THE NEXT DAY at school, Ralph and Shelley kept to themselves. Seldom did they spend their spare school time together, but recent events with their young friend had given them common ground. And William … he was to be ignored. Always desperate to be the centre of attention, this did not sit well with him. For most of the recesses, he sat on one of the swings, ignoring the cold that seeped in through his jeans, patiently waiting for the free time outside the school to end. Occasionally he’d spot Shelley or Ralph across the field and would watch them, refusing to miss them.
Once, in the hallway, he’d seen Ralph walking towards him but had managed to dodge into the boys’ bathroom. In class, because they often got into mischief when they were seated together, it was a long-held policy in the various classrooms to not allow them to sit near each other. That meant few unavoidable interactions today. And at the end of the day, once the bell had rung and they were dismissed, William was first into his boots and coat and out the door.
This was the routine for the next few days. Though they pretended not to notice him, both brother and sister knew perfectly well William was there. It was a small reserve and an even smaller school. Ralph missed his friend’s companionship, and in a weird, unexpected way, Shelley felt the absence of It, though she would not admit it. How William had treated Danielle was so shameful, there was little chance it would be forgotten or forgiven. It was a potentially friendship-ending event. They’d seen a side of Ralph’s friend they wished they hadn’t.
Even William’s first stirrings of guilt had made him wonder if possibly he’d gone too far in what had happened in that classroom. Lying in bed at night, eating his lunch alone, walking the snowy streets of Otter Lake, he would find his mind going back to the incident in the classroom. The more he thought about it, the more puzzled he became. Was it really that important to make Danielle draw a dog? Why? Then he remembered, he’d pushed her to the chalkboard. He always pushed Ralph, and on occasion Ralph would push back. That was their relationship. The other day, he’d pushed Shelley. That was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t push girls. And yet he’d pushed Danielle.
If he’d seen that little girl somewhere at school, William might possibly have done something to try and make it up to her. But what, he wasn’t sure. Definitely not apologize. That wasn’t William. Something. The young boy wanted things to be back the way they were. Even if it meant he couldn’t draw the best horse. He’d be more than willing to accept that. But he hadn’t seen Danielle.
None of them had.
Nor would they the next day. Or the day after that. Danielle Gaadaw was not coming to school. Behind the school, Shelley found Ralph sitting on a stump that had once been a tall oak tree before it had been struck by lightning, about a year before Ralph had been born.
“Have you seen her?” Shelley was almost out of breath. The hill down to the oaks was a steep one. There had once been a fun and fabulous ice slide down it that the kids had spent their lunch hour and recesses sliding down. But in their infinite wisdom, the teachers had dropped a load of sand on it, making it virtually impossible to pick up any decent speed or a sufficient lack of friction; any attempt at sliding down the hill now resulted in ripped and torn clothing and the occasional detention if caught. Student safety and legal precautions were the reasons cited, not that it mattered to the kids. It was just another infringement on juvenile fun. Yet another memory of childhood enjoyment banned by the same adults who a few decades earlier had themselves flown down that same hill with loud and joyous abandon. The hypocrisy of adulthood was not lost on the youth. Even so, it was inevitable that these kids, down the road, would turn into adults themselves and eventually end up pouring their own buckets of sand onto the next generation’s fun. One of the few real constants in the world.
This led to a unique cause-and-effect battle between the students and the school staff. On Fridays after class, some enterprising kids would mysteriously surface just before dark with pails of water and pour them down the sanded slide. The outcome was a weekend of excellent downhill skimming. But, come Monday morning, more sand would be poured down the icy hill for yet another week. It was an eternal cycle, repeated throughout each season and over the years. But this was an issue for another time.
“No, I haven’t. You?”
Shelley shook her head. “Of course not. I wouldn’t be asking you if I had.” Shelley paused as she looked up the hill. “Should we do something?” Another earth-shattering event, Shelley asking her younger brother for advice.
“Like what?” For a moment, brother and sister said nothing, because neither knew what to suggest. What do you do in a situation like this? A shy little girl hasn’t been seen in school in a couple of days. She could be sick. Wouldn’t the teachers know? The principal? Would the principal have called a truancy officer? Did truancy officers still exist? These mysterious creatures had long been lorded over students as a way to frighten them into regular school attendance, but Shelley and Ralph weren’t actually sure if they really existed. Were they like the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny?
Shivering slightly, Shelley held the collar of her light brown coat closed. “I don’t know.” Once more they were silent, feeling the cold breeze coming off the lake that gave the community its name. Spring was still two months away, and already they were hearing adults complain about how tired they were of winter. “How about William? Talked to him lately?”
“Nope. I’m still mad at him.”
To Shelley, that was the only good news of the day. “I always told you he was a bully.”
“Yeah.” The wind seemed to be picking up, focusing the cold and helping it to find every seam and opening in their clothing, resulting in the unusual and silent wish that recess would soon end. “We could go look for her. I mean, we know where she lives. Or even just call her. Nothing wrong with that.”
Shelley smiled. “Good idea. As soon as school is over. Do you know her phone number?”
Ralph shook his head. “Gotta be in the phone book.” They had a plan. It was a beginning.
But it wasn’t.
Finding the Gaadaw phone number was the first thing they focused on once they got home that afternoon. But there was no Hazel Gaadaw under the heading of Otter Lake. “Maybe they don’t have a phone,” offered Ralph.
“Who doesn’t have a phone?” answered Shelley, looking as incredulous as a possible for a twelve-year-old. “Everybody has a phone.”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I don’t know anything. Maybe it’s listed under someone else. What do you think we should do now?”
Shelley thought for a moment. “We could go over there. They’re just twenty minutes away. It’s almost dinnertime, so they’re sure to be home.”
Though devoted to solving the mystery of the missing Danielle, Ralph put up a half-hearted attempt to postpone their doing so immediately. “Go outside!? It’s cold, and we just got in. Do we have to? I mean, like you said, it’s almost dinner.”
“You’re such a wimp. Come on, we’ll be back before dinner. Or do you have a better idea?” Unfortunately, Ralph had no such better idea, resulting in both brother and sister once again dressing for battle against the Canadian winter elements. The Thomas door opened, letting Shelley and Ralph out on their mission. And as Shelley had predicted, twenty-two minutes later they were walking down Twin Pine Lane, barely a minute away from the Gaadaws’ trailer.
“What do we do, just knock on the door?
Shelley shrugged. “I believe that’s how things are usually done. People do it all the time.”
“Very funny, but, Shelley, we don’t know these people.”
“We know Danielle.”
Ralph didn’t seem convinced. “I’ve heard stories about that place. About Hazel and that guy. What if something happens?”
“Nothing’s going to happen. And don’t listen to stupid stories. I bet William started them all. Look, there it is, just ahead.”
