The next several days were spent in a happy harmony. Darby tried to be sullen the next day, but the day at the Ellison ranch had been far too pleasant and it was just not in his nature to be in a sulk for long. On Sunday night when they had arrived home, neither man had been hungry. Darby made a pot of fresh coffee and the cool evening air had kept them both inside. Wolf sat on the rocker by the fireplace and Darby sat at the table slowly turning the pages on The Count of Monte Cristo. His hands went lovingly over the leather cover and Wolf noted the longing on his face, the desire to unlock the secret code the symbols held.
"Would you mind if I read it, out loud. I read it when I was a kid and it was one of my favorites," Wolf asked. He did truly love the book and didn't mind reading it again.
"Ain't doing me much good," Darby said sullenly as he walked across the room and handed it to Wolf. "Enjoy it." The last was added bitterly and angrily.
Wolf was about to open his mouth and censure the smart-ass, but he thought better of it. He once again needed a distraction and he had all the distraction he wanted right here.
Wolf started reading the book from the beginning. He surreptitiously watched Darby who returned to the table drinking his coffee acting as if he really didn't care. Wolf noted that after a few pages all pretense of indifference was put away. He brought his mug and came to sit on the rug before the blazing fire placing his coffee on the square table, leaning back against the stone fireplace and listening intently to every word Wolf read.
When Wolf could no longer keep his own eyes open, he looked up to see Darby sound asleep, his head lulling to the side against the stones, one hand in his lap, the other lying on the floor next to him. Wolf shook his head, he knew he was going to have to reread the last few pages tomorrow night. He rose and gently shook the sleeping youth.
"Come on, Darby, time for bed. We've got work to do tomorrow."
Darby came awake and slowly moved towards the bed. He undressed and just as he was ready to get into bed, he remembered he needed a quick trip to the outhouse. Wolf washed out the mugs and watched the zombie-like figure come back into the cabin, cross the short distance, and jump headlong into the bed reaching his far side by the wall. The bed springs groaned and protested.
"Hey, take it easy, we'll both be sleeping on the floor you keep that up."
He heard a mumble from under the covers that could have been interpreted as "Sorry." He then got ready for bed himself and joined the still, motionless form in a pleasant and undisturbed sleep.
The rest of the week had gone smoothly. Each man tackled their respective jobs and worked in an easy, steady rhythm. It wasn't until the end of the week that Wolf started noticing a change in Darby's demeanor. The kid was just too eager to please, jumpy as all hell, and talkative---non-stop. It didn't take a genius to figure out the kid was near making his escape attempt. Wolf smiled to himself at this thought. He stopped for a moment to analyze these feelings. He was getting attached to the kid. He was becoming dependent upon the chatter, the singing when Darby was in the kitchen. Ever since the day with Blair and Jim, Darby sung openly now when he fixed breakfast, lunch or dinner. He liked the boy's fresh perspective on repairing things and his inventiveness when Wolf was ready to throw everything out. Darby knew how to salvage just about everything. If he couldn't use it for its intended purpose, he used it ingeniously for something else.
Wolf marvelled that someone so clever could be so dumb in the simplest things. One time when the boy couldn't get the wood burning stove to light, he had put a strip of kerosene soaked cloth in the wood leading outside the stove. When he lit it, the cloth had fallen off and Wolf's quick thinking had saved the cabin from being incinerated. Darby had stood by waiting for his punishment, but Wolf had simply explained to him that he preferred that Darby left the kerosene in the lamps. In the future if he had trouble lighting the stove, he should just ask Wolf to do it. Darby seemed surprised at Wolf's equanimity.
Breakfast on Saturday morning was on the table before Wolf got dressed. Darby had been up early busying himself in the kitchen. On the table was a big helping of potato pancakes. Wolf hadn't had them in years, since he was a boy in Boston. His parents had taken him to a German restaurant and he had gorged himself on the delicious cakes. The huge stack on Wolf's plate was tempting. He sat down raising a quizzical eye at Darby who was pouring coffee in the cups.
"Are these potato pancakes?"
"Yep, a specialty of mine. Gerdie taught me how to make them." Darby put a sugar bowl on the table. "Here put sugar on it. I like berry preserves, but we don't have any."
