The Heart of a Wolf

"So, let me see if I understand this," Max said, fluffing up his moustache, which was his habit when he was most perplexed. "You want Martha and me, to take in this strange girl for a week, and she comes from goodness knows where, while you see if you want to marry her? You do realise how crazy that sounds."
Joseph smiled lazily. "That’s it, that’s the whole thing. She stays here, I court her for a few days, and if I still want to marry her, and she’s agreeable, we’ll be wed on saturday morning. I already spoke to the Reverend, and he has us booked for 11 in the morning."
      When Martha went out for the evening, and Joseph had called round for a glass of something and a gossip, Max had been completely unaware of his friend’s plans. They sat in the comfortable armchairs in front of the fire. With Martha and the pack out of the house, none of the lamps had been lit and the house was shrouded, inside and out, with shadows. Rain lashed against the mullioned windows but the room was cosy in the firelight.
      Max stared at his friend. They had known each other since Joseph had been a small cub, running alone from the bigger packs. As an orphan child, without a pack of his own, Joseph was vulnerable, scared and lonely, but hiding it so successfully that most had him down as a cocky, arrogant individual. Young Max, starting out on the path of matrimony and creating his own pack, had taken Joseph in to live with him for a few years. Max’s young mate, Martha, took a while to warm up to the growlin’, fightin’ cub, but eventually she quietened him and tamed a piece of his wolfish heart.
      "So you got yourself a mail order bride," Max said, tapping his pipe out on the hearth. "Just like the folks over in Tamblin’s mines."
"Not the same thing at all," Joseph said, refusing to rise to the bait. "Those men put their own advert in the newspaper, I answered one. Not the same thing." Max propped his booted feet up on the mantelpiece, taking advantage of Martha being out, to do it. "Tell me how it works then," he said.
      Despite his rough start, Joseph had grown up to be a good-looking young man, tall and slender, and wealthy enough, with his own horse ranch, that most of the young woman in the town would have beaten a path to his door to wed him. But then, when he got to that point in his thoughts, Max would always remember Susannah, and the contemptible way she had betrayed Joseph, just a day shy of their wedding. Perhaps it was not so strange that he would chose an out-of-towner to share his life with.
      "I wrote to a place in New York, a marriage bureau and don’t chuckle like that Max. This isn’t a joke." Joseph grinned in sympathy with his friend. "I told her the kind of girl I wanted to marry, and she sent me letters and photographs from eight girls. I looked through the pictures, read the letters, and I picked one."
He took a photograph from his inside jacket pocket; close to his heart, Max thought, in a rare moment of sentimentality; and passed it over. Max saw a young woman in a dark dress with her plaited hair in a bun, not beautiful, but not too plain either. "She looks scared to death, poor thing," he said.
"Not scared," Joseph said, "anxious perhaps. She’s a widow, though she’s so young." "A widow? Joseph, what made you think this was the one?"
Joseph took a moment to answer, chewing his lower lip. Now who’s anxious? Max thought.
"The wolf wanted her," Joseph said quietly.
Ah, not "my" wolf, always "the" wolf. Which could be misconstrued as arrogance in a town made up of shapeshifters, and most of them being wolves. Max knew he wouldn’t get any more of an explanation from his friend than that. He sighed.
"All right, Romeo," he said, smiling broadly, "we’ll do it. This girl of yours can stay here, but you can square it with Martha. And while I think of it, let me tell Pamela." Max spoke of his oldest daughter. Sweet 14, going on 25, with a crush on her father’s friend that threatened to become embarrassing to everyone.
"I wonder if this girl and I will have a pack of young uns like you and Martha," Joseph said.
Max laughed. "She’s a human, poor soul, not like the rest of us. She’s not going to have her babies in litters. You’ll have to wait out years to have a pack." He went on laughing until he was fit to burst the buttons on his waistcoat. "Speaking of which," he added, more soberly, "I hope you told this girl of yours about this town."
