Country Matters

conclusion

by Beverly Forehand

“Sin? Is that a place or something? I don’t guess I have,” I said.

“It’s a river,” she said, “In France. Big river. Probably nearly as big as the Mississippi, but it’s nowhere as long. There was a time way back, in the 1300’s when it froze through. Think of it. A river as big as the Mississippi frozen down to the core. Anyway, it froze and the wolves came across it right into Paris, right into the city. They weren’t afraid then, you see. There were more wolves than men after the plague, and the wolves didn’t have much to fear. But they learned it later, when guns came and more and more men were born and less and less wolves. They remember, you see. They remember. Dog’s memories aren’t so long.”

I thought of Clover and they way she always jumped when the vent came on in the truck, even though she must’ve had that cool air hit her hundreds of times.

“Wolves remember,” she said again, “That’s why this,” she said tapping the yellow jar, “and my dogs work so good. If the wolves get scared off once, they’re likely to stay away unless a great need presses them.” She looked out the window. The sun was failing and falling golden over the wooden floor. “It’s not so bad here,” she said, “There’s plenty to eat besides sheep. It just takes a bit of work — for a wolf.” She picked up the jar and pushes it and the bag of herbs into my hand. “You’re dog’ll be ready to go now. I’ll bring my boys by in a week or so. See what we can do and check for tracks and marks to see how big a pack you have a problem with.”

I nodded at her, my hands being full, “I’d be much obliged,” I said.

She walked with me to the front door and pushed open the screen. “Don’t be a stranger,” she yelled after me. Clover barked once at her yell then slunk down in the seat. I carefully centered the jar and the herbs between me and Clover. She gave the herbs a sniff and then lay her head on her paws. I started up the truck and turned around careful of cats and big dogs and turned back down the dusty road toward home.

Well, Clover and I had an uneventful enough ride home and after a few days the girl showed up with those dogs, just like she said. I hadn’t had a chance to try out any of her remedies yet and she said that was lucky enough since they would’ve spooked her dogs. It was already starting to get dark when she drove up and by the time she got all those big dogs out of the back of her truck and set them loping about, it was near to sunset. I studied the sky.

“Clear enough, I guess,” she said, “We shouldn’t have any problem with the weather.”

I nodded. “You sure you want to be going out this late?” I asked.

“It’s the reason I’m here,” she said, “I didn’t figure that wolves would come marching across your fields at mid-day.” She whistled and those big dogs perked up their ears. “Reckon we’ll take a look around and see what we see,” she said. Then, she turned heel and headed off with her dogs toward the low pasture. I watched her til she was too small to make out clearly and then clucked at Clover the come inside. She lingered a bit, her brown eyes watching the other dogs in the distance and then followed me. The screen door swung shut behind us and I pulled the heavy wood door closed for the night.

Now, the girl had said that she’d come back in the morning, but I still couldn’t sleep. Dogs or not, it didn’t seem right for her to be out there, just a girl, in the night. But what could I do? She didn’t even so much as take a rifle with her, not that I saw anyway. Big dogs or not, there are plenty of things prowling about in the night and wolves are the least of them. Mountain lions and rabid foxes and trigger-happy hunters with poor eyesight just to name a few. It might not be hunting season but that didn’t stop some folks from getting off a shot or two at a deer. And I remembered last year a bunch of boys had gotten liquored up and shot old Earl’s best heifer thinking she was a prize buck. Some folks got more time than sense, I’d say.

The feeling grew on me. Clover sat by the door and waited. Every now and then she thump her tail and it would make a dry whack on the wood floor.

“Think I should go on out?” I asked her, “Make sure everything is okay?”

Clover looked at me and gave her tail another whack. “I reckon you’re right,” I said. I rummaged around in the cabinets till I found a flashlight with some juice left in it. I flicked it on and off and it gave out a strong steady light. Then, I took down my 30/30, the one with the sight and shoulder strap. Too bad my night eyes weren’t what they were once. Still, it was a full moon, hunter’s moon, and I thought I could hit a wolf if it came to it. For good measure, I jammed the herbs, wolfsbane she called it, in the pocket of my coveralls. I patted to make sure that I had everything — extra bullets, wolfsbane, pack of cigarettes, lighter. I grabbed a moonpie too. No sense in starving.

Clover jumped up when I unlocked the dog wagging her tail something fierce. “No, girl,” I said, “This isn’t a night for you.” She slumped down on the floor and put her head on her paws, looking at me dog-eyed. I reached down and scruffed the fur on her head, “I’ll be back soon enough,” I said.

I stopped on the porch to let my eyes adjust to the night. It was bright. That big full moon hung heavy and orange in the sky. I wasn’t really sure which way to go, but after some thought, I started out the way I’d seen her go, over the low pasture toward the grazing fields.

