Page 59 of God’s Country

“Haven’t seen another soul in days,” the young man said.

“Not a popular area of the Boundary Waters,” I replied. “Only hardcore folks here.”

He smiled but eyed the Kennedy brothers with a little puzzlement. I knew what he was probably thinking. They didn’t look at all like hardcore outdoorsmen.

“Where you coming from?” the young woman asked.

“Out of Devil’s End,” I said.

“Oh my. Tough route. There are easier ways, you know?”

“We like a challenge,” I replied.

I watched the Kennedys. It was like seeing two dogs hungering after a meaty bone, but both of them leashed to a chain that wouldn’t let them near it.

“Well,” the young man said. “Best be off. Happy canoeing.”

They took their gear, shouldered their packs, lifted the canoe, and began to walk away up the path of the portage.

Ollie couldn’t stand it. He came at me. But I’d anticipated such a move, and when he was in mid-stride, I swung the Glock and hit him a good one across his temple. He staggered and went down with a grunt. The two canoeists heard the commotion and paused.

“All okay!” I called to them. “Just a little exhaustion.”

“Be sure to hydrate!” the woman called back to us. And they continued on their way.

“You were lucky,” I told Ollie. “I really wanted to shoot you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Stan asked. “And why didn’t you go with those two? You could have got away.”

“I told you I’d take you to Canada.”

“And you’re a man of your word?” Stan clearly didn’t buy that as an explanation.

I watched Ollie slowly get to his feet, rubbing at the side of his head where I’d struck him. I was still feeling a good deal of pleasure in having hit him.

“Don’t try to understand me,” I advised Stan. “I’m not like you.”

I was in charge now. I could have tied them to trees, gone back to civilization, and sent the authorities to pick them up. But that would take at least two days. In that time, who knew what other unsuspecting people might come along, what lies the Kennedy brothers might tell to get themselves freed, what harm they might do? These were killers. Even bound, they were dangerous.

So that was part of the reason I chose to stay with them. But here’s the other thing, the darker reason. I’d only just begun to make the brothers suffer. There was so much more I had in mind for them. The wolf in me wasn’t finished feeding. Not by a long shot.

CHAPTER 33

“No more,” Ollie said. “We gotta stop.”

That day, I’d insisted Ollie give a hand with the paddling. He and his brother alternated in the bow, and Ollie complained no end. It hadn’t taken him long to work up blisters on his hands, and he truly looked beat. There was also an ugly bruise on the side of his face where I’d hit him with the Glock. Stan was looking pretty wiped out as well. It was late afternoon, several hours of daylight left. We were on Big Woman Lake paddling to our next portage and were approaching a campsite that was empty.

“We stop there,” Ollie said.

I still had the Glock. I was calling the shots. I could have insisted we go on, but that might have risked mutiny, and I wasn’t ready to put a bullet into either of the brothers. Not yet anyway. Besides, I didn’t really care if we never made it to Canada.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s pull in.”

The campsite reminded me a bit of the site where I’d camped with the men and boys of the O’Connor clan just days before. It was on a heavily wooded rise that gave a grand view of the lake. If it should storm—the sky was showing no sign of that—the trees would provide decent protection from wind and rain.

We landed and unloaded the gear. I instructed the brothers on how to set up their tent, then I went in search of firewood. When I returned Stan was sitting by the fire pit, but Ollie had crawled into the tent and was sleeping. The mosquitoes were much in evidence, and the blackflies had returned. I could smell the deet on Stan, but he was still swatting at the pests.

“Want to go trolling?” I asked after I’d dumped the wood.