Joseph went quiet. He got up and paced around the room. "To be honest, no I did not," he said. "It’s not something you can just drop into a letter to someone you don’t know and have never met. How do you think she would have reacted if I told her we’re mostly all shifters in St. Ailbhe’s Drift?"
"You have a point, but you will have to tell her at some time. If you don’t, someone else will and then she’ll think you lied to her. And that’s certain death for any marriage."
Joseph sighed. "I know, and I will tell her. But in my own time and in my own way. I promise".
"Then that’s good enough for me," Max said, taking his feet back down as he heard the front door open. "Here’s Martha coming back. Will you tell her, or shall I?"

      Jessica Clements hailed the conductor as he made his weaving way through the carriage.
"Excuse me," she said, her gentle voice almost swallowed up by the chatter and noise of the train on the tracks. The conductor turned to her with a smile.
"What can I do for you missy?" he said affably.
"What time do we arrive at, what was that strange name, St. Ailbhe’s Drift?" She pronounced it as it looked, "ail-be".
The conductor stared at her in consternation. "St. Alva’s Drift," he said, with the correct pronunciation. "You going there? Goodness sakes miss, what do you want to go there for, nobody gos to that place?"
To his surprise, the girl blushed, her face suffused with red blotches.
"I am meeting a, friend," she said, and if she hesitated before saying the word "friend", the conductor was old enough and wise enough not to question her further. A foursome of older women were sitting opposite, with their long, sharp noses quivering with curiosity, and he was not minded to provide them with food for gossip.
"Just ten minutes more, miss," he said kindly.
The girl nodded, and the conductor went on his way. Though he looked back at her now and then. To his way of thinking, the girl should have been travelling with her mother, at the very least, Not sitting alone, at the mercy of nosy parkers and worse.

      Jessica ignored the twittering from the women who had been eavesdropping on her conversation and took out a letter from her new leather reticule. She was reading it for the twentieth time at least. All the instructions she needed were in the letter. Where do get a train from in New York, where to stay halfway through the journey, and where the train would put her down. And then…… But thinking of the moment when she would get off the train made her feel small and terribly afraid.
      It had seemed like such a good idea, when she passed by a sign over an ordinary-looking terraced house, that proclaimed it to be a marriage bureau. New York was far too big and crowded for a girl who had lived all her life on a small farm in rural England. Too confusing, too sure of itself. She had crossed the Atlantic to make a new life, after all, and the overcrowded city was intimidating. The marriage broker lady had introduced her to several men, by letter and photograph, but she had enjoyed the letters from Joseph Conall, describing his ranch and his way of life. She had written back to him several times, telling him about her parents and their sheep farm, and about her late husband, Hwyl. He had an interesting way of expressing himself that made her want to meet him. And yet, letters were safe and comforting, being at one remove from the real man.
      His photograph was not in her reticule, but hidden in her suitcase in her handkerchief sachet. She liked his picture. His face was kindly, handsome, and gentle. At least, as much as a grainy and slightly out-of-focus picture could show. He must have moved a little just as the photograph was being taken as he seemed to have a shadow beside him, all along the length of him. A shadow which, if she squinted and stared at it for long enough, seemed to conceal the shape of an animal. A wolf, or a dog of some kind, standing on its hind legs? Twittering from the women woke her from her daydream. The conductor had come back along the carriage.
"We’re just pulling into St. Alva’s miss," he said.
      Jessica gathered together her shawl, reticule, and nerves as the train slowed and screeched to a sliding halt. As she got up, she realised that she was the only person who was going to alight onto the platform. She looked back as the conductor and a porter manhandled her steamer trunk and two bags onto the platform. Everything she owned. Wasn’t that, all her worldly goods, as in the marriage service? No, that was something he, this strange man, was supposed to promise to her. And now her mind was whirling around like a butterfly caught in an eddy.

