Mankell Henning - When the Snow Fell

Samuel shook his head.

“It’s nearly two miles,” he said. “How on earth did you manage to drag him all that way back to the house?”

“I just had to,” said Joel uncertainly.

He couldn’t understand himself how he’d done it.

When they got back to Simon’s house, Joel wanted to take the two dogs home with them, and look after them for as long as Simon was ill. But Samuel said no. They belonged to Simon’s house. That was where they should stay, nowhere else. But Joel would have to feed them every day.

On their way back through the little town they paused at the shoe shop. Joel pointed out the boots he wanted. Samuel turned pale when he saw the price. But he didn’t say anything.

Samuel made dinner that evening. Joel would have preferred to do it himself, because it was hardly ever up to much when Samuel did the cooking. But Samuel could be stubborn. He had decided that Joel needed a rest. While Samuel worked, Joel lay on his bed and thought about all the things that had happened over the last few days. He even brought himself to think about the Greyhound and her laughing friends. It seemed to be easier now that he had dragged Simon through the raging sea of snow. He still worried about going back to school the following day, but he knew he was going to go, no matter what.

Samuel had fried some pork and potatoes. Joel carefully scraped away all the burnt fat.

“Was it good?” Samuel asked.

“Yes,” said Joel. “The best I’ve ever eaten.”

But he sighed quietly to himself when Samuel served him another helping.

Grown-ups sometimes had difficulty in understanding what other people really meant.

They went to bed early, Samuel and Joel, that evening.

And Joel slept.

The fried pork was slowly digested in his stomach. Samuel snored, and the mouse gnawed away inside the wall.

Joel had a dream.

He was crossing over the empty street with Wyatt Earp and his brother. Shuffling and coughing behind them was Doc Holliday. The red dust whirled around their feet. Their spurs jingled as they walked .

It was time now. Time to confront Ike Clanton and his gang. They were going to fight a duel at the OK Corral. A few minutes from now a lot of people would be dead. Joel was walking just behind Wyatt Earp. He was wearing boots with spurs. He was in front of Doc Holliday, who was coughing drily. He would soon die. Of tuberculosis. But first they needed to sort out Ike Clanton. They couldn’t wait any longer. The moment had come. They could see Ike and his men approaching. Through the heat haze. The sun was turning the air into fog. Then Joel noticed that the Greyhound was there as well. And Ike Clanton’s men roared with laughter. Wyatt Earp stopped dead. Everybody stopped. Suddenly they had all vanished. Joel was standing there on his own. He was gripped by panic. The sun was shining straight into his eyes. He couldn’t see a thing. He groped for the pistol that ought to be at his hip. A Smith & Wesson, with the wooden butt removed and replaced by one made of pure silver. But there was nothing there. His holster was empty. Outside the saloon sat Miss Nederström in a creaking rocking chair, fast asleep .

Joel was so scared that his body was screaming inwardly. The Greyhound started running towards him. She grew bigger and bigger, like a giant bird with flapping wings .

He sat up with a shriek. It was dark in the room. At first he didn’t know where he was. Then he saw the gleaming pointers of his alarm clock. He was back home again. It had only been a dream. A sling that had fired him to the OK Corral and back.

It was a long time before he could get back to sleep. The dream had been a warning. He would have to go back to school, and that would be like approaching the OK Corral. Without Wyatt Earp. And without Doc Holliday and his tubercular cough.

But when he arrived at the school playground, nothing was as he’d been expecting. The Greyhound was there. And all the rest of them.

But nobody giggled. Nobody pointed.

Nobody pursed their lips or put their head on one side.

Joel realized he had Simon to thank for that. When he entered the classroom he was still unsure of what would happen. But the Greyhound looked guilty. And Miss Nederström started talking even before she played the morning hymn.

She told the whole class what had happened. Joel thought it sounded like an adventure tale. Had he really been the one who had dragged Simon all that way? Or had he dreamt that as well?

Everybody seemed to know about it already. Joel started to wonder if this is how he would be remembered in 2045. The man who once dragged Simon Windstorm through a raging sea of snow.

He thought about Simon Windstorm. Who had a cerebral hemorrhage. And the dogs whining outside his front door.

When the first break came he plucked up courage and asked Miss Nederström what a cerebral hemorrhage was.

“Something that bursts inside your head,” she said. “But don’t think about that, Joel.”

“What else is there for me to think about?” he asked.

Miss Nederström said nothing. And the break was soon over.

After school Joel went straight to the shoe shop. He tried on the new boots. They didn’t chafe his ankles. He paid, and was given the old boots back in a cardboard box. Then he hurried up the hill towards the hospital as fast as he could. In his satchel he had a few bones Samuel had given him that morning. He hesitated over what to do first — visit Simon or feed the dogs. It was a hard decision to make. But the dogs were bound to be pleased to see him, and so he started with them.

This time they came running towards him. Joel sat stroking them for a while before looking for the hens. They were all in the truck today. Joel crumbled up some dry bread and put it inside the truck for them.

Then he couldn’t wait any longer. He would have to visit Simon. He had a stroke of luck when he got to the hospital, and bumped straight into the doctor he and Samuel had spoken to the day before.

No change. Simon was still unconscious.

Nobody could say if he was going to live or die.

Joel had tears in his eyes. Not because he wanted to. Why should Simon die now that he was in hospital instead of lying in a snowdrift?

Joel left the hospital.

He noticed her immediately.

The Greyhound. She was standing outside the hospital gate.

And she looked nothing like a gigantic bird with flapping, threatening wings.

Joel tried to be angry. But he didn’t succeed.

They walked down the hill from the hospital. The Greyhound didn’t say a word. Nor did she run round and round him like she usually did.

Instead of being angry Joel tried to demonstrate that he couldn’t care less about her company. To act as if she weren’t there. But that didn’t really work either. He would never be an actor.

In the end he decided to be himself and do exactly what he wanted to do. They had come as far as the railway station now.

There were several large snowdrifts just behind the long, red wooden building that housed the freight office. Anybody walking past would think they were only playing.

As they passed the biggest of the snowdrifts Joel tripped the Greyhound up so that she fell backwards into the snow. Then he jumped on top of her and started rubbing snow into her face. She struggled as hard as she could, but Joel was stronger. Then he started to poke snow down inside her clothes. She kicked and scratched and fought back. Joel still wasn’t angry, but even so, he had to do what he was doing.

“Stop it!” she shouted.

“Purse your lips,” said Joel.

Then he pushed her head into the snow again.

He didn’t stop until she had started crying.