Wolf had started eating and he had to admit the pancakes were delicious. The boy was worth keeping around just for the meals he could lay out. It wasn't until he was more than halfway through his stack that he noticed Darby wasn't eating. His eyes were growing heavy-lidded, and he shook his head to clear his fog-encrusted mind. Then it dawned on him. The pancakes were drugged.
"Why you, little..." Wolf managed to get out as he fell forward and slid onto the floor.
"I'm sorry," Darby said as he quickly tied Wolf's hands behind his back and helped get the confused man on his feet. Wolf was semi-conscious, but it was hard for him to stay focused.
"I'm real sorry about this, Wolf, but I gotta get away. I wasn't straight with you. There are things you don't know. It's too late for me," he said as he struggled to get the larger man out the door and down into the cellar. He took him outside and led him down the cellar stairs having left the door open in the morning. He ran back into the house and brought Wolf's handgun to him. He put it on the barrel in the cellar along with the lit lantern. He then carried out the small sack he had stocked last night with his provisions for the trip over the mountains. He also put Wolf's large pocketknife on the barrel. He was tempted to take it as Wolf still had not returned his smaller one to him, but he knew the man needed to eventually cut the ropes and free his hands. He worried that danger could befall the semi-conscious ex-lawman, but there just wasn't any other way to handle him.
Wolf lay half-asleep on the floor. Darby put a folded blanket under his head.
"Don't do this, Darby, you're making a mistake."
"No, sir. I'm doing the only thing I can do. No one's cared about me since Mama died. I have only myself to trust. I'm tired of being used. I'm a man and I want to be a damn, good cowboy. I thank you kindly for all you done for me so far. I know you did it to have someone to help you out here, but I really didn't want to go to prison," Darby stopped himself then, he was angered to realize there were tears forming in his eyes.
"I hope that Dantes gets out of his prison, too," Darby said as he turned and bolted up the stairs and locked the cellar door from the outside. With the knife and gun, he felt Wolf would be able to get himself untied eventually. There was food down there, the lantern for light, and Wolf would be able to shoot his way out, or probably bang the door open when his anger was turned on the wood instead of Darby.
Darby felt real remorse at having to use the laudanum he had found in a box under the sink. He had no other choice. Wolf was with him every minute of every day. He couldn't draw a gun on Wolf; he needed him out of the way so he could put some distance between himself and his jailer. He saddled Wolf's spare horse and took only his basic belongings. He regretfully left the book on the coffee table, feeling he had no real claim to it since he couldn't read. He took his old canvas pack and put Wolf's shotgun in the saddle scabbard.
Then Darby Cole of the lost soul, the eager heart, and the foolish dreams rode off towards the mountains.
When Wolf Stoddard came to, he was in a rage. Darby Cole was a lucky boy at that particular moment being miles away on his way towards the pass. Wolf cussed in a fashion that would have taught the little sailor mouth a few new descriptive phrases, but the anger helped push the drug out of his system and gave him the strength to sit up. It took Wolf about an hour to get the rope cut off, another hour to finally smash the cellar door. Darby's hide was going to be nailed to this door eventually, and that thought brightened his mood considerably. All in all he figured the kid had a 5-hour start which meant he had already made it to the pass.
There was a certain anxiety in Wolf as he quickly threw some things together, blankets, food, some extra clothing. His anger really flared when he realized Darby did not take any of the new clothes he had bought. He only left with the clothes on his back and the old canvas satchel with the books and his Ma's photo.
The heavy winter coat, the flannel shirts, even the gloves were left behind. The kid had to be a complete idiot by Wolf's estimations. He probably thought Wolf was only using a scare tactic about the early snow covering the pass. If he didn't find the kid before he entered the pass, the snows might trap Darby in and keep Wolf from going in to get him out. The boy was used to San Francisco weather and probably had no idea how harsh the winters could be out in Montana high country.
