DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program "Lonesome Dove: The Outlaw Years" are the creations of Rysher Television, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. This story or the new characters created by the author are not to be published on any ftp site, newsgroup, mailing list, fanzine or elsewhere without the express permission of the author.
"Maria" and "Mrs. Ashby" are the creations Darcie D. Daniels.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Well, I've been toying with an idea about the return of the white wolf from TS. This is what I've come up with. I ought to call this "WHITE FANG: PART 3"!!
Here's an idea of my other stories, but in this one, it really doesn't matter that you know what happened in the others.
Ep 1: Josiah's niece comes to town.
Ep 2: Two preachers come to CW.
Ep 3: Mosby and Maria's stage gets robbed.
Ep 4: Maria decides to matchmake for Mosby.
Ep 5: Thanksgiving, CW, 1880.
Ep 6: Christmas, CW, 1880.
Ep 7: New Years, CW, 1881.
Setting: Late January.
Curtis Wells, Montana Territory, 1881.
She awoke with a start, instantly realizing that she was on Mr. Call's bench. She rarely slept during the day, but ever since the new year began Maria had become increasingly fatigued. She blamed Mr. Call. Ever since she became blood siblings with him, she had no urge to do anymore than sit on his bench. She would force herself to get up and do things for her family - like make them meals and clean the newspaper office - but any extra effort tired her. She began to lose weight, and even the activities she enjoyed most - like reading her books - overexerted her. It was hard to do anything anymore.
It was a result of all these dreams, Maria told herself. Mr. Call surely was to blame. She never dreamed about white wolves before their bond. A solitary white wolf pursued her. It never attacked. It just stared at her, as if it expected something. Maria could not understand it. Mr. Call always seemed to understand mysticism better than any other person she knew, but when she asked Mr. Call's opinion on it, he merely shrugged. He said he never liked to think of white wolves. He never elaborated. He merely shrugged.
Maria stifled a yawn as she watched Mr. Call walk toward her. Aunt Elinor would never approve of public yawning.
"You're back from another bounty, I see. I applaud you on your success," Maria told Mr. Call as she watched him sit down beside her. He also looked as if he had just come from Mr. Lau's Clean and Hot. His skin was clean under his dirty clothes. His cleanliness was an improvement, though he really did need a some new clothes.
Actually, Mr. Call did seem to be more up and about recently, Maria reflected. He brought in a lot of bounties since Christmas, and he was more wealthy than he had been in a long time. Maria supposed some of her blood was rubbing off on him.
"You sit on my bench more than I do nowadays," Mr. Call commented, ignoring her. He pulled his hat over his eyes and became more comfortable on the bench.
"Why, you are my idol, Newton Call," Maria explained her presence at his bench, summoning up the strength to tease him. It was her only pleasure now. Mr. Call loved to be teased. She could always tell by the grimacing on his face. "I want to be just like you. One of these days, I'm going to get me a leather coat and leather boots and a beautiful brocade vest just like yours. Then I'll wear the hat you gave me and saunter down the street and slouch just like you. All the women will be jealous of how adorable I am, and all the men will avoid me like the plague because I am so cool under fire. You, sir, are one of the most adorable men in Curtis Wells. Well, perhaps Mr. Unbob is more adorable than you, but you come very close. You are such a cutie, Newton. I can see all this by sitting at your bench. I wonder if that is why you sit on your bench. It must give you time to ponder upon yourself, and surely you must come to same conclusion as I."
Mr. Call swore underneath his hat, but he did not return any comments to her. Maria smiled at him, but she did not laugh. It took most her energy just to give him her speech.
"There ain't much to conclude about me," he said rather sadly, slouching even more than he was, if that was possible. "But I know you're a loon. You'd jaw all day if you had the chance."
Maria shook her head. Maybe at one time she could chatter away at him all day, but not any longer.
