brim of his hat and almost smiled, while the driver just shook his head and drove on by, his disdain shared by a dog who rode windblown in the back. Once they were ahead, the passenger turned briefly to look at them through the gun rack in the cab’s rear window.
‘You know them?’
Dan nodded. ‘They’re Abe Harding’s boys. They ranch a little spread up near the Calder place. You’ll be neighbors.’ Helen looked at him and saw he was grinning.
‘Are you serious?’
‘ ’Fraid so.’
‘Well, there’s me off to a great start.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s not your driving they’ll hate you for. See the bumper sticker?’
She had to lean forward and squint because the truck was accelerating ahead, but she could still make out a wolf’s head crossed out in red and, beside it, the words No Wolves, No Way, No Where .
‘Terrific.’
‘Oh, you’ll soon have them eating out of your hand.’
The road followed the bends of the river for another four miles until Helen saw a white church on a low hill, then other buildings rear above the trees. There was a narrow, railed bridge that crossed the river and a sign saying HOPE (POPULATION 519) after which some cryptic soul had added three clean bullet holes of perfect punctuation, consigning both town and people to a state of perpetual suspense.
‘I always get this childish urge to spray “abandon” on it.
‘Dan, you’re doing a really great job selling this place to me.’
‘Like I told you, it has a history.’
‘So when do I get to hear it?’
They were coming over the bridge and he pointed ahead.
‘Take that turn there.’
She pulled off the road and down into a small gravel parking lot beside the river. There were a couple of other cars there and Helen stopped beside them and turned off the engine.
‘Come on,’ Dan said. ‘I’ll show you something.’
They left Buzz in the pickup and walked into a small park that stretched beside the river. It was a pretty place, its grassy slopes kept lush by sprinklers. Their spray made rainbows in the sun that was shafting the shade of several tall willows. There were swings and a climbing frame for children, but those there now were playing chasing games through the sprinklers. Their mothers sat chiding them halfheartedly from one of half a dozen wooden picnic tables.
Below, at the water’s edge, silhouetted against a molten reflection of sky between two cottonwoods, an old man in red suspenders and a dusty blue feed cap tossed crusts to a family of swans. Helen could see their feet churning to hold steady in the current.
Dan led the way along the raised path that snaked from the parking lot to the white clapboard church on the hill at the far end of the park. He seemed to be scanning the ground. Then he stopped and pointed down.
‘Look.’
Helen stopped beside him. She couldn’t see what he was pointing at.
‘What?’
He bent and picked up something small and white from the path. He handed it to her and she examined it.
‘It’s like a piece of shell or something.’
He shook his head and pointed again to the ground.
‘See? There’s some more.’
There were flecks of it along the edge of the path, like a snowy residue, scuffed there and scrunched to ever finer fragments by the constant passage of sneakers and bicycle wheels.
‘Sometimes you can find bigger pieces,’ he said. ‘Deep down the soil must be full of it. I guess that’s why the grass grows so well.’
‘What is it then?’
‘It was from an old road that was here once.’
Helen frowned.
‘It’s wolf bone. The road was paved with wolf skulls.’
She looked at him, thinking he must be kidding.
‘It’s true. Thousands of them.’
And while, across the park, the children played on among the sprinklers, their laughter floating on the balm of the evening air, as if the world had ever been thus, Dan sat her down at one of the tables beneath the willows and told her how there came to be a road of skulls.
8
I t was
‘You know them?’
Dan nodded. ‘They’re Abe Harding’s boys. They ranch a little spread up near the Calder place. You’ll be neighbors.’ Helen looked at him and saw he was grinning.
‘Are you serious?’
‘ ’Fraid so.’
‘Well, there’s me off to a great start.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s not your driving they’ll hate you for. See the bumper sticker?’
She had to lean forward and squint because the truck was accelerating ahead, but she could still make out a wolf’s head crossed out in red and, beside it, the words No Wolves, No Way, No Where .
‘Terrific.’
‘Oh, you’ll soon have them eating out of your hand.’
The road followed the bends of the river for another four miles until Helen saw a white church on a low hill, then other buildings rear above the trees. There was a narrow, railed bridge that crossed the river and a sign saying HOPE (POPULATION 519) after which some cryptic soul had added three clean bullet holes of perfect punctuation, consigning both town and people to a state of perpetual suspense.
‘I always get this childish urge to spray “abandon” on it.
‘Dan, you’re doing a really great job selling this place to me.’
‘Like I told you, it has a history.’
‘So when do I get to hear it?’
They were coming over the bridge and he pointed ahead.
‘Take that turn there.’
She pulled off the road and down into a small gravel parking lot beside the river. There were a couple of other cars there and Helen stopped beside them and turned off the engine.
‘Come on,’ Dan said. ‘I’ll show you something.’
They left Buzz in the pickup and walked into a small park that stretched beside the river. It was a pretty place, its grassy slopes kept lush by sprinklers. Their spray made rainbows in the sun that was shafting the shade of several tall willows. There were swings and a climbing frame for children, but those there now were playing chasing games through the sprinklers. Their mothers sat chiding them halfheartedly from one of half a dozen wooden picnic tables.
Below, at the water’s edge, silhouetted against a molten reflection of sky between two cottonwoods, an old man in red suspenders and a dusty blue feed cap tossed crusts to a family of swans. Helen could see their feet churning to hold steady in the current.
Dan led the way along the raised path that snaked from the parking lot to the white clapboard church on the hill at the far end of the park. He seemed to be scanning the ground. Then he stopped and pointed down.
‘Look.’
Helen stopped beside him. She couldn’t see what he was pointing at.
‘What?’
He bent and picked up something small and white from the path. He handed it to her and she examined it.
‘It’s like a piece of shell or something.’
He shook his head and pointed again to the ground.
‘See? There’s some more.’
There were flecks of it along the edge of the path, like a snowy residue, scuffed there and scrunched to ever finer fragments by the constant passage of sneakers and bicycle wheels.
‘Sometimes you can find bigger pieces,’ he said. ‘Deep down the soil must be full of it. I guess that’s why the grass grows so well.’
‘What is it then?’
‘It was from an old road that was here once.’
Helen frowned.
‘It’s wolf bone. The road was paved with wolf skulls.’
She looked at him, thinking he must be kidding.
‘It’s true. Thousands of them.’
And while, across the park, the children played on among the sprinklers, their laughter floating on the balm of the evening air, as if the world had ever been thus, Dan sat her down at one of the tables beneath the willows and told her how there came to be a road of skulls.
8
I t was
Similar Books
