Secret of the Wolf (45 page)

offered no warning. Johanna went to her side and spoke in a whisper. "You did not hear

about what happened to the mine owner?”

"I haven't been in town since yesterday mornin'. I stayed with Mrs. Bergstrom last night,

way up along the Foss stage route. She's alone now, and ailin', and I—" She pressed

her lips together. "Why're them people here, Doc Jo?”

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"There is no time to explain. I need you to help keep everyone calm and quiet." She

addressed the others. "There is no cause for alarm. I would like you all to remain here,

together, until I return. I am going to speak to the people outside.”

"I know why they're here," Irene said shrilly. "They've come to get Quentin. He

murdered that man in town.”

Johanna was no longer surprised by the things Irene knew. It was her own failure that

she hadn't paid more attention to the older woman and monitored her activities
.

One of many failures that were coming back to haunt her
.

"I don't believe it!" Mrs. Daugherty said
.

"They do," Harper said, pointing his chin toward the kitchen door. Everyone glanced at

him in surprise. He, along with Johanna's father, was the only one who showed no

outward sign of concern. "Is Quentin all right?”

"Yes." She looked at him more carefully, remembering Quentin's advice. "Harper,

please give Mrs. Daugherty any assistance she needs.”

"I reckon you're the one who'll need help," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll come with

you.”

"As you wish. The rest of you stay inside." She strode for the door and stepped out,

Harper at her heels
.

The people stirred when they saw her, setting off a ripple of low, hostile voices. She

recognized several respectable townsfolk she'd spoken to or dealt with at one time or

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another, including the blacksmith and the butcher, but most of them were idlers who

commonly hung about in the street, drinking and gossiping
.

She thought of the gun she'd left on the desk in her office. Foolish; she should have

hidden it, or at least brought it along
.

And would you use it, Johanna ?

"Gentlemen," Johanna said. "How may I help you?”

They obviously hadn't expected such a moderate response to their fearsome presence.

The blacksmith looked about uneasily. Others shuffled their feet
.

One of the men, a burly giant with a scar across his chin, stepped in front of the rest.

She didn't know him, but it was clear that he relished his role as ringleader
.

"You know why we're here!" he shouted. "You got all them loonies holed up in this

place, and one of 'em killed Ketchum!”

Raised voices supported his accusation. Fists, some wielding farm tools, waved in the

air
.

"And you are Mr.—" She inclined her head in invitation
.

"Mungo," he said with a belligerent sneer
.

"I just heard of Mr. Ketchum's unfortunate death," she said. "I'm sorry that you have felt

the need to visit the Haven under such circumstances.”

Mungo scowled. "Don't try to protect 'im! We know who did it.”

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Johanna didn't allow her voice to waver in the least. "If you believe one of my patients

committed this act, why have you not summoned the constable? I would certainly be

glad to cooperate with the proper authorities.”

"Don't think you can put us off with your high-and-mighty airs, woman," he taunted. "We

al'ays knew something like this would happen, with crazies living near us. This man

Forster caused trouble in town b'fore, an' Quigley saw 'im right near where Ketchum

was kil't!”

"Nevertheless, until you bring a representative of the law, I will not permit you to bother

my patients.”

Harper stepped up to her side. "You heard the lady. Go on home, before you regret

what you're doing.”

"Loony!" Mungo spat at his feet. "We know all about you. We know about every crazy in

this place. We c'n run you out and no one'll stop us. If you don't bring Forster to us, we'll

go in and get 'im!”

He started toward Johanna. Men followed in straggling twos and threes. Harper moved

ahead of Johanna, readying for attack
.

A streak of russet plunged between Harper and Mungo, striking the ringleader on the

legs so that he staggered and fell. Johanna got a single good look at the wolf—bristling,

fangs bared, eyes blazing with demonic fury—before it fell on the leaders of the mob
.

Muttered imprecations became screams. Men ran every which way, seeking escape as

hell snapped at their heels
.

Mungo found himself gazing up into the open maw of a beast long thought to be extinct

in California—except that no such creature had ever existed except in the darkest

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imaginings of men more clever than he. He shrieked and covered his face with his

arms
.

Johanna didn't dare cry out for fear of giving Quentin away. Harper dashed in front of

her, seized Mungo's arm, and yanked him to his feet. The man didn't linger. He

stumbled over his own legs in his haste to follow the others
.

The wolf chased them as far as the gate, turned about once to look at Johanna, and

leaped the fence with breathtaking grace. In a heartbeat he had vanished
.

Harper returned to her side. "Lord have mercy," he whispered. "It's real, then.”

She stared at him, wondering how long this state of perpetual confusion would last.

"What is real, Harper?”

"You don't have to worry, Doc. I know I'm not crazy, and neither are you.”

She had no energy left to pose sensible questions and interpret ambiguous answers.

"You know?”

"I thought I'd seen all the wonders and terrors this world has to offer." He laughed under

his breath. "A dog came by to see me, before I came out of myself. Least I thought it

was a dog. He spoke to me—not like people, but the way other things do, sometimes.

Later I had the same feeling around Quentin. Then the Reverend started muttering

about men changing into wolves

I just sort of put things together.”