Then she saw Mr. Mosby come out from the Ambrosia Club. She quickly looked down. It took a lot of effort to avoid the pain, and Maria was fatigued just turning her eyes upon the snow. She loved Mr. Mosby, but he did not love her. Somehow he had fallen in love with Mr. Call's wife Hannah, and he, just like Mr. Call, Austin, and Josiah, was still haunted by her death.
Maria could not believe her bad luck. Her deceased cousin Hannah always prevented her from getting close to the ones she loved. It was Hannah the beautiful. It was Hannah the saint. It was always Hannah this, Hannah that. Perhaps in life, Maria could have given Hannah a good licking, but in death, Hannah could not be defeated. There was no hope.
"Maybe you're right," she conceded about her being crazy. It was crazy to be jealous over a dead woman - especially a woman she did not even know. At one time, it was Maria's fondest wish to get to know her cousin, but now, Maria wished Hannah would just die. Hannah would not let go. She held on - her grip in death was stronger than it had been in life, Maria was certain of it. Hannah's grip strangled them all. Hannah needed to die so that they all might live.
But Hannah already had her marker. It stood silently in the church cemetery. Her death was proclaimed in 1878, but that was only in stone.
"Yeah, I'm right," Mr. Call returned. "You're better now, though. You don't jaw away at me as much as you used to."
Maria was silent, lost in thought.
"Guess that's me you've got in you," Mr. Call commented when she did not say anything to him. After a pause, he added, "But something ain't right about it."
She hardly heard him. She could barely keep her eyes open.
The white wolf was closer now. Its pale blue eyes stared right through her, but it did nothing. It just looked her over. Maria wished it would make up its mind. She wished it would attack her or leave her be. It was too tiring to play this waiting game.
"She ain't none of your concern, Mosby," she heard Mr. Call say with certainty as she was startled awake. She rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the image of the white wolf. Maria could not close her eyes any longer without it staring at her. It was very disconcerting.
"Everything that happens in this town is of my concern, Mr. Call," Mr. Mosby returned, smiling dangerously. "It alarms the whole town when one of its citizens is in ill health. Naturally, as its leader, I suggest that Miss Bennett see Dr. Cleese immediately."
Mr. Call rolled his eyes and looked away. Maria was glad her cousin-in-law was sitting next to her. Then she could be silent without feeling rude. Maria did not want to talk to Mr. Mosby. She had not spoken a word to him in a month.
"Just leave her be, Mosby. She don't need anything from the likes of you."
Mr. Mosby's mouth twisted in irritation. "Well, it's obvious you're not going to do anything about it. How typical of you, Call." Then Mr. Mosby turned towards her. "Miss Bennett, you haven't been feeling well. You should see Dr. Cleese."
Maria did not look at him. Her mouth tightened into a grim line. Silence always protected her during her most trying times. If she was silent, then it would not hurt as badly.
"Oh, for God's sake, Maria, stop behaving like a child," Mr. Mosby told her impatiently. "If you don't see Dr. Cleese, I must insist that he see you."
Maria stared directly at Mr. Mosby with a steely hardness. Then her lip curved in a humorless smile, and then she looked aloofly away.
Let him try, Maria thought.
Mr. Mosby sighed hopelessly, then turned back towards Mr. Call. "Don't you see it, Call? This isn't her normal behavior. Do you honestly want her ending up like you? Alone and unable to care about anyone or anything?"
That was enough, in Maria's opinion. He had no right to address her blood brother in such a fashion. She had the urge to stand up and slap Mr. Mosby, yet it was too tiring.
Mr. Call merely grunted in challenge at the town proprietor, and then looked away in an aloof manner. "She'll be all right," he returned positively.
Mr. Call would be all right, too, in Maria's opinion. Maria nodded in approval at her blood brother. Everything would be fine.
Mr. Mosby stared at them both and then finally nodded. "I see. Well, don't let me keep you from whatever you are doing." His butternut eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, that's right. You are so busy doing nothing that it must be extremely fatiguing for you both. Miss Bennett, I must say, I am extremely disappointed in you. I never thought that you would resort to Mr. Call's tactics."
