How I yearned for the comfort of my own bed. It was dark now. Go. No one will see you. You can be in your own cosy bed within minutes.
Something sticky was in my hair. Turning on the flashlight, I spotted a thin rope of sap oozing from the cut made earlier by the saw.
I touched the wound with my finger, then pulled it away. This was the finger I had scraped in my skirmish with Curt. I moved my finger into the light. The sap and my own blood joined.
| Chapter 4 |
|
I woke to blackness. There was a noise, a strange noise. Barking. Not Charlie’s resonant, deep-throated barking, but the vicious, snarling yap of an attack dog. Car lights streaked by and a door slammed. This was spooky. Very spooky.
Get out of here. Now!
My hand fumbled with the bicycle lock. Even if I could have remembered the combination, I couldn’t see the numbers on the lock. Desperately, I felt around for the flashlight. The snarling grew louder.
Knowing there was no time, I concentrated on listening. There was another sound now. A cold, metallic jingling. It was a menacing sound and not knowing what it was frightened me. Just don’t let it have anything to do with snakes. I can handle anything but snakes.
Dog tags! That’s what the sound was. Then I heard a dog’s breathy panting. Moving closer.
Teeth. Bared, canine teeth were suddenly inches from my face. Snarling. Yapping. I threw up my arms and covered my head, hopelessly trying to protect myself.
“What’s the matter, Mrs. James? Don’t you like dogs?”
I lowered my arms just enough to see a dark figure standing before me. That voice. Modulated into softness, almost petulant. It was a voice I’d heard many times before. The man stepped closer. The dog’s mouth snapped and foamed.
“Get the dog off!” I shouted.
The man pulled the animal back a few inches. Finding the flashlight, I shone it up at the man. From that angle, the light made grotesque shadows on his face.
“Boyd?!”
He bowed dramatically like an actor in a murder mystery. “So, Mrs. James. You going to save these trees?”
I did not speak. Had he been drinking? Fear gripped at my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Perhaps you don’t understand the importance of this project, how many jobs it will create. There will be many unhappy townspeople if this venture is … killed. What are a few trees? We can plant more trees.”
“That’s like saying it’s all right to kill people because more can be produced,” I said, finding my voice.
Boyd shook his head. “Spoken like a true fanatic.” He loosened the leash an inch and I felt the moistness of the dog’s breath on my skin. “I know about fanatics. They don’t respond to reason. Only power.” The dog growled. “Like King here. He knows who’s boss. He knows who’s expendable. It would be easy enough to explain. I’d simply tell the police I was out walking my dog when we came across some vagrant sleeping illegally on my property. Is it my fault if the dog attacked in order to protect me? That sounds reasonable to me, Mrs. James. Doesn’t it sound reasonable to you?”
Breathe, Jessie. Nothings going to happen. He’s trying to scare you.
Yes, but he’s been drinking. You know how stupid people get when they’ve been drinking! If Boyd lets go of that leash for even a second, I’ll lose half my face.
I tried to settle myself down. I couldn’t believe this was happening. As if it wasn’t strange enough for me to be out in the middle of the night defending trees, I had to be fighting off Boyd and his dog. If I didn’t have my shaking body to remind me this was real, I would have thought I was in the middle of a bizarre dream. Or nightmare.
The dog jerked his head to the side and burst into a paroxysm of barking. The hair on its neck pointed straight up.
“I smell skunk,” Boyd said. He peered into the darkness nervously.
As if out of thin air, Harley appeared.
Boyd yanked the dog to his side for protection. “Another fanatic. Get off my property.”
Harley bent down and reached out his hand to the dog. King stopped barking and began wagging his tail. “And who’s going to make me, you and this ferocious dog of yours?” King took a friendly step towards Harley.
Boyd snapped the dog’s leash so hard the animal was pulled off its feet. “I’ll have you arrested.”
Harley stood up. “We’ve done that number, remember?”
“Yes, but you don’t learn. How long were you in for last time?” Boyd turned to me. “Did you know this man was a criminal? Convicted of assault?”
I looked at Harley. From the way he treated animals, I doubted Harley could hurt anything unless extremely provoked.
“That’s your name for it,” Harley said. “To me it was slapping the hand of a greedy man who was trying to take what didn’t belong to him.” Harley’s eyes remained steadily on Boyd. “That girl’s still fucked up.”
“That girl was always fucked up.”
Something flickered in Harley’s eyes and Boyd tensed as if expecting Harley to lunge at him. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Harley turned to me. “I’ll be keeping an eye out,” he said, then held out something to the dog who lurched forward and devoured it before Boyd could restrain him.
Boyd watched him go. “You’re keeping bad company, Mrs. James.”
I said nothing.
“Some people think they can break the rules. But there’s a penalty for breaking rules.” His voice was soft and modulated again. “Unless, of course, you’re the one making them.” The corner of his mouth jutted up with sudden pride. “I’m calling the shots on this one.”
The dog snarled, pricking its ears. Hearing something move in the darkness, Boyd and I both turned. A skunk ambled at the edge of the clearing. The dog jumped and spun in midair, bursting into a spasm of yelps.
“One skunk breeds another,” Boyd said.
Instinctively, the skunk turned and raised its tail. Boyd tugged the dog away.
“Think about what I’ve said, Mrs. James,” he said, then walked away, disappearing into the darkness.
I watched them go. After a while I heard a truck start, then drive off. I followed the sound until I could no longer hear it. Heart pounding, I heard the short, sharp noises of someone sawing wood, then realized it was the sound of my own breathing. I made myself take several long, steady breaths, trying to calm myself.
“Hard to believe some people actually like that man,” Harley said, appearing again. In one easy sweep, he reached down and gathered up the skunk. “At least, a skunk acts like a skunk and doesn’t pretend to be anything else.”
Gently he brought the skunk over and placed it on my lap. “Don’t worry. He can’t spray. Though he tries hard enough. Some city people had him as a pet – took his sprayer out. Then they dumped him. I call him ‘Streak’.”
“That’s a good name,” I managed to whisper, feeling overwhelmed. Too much was happening too fast. Slowly I raised my hand and began to pet the skunk. I could feel the heat of Harley’s hand beside mine.
“You’re shaking,”