Wolfehaven Read online

  From her place on the bank, Sherri could just see the subtle movements of the wheel as it jockeyed about, all the while settling towards the tripods.

  She could also see when the lowest point touched the water. At first the wheel remained stationary, but the river current was strong. For the first time, the movements of the wheel were jerky, erratic. Men yelled orders, others scrambled about on the barge, making urgent but incomprehensible adjustments. One of the men at the top of a tripod yelled something and the wheel raised a slight amount. However, the current seemed to have taken hold of it and was reluctant to relinquish its captive. Some of the men on the barge tried to grab the wheel, even to lift it with their hands.

  Emmie and her companions each lunged forward, grasping the flimsy handrail that was the only thing between them and the swirling water at their feet. They all continued to cast their gaze out across the water, some even raising a hand towards the barge as though to grip the errant wheel from a distance.

  The wheel teetered and began to cant to one side, allowing the board ends on that side to dig deeper into the water, and that began to skew the entire double barge sideways to the creaking of straining rope. Men’s shouts became shouts of desperation, anger, fear, and finally, a scream of tearing agony as one of the men on a tripod dangled off his perch with his arm pinned beneath the wheel’s hub.

  The wheel shifted and skewed inches in all directions, the push of the water gaining more and more control. The trapped man screamed until he fell silent and dangled limp by his pinned arm. Other men on the barge scrambled up to render aid, but the relentless grip on his arm was beyond their best efforts.

  The big black man bellowed instruction in both directions, and men jumped to obey, but the trapped man still dangled, and the wheel twisted in the current. Emmie and her companions had not moved from their positions, except to press ever harder against the railing as their concentration tightened.

  Sherri’s stomach lurched, and she fought to swallow her gorge. Just from the look of the man’s arm, and the way he was twisting on it as he swung about, was enough to mean he would lose the use of it, if he didn’t lose the arm entirely — or his life. She pressed Sarah’s face into her to save the young girl from the grisly sight, but she fought her mother’s hand and turned back to the spectacle.

  Sherri was about to take her children back up the bank, away from the river and the horrible thing that was happening. She was sure, now, that, contrary to what everyone claimed about their powers not being unholy, that was surely what it was, and that the blood staining the tripod was merely the first of more to come.

  Suddenly, the wheel steadied. It was as though the river had ceased to flow. The wheel stopped moving back and forth, and slowly rose up several inches.

  With the pressure off the arm, the man dropped to the deck between two of the tripod legs. Before he rolled off into the water, two other men grabbed him and hauled him away from the gap.

  Another man scrambled up to take over the job the injured man had been doing with the wheel hub, shoving his arm through the open spokes to the mechanism. Then, after a moment he looked around in anticipation, and the wheel slowly settled into the cradle formed by grooves in the tops of the tripods. The man there closed hinged brackets over each end of the protruding axle and bolted them down, did some quick adjustment, pulled his arm free, and called out, “It’s done!”

  The men on the barge, Emmie’s group, and everyone on the riverbank stood silently just long enough for the huge wheel to begin its steady spin with the current, it’s alignment to the direction of the river holding solidly. Then, as one, they all let out with a cheer.

  The black man on the barge moved over to a console where he moved some controls, and then he signaled to those on shore.

  It wasn’t spectacular because the sun still shone brightly in the afternoon sky, but it was noticeable, nonetheless. And everyone gazed from one brightly burning light bulb to another, each mounted above the doors of many of the buildings within sight. They didn’t exactly let out another cheer because their first one had still not diminished all that much, but they added a fresh burst of energy to it.

  While Lila stood waiting for Raul to be brought over from the barge, Sherri was nearby when Emmie led the rest of her group back to the shore and approached Jason. Emmie was still grinning broadly, caught up in the gayety of the celebration, but when she spoke to him, a frown flitted across her face.

  “We had help,” she said, her voice low and guarded.

  “What do you mean? Of course, you had help; there were half a dozen of you out there.”

  “No, I mean we, all of us, had help from someone else.”

  Jason met her frown with one of his own. “You mean someone else here has the ability, someone we don’t know about?”

  “I think so. Someone really strong, too. We were going to lose it. Once the current started tilting it, our control just wasn’t enough. The thing was heavier and more awkward than we anticipated. We just couldn’t handle it once it slipped and the current grabbed it. I suppose when Raul slipped and caught his arm, some of us sort of lost a grip on our concentration, especially Woody. He and Raul are pretty close. And that just made matters worse. It was like a landslide — once it started going, there was no stopping it. But someone did. And, I’d sure like to know who.”

  “Yeah. Me too,” Jason responded as he glanced about with a few others that had been standing close enough to overhear Emmie’s remarks.

  Sherri was still in awe of the whole situation: the rising and floating through the air of the massive water wheel, the calamitous happenings on the barge, and finally, the precise fitting of the thing onto its cradle. And, although the others around her were not as awestruck as she was, they still appeared to be amazed at the outcome, with small groups excitedly gesturing and recounting to each other what they had seen.