She really, truly wanted to slap him for his continued insolence toward Mr. Call. Instead, Maria's dark blue eyes narrowed hotly, but she did not say anything. She just smiled as sweetly as she could at him.
Mr. Mosby smiled humorlessly in return. Then he tipped his hat at her. "Miss Bennett." Then with disgust, he nodded at her cousin-in-law. "Mr. Call."
Both Maria and Mr. Call watched him walk away.
They did not say anything to each other for a moment. Finally, Maria asked, "Newton, will you teach me how to shoot? I want to shoot that man."
Mr. Call laughed. It was a rare and unusually pleasant sound.
Even the brisk winter wind did not awaken her spirits. It blew constantly, and the wind chafed her skin. Maria was so very tired. It was hard to stand. She just wanted some sleep.
She slept constantly, but it never seemed that she could get any rest. This Sunday morning she woke up early as she used to, but despite her efforts to go back to sleep, something prevented her.
She just wanted some rest, Maria told herself as she staggered against the wind. There had to be some relaxation somewhere.
Then Maria saw it. It was the white wolf. It was standing by the church.
"Maria, what is it?" she heard her cousin Austin ask.
Startled, Maria turned back towards her cousin. He was up unusually early this morning, too.
"Don't you see it?" Maria asked, pointing towards the wolf.
"See what?" Austin's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"It's the white wolf I told you about. Surely, you must see it."
"I don't see anything but the church. Really, Maria, you're getting as crazy as Unbob."
Maria turned back towards the wolf. It was no longer there.
It was a dream. It must have been simply a dream.
"Miss Bennett, I do hope your uncle is well. You're not coming down with the same thing, are you?" Mrs. Ashby, the town gossip, inquired. Then she continued, not allowing Maria to respond, "Josiah went mad, poor man, over your cousin Hannah's death. It's only natural with your breakup with Mr. Mosby that you'd do the same thing. They say it runs in the family, you know. Hannah was a little touched, too, so I've heard. Goodness knows that Austin has been crazy all this time."
Maria's eyes narrowed dangerously. Ever since she talked to Unbob about her dream, hoping he might know something about white wolves, the whole town now knew that about her dreams and her "visions." The townspeople looked at her with side-long glances, talked amongst themselves, and avoided her - obviously thinking that whatever she was suffering from was catching. It was not that Maria minded much, anyway. She did not want any company except Mr. Call or her cousin Austin. Everyone else was too taxing.
Austin himself did not spend too much time with her. Maria enjoyed his company because he was much kinder to her than he had ever been to her in the past. It was if they understood each other better now. He was protective of her, and Austin almost treated her like his own father - yet Maria did not know whether she was truly mad like Josiah. Still, Austin's concern was touching.
Maria hoped she was not mad.
She could not rest. That was her problem. That white wolf haunted her and hunted her. It never let her stop, not even for a moment.
Maria sighed, deciding not say anything to the wretched old busy-body. Mrs. Ashby was not worth her effort.
"Oh, and Mr. Call! Oh, my! I'm told that he was such an upstanding man before Hannah's death! Now, he's nothing but a no good bounty hunter. Why, he's no better than a common outlaw. He's been too much of influence on you, if you ask me. The whole town's talking about it. You shouldn't be sitting there all day. You should at least try to find a husband to make yourself more respectable. It was not right to carry on your affair with Mr. Mosby in the way that you did. You will have to forget about wearing white, of course, but a nice pink dress will do for your wedding."
Maria grimaced. The woman was no better than a fool. Still, Maria said nothing. Perhaps Mrs. Ashby would just go away if she continued to ignore her.
"But of course, we can all assume that this was the fault of that aunt of yours. What was her name? Elaine? Elsie? Anyway, the woman should have brought you up with more decency than she did. Anyone knows that if the child ends up a heathen, it is a result of bad upbringing."
