The Healer (15 page)

Once Billy saw the pack. They had stopped at the marsh to drink, after a night of hunting, before slipping away into the woods to sleep and rest during the day. There were seven of them: two beagles, a coonhound, a foxhound, a German shepherd, a Doberman, and a collie. Billy thought the shepherd was the leader. He was bigger than the others and they seemed to follow his lead. He had thought that being dogs and once domesticated, they would be tamer than wild animals, but the moment they saw the boy, they were off and running for the woods. They were even more wary than the deer he occasionally saw.

Careful though Wolf and the pack were not to meet, it was inevitable that eventually their paths would cross. It was also almost inevitable that the meeting would take place by the fence post above the swamp. That was the last scent post the pack visited during the night and the first Wolf checked on his rounds. There was a thicket of elder at the edge of the swamp, and Abe Zook put a high value on the bark as well as the flowers and berries. He had told Billy that the Cross had been made of elder wood and, as a result, lightning never struck the tree. The bark when boiled made a tea that purified the blood. Billy checked daily to see if the trees had bloomed, for Zook wanted the white flowers as the base for a spring tonic for his patients.

As Billy approached the swamp one morning, he saw the dog pack gathered around the scent post. The big leader was smelling it and preparing to leave his mark when Wolf appeared over a rise of ground with Blackie behind him. As soon as the coyote saw his sacred scent post being desecrated, he forgot about caution. Hair bristling, stiff-legged, he came forward as if on stilts, his lips beginning to curl back to clear his teeth for action.

So intent was the dog leader on trying to mark the post higher than Wolf had done that the coyote was almost on top of him before he was conscious of the other's presence. Even then it was the actions of the other dogs that warned the leader something was wrong, so he lost a few more precious seconds trying to locate the source of the trouble with his nose, rather than with his eyes. In spite of his rage, Wolf held back, as though hoping the pack leader would still withdraw, but although the coyote slowed down, he did not stop. Such an exhibition of cowardice would have been too humiliating. As a result, by the time the leader discovered him, the coyote was so close that the dog did not dare to retreat for fear of being attacked from the rear. There was nothing for it but to stand his ground. The pack waited to see what the leader would do, while Blackie ran back and forth doubtfully behind her mate. She was interested rather than infuriated by the dogs, and was quite willing to make friends.

Wolf and the pack leader circled each other head to tail instead of meeting head on, for there were certain important preliminaries before a fight—a fight which might still be avoided. Wolf's tail was lifted near the base and curved. Even from his distance, Billy could see the exposed scent gland on the upper surface, some sixteen inches from the tip. This was the only part of the tail that had no under fur and the hair covering the gland was the coarsest on his body. Wolf bent his tail and spread these hairs to allow the scent to escape. Billy could tell that the pack leader instantly recognized the odor of the property owner for he side-stepped away, his tail going down. Until now the dog had been uncertain who the stranger might be. For an instant it looked as though he might retreat, but then he also lifted his tail so Wolf could smell his odor. Billy could tell by Wolf's actions that he immediately identified the enemy who had been polluting his scent posts. His plierlike jaws opened in a snarl, and he moved closer. Now nothing but ignominious flight on the leader's part could prevent a fight. Billy felt that if the leader had been alone he might have run, but he did not dare to retreat in the presence of the pack.

Slowly the two males circled each other, coming closer and closer, both balancing carefully and moving only one foot at a time, so as to be able to leap away from a sudden attack without falling over their own feet. Rumbling growls sounded from deep in their chests, the whites of their eyes showed as their curled lips strained the skin of their faces. Wolf's long canines were especially prominent, protruding like fangs. The dog's teeth were more symmetrical. He was much heavier than Wolf, although he stood only an inch or so higher at the shoulder. Gradually, like a clock running down, their circling slowed. They were now almost face to face. The growls rose in pitch and became snarls.

The coyote's head went down and his back arched like an angry cat's. This made him look bigger and also braced him for a leap. The dog's head was up, his back straight. Both fighters had their ears laid back out of harm's way. The preliminaries were over. Now something had to happen. The white teeth shone, the snarls went up the scale until they could be no shriller. As they reached a climax, Wolf struck.

