Eli was pretty sure his foot wasn’t crushed, but he’d managed to wedge it good and tight under the boulder he was trying to move. He pulled his leg again, but no use. He tried to dig under his foot, but the hardscrabble ground bloodied his fingers and broke his nails. Bad day to be stuck in the sun. Born and raised in western Missouri, he still never knew what to expect. Sure, the wooly worms gave him a glimpse of how to prepare for winter. But early spring was unpredictable, and he was drenched in sweat.
Sweat stung Eli’s eyes as Corporal Porter plunged his bayonet into the Confederate soldier’s back. The rebel fell face first into the water of Wilson’s Creek. His arms and legs flailed as if he were trying to swim; then he went still.
When the corporal asked Eli why he didn’t kill the bastard himself, Eli said he was going to take the fellow prisoner. “We got no means for prisoners,” Porter said. “Just kill him, Private. There’s nobody gonna judge you here in Hell.”
Over the course of many more battles, Eli relied on the corporal’s words, more often than he cared to admit, to fall asleep.
Eli considered whistling for Eyes again. But what good would that do? The wolf was probably powerful enough to dig out his foot, but wouldn’t know to do so.
The little thing couldn’t even see yet. Eli figured a bear must’ve got its mother. Liza, frontier-hardened, would’ve told him to leave the poor creature to nature. But Liza was gone and Eli figured he could use the company. The pup yipped and nipped as he carried it back to his cabin. He didn’t know which of them was more excited the morning he awoke to find the baby’s eyes starting to open.
When Eyes was a few weeks old, he started chasing birds that dared alight on his territory. Eli used scraps of smoked rabbit and whistled if Eyes ventured too far. After a few months, the wolf usually ended up on top when they wrestled. At about a year, the wolf in Eyes would emerge occasionally, and he would snarl at Eli, who would lower himself close to the ground and look away until he felt the animal’s rough tongue scraping his cheek.
At first, Eli thought it was the scent of fish, rabbit, and venison in the smokehouse that made Eyes whine, paw the ground, and howl. But the wolf began disappearing for longer and longer. When he didn’t come back for weeks, Eli thought he’d seen the last of Eyes. But then he turned up for a day or so, the last time while Eli was working the ground with the hand-plow he’d modified from the implement he and Mike had used. Eli was happy to put the plow away and have a quick wrestle.
Eli focused on the sound of a woodpecker drumming in the stand of hickories at the edge of his acre. Suddenly the bird went quiet, and Eli heard a nicker, twisted ’round and saw a rider approaching. The fellow came close, but stayed on his mount. “Looks like you got some trouble, friend.”
The stranger spoke with an accent that wasn’t local. Maybe a drawl. Maybe a reb.
Eli pointed toward his foot. “Help me move this rock.”
“Yessir, you got some real trouble.” The stranger looked around. “Never knew it could get so alone up here. You alone up here, friend?”
Eli didn’t know how alone he’d be after the war ended. As he approached the farmstead after his long trek on foot, he smelled the horror before it came into view. The cabin was charred timber and ashes except for the stone fireplace. He screamed for Liza, but she was nowhere to be found—until he found her. What was left of her. In their bedroom. He stumbled out into the weed patch that had been their garden and discovered the cow and Mike the mule sloppily butchered. A Confederate flag was wedged in Mike’s rib cage.
Liza and Eli had met at one of the weekly Saturday night dances in the town hall. Before the next harvest, they were married, squatting on three acres of their own, and ready to start a family. Then the war jerked Eli away.
After losing his wife, Eli figured at some point he’d marry again when the time was right. But even after two years, that time was stubborn as a stump.
Yep, he has a drawl, Eli thought. “No, I’m not alone. My wife and three boys are nearby.” He immediately wondered if two would’ve been more believable.
The stranger put his hand on his holster and looked around. “Pretty dang quiet. Not sure I believe you, friend.” He sniffed the air. “You got some meat over there in that smokehouse?”
After hanging the freshly cleaned rabbits, Eli watched the smoke swirl into the sky. It was a breezy day, and Eli wondered if the pungent scent would find its way to Eyes. To the nose of Eyes, he thought, and chuckled at his own joke. He hadn’t seen the wolf in some time and missed him. Eli put his fingers to his lips and whistled three times. Maybe between his call and the smell, Eyes would pay a visit. Meanwhile, it was time for his next chore—moving that boulder so he could plant a couple more rows of sorghum to trade for milk, eggs, bullets, and maybe a little whiskey.
“What brings you to these parts, friend? You a Reb?” Eli twisted his trapped foot back and forth.
“Reb. Yank. Don’t matter no more, do it?”
“Maybe. How’d you find my place? Been here before?”
The stranger pulled out his gun and laid it on his saddle under his hand. “Now what makes you think I’d ever want to be twice in a shit place like this?”
Eli saw something emerge from the woods behind the stranger. As it crept closer, he could tell it was a wolf. Eyes? Maybe it didn’t matter. “Where you from, friend?” Eli held the man’s stare with his own and kept working his foot. Angling behind him, the wolf edged forward. Eli noticed the horse’s nostrils flare. Just a little closer, Eli thought. The wolf began circling to get downwind, but was too late. The horse reared, threw its rider, and galloped away. Eli jerked real hard. The boulder kept his boot, sock, and a scalp of skin, but his foot was free. He hopped to the pistol, which had fallen to the ground, and leveled it at the stranger who stood slowly, rubbing his head.
The wolf retreated a short distance then stopped.
“Please, friend. Don’t shoot. I wasn’t gonna hurt you. It’s just…I’m hungry is all. Real bad. And that pistol’s no good for huntin’ and—”
“Shut up.” Eli, his foot throbbing, stared at the stranger. The reb. The man who maybe killed his wife. He looked past the fellow at the wolf. Eyes. He felt the wolf was staring, too. Looking at Eli. Looking into him, judging him, it almost seemed. Eli shifted his weight and took a deep breath. “Get out of here,” he said to the man.
The fellow wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sniffed the air. “Maybe I can take a little meat from that smokehouse.”
“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you where you stand. If you’re hungry, eat your horse. Like you or one of your kind did my mule.”
The man’s face twisted. “Friend, I never—”
Eli fired a shot at the man’s feet.
“Can I at least have my gun? Ain’t safe without a gun.”
Eli studied the guy, a bit of a runt, then emptied the chamber and dropped the bullets in his shirt pocket. “Let me tell you something, friend. I lied when I said I have three boys. I only got two. Ethan and Moses. They’re in town getting provisions with their mother. My boys are already bigger than me. And meaner. I make’em wrestle wolves.” The pistol flashed in the sunlight when Eli flung it in the direction the horse had bolted. “You better hurry on,” Eli said.
The fellow slunk away and, after a few moments, knelt in the weeds, held up the pistol, and shouted something Eli couldn’t hear.
Eli watched the fellow disappear in the thicket then limped toward the wolf. “Hello, Eyes. Guess we’re even, boy. I saved you, now you saved me. Maybe twice. You got a third time in you, fellow?” Eli reached his hand slowly toward the wolf. It curled its lip, bared its fangs, and snarled.
Eli froze. Eyes turned, loped back toward the woods and disappeared amongst the trees.
Eli hobbled toward the cistern. He’d draw two buckets, the first for dousing over his head and the second for soaking his foot. About halfway there, he stopped and imagined Eyes snarling in all his glory. He thought on it for several paces, and, as he pulled up the first bucket, he was starting to wonder if he’d be able to dance by Saturday.