Maria's mouth twisted into a tight, hateful line. The wretched woman was trying her patience.
"She probably carried on before she was married, too, poor thing. No wonder you ended up as you did. This is all your aunt Elsie's fault, obviously. She was the heathen before you, dear child. We all seem to think so."
Maria finally stood up, a menace present in her eyes. Her aunt Elinor was a saint. Mrs. Ashby and her club of gossips could go to hell, as far as Maria was concerned. The muscles in her shoulders tensed, her whole body poised for an attack. Her hand balled into a solid fist.
"You are descended from a mad family, dear. It is not your fault, but it is so sad. Oh, if your aunt Elsie could see what havoc she has wreaked upon you! Why, if she was here, I'd slap her myself for your sufferings now. It is good that she is in her grave, dear. I am glad that I didn't have to know that woman."
A new awareness suddenly pounded through Maria. Maria could smell Mrs. Ashby's blood. The gossip was a weak, old fool. She deserved to be separated from the herd. Maria circled about her, looking for her most vulnerable spot. The old woman was hardly worth hunting, but Maria was hungry for the blood.
"I am glad that she did not have to know you," Maria commented with an almost inaudible growl in her voice.
Her nails dug into her palms now. Maria could feel her own blood drip onto her fist. Her claws were sharp. It would feel so much better to feel the blood of the old woman than her own.
Mrs. Ashby backed away in fright, sensing something beyond herself.
Maria's mouth curved into a small, yet menacing smile. The prey knew it was being hunted. It would make the kill far more satisfactory.
"Miss Bennett, have you gone mad?" Mrs. Ashby sputtered. She looked around nervously for help.
Maria did not hear her. Instead, she licked her teeth. They felt sharp. They could easily tear away at raw meat.
When the old woman tripped on some ice, Maria saw her opportunity. She pounced, eager for the blood.
Yet something held her back. Something prevented her from the kill.
"She's gone mad!" Mrs. Ashby cried out, floundering about on the ice.
"Shut up," Mr. Call told her, still yanking Maria away from the old gossip.
"She ought to be locked up!" Mrs. Ashby protested.
Mr. Call's pale blue eyes narrowed threateningly, warning her not to say another word. The old woman instantly stopped sputtering. As soon as she could get up, the gossip immediately rushed away from them.
Maria still struggled, not knowing what was holding her back. The prey was getting away.
"Maria."
Maria watched as the old woman ducked inside a building. Maria could never hunt her in there.
"Maria."
She looked back at what was holding her. It was a scruffy looking blond man. His blood would do as well as any, Maria supposed. She poised herself for the attack.
"Maria Bennett!" Mr. Call repeated again, this time very sharply.
Maria awoke from a dream, suddenly recognizing her blood brother in front of her. His hands gripped painfully into her arms.
She could only stare at him, dumbfounded, as she tried to catch her breath.
Satisfied that she was not going to attack him, Mr. Call let her go.
She instantly fell on the ground.
Dear God, Maria thought, covering her face in shame. What would Aunt Elinor think?
"I'm going insane. I'm going insane."
"No, no." Mr. Call tried to reassure her, but it was of no use.
She stayed inside the newspaper office now. Maria did not want to take any more chances that someone else might inspire another fit of insanity.
She was glad that it was warmer outside. Her uncle Josiah left the newspaper office when it warmed. He would not be there to tax her.
Maria wished she could just crawl in a hole and never come out. Then perhaps she could get some rest.
The white wolf never let her go. It was insistent. It was relentless.
"Maria, why don't you go outside?" Austin asked her, his dark eyes filled with concern.
She sat at the table, looking out the window.
"I don't want to," Maria answered him.
"Damn it," Austin swore angrily. "You're going to drive yourself crazy if you stay cooped up in here. Don't you know what the town is saying about you? It's bad enough that Father acts the way he does. I don't need you to start acting crazy, too."
Maria frowned. She supposed it was not fair to Austin that he should be anchored with such a family.