      The train pulled away from the station in a rush of steam and squealing brakes, having deposited Jessica towards the end of the down train platform. A thin wind blew down the deserted wooden platform, rushing along a small ball of tumbleweed and pieces of paper. Four young children raced past her skirts with two puppies behind them. She bent to pet the puppies, who snapped at her fingers and ran after the children. She turned, and saw a large grey wolf, or some kind of wolfish dog, lying on the wooden slats near her luggage. He was looking at her with deep, dark eyes. A wolf, a wild animal, to be sure, and yet she had the sense that he meant no harm. She walked towards the animal, with no fear at all, drawing off her gloves. Perhaps that was why the pups had snapped at her. Scent was important to such animals.
      The wolf did not move, merely looked at her as she drew near. She reached out and daring herself, she patted the animal’s head.
"Hello wolfie," she said. "You’re a long way from the forest. What are you doing here?" As the wolf seemed disposed to sit quietly, she crouched down and rubbed his ears. "Do you belong to anyone? I do hope you’re not lost. You’re a handsome fellow." She looked around for someone to ask about the wolf. A noise on the other side of the tracks startled her and made her stand up. When she turned round again, the wolf had gone. Instead, there was a young man, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, with an amused smile on his face. He wore a belt slung low across his slender hips, with a gun in a holster fastened to the belt. Even after two months in America, she could not get used to seeing men wearing guns in public. Joseph saw a young woman, with the same anxious expression on her face as in her photograph, wearing a plain pale blue dress. She was prettier than the sepia picture showed, with chestnut red hair. Smaller too, she barely came up to his shoulders. He straightened up and walked to her.
"Mrs Clements?" the gentleman said, with a tip of his Stetson. Jessica smiled.
"Yes, please do call me Jessica," she said. No need to ask him his name. He was exactly like his photograph. He smiled, took her hand, and placed it on his arm. Jessica was startled, but controlled her first instinct to pull away. Don’t be silly, she told herself, you’re going to be his wife.
      A Chinese man scurried onto the platform and took hold of Jessica’s luggage. He had a trolley that he fastened the trunk onto and piled her bags on top.
"That’s Charlie," Mr Conall, no, Joseph, said. "He works for me. You know you’re going to stay with my friends, Max and Martha, for a few days?"
"That is kind of them," Jessica said.
Joseph patted her hand. "It may seem old-fashioned," he said, "but I want to court you a while. Get to know the lady I’m to marry. And so you can get to know me."
Joseph almost laughed at the sudden relief in Jessica’s face. Did she think he was going to march her over to the church and marry her on the spot? In the next moment he chided himself for being so insensitive. It must have taken a great deal of courage to leave her own country and everyone she knew, sail across the Atlantic and still be willing to endure a long train journey, just to marry a complete stranger. He was not so sure he could have done it. In a moment of compassion and mute apology, he patted her hand that rested on his arm. As he did so, he heard the wolf’s huff of approval.

      As soon as they left the station, Jessica was struck by the quiet street. There were people, to be sure, walking on the wooden sidewalks, going in and out of the shops, and a cart trundled by pulled by two dusty horses. She had expected to see one or two saloons, with music blaring and people falling out of them, stone drunk. Such as she had seen when she rested for the night in a town that looked much like this one, Joseph noticed her interest.
"This is a peaceful town," he said. "Never any trouble, not like other places you may have heard about." A group of children ran past, the same ones from the station platform; their laughter was the only rowdy note in the street. Two more young pups ran behind the children.
"What kind of dogs are those" Jessica said. "Are they Alsatians?"
Joseph smiled. "Something like," he said.
"My father had collies of course," Jessica said, "but he had one Alsatian named Bran. He was very good at protecting the sheep. The collies rounded them up, and Bran watched over them at night."
Joseph smiled again. "Yes, something like," he repeated, but with less certainty.

