Page 72 of God’s Country

“Could you sleep with that noise?” He nodded toward the tent. “Sleep apnea. I’ve told him it’s hard on his heart. And good luck finding a woman who’ll put up with that. Probably part of the reason he’s already had three wives.”

“Take my hammock. I’m clearly not going to use it.”

That was an idea that intrigued him. “Just hang it anywhere?”

“I’d suggest far enough away that your brother’s snoring won’t be an issue.”

“I think I will. Thanks.”

He still looked like a man much troubled.

“Got something on your mind?” I asked.

“The women on the island. If that’s what my brother wants, that’s what he’ll take for himself.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want to get to Canada as fast as possible. I know what you’ve been doing. Making our lives as miserable as you can. Dragging your feet until you could figure out how to be rid of us for good. Hell, you tried to get us killed today. I get that. If I was you, I’d probably be doing the same thing.” He threw a stick into the fire. “I don’t want Ollie hurting anyone else. Killing anyone else.”

“Stand up to him.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You did it tonight.”

“Because he really didn’t want to paddle anymore. Tomorrow morning he’ll be fresh.”

“Those floatplanes are a pretty clear indication the authorities are trying to track you down. If he takes time messing with those women, it’ll delay you both getting to Canada. That seems a reasonable enough argument. And here’s another. If he intends to harm them, he’ll have to go through me first.”

“Believe me, he wouldn’t think twice about doing that.”

“Then it’s up to you.”

He grabbed another stick to feed the flames but stopped and stared wide-eyed at the far side of our campsite. I looked there, too, and saw what had grabbed his attention. From the dark among the trees, two eyes reflected the light of our fire and glowed yellow.

“Stay calm,” I said quietly to Stan. “And no sudden movements.”

A moment later, the wolf stepped cautiously into the light and stood staring at us. He was a gray wolf, a large male. I judged him to be six feet from nose to tail and weigh well over a hundred pounds. Wolves typically avoid humans, unless they’re forced into an encounter by hunger. But this male looked healthy, well fed. So he wasn’t eyeing us as food.

“What… what should we do?” Stan whispered.

“Nothing,” I said. “This is a good sign.”

Stan risked taking his eyes off the wolf for a moment to look at me with disbelief. “Good?”

“I’m Ma’iingan, Wolf Clan. We’re brothers.”

“Is it… hungry?”

When any canine, wolf or domesticated, eyes you steadily, without a tail wag as a friendly gesture, it can seem threatening. But I felt nothing like that from the wolf.

“Boozhoo, brother,” I said in a calm voice.

The wolf had been watching Stan. Now his glowing yellow eyes turned to me. Henry Meloux, that wise old Mide, had often looked at me in the same way, as if peering all the way down to my soul. The wolf made no move toward me, simply stood his ground.

Stan had the Glock in his hand, and slowly he brought it to bear on our visitor.

“He’s not here to harm us,” I said. “Don’t do anything stupid.”