Just as Wolf was ready to ride out, he saw a riderless horse coming full speed onto the homestead. He recognized the horse as his spare, the one Darby had taken. He grabbed the skittish mare's reins and led the horse to the barn. He dismounted off of his own horse and examined the saddle, the rifle was still in the scabbard, the sack of provisions slung behind the horse and the canvas bag was positioned on a rope over the pommel. The damn kid had gotten himself thrown or the horse had been spooked when Darby was off of it. The kid was out there with no food, no gun, and probably lost and scared at this point.
Wolf hated it, but he took the extra 20 minutes he needed to unsaddle the horse, put the shotgun in his own saddle scabbard and take the canvas bag into the house. He tended to the horses needs and made sure there was plenty of food and water for the animals he was leaving behind. He might be gone a few hours, hopefully, or he might be gone a day or two. He hoped he could find Darby before nightfall.
The sun was high overhead when Darby came to, but he was cold. Colder than he ever remembered being in his life. His left shoulder hurt him; he looked over at the limp arm that lay at an odd angle from his body. His head hurt and he immediately ran a hand through the thick mass coming away with warm sticky fingers. For an instant he panicked, but when he tried to rise his head swam and he fell back as nausea overwhelmed him, silently praying for the sickness to pass. Then he realized he was in a thick soft bank of white, cold snow.
The memory flooded back. Riding through the small pass, not very high up in the mountains, yet, but snow piled higher and deeper as he inched the horse forward. Then a loud growl, a mountain cat, and the horse rising and then losing his seat and falling backwards. That's all he remembered. He once again tried to rise, slower this time. He looked around him. He looked up. There above him was the mountain trail, 20 feet overhead. He must have fallen into a ravine when the horse reared. He ventured to look further towards the ledge he was positioned on and could make out the deeper ravine dropping off below. He leaned back against the wall of the steep drop-off and sent up a silent prayer that this ledge had stopped his fall.
Then the realization of his predicament was full force upon him. He had no food, water, gun, matches, rope, nothing, nada. Boy, you've gone and got yourself in a fine mess, now, he heard Sophie lecture him in the memories of his mind. Yeah, Sophie, I have, and the only hope I think I have is gonna rip the hide off of me when he finds me. Then Darby laid his head back against the rough wall and found immense comfort in the realization that there was one thing he could count on: Wolf Stoddard would come after him and he would find him. A thought that earlier this morning would have received vehement denial now was warmly welcomed.
When Wolf finally reached the opening to the pass that narrowed along one deep drop off to the left, the sun was already descending behind the mountain peaks to the right. Shadows cast long fingers along the path and dropped down into the ravine. The snow was deep in some areas and Wolf kept his horse on a tight rein. He knew there were mountain lions in the area and made sure the rifle was within easy reach. Then he saw the snow matted and scattered near the edge of the path, where a large chunk of snow had fallen off or been pushed. He carefully dismounted and secured the large horse to a nearby craggy rock along the mountain wall. He took the rifle from the scabbard and slowly approached the edge. He spotted the red snow immediately. He hunkered down and saw Darby's legs curled into the steep drop off. He couldn't get close enough to see the boy completely.
"Darby! DARBY!"
"Wolf," came an eager reply. "I'm hurt, Wolf," then there was a hitch in the voice and a loud sniffle. Wolf realized the boy had been crying.
"Where are you hurt?"
"My arm, my arm hurts something awful and there's blood. Wolf, I'm bleeding from my head. I'm cold and I don't feel well. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Then Wolf heard loud sobs and some mumbling he couldn't quite make out.
"Darby, listen to me. I'm going to throw a rope down to you. Do you think you can wrap it about your waist and climb up if I help pull you."
"I don't know, my left arm just hangs. It hurts to move it."
Wolf swore under his breath. He hated heights. He feared them since he was a little boy in Boston. Now he had no choice, if he wanted to help the young man below him, he was just going to have go down there and get him. Wolf went over to the horse and took the two ropes he had brought off of the saddle. He tied both ropes to two separate boulders along the path making sure that they were secure and could hold a man's weight. Then he said a silent prayer to himself and started the descent.
When he landed on the ledge, he saw the still sobbing youth leaning back against the wall. He hunkered down next to the boy. Darby struggled to right himself and fling himself into Wolf's arms, but he couldn't move, his shoulder hung at an odd angle. "Lean back," Wolf gave him a sharp command.
