Ashton Daigle

In the midst of all the confusion, things didn’t register at first for Rakov and the kid. It was only after Rakov had effectively sedated the girl and the quit struggling and snarling that they both looked over to see tears rolling down Jesse’s face.

And even then, Rakov and the kid were slow to make the immediate and full connection. For his own part, Rakov didn’t know much of the story, save for the fact that Namid was the wolf’s last known victim.

But the kid too didn’t fully grasp what exactly was happening for a few moments that seemed to freeze right along with the bitter, winter backdrop. All three men were still breathing hard, gasping for air, which came in tight, stinging gasps. Rakov saw the glimmer of recognition first in the kid’s eyes, and then on Jesse’s face.

The kid was already up, and scavenging through the back of the wagon for a blanket, furs, anything to try to cover Namid’s restless form. He found a tattered, old blanket, grabbed it and jumped down from the back of the wagon, hurrying back to where Rakov and Jesse were hunched over the girl.

“The girl,” Rakov said, his accent sounding even thicker as his chest heaved from the effort and extreme cold. “You know this girl? Is this your girl? Is this your woman, the one who was taken from town?”

“Yeah,” said Jesse, who composed himself quickly, throwing himself into action as he and Rakov helped the kid try to cover her.

Even tranquilized, Namid still resisted slightly, flailing one of her arms out, as they held her up, trying to get the blanket underneath her. Rakov noted this and meant to comment, but there was simply no time to. They had to get her covered and to shelter immediately.

“I can’t believe it,” Jesse said, his voice almost cracking again. “All this time, she’s been alive. I thought she was dead.”

“If we don’t move quickly she will be dead,” Rakov said. “There will be time for rumination later, but now we must move.”

Rakov gestured for the kid to climb back into the back of the wagon and he did. Jesse tried to grasp Namid from under her shoulders but Rakov shook his head.

“Just pull the blanket up around her and lift from there,” Rakov said.

They did, pulling the girl up to about waist level. From there, Jesse was then able to wrap his forearm under her back and shoulder blades. Even wrapped in the blanket, her bones protruded horribly like old knobs, skeletal, against Jesse’s flesh. She was close to starvation, close to death.

For a wild and fleeting moment, Jesse though back to the terrible day he had to shoot the kid’s horse, and wondered if perhaps a quick bullet now might not be the answer; if it might not be the best thing. But he cursed himself for being so cowardly before he even finished the thought.

“Might be easier not to have to see her like this,” he muttered, whispering to himself under his breath. “But it ain’t right.”

Once he had purchase, Jesse and Rakov hoister her high enough for the kid to grab her and they slid her into the back of the wagon. Rakov climbed into the back and instructed Jesse and the kid to drive the wagon back to town as fast as they could. Once Jesse and the kid were up front, Rakov asked for his kit bag, and the kid handed it back to him hastily.

“I do not understand,” Rakov said out loud, several times to himself as the wagon jostled back and forth over the rutted out trail.

“Understand what?” Jesse asked.

“How she isn’t completely sedated,” Rakov said. “There was enough sedative there to put down a bear. Well, not literally, but enough to tranquilize at least a full grown man. But she continues to fight it. It is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s a tough girl, woman I guess is more like it,” Jesse said. “She’s been through a lot. I don’t even know her whole story. How bad is she hurt?”

“I cannot truly tell,” Rakov said. “It is too dark here. Out there, in the open I saw she had several deep scratches.”

“Where the wolf got her?” Jesse asked.

“Yes, at least I presume that to be the case,” Rakov said.

“Could you tell if she was opened up deep?” Jesse asked.

“No, I could not,” Rakov replied.

Then, realizing Jesse was going to continue to barrage him with questions he could not answer, more out of nervousness than anything, Rakov tactfully changed the subject.

“There is much that I cannot tell right now because it is too dark for a full examination,” Rakov said. “There is much that I also do not know about this young woman. We still have a ride ahead of us. Please, tell me what you can of her.”

Jesse began, slowly at first, telling the story backwards initially, from the last attack, then the first two and how they’d come to Grand Junction. But then Jesse caught himself, realizing the story might best be told from the beginning. He told of how he came to find Namid and how she’d been tied to a tree, apparently brutalized. Jesse also told of the numerous shaman who were never really able to determine her tribe or place of origin.

“That is peculiar,” Rakov said.

“What’s peculiar?” Jesse asked.

“Perhaps it is nothing,” Rakov began. “I could not really tell because the light was dim; but her features were more Slavic in origin, than they are of any of the peoples indigenous to America, the tribes as you call them; they are even Ukrainian.”