      They crossed over the road and walked up to a house set back from the boardwalk. Joseph didn’t stop to knock, but opened the door and ushered Jessica inside. A tall, sonsy woman swooped down the stairs and wrapped her arms around Jessica in a big hug.
"My dear, you’re here at last," the woman said, her voice full of laughter, and kindly too as Jessica noticed when her jangled nerves calmed. "Now my dear, I am Martha and that reprobate husband of mine is out, of course." She turned to Joseph. "Will you go and drag Max out from wherever he’s got to?"
Joseph smiled and tipped his hat. "I will ma’am, I think I know just where he’ll be."
As he left the house, Martha laughed. "That man of mine is never where he should be, and never when he’s wanted." But her smile took the sting out of her words. "Now come along in. I’ve made you some tea, I know you British do love tea. And dinner will ready very soon."
Jessica laughed. "Thank you so much. I am willing to learn to like coffee though."
Martha gave her another, smaller hug. "Bless you dear. You keep thinking like that and you’ll get along fine."
      Jessica liked the cosy living room, with the fire blazing and the lamps all lit.
Martha looked at Jessica, up and down. "Do you have a pretty dress you can wear for your wedding?"
"Mo-om," wailed a young girl as she came down the stairs. She would have been a very pretty girl if her sulky expression had not robbed her face of half its beauty. "Do we have to talk about Joseph’ wedding? I’ve heard nothing else, morning, noon and night for weeks."
"That’s Mr Conall to you Pamela," Martha said. "And I’ll have none of your cheek. Now come and say hello to Mrs Clements."
Jessica stretched out a hand, and Pamela merely touched the tips of her fingers. As the girl stamped into the kitchen, Martha sighed.
"I am so sorry dear," she said, "she’s having a pouty day." She lowered her voice so no one else could hear her, except Jessica. "Truth be told, madam there has a crush on Joseph. And it will not do of course. It was bound to happen, he is such a kind man and would never hurt her feelings for the world. Ah well, there we are. Perhaps when you two are married Miss Pamela will find someone else to spend her feelings on."
      She edged Jessica towards a small table, set with a pot of tea, cups and milk. "Sit down my dear, that’s right. I think I’ll have a cup with you." She poured the tea into the cups and Jessica drank thirstily, thankful of something to do to cover how deeply she had blushed at the mention of her forthcoming wedding.
"Now tell me about yourself," Martha said. The tea was obviously not to her taste, so it was especially kind of her to make some for her new guest. "Joseph told us you were married before, and your husband died?"
"Yes, nearly a year ago ago, and my parents died a few months before," Jessica said, surprised at herself, at how muted her grief for them had become. It felt as though that had happened a long time ago and far away.
"So, your mother did not know you are going to be married again?"
Jessica nodded, glad that Martha had swiftly skirted the subject.
"I may not be old enough to be your mother," Martha said gently, "but I hope you’ll look on me as such. Every girl needs her mother when she’s to be married." She took a handkerchief from a pocket in her skirt and patted her eyes. "Now then," she went on, "the boys will be back soon. If you’d like to wash up, I’ll get Pamela to show you to your room. Have to make her useful somehow," she added in a whisper.
      Pamela sailed into the room, eating a handful of cookies.
"Oh Pammie, how could you?" Martha scolded, "and right before dinner too. Well, no matter," she said as the girl looked ready to argue. "I want you to show Mrs Clements to her room."

      Pamela stalked upstairs, glancing back just once to see that Jessica was following. The girl led her to a pleasant room at the back of the house, with a bed that looked so comfortable and inviting that Jessica wished she could lie down and go to sleep. She felt so utterly weary suddenly. But there was a ewer of water and a large bowl on a stand, and cold water would be reviving. She unbuttoned the cuffs and most of the buttons of her blouse to her waist, to wash her face and neck with a wash cloth that Martha had thoughtfully placed beside the jug. Pamela was frankly staring, as her open blouse revealed the top of her corset and chemise.
