Bentley Little - The Walking

It was the land they had been deeded by the government, land at once remote and accessible, wild and peaceful, and William thought at that moment he had never seen anything quite so wonderful. In his mind sprang up a town of the future, their town, and he could see where homes would be. Shops. Taverns. Public buildings.

And now it was a reality. They had a settlement of their

own, their safety and sovereignty guaranteed by the United States of America, and more of them were on the way. It had almost been worth all the suffering and persecution, the trips through lands of nightmare, and he turned away from the kitchen sink and walked outside, looked up into the blue, blue sky, and smiled.

Winter passed. And spring. And summer. And fall. Winter roiled around once more, and before he knew it summer had arrived yet again.

Jeb had never been so happy in his life. The work was hard, the days were filled with the mundane chores of everyday living, but there was something exhilarating about being able to live so normally. He did not have to hide here. None of them did. They could be themselves, without constantly looking over their shoulder, without worrying that some small misstep would give them away.

And Wolf Canyon was growing by leaps and bounds. He did not know how word was spreading, but it was, and witches from back East were making their way west, coming like pilgrims seeking sanctuary. Many of them wept when they finally saw the town. Many others yelled for joy.

They had decided to name the town after its location. It was a common thing to do out here, and "Wolf Canyon" was anonymous enough that it woulnot atlxact undue attention.

Although there was something satisfyingly humorous about it, a sly hint in the "Wolf" reference that appealed to both him and William.

There were two streets now, a main street and a cross street, and within a year there would probably be one more. It looked like a real town, and it was that appearance more than anything else which always gave him a feeling of real

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accomplishment. He remembered when Wolf Canyon had been nothing more than a piece of paper from the government and an idea in William's head, and to see it actually take shape, to be a part of its foundation and growth, was truly both inspiring and humbling.

Jeb looked up at the midday sun, then stood up from his chair, stretched, and walked across the dusty street to the bar, where he ordered brown-label whisky

"How goes it, Jeb?" the bartender asked, pouring his drink.

"Same as always, only more so." Jeb plopped a coin on the bar.

"You want change?"

"No, just keep 'em coming till it's gone."

One of last year's arrivals, an old dowser by the name of Herman, had canvassed the area with his stick and had announced that he had found significant silver deposits. So they'd dug a mine, found men to take turns working it, and for the first time money was coming into the community. They sold the ore to the government, and now, instead of bartering for goods and services, they had bills, they had coins, they were able to use currency like civilized folks.

Jeb smiled to himself. Pretty soon they'd have their own goddamn opera house.

Swinging hinges creaked behind him, and Simon walked up to the bar, sat down next to him. "I'll have what Jeb's having," he announced.

The bartender brought over a shot glass, filled it, and Jeb saluted his friend. The two of them downed their drinks in one quick swallow.

He'd made a lot of new friends here Simon. Martin d Olivia. Cletus.

George and Jimmy. Hazel, June, and Marie. Madsen. They'd been thrown together at first by their common nature, by the shared experiences of oppression and persecution, and that bond had seen them through the tentative early days, had enabled them to establish a sense of community..

But they knew each other now. And, more important, they liked each other.

William was still his best friend, and although there was no official hierarchy, the two of them were the de facto decision makers by virtue of the fact that they had been the first. William was in charge--it had been his idea and initiative, after all, that had gotten this thing off the ground-and Jeb was his second in command. They'd bandied about the idea of holding elections, but there was no real push for it. The outcome was a forgone conclusion, and they had the sense that things would be better left as is, at least for now.

He'd wondered at first how it would be, living with people like himself. Would there be feuds and fighting? Would people be reading each other's minds, jinxing the endeavors of their rivals, using their gifts for venal purposes, to fuel those petty jealousies that inevitably popped up whenever a group of people lived together in close proximity? Thankfully, no.

None of that had come to pass, and if someone just wandered into the canyon and stayed for a few days, like as not he would not even realize that they were witches. Their powers were not hidden, but neither were they exploited. He and the others lived the way they'd always wanted to live--just like everyone else. Magic was used when it was needed, but it was only one tool among many, and it was only employed when appropriate.

From outside the bar came the sound of voices and feminine laughter, followed by footsteps on wood as a group of women strode along the walkway toward the new park at the edge of town.

Today was Independence Day, July fourthd while the holiday had never meant much to Jeb back in the old days, here in Wolf Canyon it meant a lot. They finally had their

own independence; they were finally free to be who they were. It was he who had first suggested that they all stop work on this day and celebrate, pool their talents to create. the biggest celebration any of them had ever seen ...... Last year had been the first. There'd been conjured fire- i: works the likes of which had never been seen even in China, as well as spirit shows and a spectacular display of ground light created by all of them concentrating on a single effect and using their powers together.

This year things were supposed to be even better. Jeb didn't know what William had planned--his friend had been keeping it a secret from everyone--but mention of it always brought a smile to his face.

"Simon?" he asked, turning to the man next to him. "What's your favorite thing in the world?"

Simon thought for a moment. "The un bathed private parts of a mature woman."

The answer was so unexpected that Jeb simply stared at him for a moment. Then he burst out laughing. Soon they were both laughing, clapping each other on the back and ordering one more round.

Afterward, Jeb walked outside, went for a long slow walk around the town to clear his head. The park was filling up with people, the women bringing food, the men bringing appetites. From June's kitchen came the warm, fragrant smell of fresh bread. One of the advantages of witchcraft--the ability to cook without fuel or fire. He passed by Martha's house, waved at her through the window. She was just placing a pie on the sill, and he offered to carry it to the park for her, but she said it had to set awhile first.

He felt good. A couple walked past him, hand in hand, and he watched them for a moment. The only thing missing from his life was that he had not yet found a woman. A lot of the men had. A lot of witches of both sexes had

met here and gotten married, and while he was always happy for them, he could not help feeling a little sorry for himself.

Of course, no one he'd met really interested him.

Because he was still in love with Becky.

Even after all this time, he thought of her often. In his dreams, she came to Wolf Canyon. Sometimes she was a witch who had only just discovered her powers. Sometimes she was not but had trekked halfway across the continent because she missed him and wanted to be with him.