Northwest Angle

FORTY-SEVEN

It was late afternoon in Tamarack County, Minnesota. On Crow Point, the shadow of the rock outcropping that walled Meloux’s fire ring stretched across the green meadow grass. The forest that edged the clearing had become murky as the daylight grew pale in the elongated slant of the sun. There was not a breath of wind. The water of Iron Lake was so perfect a mirror that, whenever Jenny looked there, it was as if she saw two skies.

She and Rainy had spent the past couple of hours preparing dinner, a savory stew made of herbs and venison and vegetables, which filled the cabin with a delectable aroma. Rainy had baked bread as well, something the new stove facilitated. Waaboo lay in the ice chest on the floor, and Jenny made certain that when he was awake he could see her. He seemed perfectly content watching.

Walleye seemed restless, occasionally rising from the floor to pad around the cabin and sniff the air. In that room, Jenny thought it would be impossible to pick up any scent except the wonderful smell of the stew.

“They’re coming,” Rainy said.

She was looking out the east window toward a stand of aspen that ran along the shoreline of Crow Point. Jenny stood next to her and saw them returning, Aaron in the lead, with Stephen and Henry Meloux many paces back. Stephen carried the old Mide’s beaded bandolier bag. In his right hand, Meloux held a long walking stick, and he seemed to lean on it significantly as he made his way across the meadow to the cabin. Jenny went out to greet them, and Walleye tagged along.

“You were gone a long time,” she said to Aaron.

“I think we walked every inch of the Superior National Forest.” He smiled as if he’d actually enjoyed it.

“How was Henry?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“One tired old man,” he said. “But he kept pushing himself. A lot to admire there. And, Christ, I’ve never met anyone who knows so much about everything around him, and I’m not just talking about the woods. I swear, the minute I think something, he looks at me as if I spoke it out loud. Spooky.”

“My dad says that Meloux reads people, everything about them. Their eyes and faces and hands, how they hold themselves and walk and speak. He says even the silence of people tells Henry a lot.”

They stood together, waiting, and in a few moments, Stephen and Meloux caught up, with Walleye beside them.

“We got some great mushrooms,” Stephen said. “A ton of morels. I figured they’d all be gone by now, but Henry knows where to look.”

“And now you do, too,” the old man said.

“Migwech, mishomis,” Stephen said.

“I have been thinking about that mattress on my bunk for the last two miles,” Henry said.

He nodded to Jenny and went ahead with Stephen, and they both entered the cabin. Walleye started inside, then stopped and turned back and stared at the woods on the far side of the meadow, sniffing the air.

Aaron stood looking at the grass beneath his feet. “I think it’s true. Silence says a lot. I’ve been tight-lipped lately, I know. This whole thing with Waaboo has had me pretty confused.”

Jenny was pleased to hear him use the name, pleased that the baby was someone to him now, not just an inconvenient circumstance.

He lifted his eyes and looked at her with sad determination. “Jenny, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and there are some things I need to say.”

“I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath and spoke somberly. “My parents never wanted me. They never wanted a child. Their lives were all about them, and mostly I was an inconvenience. That was a sad truth. But the sadder truth is that I’ve grown up to be just like them. My life’s all about me. I could never look at Waaboo the way you do. The kinds of sacrifices you make without thinking twice I could never make.” He stopped and took her hands, and she could feel him trembling. “I can’t be what you want me to be, Jenny. I’d be a selfish husband and such a bad father that I don’t even want to try. Whatever you decide about Waaboo, you need to decide it without me in the picture. I love you, but I can’t do this. Do you understand?”

They stood together a moment, the quiet between them uncomfortable and weighty.

“I hope you get your baby,” he finished.

She thought maybe she should feel as if she’d fallen off a cliff, but she didn’t. She felt strangely free and wasn’t quite sure what she should say. What came to her was simply this: “Thank you, Aaron.” And delicately she kissed his cheek.

At the cabin doorway, Walleye let out a low woof and started barking again, wildly this time, coming up off his front paws as he snapped. In a minute, Meloux stepped from the cabin. Stephen and Rainy were right behind him.

“What is it?” Jenny asked.

“I don’t know,” the old man said. He peered toward the woods. “It’s been a long time since my eyes saw what they ought to. Stephen, do you see anything?”