"Joseph’ll like you," she said vulgarly, but Jessica took no notice. She began to unwind the long plait that she had looped into a bun. Her hair fell to her hips as she shook it out. Her two leather bags had been brought upstairs, so fishing around in one for her wash bag, she brushed the dark red waves until the whole mass gleamed.
      She heard Pamela leave the room, and carried on brushing her hair. The house became silent and the air itself seemed to change, making her shiver a little, and there was a faint buzzing in her ears. She was suddenly aware that she was being watched. She looked up into the mirror, and Joseph was standing in the doorway, watching her with dark, hungry eyes. It was strange, but Jessica felt completely unable to move. So a deer must feel knowing that a wolf had fixed her in his sights. Slowly, she forced herself to button up her cuffs. Joseph crossed the room and stood behind her, still staring at her face in the mirror.
He lifted a long strand of her hair and drew it through his fingers.
"Almost the colour of blood," he said quietly. He pulled the high collar of her dress a little way off her skin, bent down, and gently kissed the nape of her neck.
Jessica held her breath. She had not expected such an affectionate gesture. The touch of his lips was followed by his finger tips. Brazenly, she lowered her head to allow him to touch more of the back of her neck. It had been so long since anyone had touched her.

      Pans were clattered downstairs, voices were sounding where there had been silence. Jessica buttoned up the front of her dress as Joseph stepped back. She stood up and still he was watching her. He took one of her hands and turned it palm upwards.
"So small," he whispered, and planted a kiss on her palm. She leaned towards him, she knew this feeling and what it meant. Her marriage to Hwyl may have been short, but it was a happy and passionate one. Her body was eager to go on its own way, dragging her heart along with it, and ignoring her head.
"Jessica dear, dinner is ready," Martha shouted up the stairs. They walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs, and Joseph let go of her hand a moment before they walked into the living room.

      Max was sitting at one end of the table with Martha at the other end. Jessica was surprised to see five small boys ranged around the table, being of the same age and height. Pamela sat in the middle, opposite Jessica and glared at her parents’ guest all through the meal. If Jessica noticed, she gave no sign, being acutely aware of sitting next to Joseph. Every time he passed her the salt or refilled her water glass, he touched her hand. Every time she looked up from her plate, he was watching her. It was unnerving, and yet, in a strange way, oddly comforting. She had taken the train in New York, expecting to find a taciturn man with a few civilised manners. That she would have to negotiate a certain distance and reticence before he warmed to her. Instead, he was willing to be friendly, even ardent, and she was not sure how to respond. She was a stranger here. Making a mistake now could have repercussions. She had to live the rest of her years in this town.
      When she had got to the end of her thoughts, the meal was over. Thankfully Martha had taken Jessica’s quietness for fatigue and had steered Max away when he would have bombarded the young British girl with questions. Martha stood up and began to gather up the dishes. Jessica got up to help.
"No dear," Martha said, "Pammie can help me. Joseph, why don’t you take Jessica out for a little walk. It’s still light outside. Pammie, don’t argue," she added as her daughter opened her mouth to protest. The five little boys scampered outside, into the back yard and began an energetic game of kicking a battered ball around.
"It’s wisest not to argue with Martha," Joseph said quietly, as he draped one of Martha’s tartan wool shawls around Jessica’s shoulders. As they left the house, Jessica clearly heard Martha talking to Max. "She’s a shy little thing….." and then the door closed.

      Joseph took Jessica’s hand in his. "Nothing wrong in being shy," he said with a smile.
"I was just tired, and I had a lot to think about," Jessica said. She looked around. The street was quiet, a few lights glowed in the houses and the shops were closed.
"There really isn’t much to see," Joseph said. "Houses, a few stores, the church. Folks around here don’t like to go far out of the town. We all know each other well, and we know what we’re all getting up to. You’ll get some curious looks for a while. Don’t let it worry you. Folks aren’t unfriendly, we just take our time to get to know you before we decide." Jessica looked up at him. He had not seemed to take much time in deciding, if the kiss on the back of her neck meant anything.
