Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

“There’s no proof anybody burned it down, Lou,” replied Cotton, as he poured the milk and then passed the biscuits.

“I know who did it. George Davis. Probably that gas company paid him to.”

“You can’t go around saying that, Lou, that’s slander.”

“I know the truth!” the girl shot back.

Cotton took off his glasses. “Lou, believe me—”

Lou leapt up from the table, her knife and fork clattering down and making them all jump. “Why should I believe anything you say, Cotton? You said my mom was going to come back. Now Louisa’s gone too. Are you going to lie and say she’s going to get better? Are you?”

Lou ran off. Oz started to go after her, but Cotton stopped him. “Let her be for now, Oz,” he said. Cotton got up and went out on the porch, looking at the stars and contemplating the collapse of all he knew.

Flashing across in front of him was Lou on the mare. A startled Cotton could only stare after her, and then horse and girl were gone.

Lou rode Sue hard through the moonlit trails, tree limbs and brush poking and slapping at her. She finally came to Diamond’s house and slid down, running and falling until she reached the doorway and plunged inside.

Tears streaming down her face, Lou stumbled around the room. “Why’d you have to leave us, Diamond? Now Oz and I have nobody. Nobody! Do you hear me? Do you, Diamond Skinner!”

A scuffling sound came from the front porch. Lou turned, terrified. Then Jeb raced through the open door and jumped into her arms, licking her face and breathing heavy from his long run. She hugged him. And then the tree branches started rattling against the glass, and an anxious moan came down the chimney, and Lou held especially tight to that dog. A window banged open, and the wind swirled around the room, and then things grew calm, and, finally, so did Lou.

She went outside, mounted Sue, and headed back, unsure of why she had even come here. Jeb trailed behind, tongue hanging low. She came to a fork in the road and turned left, toward the farm. Jeb started howling before Lou heard the noises herself. The throaty growls and ominous thrashing of underbrush were close upon them. Lou whipped up the horse, but before Sue could get rolling faster, the first of the wild dogs cleared the woods and came straight into their path. Sue reared up on her hind legs as the hideous creature, more wolf than dog, bared its teeth, its hackles straight up. Then another and another came from the woods, until a half dozen circled them. Jeb had his fangs bared and his hackles up too, yet he didn’t stand a chance against so many, Lou knew. Sue kept rearing and neighing, and spinning in little circles until Lou felt herself slipping, as the wide body of the mare seemed to grow as narrow as a tightrope, and was also slicked, for the horse was lathered heavily after the long run.

One of the pack made a lunge for Lou’s leg, and she pulled it up; the animal collided with one of Sue’s hoofs and was temporarily stunned. There were too many of them, though, circling and snarling, ribs showing. Jeb went on the attack, but one of the brutes threw him down and he retreated, blood showing on his fur.

And then another beast snapped at Sue’s foreleg and she went up again. And when she came down this time, she was riderless, for Lou had finally lost her grip and landed on her back, the wind knocked from her. Sue took off down the trail for home, yet Jeb stood like a stone wall in front of his fallen mistress, no doubt prepared to die for her. The pack moved in, sensing the easy kill. Lou forced herself up, despite the ache in her shoulder and back. There wasn’t even a stick within reach, and she and Jeb moved backward until there was nowhere else to go. As she prepared herself to die fighting, the only thing Lou could think of was that Oz would now be all alone, and the tears welled up in her eyes.

The scream was like a net dropped over them, and the half-wolves turned. Even the largest of them, the size of a calf, flinched when it saw what was coming. The panther was big and sleek, muscles flexing under charcoal skin. It had amber eyes, and fangs showing that were double the size of the near-wolves’. And its claws too were fearsome things, like pitchfork hooked to knuckle. It screamed again when it got to the trail and headed for the wild pack with the power of a loaded coal train. The dogs turned and fled the fight, and that cat followed them, screaming with each graceful stride.

Lou and Jeb ran as hard as they could for home. About a half mile from the house they once more heard the crash of the underbrush next to them. Jeb’s hackles went north again, and Lou’s heart nearly stopped: She beheld the amber eyes of the cat out of the darkness as it ran parallel to them through the woods. That terrifying animal could shred both girl and hound in seconds. And yet all that thing did was run next to them, never once venturing out of the woods. The only reason Lou knew it was still there was the sounds of its paws against the leaves and undergrowth, and the glow of those luminous eyes, which looked free-floating in the darkness, as black skin blended with stark night.

Lou let out a thankful cry when she saw the farmhouse, and she and Jeb ran to the porch and then inside to safety. No one else was stirring, and Cotton, she assumed, had probably left long ago. Her chest heaving, Lou looked out the window, but never saw a sign of the beast.

Lou went down the hallway, every nerve still jangling badly. She paused at her mother’s door and leaned against it. She had come so close to dying tonight, and it had been awful, more terrible than the car accident even, for she had been alone in her crisis. Lou peered inside the room and was surprised to find the window open. She went in, closed it, and turned to the bed. For one dazed moment she could not find her mother in the covers, and then of course there she was. Lou’s breath became normal, the shivers of fear fading as she drew closer to the bed. Amanda was breathing lightly, her eyes closed, fingers actually curled, as though in pain. Lou reached out and touched her and then withdrew her hand. Her mother’s skin was moist, clammy. Lou fled the room and bumped into Oz standing in the hall.

“Oz,” she said, “you’re not going to believe what happened to me.”

“What were you doing in Mom’s room?”

She took a step back. “What? I—”

“If you don’t want Mom to get better, then you should just leave her alone, Lou. Just leave her alone!”

“But Oz—”

“Dad loved you the best, but I’ll take care of Mom. Just like she always took care of us. I know Mom will get better, even if you don’t.”

“But you didn’t take the bottle of holy water Diamond got for you.”

“Maybe necklaces and holy water won’t help Mom, but me believing she’ll get better will. But you don’t believe, so just leave her be.”

He had never in his life talked to her this way. He just stood there and glared, his thin, strong arms dangling by his sides, like needles at the end of thread. Her little brother really angry at her! She couldn’t believe it. “Oz!” He turned and walked away. “Oz,” she called again. “Please, don’t be mad at me. Please!” Oz never turned around. He went into his room and shut the door.

Lou stumbled to the back of the house, then went out and sat on the steps. The beautiful night, the wondrous sight of the mountains, the calls of all kind of wildlife made no impression at all on her. She looked at her hands where the sun had leathered them, the palms rough as oak bark. Her fingernails were jagged and dirty, her hair knotted and lye-soaped to death, her body fatigued beyond her years, her spirit given way to despair after losing almost all those she cared about. And now her precious Oz no longer loved her.