The Book of Joby (69 page)

“I’d say it has.” Tom frowned. “How else do you account for people like that Ferristaff fellow up on Turtle Pond? He’s building a damn palace up there, and he’s cut and milled almost every tree on that property to do it. Not exactly what I’d envisioned when his point man talked about
love of wilderness.
”

“I know. . . . I’ve heard the children are pretty angry.”

“I can’t blame them. There was a really ancient grove on Latham’s back acreage, and that jackass cut it too.” He shook his head and grimaced. “I told Jake this would happen. A few ognibs willing to sell, and now Ferristaff wants to buy the whole damn range. Fortunately, what he did to Latham’s place and that crew of thugs he’s brought in to do construction have made him pretty unpopular around here. I think he’ll find a lot fewer sellers now.”

As they hiked farther into the woods, Hawk continued to talk enthusiastically about his “lessons” with Solomon. In the past few weeks, the boy had opened like a flower in the sun.

“So we made up this place called Ymril,” Hawk went on, “where these people live called the Bannisklan. I got the idea from this other story Solomon told me about these people called the Sidhe in Ireland. Anyhow, the Bannisklan live in pools of—”

Hawk’s narrative was cut short by the screeching tirade of a blue jay somewhere just off the path. Hawk stopped and looked toward the sound in surprise, just as Jupiter came crashing out of the foliage ahead of them.

“Some dogs got Nacho!” Jupiter gasped. “He’s hurt bad! They got Rose and Tholomey cornered too! Come on!”

Jupiter ran back into the woods with Hawk and Joby close behind. Joby
could hardly believe the speed and agility with which the boys surged through the forest ahead of him, dodging and leaping obstacles like a pair of hunting hounds. He had lost sight of Jupiter completely, and begun to worry he’d lose Hawk as well, when he heard savage barking ahead, and a girl’s frightened scream. A wave of renewed alarm brought forth an extra burst of speed, so that Joby burst into the clearing just behind Hawk.

Jupiter was nowhere to be seen, but Joby had no time to wonder where he’d gone. Ahead of them, backed into a narrow cove between several high stacks of cut timber, Rose and Tholomey were pinned in place by two Dobermans growling and barking viciously as they strained at their long cable chains. An angry raven dove at the enraged dogs’ heads and tails, causing them to spin and snap their teeth in fury. As Joby watched, a blue jay joined the raven’s assault.

Not until Tholomey dodged to one side, did Joby see Nacho lying on the ground behind them, eyes closed, white as a sheet, dark bloodstains drenching the denim around his torn pant leg and seeping through his ragged shirtsleeve near the wrist.

Hawk had begun to yell and throw rocks at the dogs to distract them. But the sight of Nacho’s savaged limbs sent a shock wave of panic and anger through Joby’s body, and in what he would later call a blind rage, he grabbed a large branch and waded toward the dogs, swinging fiercely. Though close to five feet long, the branch seemed surprisingly light and immediately connected solidly with one of the dogs, causing it to keen as it flew several feet to land limply on its side. The other dog turned and sprung at Joby but the branch was there between them. The dog fell back and hunched to jump again, but Joby brought the branch down hard, grazing the dog enough to scare it off momentarily.

“Run!” Joby yelled to Rose and Tholomey.

Instead of fleeing, they dropped their sticks and grabbed Nacho’s arms, assisted by Hawk, who rushed in to help them drag him toward the clearing’s edge.

Meanwhile, the remaining dog charged back toward Joby at a gallop, ears back, teeth bared, silent with fury. Joby tried to ward it off again, but missed as the dog leapt and hit him in the chest with such force that he staggered back and fell. Joby flung his arms across his neck and face, expecting teeth to close somewhere on his upper body, but instead there was another whimpering cry, and the dog’s weight simply vanished.

Joby opened his eyes to find Jake standing above him with a maul half-raised to strike again. But the dog lay unmoving a short ways off, bleeding from a wound on the side of its head. Its companion, whining pitifully, struggled to rise and flee on a hind leg broken by Joby’s initial blow. On Jake’s face, there was only sadness.

Joby began to shake, and fought an inexplicable urge to cry. Jake stooped to help him up, then went quickly back to tend to Nacho, who had regained consciousness, and was groaning in pain.

Joby looked at the dogs—one clearly dead, the other crippled—and felt his stomach knot in empathy and disgust, despite what they had done to Nacho, and tried to do to him. He turned away, and watched Jake bind Nacho’s wounds with strips torn from the boy’s ruined shirt, while Tholomey and Hawk looked on in silence, and Rose stroked Nacho’s hair, tears trickling down her face.

“Where’s Jupiter?” Joby asked.

“I sent him for more help,” Jake said without turning from his work. “He and Sky found me in the woods, but I’m afoot, and we’ll need a truck to get Nacho out.”

Joby looked around again. “You sure saved my bacon, Jake,” he said soberly. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for saving theirs,” Jake replied, tightening one last bandage. Nacho seemed half awake now, but calm. Jake rose and looked back at the ruined dogs, then stepped over the dead animal toward the crippled one, which shied away, whimpering as he approached. Jake crouched down in front of it crooning soothing sounds, and after a moment, reached out to stroke its back, and then its head. The animal whined in high pleading tones, then licked Jake’s hand. “I’d rather have taken that maul to this creature’s owner,” Jake said wearily. “It’s a crime against nature to twist dogs like this.”