  After a few moments, Sherri realized everyone, beginning with Jason and Emmie and moving outwards through the crowd, were all turning to look up towards the road above them. She turned to see what had such an impact on the already excited crowd and saw a man standing there leaning on a walking staff and gazing down at the scene.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sherri peered up at the figure. He stood like a man who spent a lot of time on his feet, but not weary, just fit. He first appeared to be hunched over or possibly a hunchback. But, then he removed the pack from his back and placed it on the ground. The wide-brim hat on his head shielded his eyes from the glare of the westering sun, but even from her distance, they seemed to draw her forward. He rested one hand on his staff, but it was more like he was just keeping it from falling over rather than using it to support himself after a long and tiring day on the trail.

  “That was impressive,” he said, his voice a strong baritone. “Is it to replace a smaller wheel, or is this the first time you’ve used the river to generate electricity?”

  Was it so easy for others, clearly strangers to the villagers about her, to accept feats of magic — whether evil or not? Was it only the inhabitants of New Napa that saw it only as evil? Was it really because of the Prophet’s influence? Was it the influence, itself, that was evil?

  Jason walked over to the bottom of the slope from the road above and then up it to meet the stranger.

  As he walked uphill, Jason asked, “Was that you that helped when things went bad?”

  Sherri followed Emmie along with Erin, Dagar, The Judge, Charlie and several others.

  The man answered, “Helped? I don’t know what you mean. From what I saw, you didn’t need any help…well, maybe just a bit there at the end.”

  When she got to the top of the slope, Sherri discovered the man was not alone. A second figure sat across the road on a shoulder of granite, his shoulders drooping as though the weight of even his arms had become taxing. His backpack was on the ground at his feet, and his head leaned over to rest against his walking staff still held upright.

  As she approached behind Jason, Sherr
i could see them both better and was pretty sure she had seen neither one before, especially the one who spoke. He appeared older than her, but only by maybe five years. Or that could simply be from wear and tear in the world of the day. He was slim, but not skinny. He stood with his feet wide, as though he always assumed a stance of balance — just in case — and the way he held himself, as though conserving a considerable level of untapped strength — just in case. He had an easy way of speaking, and his deep voice had a soothing timbre to it that caressed her hearing, not just her ears. A ready smile exposed white, even teeth. When he removed his wide brimmed hat to wipe his brow with the back of his hand, his sand colored hair was long and held back in a ponytail, except for a couple of wisps that, in the soft breeze, teased his gleaming, pale blue eyes. And he was tall — but not too tall for her to reach, she decided, if she were to be so inclined. When she realized what she had just considered she felt herself blush and glanced about her to see if anyone had noticed.

  The second man, a black man, was maybe twenty years older. He was…softer looking was the only thing she could think of. His short, bushy hair was cut short. When he stood at their approach, he was shorter than the other by six or seven inches, probably not more than a couple of inches over Sherri’s own height of five feet seven inches. His shoulders weren’t as wide as his companion’s, nor did he exude the same — passion was the only word that came to mind — passion for living.

  The first one spoke again, “My friend and I have been on the road for some time. We would like to rest, if we may. I’m Dan Stegall.” With a thumb pointing toward the other man, he continued, “My friend is Raymond Madsen. We’re from up north, the Seattle and Tacoma area. At least I am. Raymond has been around so much I don’t suppose he has a place he claims as a home town.”

  Without responding to the stranger, Jason turned and said to those gathering behind him, “Someone bring Tina.”

  The two strangers exchanged glances when it became clear that several of the villagers had positioned themselves to both sides and were working themselves around behind, as well. The one calling himself Dan Stegall ambled over to stand nearer to his friend.

  “We saw your village was inhabited, so we thought to stop for a rest, possibly a bit of food, and friendly exchange of words. Did we mistake this place for one that welcomes travelers?”

  Jason remained standing where he could watch both men but not so close as to be easily threatened. He replied, “Wolfehaven welcomes travelers, and we gladly share what we have, although travelers are a rare sight, these days. However, before we extend a hand in welcome and friendship, there is an issue we need to address.”

  Erin walked up to stand beside Jason. Guided in the crook of her arm, Tina looked frightened and unsure of herself. She had been cleaned up and her injuries healed, but she was still only thirteen years old and pushed into the center of attention of the entire village.

  “Tina,” Jason said as he reached out to bring her closer. “Are these the two?”

  Tina glanced up at the two strangers standing ten feet away, and then she quickly dropped her gaze to the pebbled ground near her feet. In that glance, she knew she had never seen either one before. However…

  Jason draped his arm around her shoulders and said, “It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. Take another look. Are these the men?”

  She glanced up again and made eye contact with the tall one. She saw no threat there but could not look him in the eye while the possibility of his destruction was so clearly within her grasp. She glanced back toward the crowd still gathering at the top of the road from the riverfront, and immediately saw Jerry and Jackie. They both glared at her, but a grin worked its way onto Jackie’s face as his hand gripped the hilt of the knife sheathed at his waist.