Indeed, the Gaadaws’ trail was just two dozen frozen feet ahead, a beat-up white trailer of the long and narrow variety. It appeared to have survived many bad winters and scorching summers over the years. There was a set of well-worn steps leading up to the door and, along it, a wobbly handrail of dubious strength. The sun was beginning to set in the cold late-afternoon sky, making it gloomy. A dull yellow light could be seen coming from the front window. Taking a deep breath, Shelley marched forward. Climbing the steps, she knocked gently on the door; she could hear something rattling on the other side. Maybe something like a dream catcher was nailed to it. There was no answer. She knocked again, a little louder. Suddenly the door opened, and there stood Hazel Gaadaw framed in the doorway.
Danielle’s mother was younger than they had expected, but she definitely lacked any youthful vigour that a woman of her age might normally have. She looked tired and worn, as if she had long ago passed her personal best-before date. Hazel smelled of beer, both from her breath and what had evidently spilled on her sweatpants and T-shirt over a longer period of time than the afternoon. The substantial smell of stale cigarette smoke wafted past her and out the door. Her head, for some unknown reason, was cocked to the side as she looked down at the two kids through bloodshot eyes. To top things off, she wore a look of puzzlement and annoyance, filtered through an unknown but visible haze. Both Thomas children took an instinctive step back on the small porch.
“Who are you?” Behind her, Shelley could see a portion of the trailer’s interior: a couch propped up on two phone books, beer bottles that seemed to be half-filled with cigarette butts on shabby end tables, a stained and worn carpet, and a broken window covered with a black plastic garbage bag and duct tape to stop any drafts. Shelley immediately wondered if looking for Danielle had been such a good idea. She grabbed her brother’s hand, pulling him close.
It wasn’t the poverty of the place that scared her — she had plenty of relatives who barely got by financially. But this place in particular, the atmosphere, the sense it gave off, and the woman standing in front of them, seemed to lack everything that made a place a home. She couldn’t imagine Danielle living here. Or the Horse coming from such an environment.
“Um …” Shelley was taken by surprise and didn’t quite know how to respond. She looked to Ralph, who seemed to be debating the possibility of running away as fast as he could. “I … um … my brother …”
“What?!” Hazel barked.
“Danielle!” Shelley suddenly yelled out the little girl’s name, trying desperately to let this woman know why they were there as quickly as possible. Collecting herself, she tried a second time, this time a little less loudly. “Danielle. We’ve come to see her. Is she here?” She managed a weak smile.
For a moment, Hazel Gaadaw looked confused, like she was trying to place the name. “Danielle? Why do you want to talk to Danielle?” She had a peculiar way of talking, sort of like after every third or fourth word she had to reboot her memory or her vocal cords to finish the sentence. The cold wind whistled past Shelley and Ralph into the house, but Hazel seemed entirely oblivious. Ralph blushed when he realized he could see her nipples hardening in the cold under her thin shirt. Evidently this woman wasn’t wearing a bra.
Shelley tried again. “Danielle wasn’t at school today. Or yesterday or the day before, either. We were kind of worried.”
Seeing his sister in distress, Ralph tried to help. “We brought her homework.” This was a lie, but a kind one. It was in the lie category their mother would normally forgive after proper explanation. More importantly, it gave them a legitimate reason to be there. Having a reason to be anywhere was always a good idea, but never more so than at this very moment. Seizing on the purpose of the lie, Shelley nodded enthusiastically, mentally crossing her fingers behind her back.
Hazel didn’t respond at first. She continued to stand in the doorway, swaying slightly. Little wisps of her hair bobbed in the winter wind. Finally, she reacted. “No. Danielle isn’t here.” Her voice was flat.
“Um, may I ask where she is?”
Once more there was a pause as the older woman seemed to be formulating a response. “I don’t know where she is. Haven’t seen her in a while.” Hazel then looked over her shoulder to make sure her daughter wasn’t mysteriously standing behind her. “She’ll come home when she’s hungry. She usually does.” Somewhere in the deep interior of the trailer, another voice, angry and loud, bellowed out. Definitely masculine. Definitely angry.
“Damn it, Hazel! Who the fuck is it?!”
Both kids flinched at the tone and volume, moving closer together. Hazel turned, looking over her shoulder as she leaned against the doorway. “Nobody. Just some kids looking for Danielle.”
“Tell them to go away and close the fucking door. I’m fucking freezing! For Christ’s sake, woman!”
Smiling sleepily to herself, Hazel turned around. “You heard the man. Gotta go. I’ll tell the kid you were here.”
Shelley only managed to get out, “Okay, our names are —” before Hazel Gaadaw abruptly closed the door. From the other side, she heard the latch go on.
“— Shelley and Ralph.”
Immediately, Ralph grabbed Shelley’s arm, pulling her down the steps, almost falling in the process. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Hurry.”
Shelley needed little invitation, and soon both kids were walking briskly up the laneway, past where the two famed pines had once stood. “They were drinking! Could you tell?”
“Oh my god! I can’t believe she lives there. That place is so horrible.”
A thousand thoughts were going through Shelley’s head, all about poor Danielle. Though she was perhaps too young for this kind of knowledge, Shelley now understood why Danielle had gravitated so quickly towards the Thomas household. The little bit of kindness they’d shown her at their home had been like a crust of bread to a starving little girl. It was so obvious. Even though Shelley had been very kind to the little girl, she now wished she’d been even nicer.
Ralph’s thoughts were considerably more pragmatic. First and foremost, they involved getting away from the trailer at the end of the lane as quickly as possible. Though he, too, was appalled by the desperate situation of Danielle’s home life, his personal safety and security and that of his sister were of a more immediate concern. There was also innate chivalry involved, a seldom-used sense of protecting his older sister.
All the way home, wrapped up in thoughts of their own, they said little. Their mission to find Danielle and talk to her had failed, and the young girl was still MIA, as William would have said. On their way home, they walked by his house. In a small community like Otter Lake, there were only so many streets, and they were mostly interconnected. Practically every house along their way was peopled by family or friends. Neither of the two acknowledged the Williams house as they passed or looked towards the large window that was still decorated with Christmas lights. They walked on in the growing cold and dark.
William, on the other side of the picture window facing the street, saw them approach out the corner of his eye as he sat in his living room watching television. He hoped that Ralph especially was coming to see him and all would be forgiven. He missed Ralph and, oddly enough, his friend’s sister, though in a different way he couldn’t explain. Unfortunately, the Thomas duo walked past his house and continued down the street. Putting two and two together (though math was not his best subject) William calculated where they were coming from. There were only two things further down that street: the trailer park and the hockey arena. Seeing that it was a lazy Wednesday afternoon, bingo wouldn’t be starting at the arena for at least another two hours. And neither Ralph nor Shelley played bingo. That left Twin Pine Lane, and Danielle.
He too had noticed the little girl had not been around school. It made him feel vaguely uncomfortable, though again he didn’t know why. Conscience was a new, odd, and unpredictable friend. Had he run into the little girl, William had no idea what he would have said to her. So far it hadn’t been an issue.
