Lily bolted upright in het tent, terrified, figuring that the Rifleman had just killed Mary Crow. Grabbing her bow and quiver, she crept to the edge of the little overhang, fulling expecting to see the camouflaged monster standing over a bloody corpse. Instead, she saw only Mary, gaping at the remains of her flattened car.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. Not five minutes earlier, they had both been sitting exactly where that tree had landed.
She watched, waiting to see what Mary would do. At first she just stared at the car in disbelief. Then she started tugging hard on the unyielding doors, finally managing to pry open the trunk. Crawling inside, she wormed her way into the backseat, extricating a hiker’s backpack, complete with a bright orange sleeping bag. Impressed at the array of her equipment, Lily remembered one of Mary Crow’s cardinal rules–never go into the woods unprepared.
Now, though, the famous Mary Crow was stuck in the forest only marginally prepared, with a useless car and a cold wind blowing in like a freight train.
“Serves her right,” muttered Lily. Mary Crow had killed her mother—freezing to death up here would be a better fate than she deserved. Lily started to back away and return to her tent, but she remembered her father’s cardinal rule. Feed your good wolf. Which meant, as best she understood it, to do good things instead of bad. Leaving Mary Crow alone and shivering in a snowstorm would not be feeding her good wolf at all. And as much as she hated to admit it, when Mary Crow had pulled up a few minutes ago, she’d been glad to see her. Mary wasn’t Bryan, but at least she was another warm human being.
“Okay,” she whispered, her good wolf nipping at her guilt. “This is for you, Edoda.”
Mindful that she might be giving her position away to the Rifleman, she stood up, cupped her mouth and yelled as loudly as she dared. “Come up here! I’ve got a fire.”
Mary turned, squinted up at her through the falling snow. Lily pointed to the path she’d worn in setting up her camp. Shouldering her gear, Mary followed Lily’s directions. A few moments later, she reached the top of the ridge, emerging from the gusting snow.
“I’ve got a tent over here,” said Lily. “You can warm up.”
“Thanks,” Mary panted, her breath like smoke.
Lily led her over to the tent. Warmth now radiated from the hot stones she’d moved inside, while space blankets made a bright silver quilt.
Mary entered the tent and sat near the stones. Lily was surprised at how little she’d changed—she was still slender, still wore her dark hair just touching her shoulders. She probably looks a lot like my mom would have, Lily thought. If my mom were still alive.
“Here,” said Lily filling a thermos cup with tea. “Hold this with both hands. It’ll warm you up.”
Clutching the cup, Mary looked around at the blankets and tiny stove. “You’ve done this well,” she said. “Not many people could camp so comfortably in snow.”
“I learned in Maine. We camped a lot up there.”
Mary breathed in the steam rising from the tea. “How long were you in Maine?”
“A while.” Lily said, adding nothing more. Her Maine memories were precious to her; she didn’t want Mary Crow’s fingerprints on any of them. “Too bad about your car.”
“Yeah. I just bought it last summer. Now I can’t even crawl in the front seat.”
“That tree would have killed you.”
“That tree would have killed us both.” Mary gave a weak laugh. “I guess the Old Men were looking out for us.”
“The Old Men?”
“Dodahluh,” Mary replied. “The mountains.”
Lily frowned, remembering that Mary Crow probably knew as many Cherokee words as Edoda. “I wish the Old Men would make the snow melt.”
“Their wishes aren’t ours.” Mary turned to the girl. “Tell me again about these bounty hunters. Don’t leave anything out.”
Lily repeated the story. Mary questioned her as if she were in court—how many men were there? Were they both wearing camo? What kind of weapons did they carry? Which one shot your father?
Lily shook her head. “I don’t know. He drew his knife, and made me run out the back door. He calls it Atli. He’s always made me promise to run away if anything bad happened.” As Lily gazed at the orange coals that lay on the stones, her tough, adult façade cracked. “It was really scary,” she whispered. “I had to sneak to my deer blind and get my supplies.” She looked at Mary, again trying not to cry. “You can stay here tonight, if you want. You’ll have plenty of room after I leave.”
“Still going back to the cabin?”
She nodded.
“What if your tracker finds you?”
“I’ve got an axe,” said Lily. “And a bow with twelve arrows. Man killers, Edoda calls them.”
“That’s something, I guess.” Frowning, Mary paused for a long moment. “Could I offer another suggestion?”
“I suppose,” Lily said unenthusiastically.
“You said you stayed awake all last night. Why not hunker down here overnight and go back in the morning? We can sleep in shifts and keep watch. Tomorrow, the snow might stop and you’ll be a lot fresher.”
“But what if they leave with him before I get there?”
“Is this road the quickest way to civilization?” asked Mary.
Lily shrugged. “I guess so. It’s the only one we ever take.”
“Until they clear away the tree that just totaled my car, nobody’s going anywhere on this road for quite a while.”
Victor Galloway pounded his steering wheel in frustration. He’d expected a challenging drive home from Raleigh. What he hadn’t imagined was a skidding, sliding crawl along the ice rink formerly known as Interstate 40. Everything Northerners complained about Southerners and snow had proved true—people didn’t know how to drive in it, cops didn’t know how to manage traffic in it, and snow plows were as non-existent as dodo birds. In eight hours he’d traveled a hundred miles, only now nearing the little town of Old Fort, where the foothills ended and the true Appalachians began.
Before the real fun started, he pulled off at a gas station. A full tank would put more weight on his back wheels and anyway, he wanted to try Mary again. All day he’d called; not once had she answered. He knew she had a lot on her mind, between marrying him and prosecuting Teo Owle, but this was nuts. He punched in her number and again, got her voice mail. This time he didn’t bother to leave a message. This time he hung up and called Ginger Cochran.
Her phone rang almost as long as Mary’s had, but to his great relief, Ginger finally answered—a living, breathing person on the end of the line. He wasted no words.
“Hi, Ginger. This is Victor. Have you seen Mary today?”
“No, we’re totally snowed in. Haven’t you seen her?”
“I’ve been in Raleigh. I’ve been calling her for hours and all I get is voice mail.”
“Our power’s been on and off all day. The phone lines might be down–Jerry’s calling me on his police line,” said Ginger. “By the way, Mary showed me her ring last night at dinner–it’s gorgeous!”
He perked up. Mary showing Ginger her ring was a good sign. “Did she say anything about, you know, getting married?”
“She said quite a lot. We even looked at spring gowns in Tarcila Moreno’s dress shop.”
The tightness in his neck eased a bit. Maybe a red pickup hadn’t rolled up and driven Mary out of his life. He decided to risk the most important question of all. “So do you think she might say yes?”
“I told her she’d be crazy not to,” said Ginger.
“But she’s got all that Walkingstick baggage.”
“I know. But I think your luck’s looking very good. Buy me a lottery ticket on your way home. I’ll split the power ball with you.”
He laughed, looking at the crowded gas station. Lottery tickets were not a priority tonight–people were stocking up on the true necessities—beer and cigarettes. “I’m in Old Fort now. I might make it home by spring.”
“You be careful, Victor. Jerry’s worked out of the cruiser for twenty hours straight, just on traffic calls. And it’s not supposed to get better until the middle of next week.”
He thought of asking Ginger if she would have Jerry check in on Mary, but decided against it. Cops were always slammed when the weather went crazy, and he didn’t want Mary to think he was keeping tabs on her.
“Thanks for the update, Ginger. I’ll see you guys soon.” And Mary sooner, he thought hopefully as he clicked off his phone and headed back out onto the ice-covered interstate.