Quentin was not the only remarkable man at the Haven. "And you accept this?”

"Don't rightly have much choice, do I?" He scratched his chin and looked down the lane

beyond the gate, where the dust was just beginning to settle. "I don't reckon the folks

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from town will be back anytime soon. They'll have other things to gossip about for a

while.”

"No doubt. But after today, we can't make any assumptions." This entire conversation

felt like a dream within a dream. She remembered what Quentin had said of Harper,

urging her to rely on him. She badly needed his stolid dispassion. "How much do you

know of what's been happening in town?”

"I keep my ear to the ground. Irene gossips.”

And how did Irene know so much? That question must also wait until later. "There are

many things I have been unable to tell you and the others. Are you aware that May's

father has come to the Springs to take her from the Haven, with the help of a man

named Bolkonsky, and that I have opposed this reunion for the sake of May's health

and happiness?”

"I've watched May these past few days." He motioned to the place where the mob had

stood. "It has something to do with all this?”

"May's father was assaulted in his hotel shortly before Ketchum was killed." She

swallowed. "Quentin has been very protective of May.”

He didn't ask if she believed Quentin had done the assaulting. "Why would Quentin go

after this Ketchum?”

Explaining Fenris and her tenuous theories about him was not an option. "Matters have

gone terribly awry, Harper. I ask for your trust

and I may need your help, if you feel

able.”

"Yes," he said simply. "Quentin's leaving the Haven, isn't he?”

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She held back tears by sheer force of will. "He went to look for May. He must have

found her, if he was able to—" She gestured wordlessly at the trampled earth. "May will

be leaving as well, as soon as we can make her ready. Let us go inside.”

Mrs. Daugherty stood sentinel by the kitchen door, clutching a cast-iron pan to ward off

potential invaders
.

"What happened?" she demanded. "First that man was makin' threats, and then I see

him an' his friends a'runnin' like the devil hisself was after 'em.”

Thank God Mrs. Daugherty hadn't seen the wolf. "They thought better of their behavior.

Has May come back?”

"I saw her in the parlor with the others just a moment ago, but they been mighty quiet

since. Haven't seen Quentin." She followed Johanna into the parlor. "I thought someone

should stand guard—”

She broke off. The parlor was empty except for Johanna's father, who was dozing in his

chair. Johanna's heart clenched in panic
.

"I didn't hear anyone leave!" Mrs. Daugherty protested
.

"Please look through the house, Mrs. Daugherty," Johanna said. "Harper and I will

search outside.”

She rushed down the hall to the rear door, knowing that the others weren't in their

rooms. Harper found Lewis at the edge of the garden, sitting in the dirt. Blood matted

the thinning hair at the back of his head
.

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"Someone hit me," he said in faint outrage, accepting Harper's support. Johanna knelt

beside him to examine the wound, which was rapidly developing into a goose's egg. He

was lucky to have received such a glancing blow
.

"I told them all to stay inside," Lewis said. "That

Quentin Forster brought May into the

parlor and left again, but the girl had hardly been here a minute when that pernicious

female, DuBois—she whispered to May and led her out the back door." He wiped at his

soiled trousers and stared at the earth stains on his hands as if he would weep. "I tried

to stop them. I followed them, and then someone struck me—”

"We'll find them, Lewis.”

"But the wolf-beast—the mob—”

"They're gone. But I must find May." She took a clean handkerchief from her pocket and

pressed it over Lewis's wound. "Hold this firmly in place. Harper will take you in, and I'll

see to your injury as soon as I can.”

She nodded to Harper, who supported Lewis to his feet. For once, Lewis did not reject

the touch
.

Someone had struck Lewis with the obvious intent of rendering him unconscious, or at

least incapable of action. Irene had lured May outside, in spite of being told to remain in

the parlor, after Quentin had delivered the girl safely home and gone out to confront the

mob
.

The confusion of the past few minutes would be an ideal diversion for one who wished

to approach the Haven from the opposite direction unobserved. One who wished to

remove a certain patient without interference
.

Bolkonsky
.

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Dummkopf, Johanna swore at herself. "May! May, do you hear me?" She ran through

the garden and turned toward the wood. She almost missed the book that lay facedown

on the path to the orchard
.

May's book, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps' The Story of Avis. She bent to pick it up and saw

the footprints beside it, lightly engraved in the shade-moistened earth. Two sets of

footprints, a girl's and a woman's
.

Johanna followed their course like a hound dog with its nose to the trail. Just within the

orchard itself a third set of prints, unmistakably male, joined the first two. They traveled

together for a few yards more, and then the girl's disappeared
.

That was where she found Irene
.

The woman stood in the shade of an apple tree, holding a battered carpetbag against

her chest. Her attention was entirely focused on the lane just beyond the orchard fence.

May was not with her
.

"Irene," Johanna said
.

Irene's head snapped around. Her eyes widened in an expression of naked fear
.

"Where is May?" Johanna demanded. "Where is she, Irene?”

"She's not here!" Irene stepped away from the tree, holding the carpetbag in front of her.

"Go away. Leave me alone!”

"I know you took her out of the parlor," Johanna said, making no effort to quell her