William watched Shelley and Ralph disappear around the corner. He went back to half-watching television. One of his brothers kept changing the channel every two seconds, trying to annoy him. William barely noticed. In his own little world, the boy was mad at Danielle for being such a good artist and making him pick on her because of it. He was mad at Ralph for being mad at him. He was mad at Shelley for being Ralph’s sister and for being her annoying self. Most of all, though, he was mad at himself.
AS FOR THE Everything Wall, it had largely been ignored. A few kids had come over during the week, intent on participating in the recently entrenched activity; however, while the door was open and the chalk sitting there waiting to be used, there was clearly a different atmosphere in the Thomas house. Everything was the same, yet it wasn’t. The furniture was all in the same place. The same people lived in the house. But Liz seemed less enthusiastic about encouraging kids, thinking more about who wasn’t there than who was. Ralph hadn’t drawn on the Everything Wall at all, and neither had Shelley. The same went for William, for obvious reasons.
Though most of the other kids had come to find out about Danielle and her unique talent, they had not had any real stake in her involvement in the overall Thomas family affair. The shift in what was normal — no thoughts of Danielle and her Horse and lots of William’s near-constant physical presence in the house, versus the current reality of the opposite — was confusing. Over the days that followed the third week in the life of the Everything Wall, fewer kids came to visit, which was just as well. The Thomas family focus was elsewhere.
Shelley, Ralph, and William each separately noticed that Danielle still wasn’t to be found. But what could a couple of kids living on an obscure reserve do about that?
As it turned out, not a hell of a lot.
FOUR DAYS HAD passed without anybody seeing Danielle Gaadaw. Four days were not enough for the school to get overly worried. She could just have an illness of sorts, a cold or the flu. Nothing, they felt, to wake up the system and start the never-ending task of paperwork. This would require at least another two or three days of absence.
Shelley and Ralph felt differently. Every day they looked for the little figure of Danielle as soon as they entered the school. In every classroom. Through every recess. They had even, a few times, cautiously walked by Twin Pine Lane, not knowing exactly what they might see or what they would do if they saw something. They wanted to find the little girl, and achieving this goal had somehow become a part of their lives.
At the end of each school day, Liz Thomas had taken to asking her children about her favourite little artist, and she was rapidly getting concerned herself. She knew of Hazel Gaadaw, having gone to school with her long before children were a fact to either of them, before the death of Hazel’s husband, and before her descent into what she was now. That made her even more worried.
By Saturday morning, the disappearance of Danielle became too much to bear.
“Please, Mom.”
Two sets of eyes pleaded with Liz, and Liz, being who she was, couldn’t say no.
“Very well.” Though she protested, Liz too was curious as to where Danielle was and the story behind her so-called disappearance. So being forced to call the Gaadaw house by her children was merely accelerating what she would have done eventually. It was seldom both son and daughter agreed on anything. Perhaps she should have made the call before now.
And she, too, was feeling the absence of William in her house.
These were indeed odd times.
The Gaadaw phone number came from somebody at the band office. It rang three times before a male voice answered, taking Liz by surprise. “What?” Loud and gruff, it made Liz momentarily forget who she was calling.
“Uh … uh … is Hazel there?”
In the background she could hear the man coughing, loud and unpleasant. “Of course she’s here.” Silence.
“May I speak to her?”
Liz heard the man clear his throat one more time before yelling, “Hazel! Some woman wants to talk to you.” A second passed before the man’s voice returned. “Who is this?”
“It’s Liz Thomas. I’m a very old …”
“Somebody named Liz Thomas.”
Through the crackle of the line, Liz could hear the hints of a conversation stuttering. Ralph and Shelley watched their mother expectantly. What was difficult for them to achieve, their mother frequently could. Suddenly the voice was back. “What do ya want?”
This was not the conversation the woman had expected. “Uh … I just wanted to ask about Danielle. Maybe she could come over and have lunch with my kids. I understand she …” Once again, the voice was gone and there were more indecipherable mutterings.
“Hazel’s busy.” The line went dead.
Liz looked at her phone, puzzled and concerned about the context of the conversation. “Well, what did she say?” asked Shelley.
“Nothing. Didn’t speak to her. Some guy answered. Said Hazel didn’t want to come to the phone. And hung up when I asked about Danielle.”
“Mom,” Ralph spoke. “You look worried.”
Putting on her best smile, Liz hugged her two children briefly. No need to share her concerns with her kids. She considered them too young to warn about the evils of the world, or even just Otter Lake. They would learn those truths eventually. Today, she decided to let them think the world was still a fairly nice place, though cracks were already beginning to form in that philosophy. But deep in her mind, it bothered the woman. The rumours about Hazel and her friends. The missing Danielle. The undercurrents of the voice of the man on the phone. Her kids had opened the door to this problem, but it looked like they were all about to walk through it together.
THAT AFTERNOON, A spike in the Danielle mystery graph appeared; it came from an unexpected source.
Splayed out on an overstuffed armchair, Ralph was leafing listlessly through one of the books that he and his sister had forgotten to return to the library. The book explored cave paintings in Lascaux, France. Because the paintings were supposedly twenty thousand years old, the author marvelled at the technique, the imagination, and the artistry that were abundantly evident — and all from what were once called “primitive cavemen.”
Page after page showed large animals of many varieties; some Ralph recognized, many he didn’t. When he glanced up from the book to where the Horse on the Everything Wall still guarded the kitchen and beyond, the boy was surprised at the number of similarities between the horses in Lascaux and Danielle’s Horse in Otter Lake, particularly the shading used by the artists to create texture. Danielle’s innate ability to master such a complex practice continued to astound him. Instinctively, Ralph understood there was more than just talent involved in Danielle’s creation. There was something deeper. But, like everybody else, he had no idea exactly what that extra something was. It was difficult to believe that the thin young girl with pretty much nothing to say other than her polite thank-you had such depths to her.
Shelley, meanwhile, was making a feeble attempt at some homework. She had planned to go over to Vanessa’s in the afternoon, but she’d lost the impulse around the time her mother left. Instead, she turned her attention to the annoying social studies project she’d been putting off. It was due on Thursday, so she set her mind to the task and sank her teeth into it. She could think of a hundred things right off the top of her head that said “Saturday afternoon” way more than studying the migratory patterns of the Amish.
Piled-up books and a couple of maps spread out on the coffee table before her, Shelley was sitting near the front window of their house. Trying to put her mind in the heads of a contemporary Amish family, she had idly glanced out their living room window at the world she was increasingly having difficulty understanding or appreciating. Why would somebody voluntarily want to use outhouses instead of bathrooms in the house and horses for transportation instead of cars and truck? She had no appreciation of the outhouses, but did have some for the animal that appeared to be running free in the Thomas family kitchen.