Stephen stepped forward and studied the trees. “There,” he said and pointed.

Jenny followed the line his finger indicated across the meadow. In the pallid, late afternoon light, the grass was tall and yellow-green. Where the meadow met the pine woods, a dark, sharp line of shade lay. The forest beyond that line was deep and brooding, and the shadows there were thick and almost impenetrable. Then she saw what Stephen saw.

“It’s a woman,” she said.

“What is she doing?” Meloux asked.

“Just standing there,” Stephen replied. “Looking at us.”

Walleye’s barking had grown furious. He charged forward and came back and charged again. He was an old dog, but in his fierce and protective fury, he had become young again.

“There is more in those woods than a woman,” Meloux said. “Walleye may not see much better than me, but his nose is still good. Into the cabin, everyone.”

They quickly retreated inside. Meloux crossed to the wall where a rifle lay cradled in a rack. He took the rifle down and said to Rainy, “The box in the cupboard. There are cartridges.”

She opened a door and pulled out a small, beautifully carved wooden box. She lifted the lid and spilled the contents into the palm of her hand: six cartridges. She looked down at them, then up at Meloux, and asked, “Uncle Henry, when was the last time you fired that old Winchester?”

He worked the lever and pulled the trigger and said, “It will fire just fine.”

“It’s not the rifle I’m worried about,” she said and held out her hand to him. “These rounds look pretty old.”

“They will have to do,” he said. One by one, he took the cartridges from her palm and fed them into the rifle’s magazine.

“Now wait a minute,” Aaron said. “Before we go off half-cocked and shoot an innocent someone, I think we should talk to this woman. Maybe she’s Ojibwe and is coming to you for advice? Or maybe she’s just a lost hiker or something. Hell, maybe she’s not even there anymore.”

“She’s there,” Stephen said from the window. “And she gives me the creeps.”

Meloux started toward the window. In the middle of the room, however, he stopped and stood dead still as if paralyzed. Jenny was afraid that he might be suffering a stroke. But a kind of light had come into his face, and she saw his body change, straighten, draw erect. She watched a new spirit enter him. What had been a thin construct of flesh and quivering muscle and brittle bone became sturdy and strong. As if it were an actual stream of substance, vitality filled Henry Meloux.

“Ah,” he said.

“What is it, Uncle Henry?” Rainy asked.

He put out his right hand, and it held steady in the air. “No trembling.”

“I don’t understand,” Rainy said.

“Neither did I, Niece. But it is clear to me now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The problem and its answer are out there in the woods,” he said.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Uncle Henry?”

“I believe that you will, Niece,” he said. “Very soon.”

“This is crazy,” Aaron said. “I’m going out to talk to her.”

“She will not talk,” the old man said. “She is here for one purpose. To bring death.” He looked down at the ice chest, where the baby lay watching Jenny with quiet intent.

“Is it Noah Smalldog?” Jenny said. “He’s found us?”

“That’s not Smalldog. It’s a woman, for God sake,” Aaron said. “Henry, you point that rifle at anyone, and there will be hell to pay. Look, you all just wait here. I’ll go talk to her and clear this whole thing up.”

“No, Aaron. Please don’t go.” Jenny grabbed his arm.

“It’s all right. Really. You’ll see.”

“Henry,” Jenny pleaded.

“It is a mistake to go,” the old Mide said to Aaron. “But if it is to be done, then I will do it.”

“It’s my idea,” Aaron said stubbornly. “I’ll go. You stay here with the others. If you’re right, they’ll need someone who knows how to shoot that thing.” He smiled indulgently, gave Jenny a kiss on the cheek, opened the door, and walked out.

“What do we do, Henry?” Jenny asked desperately.

“We honor his wish.” The old man knelt at the open, screen-less window and laid the rifle across the sill. “And we cover his back.”

They gathered behind Meloux and watched Aaron cross the meadow toward the woman, who stood just inside the shadow of the trees.

“He’s right, Henry,” Jenny said, trying to convince herself. “I’m sure she’s just a lost hiker, like he said.”

The old man didn’t reply. He gripped the rifle, laid his wrinkled cheek against the stock, and sighted.