The older man first checked the head wound. It was still bleeding but it didn't look too bad. He looked around to where he saw the blood in the snow and he leaned over to feel under the snow. There was a small rock Darby's head must have landed on. He felt again the cut on Darby's head, there was a small nodule forming, but Wolf didn't think it was too serious, maybe a slight concussion. Then he grabbed Darby's arm and the boy let out a high-pitched yelp.
"Darby, it's dislocated. I don't think it's broken." He thought about popping the shoulder back in then and there, but he was afraid Darby might pass out and he'd only have dead weight to carry up. Best to wait until they were off the ledge. He took off his belt as Darby watched wide-eyed, not sure in his dazed state what to expect. Wolf tied the belt around the small torso securing the dislocated arm securely to the youth's side.
"Okay, Darby, this is what we're going to do. I'm going to tie one of these ropes around your thighs and your waist. Then I'm going to climb up and pull you up with the horse. Use your right hand to hold on and keep the rope steady. Stay near the wall and try not to swing out towards the drop-off. Do you understand me?" he asked as he looked into the lightly glazed black orbs.
Darby just nodded, then he started crying again, "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."
"DARBY!" Wolf yelled sharply, "not now. I need you to help me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Darby said deciding he'd better cooperate for both of their good. The man was only trying to get him out a mess he got himself into.
Wolf cautiously climbed up the face of the drop-off. He then unhooked his rope and the other one and fastened the one rope around the saddle horn and then wrapped it around a nearby rock. He grabbed the end and yelled over, "Darby, are you ready?"
"Yes, sir," came the timid response from below his line of vision. Wolf gently eased the horse forward and walked away as he kept urging the animal forward in a quiet voice. He lay on his stomach and watched as Darby's form came into view. When Darby was near the top, Wolf reached down and grabbed his right arm and helped pull the lithe figure onto the path. Wolf yelled to the horse to stop, "Whoa!"
Darby broke down and buried himself in Wolf's chest crying miserably, shaking from the cold. Wolf held him tightly surprised by his own relief and realizing for the first time the fright the young man had given him. Not fright from losing his prisoner and charge, but fright from almost losing someone he cared about.
Darby's clothes were soaked through and through. He shivered in Wolf's arms. Wolf put his hand to the boy's forehead and realized he was burning up. The path was in a direct line for the chill winds to rip through them. The winds had picked up considerably and were now blowing snow across the path. This was not the place to linger.
"Come on, Darby, I need to get you on the horse. There's a small niche in the wall of the path about half a mile down. I can best tend to you there." Wolf stood up and pulled the young man up with him. Darby winced as his arm was once again jostled. Wolf helped seat him on the horse, collected his ropes, and threw a blanket around Darby's shoulders. He then led the horse at a careful walk, assuring himself that his passenger could hold on.
When they reached the niche, Wolf helped Darby dismount. He pulled him off into the corner of the rocks out of the chilly wind. He started stripping the boy. Leaving him in his long johns only, he wrapped him in the two blankets. Then he sat Darby down on a rock, lowered the blanket that covered his left shoulder. While the boy was distracted, Wolf braced one hand on Darby's shoulder and with the other he straightened and pulled the left arm out, satisfied with the popping sound as it fell into place. However, the loud scream from his patient echoed throughout the pass and Darby Cole slumped forward into unconsciousness and the waiting arms of the Wolf.
Wolf bundled the boy in the blankets, placed him up on the saddle and immediately climbed up after him. He turned the small body around and was soon holding him like a child in his arms as he lay across the saddle. Wolf inched the horse forward and before long they had cleared the narrow path and could ride with the urgency Wolf felt necessary to take Darby Cole to warmth, food, and shelter.
Darby Cole lay naked in the warm bed. Blankets were piled high and he was tucked in up to his chin. Wolf had spent the whole night and a good portion of the morning placing cold compresses on the boy's injured head and sponging him down, trying to bring the fever down. By early noon, the fever had finally broken.
Wolf remembered the struggling youth, wracked with fever and delirium. He remembered the constant cries for his mother and the hateful contempt for Mr. Baines.
