Gordon Dickson - Wolf and Iron

It was likely, Jeebee thought, that the growing comfort he was finding in his relationship with Paul, Merry, and Nick were rooted in the same needs that had overcome Wolf’s natural timidity and, eventually, could drive him to approach the wagon and its company.

The fact remained that in his relationship with Wolf he had found an emotional satisfaction that he did not find in his own kind—the three of the wagon.

From the beginning of their acquaintanceship, Jeebee had wanted to get closer to this companion of his; and for that a better understanding of what made Wolf “Wolf” was needed. If only Jeebee had looked deeper into what made wolves what they were, back before the world had fallen apart and both libraries and experts had vanished…

Well, there was no point in yearning for what was not available. So Jeebee watched Wolf’s approaches to the wagon now with a fierce hunger for Wolf to come all the way in. Wolf was free in the most absolute sense of that word. There was no way to force him anywhere, short of wounding or trapping him, which would destroy the whole purpose of getting back together with him. Jeebee could only continue his watch and hope that Wolf would make the decision to join them by himself.

Gradually, it became apparent that he might.

He began to appear more often, a couple of hours before sundown, an hour or more before the wagon stopped for the day. At first he could only be seen occasionally, following and flanking the wagon at a distance. But eventually, his parallel movements became closer so that he was traveling within as much as fifty yards, where the terrain allowed.

As he got closer, Greta would often run out to join him. When she did so, the other dogs would often try to go with her—in which case, invariably, she would turn on them and drive them back to the wagon. Eventually, the other dogs became more used to his presence and no longer set up a chorus of barking at the very sight of him.

But, also, occasionally, when Greta was not around, one or more of them would charge out at him. In these cases, his behavior varied. If there were several of them running at him in a group, he usually turned and bolted.

The dogs of the wagon would follow him for a couple of hundred yards, and then would stop and come back, almost prancing in their pride and self-satisfaction at having driven off the intruder. Jeebee was secretly pleased to see that after all, Merry did not seem to like the dogs driving Wolf away in this manner any more than Jeebee did. But he recognized her quandary. If they were to remain effective guard dogs, she could hardly scold them for doing what they considered their duty.

If it was a single animal that rushed out at him, Wolf generally all but ignored it. No single dog of the wagon was any real threat to him. On occasion, his behavior was so indifferent that the dog, after sniffing him over, simply fell in beside him. Twice, the single dog was one of the males and actually tried to be aggressive. In each case, Wolf merely turned side on and twisted his body in a manner that threw the weight of it behind the impact of his left hip: and the other was sent tumbling. Only in the case of one other single attacker from the wagon was the dog persistent enough that Wolf turned on him suddenly and pinned him to the ground by the neck, clamping skin and neck alike in the vise of his powerful jaws so that it choked the other animal as well as locked it in place.

The dog ki-yied in fright and fled as soon as Wolf let him up. Back at the wagon, Merry’s exploring fingers could find no sign of injury on the dog that had been neck-pinned.

Wolf, Jeebee concluded interestedly, must have a fine-tuned sense of possible responses to threats.

With time, however, the contacts between Wolf and the dogs of the wagon gradually built up patterns of tolerance between him and at least some of the males; and gradually Wolf came closer and closer, until one day he finally greeted Jeebee beside the wagon itself.

Meanwhile, as they got into the western part of South Dakota, to the north of the Badlands, the country became rougher and they left the route of the interstate more often to get to customers.

The wagon was stoutly built and could be taken across fairly open country when it was absolutely necessary, but there were definite limits to where it could go. Consequently, Paul normally chose to stick to roads. Or to the shoulders of old roads, where the road itself was too pockmarked and pitted. At other times, where it was impossible for the wagon to go to the customer, the customer came to Paul.

Usually this meant that Paul would stop the wagon in mid-afternoon and wait until the following morning before going on. If whoever had been used to trading with him at that point showed up, business was done. Otherwise, if no one appeared, Paul moved on the following morning. Those who dealt with him knew approximately when he was due in their area; and if they still existed or were interested in trade, it was up to them to show up.

If they did not, that particular stop was removed from Paul’s customer list. Paul’s practice was to travel along a road as far as he could, then stop and fire four spaced shots in the air; not from his usual rifle, but from a black-powder muzzle loader.

Almost always, within half an hour, one or more riders on horseback would appear and come to the wagon. These would later be followed by most of the whole clan or family. In a few cases Jeebee saw a small, temporary tent city set up for a day or two by the wagon while deals with Paul were made; and a certain amount of hospitality and celebration resulted.

Occasionally, where the wagon was able to go across country, they traveled where there were no roads at all; just as their forerunners, in the wagons of the nineteenth century, had traveled where there were no roads. Occasionally, they came to rivers, and Jeebee was surprised to discover that for all its weight of armor and goods, the wagon had been built to float. With the horses swimming, it could cross rivers in their path, provided the current was not too swift or the bottom too deep or rocky.

If it was either of these things, they sometimes forded. Otherwise, they turned either up the stream or down—depending upon Paul’s knowledge of the best route—until they came to a place where it was possible either to float across or wheel over safely.

Altogether, as a result, their movement across country was not swift. There were pauses of as much as two days in some locations. Nonetheless, most of their time was spent covering distance by themselves. Little by little, Jeebee fell into the routine of the wagon, became competent with the weapons, able to handle the team for stretches of three to four hours at a time, and able to hold the following remounts of horses tightly bunched behind the wagon, moving along with it.

His knowledge of his traveling partners expanded. Paul he found to be an interesting, informed if not educated, and lively conversationalist; when he felt like talking. Nick talked very little and had periods during which he seemed not to want to talk at all and was best left alone. Merry, surprisingly, gradually emerged as the best company of the three for Jeebee.

By degrees her chilliness toward him, largely a surface protection in any case, thawed; and as she began to relax with him, naturally warm spirits bubbled to the surface. She reacted instinctively and emotionally to almost everything; with the result that she could change from summer sunshine to thunder and lightning in an instant, and back to sunshine again, almost before the first rain from the storm had begun to fall.

Jeebee was amused to notice that not merely Paul and Nick, but the dogs as well, did not take her sudden small explosions of anger seriously. The dogs, in particular, made a large display of acting repentant and apologetic, but it was perfectly obvious to Jeebee after a while that they were looking forward to being lavishly petted and forgiven within the next few moments, and would have been alarmed only if this had not happened.