She hesitated in answering him, "But I'm afraid . . . ."
"Afraid of what?" Austin demanded when she did not elaborate.
She was afraid it was already too late. She was insane. She was sure of it. She could no longer think clearly. Nothing made sense as it used to.
"Austin, I don't know what to do," Maria confessed.
He was very still for a moment. "I haven't known what to do in two years," he said in such a low voice that Maria hardly heard him.
He muttered just before he left the office, "Father hates you because you look like Aunt Lily." Then he shut the door behind him.
Maria stared after him.
For months now, Maria had tried to get Austin to tell her why Josiah treated her in the indifferent way he did. Austin had refused to tell her. Now he just blurted it out.
It did not make sense. Maria did not look like her mother.
Even if Maria did resemble her, it did not make sense why Josiah treated her so indifferently.
Perhaps Josiah had some mad grudge against her mother. Maria's face must have been a constant reminder.
Maria felt furious. Josiah was reacting to a ghost and not his own living niece. To hell with him.
Then Maria spied Hannah's wedding picture. Josiah had left it on his bed.
Hannah's smiling face was mocking her. Damn her. Damn her. She had no right to smile like that.
Maria stalked over to it and threw furiously it against the wall. The glass shards exploded all over the newspaper office. The picture fell out of the broken frame.
Hannah kept smiling at her. Damn her.
It felt good to tear her into several pieces.
Let Hannah die, Maria thought to herself as the torn pieces floated to the ground.
Maria sat alone in the church. Surely no one would bother her in there.
Josiah had a fit when he saw Hannah's torn picture. He cursed and yelled at Maria and told her that she would never amount to anything like Hannah. With tears in her eyes, Maria admitted she could not be Hannah even if she wanted to. Josiah just mumbled incoherently, and then reached inside his chest drawer and drew out another picture of Hannah. It looked almost identical to the first one. He delicately caressed it, as if his deceased daughter was real.
Hannah would not die. Damn her. Curse her.
Maria prayed that this insanity would just stop. There had to be an end. She had to quit having these dreams - these living nightmares. It was too jumbled now. Maria did not know if she was even awake anymore. Thoughts of Hannah and the white wolf were of one now. She did not know where one stopped and the other began.
She just wanted some rest.
Dear God, she prayed. Just let me have some rest.
Even the church mocked her. It was a constant reminder that Hannah was here. Her deceased cousin helped build the church.
Everywhere Maria looked, it seemed as if Hannah was there.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Maria demanded out loud. "Go away! Go away!"
"Who are you talking to, Miss Maria?" she heard Unbob exclaim with child-like innocence. He looked around the church suspiciously.
Maria sadly stood up and looked out the window to the church cemetery. The white wolf was standing there on the hill by Hannah's grave. She sighed, expecting it to be there.
"No one," she answered. "That is my problem."
Maria could not stand it anymore. This had to stop.
The wolf had to be stopped, one way or another.
Maria thought perhaps that alcohol might be her solution. Her uncle Josiah had enough of it around the newspaper office. But the stuff tasted nasty, it burned, and it only made her head pound afterward. And it did not stop her dreams.
She spoke to several people in tent town. Mr. Harry suggested opium. She tried it once. It helped her fall asleep well enough, but it also made her sick to her stomach.
Dr. Cleese prescribed chloral hydrate. It decreased the number of times she awoke during the night, but it tasted even nastier than straight whiskey, especially when Maria did not dilute it to the appropriate degree. Sometimes it even made her dreams worse. Maria could not tolerate that. She had enough problems as it was.
If only the wolf would go away, then Maria would not be in this mess.
She tried attacking the wolf several times during her dreams, but it always stayed a distance away from her. It would never go away.
Mr. Call did not want to talk about the white wolf. He did not elaborate why, nor did he want to take her to his Metis friends who might help her understand what the white wolf signified. It seemed to Maria that Mr. Call was avoiding something by not helping her. She just wished Mr. Call would let whatever it was go and be of some use to her.