Once I crossed over the hill, the house was lost from sight. Clover must still be waiting by the door, I thought, hoping I’ll come back for her. I walked a bit further. The air was crisp and colder than usually for a summer night. And there was something else. Something like danger on the wind. Like a hint of electricity. A hunter’d know what I mean — it’s that excitement you get right before a big buck comes into your line of sight. It’s like you can feel him there before you can ever see him.

I could see the sheep up ahead clustered together like a cloud gone to ground. The stirred a little when they smelled me and milled in my direction expecting food or comfort. I knew they felt it too. I had a sheep stung by a bee once come and duck its head under my arm. It’s like the whole flock wanted to tuck themselves under and hide. You could smell something wild — that raw, sharp smell — I knew it through and through. All wild things have it, even stray cats and dogs. When wild cats broke into my barn and laid up in the straw, I knew it just by the smell. But this was a little different. There was no smell of fear underneath. This smell was tangy and high and I knew just from the hint of it that it was old and didn’t give a flip about me or any man.

The sheep gave a little collective shiver and pushed in on themselves. Then I saw one of those big dogs on sitting on the hill, like it was watching over the flock. I craned my eyes around and sure enough they were stationed all around, almost hidden front sight. Every dark eye fixed on the sheep, ready to pull down anything that didn’t bellow. I raised my hand, hoping they could see it was me, but the dogs didn’t budge. These were professional dogs. They didn’t give any little yips of acknowledgement like Clover and cock their ears. I was the same as the sheep to them. I walked through the flock and up past one of the dogs. He turned his eyes toward me, but didn’t move and I walked on into the night.

Now, it might seem strange that I didn’t call out for the girl. But to tell the truth, I didn’t know her proper name. It was dark and clear and the moon hung low and full. Every tree, every blade of grass seemed outlined in light. There was just the slightest mist, a clash of the humidity earlier in the day and the coolness of this night, hanging low to the ground.

I almost missed them in the mist, low to the ground as they were. I crouched down on the hill sure they had seen me, but not a one moved. They sat in a circle, some on haunches and some laid down with head on paws like Clover was prone to do. There was a big wolf, gray and a half-head bigger than the rest, in the center and another wolf, dark, almost black, but slightly smaller facing him.

They weren’t fighting, just staring nose to nose, like they were in the middle of something. A meeting of the minds, or the muzzles, at least, so it seemed. I felt a brush against my back and looked back to find myself eye to eye with one of those wolfhounds. He growled low in his throat. Warning growl. But I reckoned he was warning me off or telling me to be careful. There are some things, maybe, a man isn’t supposed to see. Just like there are somethings that maybe a dog shouldn’t get used to.

I slunk back down the hill and walked back to the house. Clover was waiting for me at the door. I knew the big dog had followed me, though I never saw him. Clover gave a low growl and then a yip of recognition. I unlatched the screen door and stepped inside, leaning my rifle against the wall. I was getting old. The air seemed colder somehow and I was tired.

I don’t know how long I sat there with Clover at my feet. I closed my eyes and laid my head against the back of the wooden chair. After some time, I heard the screen door open and felt Clover bristle against my leg. A low rumbling growl rippled through her body and I looked down to see her on her feet, fur raised. “It’s alright, girl,” I said, Clover growled again and kept to her feet.

“Guess it’s hard to put up with,” the girl said, standing at the door. Her red hair looked dark and there were bits of weeds caught in its tangled mass.

“Clover’s not used to strangers,” I said, patting the still bristling dog on the head.

“Those wolves won’t be bothering you any more,” she said.

I nodded. “Plenty of room around here for wolves,” I said, “I reckon they’ll do just fine without my sheep.”

She sniffed the air. “Could be a hard winter, though,” she said, “Could be they’ll come back if they have to.”

I nodded again. “If the winter’s hard, I reckon I could leave something out for them, to tide them over.”

“That might do,” she said, “I’ll bring that pup around, when it’s big enough.” She turned and put her hand on the door.

“I won’t forget what you’ve done for me,” I said, “I’ll return the favor if I can.”

She turned back and smiled her teeth glowing softly in the dark room, “I’ll remember,” she said. She opened the door and was gone. I saw two big dogs melt out of the dark and catch up with her. I watched her till she was gone from sight. Only when she had disappeared over the hill did Clover settled down by my feet.

Men may be fooled by disguises, but no self-respecting dog ever will be. I got up from the chair, careful to step over Clover, and locked the door. “It’s too late for us, Clover,” I said. The dog stretched and gave one happy little yip, glad to be in her home on a crisp summer night.