He made a quick jump for the dog's neck, hoping to slash open the jugular with one of his daggerlike canines. The dog took the stroke on his shoulder. The tooth opened a red line down his side, but the dog's shoulder was well padded. Wolf struck again, and this time the dog met him jaw to jaw, teeth clicking on teeth. Both went up on their hind legs, trying to get over the other's head and fasten to the back of the neck. For a few seconds they stood erect, teeth grating together, shoving with their forelegs to overbalance the other. Then the dog's greater weight told, and Wolf went over backward. Instantly the dog was on top of him, boring his muzzle through Wolf's wildly thrashing legs for the throat hold. If the dog had grabbed one of Wolf's legs and crushed it, the fight would have been virtually over, but Billy guessed that the leader was a "throat fighter." In his first fight with another dog, he had probably vanquished his opponent by a throat hold and had been using it ever since. Unless very much tempted by an easy hold, he would always go for the throat. Abe Zook had told Billy that once an animal finds a certain technique successful, he will continue to employ it from then on, regardless of circumstances.

Wolf was able to roll away and escape, leaving a mouthful of his mane in the dog's jaws, but the pack leader was confident now. He was heavier and stronger than his opponent and knew it, so he charged straight in. Billy saw Wolf turn away and knew he wanted to run, but the pack was now behind him, so he was trapped. He drew away, his lips pulled back so far that the lining was turned inside out. As the dog charged, he jumped aside, feinting with his bushy tail. The dog tried to get a grip but everywhere he struck, that thick brush was in his face, blinding him and filling his jaws. In the open, Wolf could have kept up the game almost indefinitely, but the leader was forcing him against the other dogs and they were growing more excited. In a few seconds, the whole pack would be on the coyote. They had held off so far only because Wolf was attacking them instead of their attacking him, and they had a guilty feeling about invading his territory.

The leader stopped trying to grab Wolf in his jaws and, swinging sideways, hit the coyote with his shoulder. Wolf reeled back and nearly fell. The leader, sure now that he had the right system, bumped him again. Wolf threw out a foreleg and the dog grabbed for it. As his head went down and his neck stretched out, Wolf ripped open the side of his neck. The slash missed the jugular but left a half-inch deep gash that sent blood squirting over both of them. As the coyote's head went up, the dog grabbed him by the muzzle and their jaws locked. Wolf flung himself back and forth desperately to break the grip but the dog had him. Levering with his greater weight, the leader forced the coyote's head to one side. Wolf tried to keep his feet but he was forced down on his side. The dog was on top, pinning him to the ground. Now the pack leader had only to release his jaw grip and take this throat hold and the fight was over. Wolf's only hope had been to stay on his feet, avoid the dog's rushes, and slash him as he went past.

Billy could stand no more. Shouting, he ran toward the combatants. Some of the dogs saw him and leaped away, but the fighters paid no attention to him at all. Suddenly the leader let go his jaw hold and struck for the prostrate coyote's throat. As he did so, Blackie fastened onto his chest. Billy shouted with excitement. Blackie had gone to the defence of her mate. Billy had found fawns that the pair had killed and noted that the chest was always crushed in. That was Blackie's favorite hold because she had killed her first fawn that way. She had several times helped Wolf kill large game and had learned that it was part of her job to come to his help when he was in trouble. Billy could not help wondering if in the general excitement, and accustomed as she was to helping in a struggle, she was only following a pattern rather than really trying to save her mate.

Her jaws were not wide enough to crush in the dog's chest, but Wolf rolled free. The pack leader ignored Blackie and sprang after Wolf, but now that it was clearly a free for all, the other dogs rushed in. Ordinarily they would not have touched a bitch, but the fury of combat was on them and they were drugged with the scent of blood and excitement. In the melee, they bit at each other, and the whole area around the post was a struggling mass of fighting animals.

Billy arrived, panting, but did not dare to interfere with the raving animals. He looked around for a club but there was nothing, not even a large stone. The leader bored his way through the mob and fastened on Wolf a second time. Again, he managed to get the jaw hold and both animals went up on their hind legs as the coyote fought to break the fatal grip before he was thrown down. Steadily giving way to prevent his heavier adversary from throwing him, Wolf reached the edge of the sharp decline into the swamp. His hind legs went from under him, he made a frantic effort to regain his balance, and then both animals rolled down the slope into the water with the rest of the pack on top of them.

