In Sheep's Clothing by Rett MacPherson

brother, Sven, who really brought her around. He told her she had to eat or the baby would die, and then all that existed of her lover would be gone for good. So Anna began eating.”
    â€œAnd the baby was born,” Rudy said.
    â€œYes, the baby was born. And her diary literally skips most of the pregnancy. Things were quiet for a while,” I said.
    â€œUntil?”
    â€œUntil the farmers found the female wolf.”
    Rudy’s expression darkened. “I don’t want to know,” he said. “Why do you get involved in this kind of thing?”
    â€œAunt Sissy is the one who asked me to read it,” I said. “Knowing what I know, I couldn’t not finish it.”
    â€œOkay, so what happened?” he asked.
    â€œThey trapped the she-wolf in a neighbor’s shed. Some old building that the neighbor was going to tear down anyway. Then they burned it down. With the wolf inside.”
    Rudy just shook his head.
    â€œOh, but the worst part is Anna … She somehow knew what was coming. She said in her diary, ‘I know I shall suffer the same fate as the she-wolf. Our destinies are intertwined. But at least her cubs survived. Maybe Emelie will live on.’ Lord, Rudy. I just put those papers aside and bawled like a baby.”
    â€œBecause Emelie dies with her mother in the fire.”
    â€œYes,” I said. “Two months old. It’s more than I could think about. Anna knew when she was trapped in that cellar that her baby was going to die with her.”
    I swiped at a tear.
    Rudy hugged me close. “See, this is why I’m happy,” he said.
    â€œWhat?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œI’m happy because I’m married to a woman who cries over a baby and a wolf and a girl whom she never knew, and who lived a hundred and fifty years ago,” he said.
    â€œOh, jeez,” I said and sniffled. I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and swiped at my nose.
    â€œSo, what’s the last entry in the diary?” Rudy asked.
    â€œEmelie’s baptism. Anna took her to Cedar Springs to have her baptized. She wouldn’t have her baptized here in Olin, at her church. She said that even though the parson was now gone, she couldn’t bear to have Emelie baptized there. I guess the parson moved on,” I said. “According to Anna, it was a gorgeous day. She went only with her brother. Her parents wouldn’t go. And she cried at the thought of her lover looking down from heaven upon his little girl’s dedication to God.”
    â€œMan,” Rudy said. “What an amazing story.”
    â€œI know now why Aunt Sissy didn’t want to part with the manuscript. I don’t want to part with it either, because I want to make sure that whoever has it will really appreciate it. I can’t stand the thought of somebody tossing it in a wet basement or using it for kindling, or letting their kids color on the backs of the pages. But, yet … I don’t want to keep it either.”
    â€œSo, what are you going to do with it?”
    â€œWell, I think I’m going to come along fishing with you guys and see if Mister Bloomquist is the descendant of Sven. Of course, he probably won’t know if he is descended from Sven. But if he is, then I’m going to check him out first. If he seems ruthless and heartless, you know, like somebody who could care less about a manuscript written by his great-great-grandfather’s sister, then I’m going to donate it to the historical society. At least there I know it will be taken care of. Maybe I’ll stop in the cities and see if there is a depository of some sort for historical manuscripts. In Minneapolis or St. Paul, it will most likely be read and at least preserved. I feel like Anna deserves that,” I said.
    â€œYou know,” Rudy said, “there are millions of stories like Anna’s down through the ages. She wasn’t the only