“That is peculiar,” Jesse agreed. “It’s damned peculiar if you ask me. How could that be?”

“Perhaps she was brought here by boat,” Rakov said. “Or, perhaps like myself, she crossed the Bearing Straights.”

“You mean by foot?” Jesse asked.

“Perhaps,” Rakov said. “I crossed by boat. However, there are numerous peoples, some of them tribes up in Canada and Alaska, who are believed to be descended from Russia, who traveled here who steeled into those area centuries ago. It is believed by some scientists, geologists, that there was once a land bridge between Russia and North America.”

“Do you believe that?” Jesse asked.

“I do not know,” admitted Rakov. “In either case, whether there was land or water there, the distance between the two is so short, a boat, even of ancient origins, could have easily crossed.”

“I guess when you put it like that, there isn’t much of a difference,” Jesse said. “But it’s still peculiar she might have come from there. I never thought of her of being anything but Indian.”

A still hush fell over the wagon and after a while, Namid began to stir again.

“How much longer is it until we make it to town?” Rakov asked, debating whether or not to give the young woman more sedative.

“It’s about another ten minutes,” the kid replied. “I can see Garvey’s fire from here.”

Jesse saw Garvey before he came out to greet the wagon.

From the glow of the fire, Jesse could see Garvey with an animal on some kind of leash. He assumed it was a puppy or stray dog but the kid told him it was a wolf pup.

“I guess he found it among the dead wolves that were stacked up dead in that wagon of his,” the kid said.

“I hope it fucking eats him,” Rakov muttered from the back of the wagon.

But even at this distance, Jesse could see Garvey kicking at the animal, or just jerking its leash upwards, choking the poor animal in mid air until it stopped snarling and retreated into submission.

They quickly closed the distance and Garvey handed the chain, with the wolf attached, off to one of his followers.

“Step aside or be run over Garvey, choice is yours,” Jesse said, but Garvey side-stepped slightly, and called the horses to a halt.

“Is that so wolf hunter?” said Garvey, who was already apparently drunk.

“Dammit Garvey, I’m in no mood to fuck around right now,” Jesse said. “I’m in a damn hurry.”

“A hurry for what?” Garvey asked, looking up at Jesse and the kid, craning his neck to see past them into the back of the wagon. “The big, bad wolf is dead. Where is your little faggot Russian friend Jesse? You two disappeared out on the trail yesterday for a long time. I know better, but that’s how folks start get to talking, two grown men, disappearing together all day like that.”

Garvey grinned, obviously enjoying himself. His hand was firmly gripping one of the horse’s bridles. He called out to one of his men.

“Come here Silas, come hold this for a second,” Garvey called out.

“I’d suggest you unhand the horse now Garvey,” Jesse said, finally getting sick of it and drawing his pistol. “You too Silas.”

“You’d like nothing better than to shoot me, wouldn’t you,” Garvey said, backing off, and walking around to the back of the wagon.

“Your damn straight, and not a damn soul would miss you either,” Jesse said, just as Garvey began to slink off around the back of the wagon.

Before they knew what was happening, Garvey pulled himself up on the back of the wagon and looked in. Rakov immediately stepped into view, pulling Garvey up by the lapels of his jacket and thrust him backwards with all his might.

Garvey’s boot got caught up on the rear hitch, and he nearly fell straight back onto his skull. However, the luck of the drunk was upon him. Garvey only landed square on his back, but got the wind knocked out of him for his efforts.

“Here is his little faggot friend Garvey,” Rakov roared in broken anger. “Maybe I like you too and will fuck you into the ass with my boot.”

Rakov’s effort was comical, had it not been so brutal and Jesse and the kid both laughed in spite of themselves. But Garvey fumed in anger.

“I saw what y’all had back there, Jesse’s little Indian whore,” Garvey screamed as he tried, unsuccessfully to get to his feet. “She’s all bit up and shit, wolf fucking got her good. She probably got rabies. Towns folk ain’t gonna like that any better than they did having a wolf preying on them. By God, I will make all you sons of bitches pay for what just happened.”

Rakov now drew his own sidearm and leveled it at Garvey’s forehead, but Jesse called out.

“Put it down Rakov,” Jesse said. “Not now, time’s wasting.”

Rakov began to lower the pistol, but then, at the last second, jerked his arm back up and fired three shots. The bullets hit the ground, making dirt and snow shoot up like miniature geysers, one on each side of Garvey’s face, inches from his head; the third an inch below Garvey’s groin.

The dark urine stain spread quickly sand Rakov laughed.

“Look at him, he wets his pants like a little fucking child; a little pathetic, drunk little child,” Rakov jeered.

He then ducked back inside the wagon and they continued on into town.