While she was thinking about the Amish horse and buggy and the Horse in the kitchen, wondering if there was anything more than an ephemeral connection, she was almost positive that she spotted a familiar figure in a familiar parka.
“Ralph, is that William … I mean It … out there?”
“What? Where?” Ralph jumped up off the chair and hustled over to the window near his sister.
“Over there. Across the road, near the big pine tree. I think I saw him.” Both siblings looked hard out the window, squinting against the bright white expanse between the house and where the forest began. They saw a small flock of chickadees looking for food and a woodpecker making its way up the pine tree. But that was all.
“I don’t …” Ralph didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. He saw the distinctive brush cut sticking out from behind the big pine tree, looking at their house. It hovered there for a second, then disappeared out of sight. Perhaps he saw the brother and sister staring back at him.
“That was It, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but why is he hiding?
“I don’t know. He’s your friend.”
“That doesn’t mean I know how he thinks.”
They watched the pine tree for a few seconds longer, and then William’s head darted out again, this time on the other side of the tree. Because of the angle of their window and the storm windows attached on the outside, the glare off the multiple panes of glass made it impossible for William to know he had been spotted. Still, two seconds later, he pulled his head back to safety behind the big tree. Brother and sister looked at each other and shrugged. Then they nodded.
A few moments later they had put on their winter boots and jackets and were out the door, walking down their driveway in the direction of the big tree just ahead. Ralph was in the lead. “Hey, William! Might as well come out. We saw you!”
“Yeah, quit hiding. I don’t want to have to climb through that snow bank to get you, and scuff my boots.”
They stopped at the side of the road, three or four metres away from William’s not-so-well-chosen hiding place. The sun had begun to descend in the northern afternoon sky, resulting in a blinding glare. Even in the full sun of a cloudless sky, it was cold. Shelley fidgeted and shuffled, trying to keep warm. She slapped her brother’s arm, nagging him to call out to his reluctant buddy.
“William!” yelled Ralph again.
There was a pause, and then William appeared, sheepishly stepping out from behind the tree.
“Hi.”
Shelley and Ralph looked at William, and he looked back at them, no one really knowing how to proceed. “So, any particular reason you’re just standing out here in the woods, staring at our house?” Shelley couldn’t decide if she was angry or not.
“Nothing. Just hanging around.”
“Behind a big tree across the street from our house?”
“It’s not your tree.”
William’s logic was absurdly simple, but true. No matter how true it was, though, his answer was not really a response to their question.
Frustration, anger, and a host of other emotions forced Shelley to take the initiative. “This is so silly. Do you know all the problems you’ve created?”
William didn’t respond. He shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m talking to you, William Williams!”
The breeze rustled the branches above, and Ralph imagined that the sound was the tree holding its breath, anticipating an answer.
William crossed the street, his head down, not wanting to face the angry girl almost directly in front of him but knowing it was inevitable. “Yeah.”
“Danielle’s missing! She hasn’t been at school for a week. We don’t know where she is. Nobody’s seen her. Even her mother doesn’t know where she’s gone, so she was no help. I don’t think she even cares where her daughter is. All because of your stupid actions! Are you happy, William?! Huh, are you?”
By this point, Shelley’s nostrils were flaring and her chest was heaving. She took a step forward during her rant, her brand-new boot almost toe-to-toe with the boots of the object of her anger. William continued to look down, not knowing how to respond. Ralph was characteristically silent, deciding it was better to let his sister get her anger out of her system and direct it at William rather than at him.
“No. I’m not happy. Okay? I’m sorry.” The words sounded so quiet and sad the way William said them. He was obviously unused to uttering apologies.
“And what are you going to do about it? When you spill milk, most people know enough to clean it up.”
Now Shelley went silent. She had said what she’d wanted to say and now she was done. From a few driveways away, they all heard a car door slam, the sound carrying well in the crisp atmosphere. Somewhere further away, a snowmobile was racing down the frozen lake.
William struggled to speak. “Yeah.”
Once more, Shelley rose to battle. “Yeah? Yeah? That’s all you have to say? Give me a break. You’re just a —”
“I think I know where she is.”
“— stupid little …” Shelley stopped once what William had said registered.
Ralph took a step forward, attention focused.
“You know where she is?” he asked. “Is that what you said?”
William nodded, finally looking up from the snow.
“How do you know where she is? Tell us.”
William took a deep gulp before answering. “Earlier I was going out with my brother Jay ice fishing. I was kind of bored, not used to spending all this time at home, so I sort of invited myself along. He’s usually kind of mean to me, but this time he said …”
“Danielle, William. Where is Danielle?”
William realized he was getting off topic and quickly got to the point. “We were walking down by Henry’s Landing, and I saw a trail of boot prints cutting across, almost hidden by the blowing snow, heading towards the camp fort. They were kind of small and had no tread, like they were old and had been worn for a long time. I remembered that she had boots like that. I told my brother I would meet him out on the lake later.”
“You followed the prints?” asked Ralph.
William nodded. “And, like I said, they led to the camp fort. I looked in through the window and I saw something move under that brown blanket that’s there. I saw a flash of white, like her jacket.”
This time, Shelley asked the question. “Did you go in?”
Looking back down at the ground, William shook his head.
“Why not? If that was her?”
“Shelley,” interrupted Ralph. “Let him finish.”
“I am finished. I came here right afterwards. I didn’t know what I’d say if I went in. I thought she might be scared of me. So I thought I should come get you guys. But I didn’t know how to tell you. Now I’ve told you.” He looked up furtively, then back down.
Abruptly, Shelley turned around and started walking rapidly south, away from the two boys.
“Hey, where you going?” shouted Ralph.
“Boys can be so stupid. Where do you think? The camp fort. Are you coming?” To show her determination, Shelley wrapped her favourite blue scarf tighter around her neck. Ralph looked at William and immediately started running after his sister. Once he’d caught up to her, he whispered something in her ear. She nodded and stopped. Yelling over her shoulder, she locked eyes with William. “And you — you’re part of this. You started it. You’d better come, too.”
Relieved to be a part of the gang again, William smiled and ran after them, catching up almost immediately. In fact, so excited was he, William took the lead. “I know a shortcut. Follow me.” He broke into a run, forcing Ralph and Shelley to follow him at a greater speed. Halfway down the street, he turned abruptly to the right, where he disappeared into the woods, leaving behind a narrow trail of broken snow.
Shelley stopped at the edge. “My new boots!”
Ralph ran by her and was past the line of bushes quickly. “Hurry up,” he yelled back.
Reluctantly acknowledging the importance of the situation, Shelley gritted her teeth and left the calm and ploughed world of civilization and entered the snow-filled and chaotic woods, following her brother and the boy who had started all this, the boy she called It.