"Mama, Mama, please don't let him touch you," the delirious youth had pleaded, and all Wolf could do was offer soothing sounds and words of encouragement.
"It's okay, Darby, you're all right. No one's going to touch your mama."
"Sophie, please, Sophie, talk to her. She'll listen to you. She always listens to you," Darby had grabbed Wolf firmly by the shirt and pulled him down closer to his fevered face.
Wolf had to grab the boy's hands and force them beneath the covers. "It's okay. I'll talk to her. Shhh." Then Wolf noticed the boy seemed to accept that and drifted off again into a restful sleep.
This did not coincide with Darby's tale by the water as they sat fishing. He had told Wolf that he liked Mr. Baines and had even wanted his mother to marry him. Yet, in his delirious state he cried out in fear and anger at the man from his past. Wolf decided this dichotomy might hold the secret to cracking the hard shell that Darby Cole tried to erect around himself from time to time. He catalogued the information for future study.
Now, the sleeping form---with the pale face eased into a deep and dreamless slumber---looked like a little boy and took up very little room in the bed. It was hard to be angry with Darby when he slept and the innocence of his soul surfaced in the smooth features, the warm, pale coloring, and the soft lashes that fanned his cheeks. Wolf didn't look forward to the promised retribution, but he knew he would have to remain true to his word if he was going to keep the boy safe and out of harm's way. He had to learn that what Wolf said, he meant.
Wolf's face hardened at the thought. What if I decided to let the boy go. What if I had decided he wasn't worth the chase, or maybe not got out of that cellar soon enough to find him before the storm really set in? Wolf's determination of the severity of punishment went up a notch with this realization. There was no room in this land for games, not the kind of games irresponsible children played when they tried to be cowboys. When Wolf got through with Darby, he would make sure the young man thought long and hard about any more attempts at escape.
Just then Wolf realized the black eyes were open and staring at him. He had positioned the rocking chair at the side of the bed so he could watch his patient as he grabbed a few moments of sleep for himself. However, sleep was illusive and thoughts filled with fears, anxiety, and anger had kept him from actually resting. Now the center point of that universe of chaos was ready to spin Wolf's life out of control once again. Well, not this time, little mite, Wolf thought as he smiled at Darby.
"Welcome, back."
"I feel like I've been sleeping for a week," Darby said as he stretched beneath the covers and snuggled onto his right side so he could see Wolf better. As he turned, his face contorted in pain.
"You dislocated your left shoulder. I popped it in and it should be fine, but sore for a few days."
"Oh," Darby said, then ran his right hand up alongside his head feeling the small nodule and wincing again.
"You also took a knock on the head. You had a fever. You were suffering from exposure. I figure you were in that snow bank for at least 4 to 5 hours. If I hadn't come for..."
"Thank you," Darby said quickly, "thank you for saving me." He then rolled his head deeper into the pillow and Wolf realized tears had started to form in the dark eyes. "I knew you'd come," he mumbled into the soft cushion.
Wolf wasn't sure he'd heard the last part correctly, but then when Darby repeated it, he found himself somewhat taken aback by the certainty and gratitude that was expressed in that declarative sentence. "I knew you'd come for me, at least you'd try."
"I said I'd bring you back, boy. I always keep my word. I also told you you'd pay the price for such foolishness."
Darby turned his head from the pillow enough to allow him to see Wolf with his left eye. The sheepish expression, the tousled hair sticking up straight and wild, the pale face with the one black eye venturing forth into the harsh realities of the day, almost made Wolf laugh. The kid had a charm there was no denying it. There was something in this frazzled young man that touched Wolf in the deepest parts of his cold and somber heart.
He was going to have to put up a certain amount of defensive blockades when it came to keeping Darby in line. The kid was definitely nestled, now, somewhere in the darker regions of his heart, and Wolf thought those areas had been long cut off by landslides of betrayal and floodgates of hatred. He should have known better. Those eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life.
"I won't ever do it again." The small voice broke through Wolf's wandering thoughts. "I promise."