Billy ran to the fence post and tried to jerk it loose but the post was too firmly embedded in the ground. Wolf and Blackie were smothered in a mass of raging dogs and could not last much longer. Billy was weeping as he struggled with the post and at last, despairing of freeing it, stumbled down the slope with some wild idea of separating the combatants with his bare hands.

He heard the crack of a rifle and one of the dogs yelped with pain. There was another shot and another. Billy stopped bewildered. Then the muck of furious animals distintegrated and dogs were running in all directions. Billy saw Wolf and Blackie thrash out of the swamp and race for the shelter of the distant woods. Another shot, and dirt jumped a yard from Wolf's side. The coyote had been running at full speed, yet now he seemed able to squeeze an additional spurt of speed out of his long legs. The dogs were running in the opposite direction. A wire fence around the pasture held them for a few seconds. Then some went over it and some under it. Three dogs were left in the shallow water of the marsh. One was dead, one still breathing, and one limping and crying on three legs.

Billy saw Jim Stoltzfoos, the game warden, running across the pasture with his rifle in his hand. He stopped, aimed carefully, and put the two wounded animals out of their pain. Then he turned to Billy.

"Son, you must be crazy. Those dogs could have torn you to pieces. Haven't you any sense?"

"They were trying to kill Wolf and Blackie—and you shot at Wolf," Billy screamed.

"You mean that coyote?"

"He's not a coyote—his name is Wolf. He was only trying to defend his range from those dogs."

The warden stood looking at the boy for a long time. Then he unloaded his rifle.

"I'd better take you home. You don't look too well to me."

Still sobbing, Billy followed the man to his jeep and climbed into the car. Neither spoke until they reached the farmhouse. Then Billy said, "You're not going to try to kill Wolf and Blackie anymore, are you?"

"We'll talk about that some other time. You'd better go and lie down. I'm glad I happened along when I did, that's all."

Wasser was barking, and Abe Zook came out of the barn. Billy ran to him crying and the old man put his arm around the boy's shoulder. He shouted furiously to the warden, "What have you to the boy been doing?"

"Saving his life," the warden called back. Then he threw the car into gear and drove away.

When the warden had gone, Abe Zook turned furiously on Billy and demanded, "What has happened?"

Billy told him as well as he could. When he had finished, Zook snapped, "Never did I think I would be glad for a game warden, but he is saving your life, boy," and strode away. He refused to say more until after supper, when he had a few drinks of homemade beer and lit a cigar of Indian tobacco.

"The black dog must be with pups," he explained. "For no other reason would the wolf fight against a pack. He must hold his land so there will be a place for his offspring to live. Now that three of them are dead, perhaps the dog pack will leave. Let us hope so. May they go and trouble some other place."

"What about Wolf and Blackie? Will they let me play with the pups?"

"Such a thing put out of your mind. You will never find the den, for it will be where the wolf wishes, not the dog. He will hide it well. Come, let us find other things to interest you."

Rising, Zook went to a shelf and, after turning over a collection of strange objects, returned with a small box. Billy had seen it before, but Abe Zook had never bothered to explain its purpose. Actually, it was two boxes : a small one, about twice the size of a matchbox, mounted on top of a cigar box. The small box had a sliding glass cover. A hole just large enough for one of Billy's fingers connected it to the cigar box and a piece of tin could be inserted under the small box to close the hole.

"Tomorrow we start out early and find ourselves a bee," said Abe Zook, and that was all that Billy could get out of him.

As soon as the dew was off the grass the next day, they set out. Zook carried an old pair of field glasses, a small bottle of white paint, climbing irons, a rope, and a saw. Billy was given several buckets, a hat with a veil, gloves, and a box attached to a bellows. They headed for a hay field overlooking the valley where the wild mustard was in bloom. Billy trudged along without daring to ask questions, wondering whether this was another of the old braucher's charms or if Zook really had some project in mind.