      An older man was walking along the sidewalk towards them. He was not very much taller than Jessica, with slightly bowed legs, and he wore a silver star on his jacket. As he drew level with them, he tipped his hat.
"Evening Mrs. Clements," he said, "evening Conall."
"Evening Edards," Joseph said. "Jessica, this is our sheriff, Jake Edards." Jessica smiled and nodded, not wondering how the sheriff knew her name already. He probably knew why she was in this town as well, which was rather disconcerting.
"Max in?" Sheriff Edards said.
"He is, and Martha too," Joseph said, with a smile. Edards chuckled.
"Fair warning," he said, and passed on, after tipping his hat again to Jessica.
"Did you just warn him about Martha?" Jessica said, grinning.
Joseph laughed. "He probably wanted to get all the gossip about you, but Martha’s loyal. She likes you, and she keeps her own mind about people she likes. You see what I mean about this being a small town?"
Jessica sighed. "Believe me, after New York, I could do with being in a quiet, small town."
"I’ve heard it gets rough there," Joseph said.
"It’s just...too big. I told you in my letters that I come from a small village where everyone knows everyone. Just like here." She smiled up at Joseph. "But in New York, no one knows anyone. You could faint, or even die, in the middle of a street, and people would walk around you. No one cares. Is that silly of me?"
"Not at all. And for what it’s worth, I would always care."
"Yes, I believe you would."
      By now they had reached the end of the street. A dust road went on, through grass and trees on either side, as far as anyone could see. Standing on the boardwalk and looking out at the road, was like standing on the edge of the world. There was a bench that some benevolent citizen had placed where a weary person could sit, and look at the sea of green stretching ahead. Joseph and Jessica sat down, and she leaned a little against him. He put his arm around her shoulders. Again, a rather brazen gesture from someone she had only met just a few hours ago, but Jessica felt comfortable and safe. In somewhere like New York, it would have been an egregious piece of presumption. But here, at the end of the quiet street, watching the sky darkening and the stars beginning to appear, it was companionable.
"Jessica," Joseph said quietly. "I don’t believe I need a week to get to know you. So, will you marry me? You don’t have to decide now if you need more time to think."
Jessica looked up at him. "Yes, I would like to marry you," she said.
Joseph smiled. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her, a long kiss full of longing and passion that made her heart beat so loud, she was sure he could hear it.
      She smiled to herself. Such a contrast from her first experience of courting. Hwyl had taken near to a year to work up the courage to ask the same question of her, after walking out together for an hour every sunday, after church. Such a decorous courting, with seemingly no warmth. Until the marriage service was over and all the guests had gone, and the ring was safely and firmly on her finger. Then he took her breath away with the depth of his ardour. If she had not seen through his early reticence, she would never have married him. And if she had never spent a happy year of being Hwyl’s wife, she would not have understood her own heart. As she sat beside Joseph in the cooling evening air, she felt something brush past her legs. Something like a large dog, or a wolf, it’s hot breath faintly visible. But nothing was there, no animal had passed by.
      When they walked into Max and Martha’s home, there was no need to say anything. Martha hugged Jessica.
"Are you sure?" she said, holding Jessica by the shoulders and searching her face. Jessica nodded, unable to trust herself to speak without breaking into tears. Max was shaking Joseph’ hand vigorously, and then clapped his hat on his head.
"And where are you going?" Martha said.
"The lad and I are going to see the Reverend." Max said. "I think we’ll be needing to bring this wedding forward a few days."
As they left the house, Martha clapped her hands to her head. "We’re going to have to get busy my girl," she said, "if we’re going to plan a wedding in less than a day. If I know my Max he’ll be trying to get the Reverend to come over this evening and marry you two on the spot."