To anyone observing the reunited triumvirate, it appeared that the underbrush of Otter Lake had swallowed them up. But they were not about to get lost. This was the path William had already broken to get to the Thomas house to tell Ralph and Shelley the news about Danielle being at the camp fort. Being third on the trail, with William leading Ralph just up ahead, Shelley had an easier time because the snow was fairly broken and trailed. That was something, at least. But it was a good kilometre and a half to the location, and Shelley hoped her precious boots wouldn’t be scuffed, marked, or otherwise marred. She knew it was a stupid thing to think about right now, but the boots were new.
Ralph was trying desperately to keep up with William, but Shelley was having no part of that competition. She knew where the camp fort was, roughly, and if she got lost, there was the well-established trail to follow. If Danielle had been there all this time, a few more minutes of responsible and measured walking wouldn’t change anything. So Shelley plodded on, slow and deliberate. Twenty minutes later, she came upon William and Ralph, each leaning against their own cedar tree, breathing heavily. Running in loose snow can be very taxing work. She smiled as she passed them. “Waiting for a bus?” she asked innocently. Boys, she thought to herself, yet again.
For the rest of the journey, William and Ralph followed her. William began to talk incessantly, seeming to pick stories and memories randomly, catching up on days of missed conversation.
“Remember when we used to come up here all the time, Ralph? One night your father took us, and we stayed overnight, and we heard all those spooky noises. The next morning we made scrambled eggs for breakfast and fried some pickerel we’d just caught. That was so cool. Best breakfast I’d ever had. We should do that again, huh?”
For the remainder of the journey through the woods, Shelley and Ralph said nothing, allowing William to work at re-establishing a friendship he had damaged so badly. William’s lone voice startled the silence of the wilderness that surrounded the town.
The camp fort was located some distance down by the eastern shore of Otter Lake, where families would camp or fish. There was a good place in this particular location to put the boat into the water from a trailer, and it was generally believed to be one of the prettiest sights on the reserve. Thirty years earlier, a group of enterprising teenagers (Tye Thomas being one of them) had built a fort. It was a loose conglomeration of scavenged boards, planks, siding, and other assorted panels. They’d even managed to put a small window into one wall. The structure, no taller than six feet, had been weathered by thunderstorms, snowstorms, winds, baking sun, and two generations of bush parties. Every spring, it was repaired faithfully. It was, however, rarely used during winter — a perfect place for Danielle to hide.
Another twenty minutes later, the trio wandered out of the woods and stood in front of the camp fort, breathing hard. Though it was cold, with a stiff and miserably biting breeze that was now blowing in directly off the lake behind the camp fort, they were sweating from their exertion. The cobbled-together fort looked dark and empty.
“You’re sure she’s here?” asked Shelley.
William nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. Inside, though. See!” Directly in front of the warped door were small, clear footprints. Fairly recent. Evidence of older ones was still barely visible in the blowing snow.
“Danielle!”
Shelley shouted out the little girl’s name as she approached the makeshift structure. Just last fall somebody had put up an ad hoc fence around it made of cut poplar. She slipped between the railings and stood in front of the weathered door, which seemed to be a normal door like one found in any house, except the top third had been sawed off.
“Danielle?” she called again.
There was no answer. The boys slowly followed Shelley and were soon by her side, debating their next course of action.
“Should we go in?” asked Ralph.
“That’s why we’re here.” Without hesitation, Shelley opened the door and entered. The two boys watched her enter, unsure if they should follow. It was Ralph who decided they should, brushing the shoulder of his friend as he leaned over and entered. William, now once again part of the gang, followed, narrowly missing hitting his head on the upper frame.
Inside it was dark. The only sources of light were the small window to their right, completely frosted over, and the half-open door behind them. The floor was basically sawdust, with cigarette butts, beer caps, and what appeared to be the odd used and frozen condom scattered around. The place smelled of pee. Generations of it that had seeped into the sawdust and the ground beneath it.
In the corner they saw an old saggy and stained mattress, and gathered into a pile on it what appeared to be some ratty looking blankets, no doubt as old as the building itself. But it was what was above the mattress, spread across the ceiling boards, that suddenly stole their focus. It was the Horse. Looking bigger and stronger than they’d seen it in the Thomases’ kitchen. Slightly different again, though they couldn’t quite understand how. Ralph searched his mind for the words to describe it. Ominous, he decided, might be the best way to put it. The Horse spanned the entire length of the ceiling. It looked down on them through one eye. Danielle had brought pencil crayons she had found or stolen to the camp fort. She certainly hadn’t brought them from her home. She’d drawn the Horse on the ceiling of the frame roof. Had she done this to keep her company or to protect herself? But all that was important to Ralph was the fact it was even more awe-inspiring in scope than its previous incarnations on the Everything Wall. On the shoulder, just below the Horse’s mane, was a handprint in red. About the size of a little girl’s hand. It was the first time they’d seen that on the Horse.
Her eyes still on the image, Shelley called out one more, “Danielle!” This time a little quieter. There was a stirring on the mattress that startled them.
“That’s her.”
At the sound of William’s enthusiastic voice, the figure under the blankets wedged itself closer to the wall. Ralph could hear her whimper.
Shelley gave William a sharp glance, making him mouth the word “Sorry” and step behind Ralph, as if to hide.
Shelley moved closer to the girl hiding under the meagre pile of old blankets. “It’s okay, Danielle. It’s me, Shelley.”
Danielle didn’t move.
“I won’t let William hurt you. Honest. Are you okay? We haven’t seen you in a long time. We were worried. Weren’t we, Ralph?”
Ralph nodded, until he realized the little girl was still hidden beneath the blankets and couldn’t see his nod. “Yeah. Real worried.”
“Have you been here all this time? You must be freezing. Come on, can I see your pretty face? Please.” Kneeling on the old mattress, Shelley gently tugged on a blanket. At first it didn’t move, then gradually it fell away, revealing the person they’d been worried about. If possible, Danielle looked smaller, tinier. It appeared that the little girl could, if pushed, almost fit through the cracks in the wall, if not for the wild and busy nature of her unwashed and uncombed hair.
“There you are. We are so glad to see you.” Shelley’s smile was huge and genuine, making the place seem a little less gloomy.
Danielle, radiating a combination of embarrassment and shyness, still hid behind the blankets. She was blinking her eyes at the brightness of the winter sun pouring in. Then she saw William and pulled the blanket back over her head.
Shelley crawled across the small space of mattress to the bundle of blankets.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. William won’t hurt you. Will you, William?”
She gave him a warning look that froze Ralph’s blood.
For a moment, William struggled with what he was feeling and how to say it. “No. I won’t. Honest.” He struggled further, looking for better words, finally ending with an uncomfortable, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Really.”
“See. He’s sorry. Now, sweetheart, what are you doing way out here?”
Though her full attention was on the little girl, she couldn’t help glancing up at the Horse above her. Neither could the two boys. It watched over them like an avenging angel, ready to swoop down upon them if necessary. It reminded them of a big stained glass window in a church, something that was supposed to instill either confidence or fear, depending on who was looking at it.