"We'll discuss it, Darby, but not right now. I need to get some food into you. You took some soup during the night, but you need to build up your strength." Wolf rose and went to the stove and ladled some soup into a bowl. He came back with the bowl, a spoon, and towel draped over his shoulder.
He put the bowl down on the small table by his side of the bed. "Come on, Darby, I'll help you up."
He reached over and gently grabbed the boy under his right arm and carefully assisted him in sitting up. He stacked both pillows behind him. He put the towel across Darby's chest and sat down on the bed. He brought the soup bowl up and rested it on Darby's chest and started slowly spooning the hot liquid into the youth's mouth.
Darby started greedily gulping, taking the soup in hungry mouthfuls. "Take it easy." Wolf put the spoon in the bowl and set it on the table. "You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday, and I don't remember you eating those pancakes, boy. You need to fill your belly slowly."
"I can manage myself. I'm awfully hungry." Darby leaned back and turned his head to look longingly at the bowl of soup.
"All right. I'll hold the bowl, but you'd best go slowly, boy, or it's back to my way," Wolf said sternly.
Darby tried to position himself higher up and winced again as his left arm refused to support his weight.
"I'd give you some laudanum, but we seem to be all out."
Darby blushed in his Darby Cole style---flood of red ears washing down to his toes. He put his eyes down and refused to look up at Wolf as the older man settled the bowl once again on the towel on his chest.
"Here, Darby," Wolf said gently as he handed the spoon to the still embarrassed boy.
Darby slowly raised his eyes and for one moment the blue intercepted the black points of light and Darby saw no censure, but forgiveness. However, the acceptance from the older man only made him blush the more, for now he hated himself for his deception.
When Wolf saw Darby start to open his mouth, he raised his left hand, "Save it. Not now."
Darby took the offered spoon and started to eat the soup. He finished the bowl in no time. Wolf noticed the drooping eyelids and he happily noted the returning color to the ashen features.
"Let's get you back down under those covers, son. You need to rest."
Darby gave him no objections and before long Wolf heard the soft snores and even breathing of the exhausted. He then went out to tend to his horses and the neglected ranch.
When Wolf awoke the next morning, he started breakfast. He couldn't wait for the time when they would have chickens and a cow. He dreamed of bacon and eggs and pancakes. The bacon and beans was getting tiring. In truth, he admitted, he missed Darby's cooking.
"Mornin'," Darby sat up in bed and Wolf was amazed at the color that had returned to his cheeks. His hair stood out in wild disarray, as was usual, but the dark circles under his eyes were almost completely gone. He scooted towards the end of the bed and, as though realizing for the first time that he was naked, he blushed as he quickly pulled the covers up over his lower body.
Wolf put down the pot, wiped his hands on the towel and walked over to the corner where Darby's bundles were sitting in a heap. He pulled out the nightshirt and handed it to Darby along with the wooden hairbrush.
"You feel up to having your breakfast at the table this morning?"
"Yeah, I'm awfully tired of laying in bed. I feel like I've slept a month," Darby said as he put his hands and head through the holes of the soft cotton garment. He brushed his hair with the brush, but Wolf could tell the war of locks was a losing battle right from the start. At least the disheveled appearance was in its enchanting state of wild charm, not the flat disarray of the weary. Wolf had come to accept the fact that Darby Cole was never going to look picture perfect. There would always be a wild, uncontrollable air to the boy that only added to his appeal. Some things in nature just couldn't be tamed, and rightfully so.
Darby started heading for the outhouse in his bare feet and only the nightshirt.
"Whoa, Darby, put your jacket on, it's cold out there---and your boots," Wolf said in a commanding voice. "I ain't going through that nursing routine again."
Darby nodded his head, but not before Wolf caught the soft smile that edged his lips.
"You sound like my ma," Darby mumbled as he pushed his arms through his jacket careful of the left shoulder, then he sat on the bed and pulled on the boots. When Wolf saw him struggling, he walked over to Darby and helped push the boots on.
"Need help out there, just holler," Wolf said as he returned to the kitchen.
"No, thanks, I can manage that one by myself," Darby said as he opened the door into the chill morning air.