Jessica laughed. Perhaps it would not be a good move to confess that she would not mind that at all.
"And you haven’t even seen the ranch," Martha continued. "I had planned that Joseph would take us there tomorrow and show you around. Men have no idea!" She took hold of Jessica’s hand. "Now, do you have a pretty dress you can wear for a wedding? I asked you that before, but Pamela got in the way. Oh dear, Pamela. What am I going to do with her? The boys can go off to school as usual, but Pamela is getting a mite too tall and bad tempered to be told to go to school like a child."
"Does Pamela have a pretty dress?" Jessica said. "Perhaps she could be my bridesmaid. I didn’t have any at all when I married Hwyl as neither of us had any family."
"Well, that’s a kind thought," Martha said, smiling. "Just the thing. She has a lovely dress which would do well." She sighed. "I couldn’t say that Joseph has no family, but the one brother that he has wouldn’t be wanted at his wedding. Oh, don’t ask me about it," she added as Jessica looked puzzled. "If he wants to tell you, he will. Otherwise, take my advice dear and don’t ask him about it at all."
Martha linked arms with Jessica. "Let’s go upstairs and see what we can find. Charlie brought your steam trunk back, after he’d taken it to the ranch when I specifically told him to bring it here. Ah well, he’ll be your headache soon."
      Jessica knelt on the floor to unpack her trunk. Her first wedding dress had not been brought on the journey. Not that she would have worn it to marry Joseph. She had a superstitious feeling that it would have brought bad luck, even though her first marriage had been happy. She had left her funeral dress behind as well, worn just twice. When she had made it for the funeral of her parents, who had died within a day of each other, she never thought she would need it for the funeral of her young husband. Through eyes full of tears, she remembered the day he died, his broken body carried home by his friends. Hit by a coach, driven by a man who had drunk too much ale, and horses who were too tired and longing for their stable to notice Hwyl crossing the road in front. Four days before their first wedding anniversary.
      There it was again; that feeling of long, soft fur, brushing past. She felt its breath on her face. She closed her deceptive eyes, stretched out her arms, and hugged the there-but-not-there form of a wolf. It was comforting, her tears dried, as she leaned against the big animal, burying her hands and her face in its soft fur. Slowly, as the sadness faded from her heart, the wolf vanished from the room, and Jessica was left to hunt through her trunk for the prefect dress for her wedding to Joseph.

      Joseph and Jessica were married the next day, made possible as Joseph had already sent for a licence the week before. If the wife of the Reverend thought they were "marrying in haste" and would "repent at leisure", she kept it to herself. A few people stood outside the church, in knots of two or three, chattering in low, critical voices. Jessica didn’t notice, all her attention was focused on Joseph. The entire contingent of wedding guests numbered two; Martha and Max. Pamela had reluctantly agreed to be the only bridesmaid after having been bribed with the promise of a new dress as soon as her mother could buy the material. The boys were packed off to school, and promised slices of wedding cake if they behaved all day. Martha and Jessica had stayed up most of the night making the huge cake. Its lack of fashionable decoration was compensated by petals of edible flowers strewn over the white icing. Martha had had worries about that cake, as there was not enough time to let it cool completely before icing it. But it was perfect, the weather was perfect, and Pamela behaved perfectly. Joseph whispered in Jessica’s ear when she joined him at the alter, that she was "perfect", which made her blush becomingly. And all through the short service, Jessica was aware that there was one more guest, unseen yet definitely present, watching from the back of the church, and she was sure that he was smiling on her and Joseph.
      The wedding breakfast was hilarious, as Max attempted to top each of his jokes with one even sillier. The cake was delicious, and there was so much of it left that Joseph and Jessica were given slices to take with them as evening fell, and they started out on the journey to the ranch. Charlie drove, grumbling a little under his breath at having to put the steamer trunk back onto the cart. He drove with one hand on the reins, and one hand holding a large slice of wedding cake.
