The Steep and Thorny Way(30)

The automobile in question neared us, no more than fifty yards beyond the trees beside us. I heard the pop-pop-pop of a motor, and my heart pumped my blood in a staccato rhythm. I imagined the screeching of brakes, car doors opening, bloodhounds barking, Deputy Fortaine charging toward us with a rifle and bared teeth.

We stood as still as the trees surrounding us, not breathing, not flinching. Beyond the wide green firs, the automobile chugged by and rattled off to the south, toward the crossroads where I’d spoken with my father just the night before.

“Come on.” Joe picked up the lantern and wheeled back around toward the trail. “Let’s keep going and find someplace to sleep overnight, before it gets any darker.”

“Am I safe with you?” I asked, not budging.

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “I’m not going to touch you, Hanalee.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just making up that thing you said about yourself so you can—?”

Joe’s mouth tautened.

“After those men attacked Mrs. Downs a couple years ago,” I said, “I just . . . I want to watch out for myself.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. You can sleep with your gun pointing straight at my face if you want, but I’m not planning to attack anyone besides Clyde Koning. Come on.” He turned back around to the path ahead of us. “We’re wasting time.”

He continued onward, this time with steps that made mere whispers of sound against the pine needles that littered the forest floor. I grabbed the basket and blanket and followed.


THE WOODS SLOPED UPWARD IN A DIRECTION THAT I believed to be the north, although the darkness settling over our surroundings proved disorienting. My stomach dipped with the sensation that we were nearing the territory of unkind people.

“How far do you think we are from the road?” I asked. “There are houses up here in the hills. Swanky ones.”

“I know.” Joe kept walking. “I think we’re still far enough away to avoid seeing anyone. I don’t hear any dogs or other signs of civilization.”

I stopped, set down his belongings, and drew the pistol out of my holster.

Joe spun around, and his shoulders jerked. “Jesus! Why are you bringing that out right now?”

“I’ve got to be honest with you, Joe.” I held the derringer by my side, the muzzle pointed toward the ground. “You’re not safe at all. Fleur told me that Laurence, the Wittens, and some of the other local fellows want to do terrible things to you because they know . . .” I nodded through the words I didn’t know how to say.

Joe leaned back on his left foot. “Who told them about me?”

“I don’t know. Fleur suspects Laurence has been hiding you so he can brag about leading the others to you.”

Joe tightened his grip on his bag and scanned the forest with his eyes.

“You ever shoot a gun before?” I asked.

He blinked. “No.”

“I had to store the pistol in a hiding spot in a log,” I said, “instead of sneaking it back to my bedroom. I didn’t have time to replace the bullet I shot past your head.”

Joe grimaced.

“So there’s only one left,” I continued. “I’ll use it if we’re desperate.”

He swallowed. “Put that gun back in your holster. I don’t want you tripping and shooting me in the back by mistake.”

A twig snapped behind me. I flinched and turned and nearly cocked and fired. A deer leapt into view and zigzagged off into the distance, leaves swishing behind its hooves.

“I said, put that gun back into your holster!” snapped Joe. “You almost fired it, didn’t you?”

I hiked up my skirt and struggled to fit the pistol back inside the leather casing. My hands trembled from coming so close to shooting that bullet. I couldn’t breathe quite right.

“We’ll make this work.” Joe stepped toward me. “We’ll stay safe.”

I lowered my skirt. “How?”

“I—” He stopped in front of me and rubbed his left thumb against the side of his face, while the lantern swung and squeaked from the rest of his fingers. “I don’t know just yet. Let’s find a place to sleep so we don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us walking around. We’ll talk about our plans after we’ve had some time to settle down and think.”

I grumbled, but I complied, and the woods turned dark and cold.


A HALF MILE OR SO FARTHER, I CAUGHT SIGHT OF A stretch of water that glistened with moonlight between the trunks of spruces wider than Joe and me and at least two other people put together. In that same direction, hundreds of frogs croaked in a chorus that sounded frantic and urgent and gave me the chills. The world smelled of pines and dampness.

“Is that a lake I see up there,” I asked, “shining in the moonlight through the trees?”

Joe ducked down beneath an outstretched branch for a better look. “It’s just the widest section of Engle Creek, I think. But . . . wait . . .” He slid beneath the branch and disappeared from view in the blackness ahead. “There’s a building of some sort.”

I followed him and just barely made out the silhouette of a small log cabin. I inched up behind where Joe stood, and the warmth of his back permeated the chill in the moist night air.