The dog laid its head down between its paws then, and closed its eyes. As Jake gave it one more pat and stood, Joby realized it was no longer breathing.

“Is it dead?” he asked in dismay.

Jake nodded without looking back.

Joby felt a dreadful shame. Some dumb creature kept on a chain, bludgeoned to death for doing exactly what it had been trained to do.

As if reading his thoughts, Jake said, “We’ve just set them free, Joby.” He shook his head, walked back to the others, and gently asked, “What were you all doing here?”

“We—” Tholomey began, then seemed to think better of it and said, “He was cutting outside his property. We came up to . . . we . . .” The boy bowed his head in shame.

“You guys think something needs fixin’,” Jake said quietly, “you come tell me, or Bridget, or some other adult. We’ll take care of it.”

“Will Nacho be all right?” Rose asked.

“I think so,” Jake said. “Looks like they missed his arteries. Don’t think he really lost as much blood as it seems. It’s just the shock that’s got him. And the pain. But that’ll all pass quick enough, once we get him down to Dr. Locke.” For the first time, he grinned. “He’d be a lot worse off if you hadn’t stood by him that way. That was pretty brave.” He turned to smile at Joby. “There’s likely to be some pretty grateful parents, Joby. You were quite the warrior there.”

Joby shrugged, a blush of pride struggling with the sorrow he still felt for having killed the dog. “Wasn’t any time to think, really,” he said.

“It was like something in your book!” Hawk beamed. “You were like a knight!”

Tholomey agreed.

Embarrassed, Joby changed the subject. “You guys see those birds? That was pretty weird, huh?”

To his surprise, everyone looked embarrassed.

“Birds’ll fight anything that threatens their nests.” Jake shrugged. “Nothin’ weird about that.”

Tom shook his head in disbelief. “Really, Mr. Bruech, it was unconscionable to leave such dogs unattended without a fence. They could have killed my daughter. And to guard timber? Were you afraid someone might throw those logs over a shoulder and carry them off?” He shook his head again, and looked away. “Everyone here’s grown rather sour on your Mr. Ferristaff by now, and they’re just not interested in selling him any more of their property. Nothing I can do about that, even if I wanted to.”

“The children
were
trespassing,” Bruech insisted, “and we have agreed to pay Mr. Shandy for his timber. What else can be expected of us?”

“Oh, we expect very little of you, Mr. Bruech. And if those kids
were
trespassing, it wasn’t on Mr. Ferristaff’s property, was it?” Tom had lost all patience with this manipulative man. “Frankly, we don’t consider a few kids tromping around in the woods that big a crime around here, especially where
there are no fences. Unlike your employer, Mr. Bruech, Mr. Shandy really is a lover of wilderness, and none too happy about the gash you left in his woodland, payment or no. You’re a fine one to talk of trespass.”

“I have already explained; that was merely an error in our understanding of the boundary lines of Mr. Ferristaff’s property. We—”

“I hope your lawyers are better equipped than your surveyors then, Mr. Bruech, because the way your client conducts himself, they’ll need to be. I’m sorry, but I do have other business to attend to.”

The polite expression Bruech had maintained throughout their meeting fell away before an imperious glower. “I must say, you are the most self-defeating real-estate agent I have ever come across, Mr. Connolly. I had hoped we might deal with each other on more amicable terms, but you leave me no alternative but to play hardball.”

“Is that some kind of threat, Mr. Bruech?” Tom asked, no longer attempting to moderate his scorn.

“As you must guess, Mr. Connolly,” Bruech continued calmly, “our research into Taubolt has been quite exhaustive, and it seems that this idyllic little outpost has been remarkably unforthcoming with county and state agencies about such things as, oh . . . its existence, for instance.” He raised his brows a little. “What a lot of fees and taxes don’t seem to have been paid over the many, many years your town has flourished here. So many licenses missing. I’m not impeaching anyone’s integrity, of course. The whole thing is clearly some kind of gross bureaucratic oversight, which your lovely community can hardly be blamed for choosing to overlook, but a century of unpaid bills? Such a costly scandal might drive Taubolt right out of existence.”

Tom sat very still, unable to believe what he was hearing. If there’d been any doubt about the demise of Taubolt’s defenses, there could be none now.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Connolly,” Bruech smiled with nearly believable sympathy, “Mr. Ferristaff is a pragmatist, not a stickler for rules. If you and whoever you’ve been running interference for are willing to cooperate with him, he’ll be only too happy to preserve your remarkable little secret, even, perhaps, to bolster it.”

“I am just a Realtor, Mr. Bruech,” Tom said weakly. “I own none of the property you’re interested in. There are others I will have to talk with.”

“Of course,” Bruech said, rising now to stretch and smile. “I never meant to accuse you of being more than a middleman. Talk with your clients. You have all the time you need. Weeks and weeks, if necessary.” He turned to go, but turned back at the door to add, “It seems to me that Mr. Ferristaff is doing
Taubolt a favor. If you don’t sell to us, what’s to stop some truly ruthless timber operation from moving in and clear-cutting these hills for as far as the eye can see?”