When Mr. Mosby first attempted to offer her the use of his gris-gris, Maria ignored him. Now she cursed herself for not going along with it. She now wished she could ask for his help. She needed some relief. She would even tolerate Mr. Mosby's painful presence in order to get some rest. But Maria dug her own hole with him. She could not ask him now.
There had to be an end in sight. She could not go on any longer without rest.
It would be better if she could just die.
It was an early Sunday morning. Maria slept and slept and slept, but it did not seem like she could ever get enough energy. The wolf plagued her during the night and day, and thoughts of Hannah just simply haunted her.
She awoke. She had to get up. She had to end all of this.
First, Maria walked over by the corral. It was empty, except for a few horses. She looked up at the post to the entrance. Then she looked down at a rope nearby. She shook her head. It would not work.
She wished she had been serious when she asked Mr. Call to teach her how to shoot. But now, she would pay for her ignorance. She did not have a gun, nor did she even know how to cock one.
What she really wanted was a knife. She needed something sharp. She needed something that would draw blood. It would be quick and relatively painless. But she did not have a knife, either. She supposed she would have to go back to the newspaper office to get one, but it would be too much of an effort.
No. She would have to find some other way to do this. She would think of some way. It would come to her.
She walked over by the church. As she suspected, the wolf was standing there. Maria walked closer to it, but it retreated out onto the frozen skating pond. Maria followed it. She was either going to kill the wolf, or it would kill her. It would end today, one way or the other.
Then the wolf did something it never did in her dreams. It growled at her. It bared its sharp teeth, and its whole demeanor took on something dangerous and deadly. Its shoulders tensed for the attack.
She had no time to be afraid. She was too tired. She prepared to be killed.
Then she fell on the ice.
The wolf jumped on her. It claws tore at her, but before its teeth could enter her flesh, Maria heard a loud, cracking sound. The wolf fell dead on top of her.
Suddenly, it was if a new awareness invigorated Maria. She could feel the wolf's warm blood awake her, and she could also feel it mix into the cold ice. She tried to push the wolf away from her, but it was too heavy. The wolf's blood was incredibly warm.
Then she heard another crack that frightened her. It was the ice. It had been too warm lately, and with the combination of their weight and the wolf's blood, the ice could no longer withstand the strain.
She screamed as the weight of the wolf dragged her into the icy water. Her scream died as water entered her mouth. She desperately tried to untangle herself away from the wolf, and she choked under the cold water.
An arm grabbed her to pull her out of the water, but with Maria's struggles with the wolf, the arm could not hold her. She sank with the wolf.
Then, the wolf just floated away from her. Panicking, she looked up for the hole in the ice, but she could not find it.
She was going to die. She did not want to, but now she was really going to die.
Her lungs felt like fire, and it was hard to move.
She pounded at the frozen ceiling, but it would not budge.
It had been so cold, but now it was getting warmer and warmer.
Soon, it was going to end.
Maria stood in the middle of a calm river. The water swirled about her feet, and it was pretty and green on both banks of the river. The birds chirped, and all seemed very peaceful.
On one bank stood many people she recognized from Curtis Wells. Mr. Call, Austin, Josiah, and Mr. Mosby were there. On the other, many strangers stared at her. Maria was about to turn to go to her family when she saw a woman she recognized on the other bank. It was magic that she was even there at all, Maria thought. Maria smiled broadly at her and walked towards her.
It was Aunt Elinor.
Aunt Elinor smiled at her too, but she did seem rather sad. Maria stopped. Something was wrong.
"Why won't you welcome me, Aunt Elinor?" Maria asked. Usually, her aunt always gave her a hug when they greeted each other. Now, it seemed her aunt was reluctant. Maria frowned. She wanted to touch her aunt. She wanted to hold her. It had been so long.
"Maria, honey," her aunt smiled lovingly. "I've been watching you for a long time. I'm so proud of you. I love you, and I've missed you."