During breakfast both men fell into a easy conversation about what needed to be done around the ranch. Darby was anxious to get back outside and tend to the repair jobs, but Wolf would have none of it. He knew Darby was eager to put these past few days behind them and have Wolf do the same, part of the eagerness was fear and anxiety.
"I can manage right fine if you let me," Darby sulked when Wolf refused to let him get dressed and tend to the chores.
"No, I want you inside for another day. Don't push it. You think you can handle lunch and dinner today?"
The face brightened, "Yeah, I'll make something nice."
"Just stop and rest when you feel tired. I don't expect to come in here, boy, and have to scoop you up off the floor. Do you understand?" Wolf's tone was forceful and brooked no arguments.
"Yeah, I'll just prepare the meals. I promise."
Wolf left him to his own machinations for most of the day. Lunch had been a simple fair of bean soup, stretching the broth Wolf had been feeding Darby while he was sick. Dinner was a mock stew that Darby put together with some of the canned goods he had found in the cellar. When he went down there after Wolf had left the house to attend to the animals in the barn, he blanched visibly when he saw the cellar door broken wide. Wolf had put a makeshift covering over it to keep out the animals. The dirt floor of the cellar was kicked up and long tracks were everywhere apparently as Wolf had tried to free his hands from behind his back. There was even dried blood pooled near the stair. Darby's stomach did a flip and the full realization of what Wolf must have gone through to break out of this dank cellar made it's way to the surface of his brain.
There was no way Wolf was going to let this go unpunished. Darby felt a certain sense of gratitude that Wolf hadn't exacted punishment sooner. The worst feeling that Darby had---the one he hated the most---was that he did indeed deserve whatever punishment Wolf exacted. He was actually craving it. Something had to take away the guilt and shame that were eating at him right now.
When Wolf came in for lunch, he noticed the quiet change in Darby.
"Are you feeling all right?"
"Yeah, I'm just a little tired, I guess," was the only reply Darby gave.
However, by evening the boy was sullen and irritable. Wolf had just sat down to dinner, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to wash his hands and left them up as he sat down to the delicious looking stew. He busied himself sipping his coffee and seasoning his meal when he realized Darby wasn't moving across from him. He looked up to see the boy's eyes riveted on Wolf's wrists. Wolf looked down and saw the angry red skin, ragged and raw that encircled each wrist.
"It's not as bad as it looks," Wolf said as he buttered a piece of bread and started dipping it into the stew as he forked up a few slices of vegetables.
"I'm sorry," Darby said and Wolf could see the tears pooling in the dark orbs.
"Darby, we'll discuss it later. Eat your dinner. You've got work to do tomorrow and I want you feeling up to putting in a good day's work."
When Wolf saw he wasn't going to let it go, he knew a distraction was probably in order. "When we go to town in a few weeks, we'll buy some chickens and a cow. Cloud Walker must have been detained and I figure we could use two milking cows and the more chickens the better. It will be nice to have eggs for breakfast and pancakes. I bet you make good pancakes."
The somber face immediately brightened. "Flossy showed me how to make crepes. They are these little pancakes, real thin, that you put fresh fruit in or preserves and roll them up. They are the best. I even know how to make the cream that pours over them. You can even put turkey in the...” Darby was off in past memories and future hopes. Wolf quietly ate his meal nodding his head periodically to let Darby know he was listening, but his thoughts were on the rest of the evening and the dreaded punishment he would be meting out to the now laughing youth.
Wolf knew that Darby needed the punishment more than anything. It was part of the reason he felt so badly about the raw wrists. The boy was actually starting to crave the rules, restrictions, and law that Wolf had laid out for him. He could not shirk the responsibility of delivering promises made and seeing that this lost boy at least could set his clock by the rising sun and the abiding faith he could place in Wolf Stoddard's word.
Wolf felt a sense of pride and warmth when Darby had kept repeating that
he knew he would come for him. The boy was running from the one thing
that he wanted, he just didn't see it that way. He thought he wanted
freedom and lawlessness, but he placed all his hopes and dreams in Wolf's
ability to keep him in line. Wolf vowed he would not let the boy down.
For one year, Darby Cole was going to experience the closest thing to a father
he would probably ever know.
Part 6 of Story Two