A small, quiet voice came from under the blankets. “You came to look for me?” Danielle’s face emerged from behind a checkered blanket.
“Of course we did.”
William and Ralph were content to let Shelley do most of the talking. “We looked everywhere for you. Didn’t we, Ralph?”
Resisting the urge to nod, he answered, “Oh yeah. We even went to your house.”
“Did you see my mother?”
“Yeah.”
With what Ralph would later remember as huge, hopeful, puppy dog eyes, Danielle asked him, “Was she worried about me?”
It was time for another lie their mother would no doubt absolve them of. “Yeah. Real worried. Wasn’t she, Shelley?”
Danielle might have appeared to be meek and uncertain about many things, but she knew her family. And to a certain extent, she was beginning to understand the kindness of her new friends. Before Shelley could answer, Danielle nestled into the corner of the fort, pulling the blanket more tightly around her. “No, she wasn’t.”
None of the three quite knew how to respond to that.
“It’s because I’m a bad girl.”
Shelley reached out and took her hand. It was bare and cold. “Why do you say that?”
“That’s what Mommy says. That’s why Santa didn’t bring me any presents this year.”
All of them, including William, couldn’t believe the statement just uttered by Danielle. It was like sacrilege, if that was the correct word. Though they were at the age where knowledge of Santa Claus and belief in him were precarious at best, they knew no parent should tell a child something like that. Santa was supposed to be like Jesus, he had to like everybody, even though he knew who was naughty or nice. Everybody in the camp fort knew that Danielle definitely did not fit in the naughty category. William, whose brothers and sister had said similar things at various times to him, knew very well his parents would never utter those words. And, regardless of his family’s financial situation or his level of “being good,” William had never been deserted by Santa. For an unexpected moment, he felt sad for the little girl.
Shelley was first to break the silence. “That’s horrible. You are not a bad girl. No.”
“No. Not at all,” Ralph agreed.
Even William found himself nodding in agreement, mentally promising himself that somehow, someway, he would get this girl a present. Even if it meant giving her one of his.
Danielle gave a faint but seemingly accommodating smile. “Do you like my Horse? He’s gotten bigger, huh?”
“Oh, he’s beautiful.” Secretly, the bigger girl was beginning to find the Horse’s growing evolution a little overwhelming and intimidating. Shelley sat down beside Danielle, hoping to put a couple extra feet of distance between it and her. Instinctively, Danielle huddled against her. Shelley could feel her trembling.
Ralph felt himself nudged by his friend. He looked at William as the husky boy gestured up to the Horse. “Am I crazy, or is the Horse glowing?” Ralph looked up, and to his surprise, it was true. The Horse drawn across the parallel slats seemed to be glowing and shimmering, even glistening. It was beautiful and eerie.
“How did she do this?” asked William. Shelley shared their astonishment. It was truly awesome.
Ralph answered, “I don’t think she did. Remember that bus trip our school took last year to that hockey game in Baymeadow, when the heater in the bus was broken.”
“Yeah,” responded William. “Man, that was a long, cold ride.”
“That’s what happens when your heater breaks. Anyway, I noticed inside the bus there were little tiny snowflakes falling. Remember, I pointed that out to you.”
William was still looking towards the roof, but listening. “Yeah.”
“And then Mr. Barton, who was sitting just ahead of us, turned around. Do you remember what he told us?”
“Uh-uh. I don’t think he likes me.”
“There’s a surprise.” That was proof Shelley was still listening.
“He told us the condensation from our breath rose up and got colder. Eventually it turned into snow near the top of the bus and fell back down.” All three looked up again at the glimmering Horse.
The bigger boy shivered. It might have been imagination, but it seemed a good five degrees cooler inside the fort. “And you think something like that is happening here?”
“I think so. I don’t know the science of it, but Danielle’s breath rising up the past few days must have somehow turned into ice crystals instead of snow.” Once more, they all looked around. It was like the Horse was made of diamonds or stars.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Amazed by the Horse, Ralph reached up to touch its forelock, mesmerized by what the girl had created, this time in near-darkness, and how nature had improved it. It looked so real, he almost felt like he could pet it, angry and defiant as it looked. His hand connected with the pencil crayon–covered cedar plank and, for a brief second, that crack between the worlds that Danielle had somehow forged opened for him, and he could swear that he felt the Horse’s hair. He didn’t know how or why, but he also thought it was warm.
“Don’t touch him!”
The scream came from Danielle, cutting through the cold and dark, startling everyone. Bolting from the corner, she pushed Ralph away, knocking him with remarkable strength directly into William; they both went down.
“You can’t do that. He’s mine.”
Breathing heavily and looking weak, she stood over the two boys. “Please. I don’t have anything else.” Then, leaning back, she began to cry. It was the second time she had shed tears in front of them.
“I’m sorry.” Struggling to his knees, Ralph didn’t know what else to say.
Shelley took Danielle’s hand and led her back to sit beside her on the stained mattress. “Don’t worry. Ralph won’t touch your Horse.” In a world that was obviously askew, it was hard for Ralph to know what to do. He stayed on the cold, sawdust-covered ground next to William, who was equally perplexed. Out of nowhere, the tiny little girl had briefly frightened the bully.
Danielle had definitely not acted this way the last time Ralph had touched the Horse. But then, as he remembered it, the little girl had been finished with her creation and had left their home. Evidently, she wasn’t completely done doing whatever it was she had to do with it. Or her attachment to the Horse, or it to her, was lasting longer. Maybe getting stronger. All these questions were way out of Ralph’s level of understanding. He wondered if his mother would understand. If she could explain it to him. So he just sat there, amidst the sawdust and cigarette butts, hoping his sister could help the little girl.
Danielle’s sobbing increased, and Shelley began to look like she was on the edge of panic herself. All she could think of doing was getting closer to the little girl, wrapping her more tightly in the worn blanket in an attempt to keep her warm. She repeated, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” rocking her back and forth.
The four of them were aware that things were indeed not okay. After a few minutes, Danielle’s sobbing seemed to subside. Her tear-streaked face appeared from Shelley’s shoulder. She wiped her nose with her sleeve, sniffling loudly.
“I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m sorry.” She tried to smile and managed a small one. “I’m just so hungry.”
That’s when it occurred to the trio. She’d been hiding in here for the past few days, was it already five in total? Was it possible? She’d not had anything to eat in that entire time?
“Danielle, when’s the last time you ate?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
Cursing herself, Shelley wished desperately she’d brought something for the little girl to eat. But she hadn’t. It hadn’t occurred to her, and it sure wouldn’t have occurred to William. Maybe her brother. “Ralph, do you have anything to eat?”
“No. I don’t.” Why would I? he thought. Instinctively, he rummaged around in his pockets and found one piece of gum. Quickly, he pulled it out. “I got this! A piece of gum. Want that?!”