"I love you, too," Maria said, perplexed. Something was wrong. Maria reached out her hands toward her aunt, but her aunt only shook her head.
"If you want to cross, it has to be your choice. You alone must do it. But know this - once you cross, you can never cross back. Look back and make the decision, Maria."
The finality of her words made Maria instantly obey.
Maria turned to view the other shore. She saw her family. Mr. Call, Austin, and Josiah were struggling with someone in the river. They desperately held onto a haunted woman. The woman was in pain. She could do nothing for herself, but she could not do anything for them, either. The woman looked so sad. She was in such agony. It was the agony of helplessness.
Maria turned away. It was too horrible to view. The woman was in such horrible pain. She could almost feel it.
"They won't let her cross," Aunt Elinor sadly explained. "She can't even look out for them when they hold her like that. Look at her again."
Maria reluctantly turned again. She observed the haunted woman more closely. It was Hannah. It was her cousin Hannah.
Maria did not feel the hate for her that she had been feeling over the past few weeks. Instead, she felt enormous pity for her.
"Help her, Maria."
Then Maria saw Mr. Mosby a few feet away from the others. He was holding onto to someone struggling in the river, too.
It was Hannah.
Again.
Maria frowned. Too many people were holding onto her cousin. It was hopeless.
"But she's not Hannah," Aunt Elinor told her.
She added, "Help her. Help her."
The water burbled out of Maria's mouth as Mr. Call pounded on her chest.
Her lungs felt like fire, and it was freezing.
She coughed furiously, and Mr. Call moved away from her.
"For God's sake, Newton," her voice shivered, still coughing. Her chest was really hurting. "Do you want to break my ribs?"
Mr. Call sighed in relief, sitting back on his haunches.
Maria enjoyed the frivolity of breathing the cold air.
She lost her glasses. She could hardly see.
"You got the wolf," Maria said after moment. "Good for you."
"What wolf?" Mr. Call demanded suddenly. "What the hell were you trying to do? Kill yourself? You know better than to go out onto half-frozen ice like that."
"A wolf attacked her," a man's voice suddenly said. "I'm surprised you didn't see that."
Both Maria and Mr. Call were startled and looked towards the voice.
Maria squinted to see an older man with white hair and a peppered beard. He wore animal skins, and he held a large, smoking rifle. Obviously, he was the one that killed the white wolf, not Mr. Call.
Maria did not know who he was, yet there was something familiar about that man.
Mr. Call recognized him, Maria was entirely certain. His pale blue eyes instantly winced in pain. Then his eyes regained their former aloofness.
"Well, go on, boy," the man commanded as naturally as breathing. "She's freezing. Get her inside."
Mr. Call's mouth twisted into a grim line.
"Yes, Captain," he finally grunted.
Somehow, it was not fair, Maria thought as she looked down at her bleeding chest. Her hand could not contain the blood. It was poured out each time she took a breath.
She did not understand how it happened. Some drunken men came out from an all night gambling session from the Ambrosia Club, and the next thing she knew was that she was shot and wet and cold and bleeding to death in Mr. Call's arms.
It was not fair. She had no choice but to cross now. The river was too swift.
She had lost her glasses. She could not see as well as she would like. That was not fair, either.
She remembered her Aunt Elinor's words - "Help her." There was not much she could do now. Life was fading too fast. It was becoming too warm.
She watched, as if in a dream, as her bloody hand clutched Mr. Call's jacket. "Bury me in pink," Maria told him. Somehow it was important for him to do this. "Promise me. Promise me."
Mr. Call was shocked. She could tell by the expression on his face.
"Promise me. Please, Newton," she begged desperately. She could not hold on much longer.
He gave her a single, dazed nod.
She smiled.
She could see much clearer now. She looked at the man standing behind him.
"Captain Call," she muttered. "You're finally here."
Then she spoke to her Aunt Elinor, "I loved them. I loved them all."
END
3/98
Darcie Daniels
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