly.

"One hundred is our number," Isabella repeated, giving him a look that brooked no argument. She hugged the dead baby to her chest, blood soaking into the white fabric of her dress.

They disappeared in the night, Kate and her husband. Isabella wanted to go after them, hunt them like animals, but this time William put his foot down. There would be no chase, no punishment, no retaliation.

He made sure the others in town knew of their differences, made sure they knew that he had prevailed, that he was still in charge.

It was too late, however. WhateveFreputation he had had among the people of Wolf Canyon was gone now, and if he was still their leader it was because he had installed himself in that position and not because they wanted him there. He was a tyrant........ He and Isabella.

This was not what he'd wanted, and if he had known it would come to this, he would not have approached the government with his petition in the first place. His dream had been to provide a home for their kind, not to establish a fief dora of his own. He'd wanted to liberate his people, not enslave them.

But it was too late to turn back. Whether he liked it or not, the wheels had been set in motion, and he could not backtrack now.

He wished Jeb were here. He'd be able to talk this over with Jeb. His friend had always been the most effective sounding board when it came to matters of gqvemance... and matters of the heart.

Right now he needed advice on both.

For he no longer wanted to lead the people of Wolf Canyon, but he would. And he no longer wanted to love Isabella--but he did.

He did not even know what Isabella had done with the new born body. He was not sure that he wanted to know.

What if, he thought, by some miracle, she finally found herself with child? Would she kill their baby too?