Shyly but hungrily Danielle nodded, and Ralph crawled across the floor and gave it to her. Eagerly, she took it, unwrapped it, and swallowed it without chewing. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
William cleared his throat. “Um. I’ve got two ham and cheese sandwiches. And an orange.”
Shelley and Ralph both looked at him in surprise. “I was going out ice fishing with my brother, remember?”
Out of his big snow jacket pocket, he pulled a paper bag stuffed with food.
“It’s yours. If you want.” He held it out for Danielle, not wanting to come closer and perhaps scare her.
“Go ahead. It’s okay.” He even managed a hesitant smile for her, wanting Danielle to accept his gift more than he could explain.
Ralph took it from him and handed it to Shelley, who reached into the crumpled brown bag and brought out the sandwiches and orange. Unwrapping the plastic wrap, Shelley offered her half of one of the sandwiches. Like a cat pouncing on a mouse, Danielle grabbed it and, as small as her mouth was, managed to fit the half completely into her mouth.
“Danielle! Take it easy. You’ll choke.” Shelley held the rest of the sandwiches out of her reach. “You can have the rest as long as you promise to eat it slowly. It isn’t going anywhere. Promise?”
Danielle nodded eagerly, swallowing the last of what was in her mouth. Shelley, with a stern look, handed her the remaining portion of the sandwich. Danielle attacked it, too, though she ate it more slowly and more deliberately, a bite at a time. Taking out the orange, Shelley started to peel it for her.
Danielle looked at William, who was still sitting on the frozen ground, watching her. “Thank you.”
William managed another smile and nodded.
Shelley finished peeling the orange and offered it to Danielle. Taking it, she then said, “Thank you” again and began to tear the sections apart. She offered all three an opportunity to share a wedge, but all declined for obvious reasons.
“Feel better?”
Danielle burped, causing everybody to laugh. She was halfway through the orange when Ralph asked a question that had been bouncing around in his head ever since Danielle had first appeared at their house.
“Danielle. If you don’t mind me asking, why do you draw this Horse? Over and over again? Obviously it’s special to you. I’m just curious. Why?”
Looking and feeling relieved, she raised her free hand up to point to the image hovering over her. “My Horse. I like to draw my Horse.”
“I know, but why? Why do you make him so big, so colourful, and so …”
“… incredible,” finished William. This was a question he had wanted to ask, too, but had never had the opportunity. They all knew there had to be a story behind such a creation, behind Danielle’s obsession.
With the last of the orange gone, Danielle savoured the remaining flavour in her mouth before answering. “He’s my friend, like you. But the Horse wasn’t always there. Sometimes I had to go find him. Now he always comes when I call. He’s always here when I need him. I think he likes me, too.”
Ralph took note of the faraway look on Danielle’s face. He asked another question. “Where does your Horse come from?”
“Campbellford, I guess.” That was a small town just a few hours’ drive to the southeast of Otter Lake. They had all been there once or twice for the big agricultural fair held every fall.
Danielle looked up at the ceiling of the camp fort. “He reminds me of my father.”
Ralph and Shelley nodded, wanting to hear more. They remembered their parents talking about Danielle’s father and how he had died. It was a tragedy that no child should have to remember. It was clearly a tragedy her mother couldn’t get over.
William knew the town of Campbellford very well since two of his brothers played hockey there quite frequently and he would tag along, but at the moment his interest lay above the four. He was positive the large image dangling over their heads was staring at him. Positively glaring, and it seemed specifically at him. He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable.
Stroking Danielle’s hair, Shelley tried to coax more of the story out of her. “It’s okay. You can tell us.” She smiled encouragingly.
The dam had been breached. Though she was known as a small and quiet little girl, Danielle Gaadaw’s story sprang forth like it had been waiting for a spring thaw to break up the ice jam.
Nestling up against Shelley again, drawing the older girl’s warmth like a thermal vampire, the past poured out of Danielle. “Back when my dad was alive, he took me to that town … Campbellford.” Not wanting to interrupt her, the siblings and friend acknowledged her by nodding encouragingly. “Well, they have pony rides there, and my father knew I liked ponies. I remember this big lineup of kids … and there was only one pony for them all. We had to stand in line for a long time before I had a chance to ride. All the time I kept watching that poor pony. They put one kid after another on his back, and he would go around and around in a circle, around and around, wearing out a path in the grass. Sometimes his eyes weren’t even open. That’s all he ever did. Just went around in the circle all day, every day. And I felt sad for him, very sad. He looked so old and unhappy, and his back was bent real low from all the kids sitting on it, kicking him in the sides with their heels. When it was my turn to ride, I started crying. I felt so sorry for that poor pony, I didn’t want to ride him.”
All Ralph could say in response was, “Yeah, I’ve seen ponies like that,” which was more than the others did. “What’s that got to do with your Horse?”
“A couple months later my dad died. And things got different at home. Mom changed. Everything did. But I never stopped thinking of that pony, thinking how sad its life must be. I wondered if he dreamed of better things when his eyes were closed. Then he began to change when I thought of him; he grew bigger and got stronger the more I thought of him. He grew to be really beautiful and strong. I could see him so clearly, it’s like he was waiting for me. Then I began to draw him. At first, he didn’t look very good. Kind of like a stick figure, but it was still him. And I began to wonder if all things could change, be different, if they had better places to live, people who loved them a whole bunch.”
This time, William broke the silence. “Wow, your art teacher must love you.”
Danielle shook her head violently. “No. No. It doesn’t work like that. Not on a small piece of paper. Then it becomes the pony again. Has to be someplace special or big. Your house is special. Mine isn’t. I tried there a few times and got punished real bad. So I don’t do it there anymore. The problem is He wants to come more and more, and I got few places to let him come anymore.”
“Maybe if we talked to your mother? I’m sure maybe we —” Shelley was still at the age where she thought all things were possible.
For the second time since they’d arrived at the camp fort, Danielle seemed agitated. “No, you can’t. No. She wouldn’t like that. Her and her boyfriend don’t like people coming over.” For a second, she paused. “I miss my father. I miss my mother.”
“But your mother is still alive.”
Danielle remained silent. She no longer looked at the Horse, nor did she look at them. It was like she had retreated deep into herself. “She’s not my real mother. She changed after my father died. She used to be so nice, then she got sad. Then she started drinking. Last year her new boyfriend showed up. Now I’m afraid. I don’t like it there. I don’t like him. He scares me.”
They could barely hear her voice.
A cold and dry silence hung over the occupants of the camp fort. Ralph could see the steam coming from the mouths of the others, but he couldn’t hear them breathe. In the short time they’d been there, the sky had clouded over outside, and it was growing dark. Perhaps Danielle’s story had depressed the world.
“Danielle, I’m so sorry.” Shelley was on the verge of tears. “I wish there was something we could do.”
“Could I come and live with you?” Danielle looked up at them, jumping to her knees, hope filling her eyes for the first time. “Please. I’ll be good.” The intensity of her stare briefly startled the older girl.