  It was the answer. All she had to do was to say it was them, the strangers that had raped her. She owed them nothing. They were not of the village. Her momma would be safe. She would be safe. Uncle Joe would have no reason to hate her. It was the perfect answer.

  “Yes,” she mumbled, nodding her head at the same time.

  “You’re sure? Look at them again. Are you sure?”

  She locked eye contact with the tall man again. He could not even know what offense he was suddenly accused of, but his eyes held a plea. She broke the contact, turned her face to Jason and said, “Yes, it was them. They did it.”

  The two strangers heard her words, but so did the men standing around them. Before either man could draw a weapon or make a move to defend himself, Charlie Dickerson and several others closed in to grab each one by the arms.

  “What’s she saying? We’ve done nothing! I swear it!”

  Charlie stepped in front of Stegall and said, “It’s like this. We don’t know you. We do know Tina. We know what happened to her, and now it looks like we know who did it. Do yourself a favor and keep quiet. If you put up any kind of a fight, some of these folks behind me just might get it into their heads to forget about any trial and decide to hang you right now. Hear me?”

  Stegall glared into Charlie’s eyes for a moment then asked, “Will you hold a trial? Will we have a chance to defend ourselves?”

  “Yeah, you can defend yourselves. Don’t know how, but you can have your say.” Then, turning to a man not holding onto either of the prisoners, he said, “Dave, take a couple of guys and go make sure there’s nothing in the storage room that these two can use as a weapon or to break out with. Then see how quick you can put up something to hold a locking bar across the outside of the door. Come to think about it, do the same with the root cellar for the man Emmie and Raven caught. Who’d a thought we’d need a jail.”

  Jason said, “Charlie, we’re still going to have to post a guard outside the door for these two.” Then, turning to face the crowd and speaking loud enough for most to hear, he added, “It sure wouldn’t do to have someone try to handle things before we’re sure of everything, would it?”

  Charlie looked about at the familiar faces, some of which bore lines of rage. “No, that wouldn’t do at all.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Jason strode across the river road from his house and down to the Village Center. Even with the sun far enough above the eastern hills to burn off the last wisps of a misty fog, the air still had the remnants of the night chill that usually made it through the river canyon from the nearby coast. He turned at the sound of approaching footfalls.

  “Good morning, Jason,” said The Judge. He stopped beside Jason and looked to the east as Jason had done. “It looks to be a fair day.”

  “Morning, Judge. I believe you’re right, at least as far as the weather goes. I’ve got a feeling about this trial, though. Stegall seems sincere. He doesn’t strike me as a rapist of children — or anyone, for that matter. And his friend, Madsen, is even less so. I don’t know either one, but I just can’t see them in that role.”

  The Judge paused for a moment before responding. “I have to say they impressed me the same way. However, Tina did say they were the ones.”

  “Judge, you know as well as I do, probably better, that eye-witness and victim identifications of suspects is not all it’s cracked up to be. Tina is young; she was pretty badly traumatized; she was thrust onto the center stage in a situation that has to be embarrassing, at the very least. It could be no more than that they are black and white like her assailants. Like with the rest of us, her encounters with strangers are so rare, they may all look alike until she’s exposed to them for a while.”

  “Yes, I agree with all that you say. Unfortunately, anything as helpful as a forensic lab test is no longer available. All we have is her identification and the fact that strangers, especially just one white man and one black man traveling cross-country, are rare. How many such pairs have we received in the past six years? A dozen? Half a dozen? Three? One?”

  Jason gave a wry smile at the way The Judge made his point. “Okay, you’re right. They’re the first. I guess all we can do is hold a trial. But, hell, Judge, besides
your being the judge, how are we going to make it fair and impartial? Is it possible? Is it even desirable?”

  “Well, with your background in law enforcement, you would probably make a reasonable prosecutor.”

  Jason shook his head. “Huh, uh. I’m afraid I’m going to have to stay out of it as much as possible. If there is a conviction, I can’t ask anyone else to carry out the sentence.”

  “Ah, yes…the sentence. Something that may, and probably should, require considerable thought. But, I understand, and you’re probably right. As I recall, Olen Johnson was a practicing defense attorney. He could be the prosecutor, but it may be better to have the best talent on the side of the defense. Even if we already believed those two men are guilty, it still behooves us to provide the best possible defense. That’s one of the tenets of the old system that I believed in whole-heartedly. Perhaps Dagar could prosecute. That man is a lot shrewder than folks tend to think when they first look at him. Or Charlie. He is as good a man as I have ever known, the epitome of honesty and honor.”

  “You know,” Jason said, looking around at the village buildings surrounding them, “since either one would be an excellent choice, why not let them work together as a team. Maybe two amateurs together will equal the one professional they’ll be going against. Or do you think it would be unfair to have it two against one?”

  “No, I think it would work well. And, as the judge in the matter, I’ll be able to step in if need be. We’re going to have to keep in mind, too, that what we decide here is the final judgment. There’s no longer a higher court to handle an appeal. I’ll have to be, perhaps, a bit more controlling than a trial judge would have been back when things were different.”