Shelley and Ralph looked at each other. They didn’t know how to respond. This was not a matter they had any power of decision over, but both knew their mother would bring this hurt little girl into their house and quite probably shower her with all the love and gifts possible. Sadness and want would become a thing of the past for Danielle for sure. Ralph wanted to help, he was sure of that. After learning her story, he knew he needed to help her, somehow. At his age, he had figured out that the world primarily consisted of good people and bad people; there were no shades of grey in between. Up until this silent moment, it hadn’t occurred to him, to any of them, that someday they might have to make a choice between the two. And, he had to admit, he kind of liked the idea of being somebody’s big brother.
“I don’t know. I don’t think things work that easy.” Growing uncomfortable, Shelley shifted her seat on the mattress, hoping the move would help. It didn’t.
Reaching out, Danielle grabbed Ralph’s shoulder. “I’ll let you touch him. My Horse!” she said eagerly to Ralph.
Once more, Ralph was at a loss for words, glancing nervously at the Horse. Then he looked to Shelley and then William for any kind of support.
It was Shelley who uttered for the first time the panacea used by all mothers to placate anxious and excited children. It was a foreshadowing of her life to come as a wife, a parent, and a minor executive in charge of child welfare on the Otter Lake reserve. “We’ll see.” For only a brief moment, the wattage of Danielle’s enthusiastic smile dimmed. But “we’ll see” was something. And something is always better than nothing. Her new best friend would see, whatever that meant. She would have to be content with that for the moment.
“As for right now, young lady, I think you should be going home.” Shelley tried to put some confidence in her voice.
This brought another puzzling response from the runaway. “Why?”
It was an uncomfortably good question. The definition of “home” varied widely among the four of them huddled together in that fort. Based on everything she knew about Danielle’s family, her current situation, and what that home held for her, Shelley struggled to find an adequate and honest response. “Uh, well, it’s probably a lot warmer than in here, for sure. And this isn’t the place for a young girl to stay.” From what Danielle had told them, her house wasn’t much better than this place, but they knew they couldn’t leave her here. The trailer she called home was truly the lesser of two substantial evils. But it was the only crutch they had to rely on. The options available to these well-meaning children — and they were still children — to save the day were severely limited.
“Come on, we’ll walk you home.”
Succumbing to Shelley’s urging, Danielle rose shakily to her feet. Her head hung with resignation. One by one the four of them left the small building, heading back into the woods to follow their trail to what could thinly be called civilization. Ralph led the way in the deepening darkness this time, followed by Danielle, who kept looking over at Shelley, who would occasionally put her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. Then came William, protectively watching their backs.
It had been a very strange afternoon for all of them.
As they walked through the poplar and cedar trees, William debated asking a question of the young girl. Purposefully, he had kept quiet during much of this encounter, not wanting to aggravate the situation any more than he had already. But there was a question that the emerging artist in him needed to ask. It had been bugging him since they had entered the camp fort and seen the new version of the Horse. Now was as good a time as any.
“Um, Danielle. I noticed, on your Horse this time, the red hand, I guess it was your hand, on it. You’ve never done that before. I was just curious …”
Breathing hard from the exertion of walking in the snow, Danielle struggled to find the breath to answer. “That’s me. Being part of the Horse. Joining it. I saw some pictures of old-time Indian horses in that book Shelley’s mom gave me. There were handprints from warriors on their war ponies. I guess it means I am always going to be a part of the Horse now, and he’s always going to be a part of me.”
William thought this explanation was kind of odd. “Always is a long time,” he said.
The little girl shook her head, almost stumbling off the trail at one point into the deep snow. “Not for me. Someday, when I’m older, I’m gonna have a real horse, too. Maybe a bunch of them. I’m gonna ride them and pet them and feed them. Yep. I know it. And … and … and …,” she added almost too quickly to get all her thoughts and hopes spoken coherently. “I’m gonna have a place for tired ponies to rest and stop walking in circles.”
It was a relief to all of them to hear Danielle sounding happy again. Though nobody could see, Ralph’s fingers were crossed in a silent prayer that if the art, horse, and little girl gods were kind, Danielle’s happiness would last and her situation would get better.
As the sun made its final descent on that part of the world in order to rise somewhere else, they arrived at Twin Pine Lane. “Just a little further now.” Shelley took Danielle’s hand and stepped towards the beat-up trailer where Danielle lived. Danielle didn’t move, and her hand slipped out of Shelley’s grip.
“No.”
This was the second time they’d heard Danielle use that word, and just like the first time, it sounded awkward. Like it was word that she didn’t use all that frequently. It was a word she was probably not allowed to use. She shook her head. “I’d better go home by myself. It might be better. I don’t want to get anybody in trouble. I’ll see you all at school.” With that declaration, she walked down the lane alone, the almost-set sun casting a long, cold shadow on the icy snow of the road. Shelley desperately wanted to make sure she got home safely, but it was obvious to all of them that Danielle wanted to go there alone. Her wishes had to be respected.
They stood there at the side of the road watching her walk away, the cold beginning to seep through their clothes as the warmth they had generated walking through the woods dissipated.
Danielle was passing the first tree when she turned around and yelled to them. “Ralph! I’m sorry. I should have let you touch my Horse. I should learn to share more.” Then she resumed her trek to what was dubiously called her home, leaving behind three increasingly depressed kids. For they all knew, the person growing more and more distant from them had nothing else she could possibly share with them. She was still so giving, even with nothing to give.
“She’s so pathetic,” said William. This time, it wasn’t in a snarky or brutal fashion. It was just his way of expressing the fact there was someone in the world who had things worse off than he did. Something he hadn’t thought was possible. And that’s what was so pathetic. He actually felt sorry for her.
“Yeah,” responded Ralph.
Shelley didn’t say anything.
Together, they turned and started to walk back to the more populated section of the reserve. They were silent, lost in their own thoughts. All were different, but all revolved around the ten-year-old they had just walked away from. After ten minutes, they came to a cut-off in the road that led to William’s house. Deeply embroiled in his own thoughts, William turned towards home without a word of goodbye.
“Hey, William!” called Ralph. “If you want, you can come home with us.”
Uncharacteristically, Shelley nodded in agreement.
William stood at the fork in the road, momentarily processing the offer. He shook his head. “No. I don’t feel like playing. Or anything. Maybe tomorrow. Bye.” With a sad smile, oddly reminiscent of Danielle’s, he turned back to his street and left his friends.
If you want, you can come home with us. It struck Ralph how much Danielle would have loved to have heard those words. And how much he would have loved to have said them to her. The last thing Ralph and William wanted was another sister, but Danielle would have been different.
The siblings watched William turn in to his driveway, then disappear inside the Williams house. Without much reason to stand there at the side of the road, they resumed their journey home.
High up on a tree, a crow watched them pass. It knew nothing of horses or little girls or much of anything regarding the complex human world, which, judging by today, was a good thing for those in the crow world.