      Joseph picked Jessica up and carried her over the threshold of the ranch house. On Joseph’ instructions, Charlie and two women from the town had cleaned and polished the house, and filled it with vases of flowers. She barely saw them as Joseph carried her up the stairs and didn’t put her on her feet until they reached their bedroom. And so Jessica’s life as the wife of a rancher began.

Jessica stretched her hands out to warm them at the glowing fire. A pile of parcels lay on the table after an interesting saturday morning spent shopping in the town. Interesting was how Jessica thought her morning had gone, and not in a good sense either. She recalled the moment when she reached the head of the queue in the dry goods store, and the woman behind the counter had stared at her for a long uncomfortable minute. While behind her back, she heard the sibilant sounds of women gossiping, and knowing it was aimed at her.
“Martha,” she said quietly,
“Yes dear,” Martha said sleepily. The two women had enjoyed a delicious lunch, cooked together in Martha’s kitchen, and all Martha wanted to do was doze off in front of the fire. But Jessica had other ideas.
“Martha, is it me?” Jessica said.
“Is it you, what?” Martha replied.
“Did you notice, in the shops, sorry, stores. And on the street. Everyone looking at me, oddly. I don’t think I’m being too sensitive, they were staring.”
Martha sat up. So it was going to be that way. Why had Joseph not kept the promise he made to Max, and told the girl the truth? Yes, of course she had noticed the glances and whisperings that followed Jessica wherever she went. Martha’s face was sore with the effort of glaring at them, also behind Jessica’s back, warning them off. Why Joseph thought that Jessica was going to go through life with blinkers on, was unfathomable.
“It’s only that you’re so new around here, that’s all. Folks will get used to you by and by, and they’ll forget you weren’t born here.”
“Martha,” Jessica said slowly, “I’ve lived here for three months now. How much longer? When Joseph and I started going to church together, no one would sit in our pew. Until you and Max and all your brood joined us.” She smiled at her friend, but there were tears in her eyes, and Martha was distressed to see
that. The children were all out of the house, even Pamela, who was spending the day with her friends. So, Martha wondered, should she take it on herself to put right Joseph’s shortcomings and tell Jessica exactly what kind of town she had come to. Or should it be a case of least said, soonest mended? Tell Max, to tell Joseph, to tell Jessica….. And here Martha’s thoughts ran out, as Jessica covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

      Martha jumped out of her chair and knelt by her friend.
“Now what’s all this?” she said kindly. “Why the tears? Surely a few ignorant folks are not upsetting you this much, my dear?”
Jessica mumbled something unintelligible that Martha could not quite hear, but thought that Joseph was mentioned a time or two.
“What’s that silly man done?” she said, trying to chuckle, but Jessica’s grief was too obviously troubling to her to laugh away.
      Jessica cried for a full ten minutes, during which Martha tried all she could to stem the storm. Eventually Jessica’s crying slowed down. Martha pressed a handkerchief in the girl’s hands. One of Max’s, as Martha decided that so many tears needed a large handkerchief to mop up. She ran to the kitchen and soaked the end of a towel in cold water. Jessica was sitting back in her chair, exhausted. Martha dabbed at Jessica’s face with the wet towel. It was like washing the face of one of her cubs, as the girl sat, too worn out to protest. Leaving her to pull herself together, Martha brought in a cup of hot coffee with a spoonful of sugar in it, and stood over Jessica to make sure she drank it, though she pulled a face at the taste of the sugar.
“Never could abide sugar,” Jessica said. She gave the cup back to Martha. “Sorry,” she said.
“For not liking sugar, or for drowning us both in all those tears?” Martha said with a small smile.
“Did I make a terrible mistake?” Jessica said quietly. “Martha, I’ve been married to Joseph for three months and not a hint of anything happening.” She laid her hands on her stomach, which gave Martha a hint of the real problem.
“What happened with Hwyl?” Martha said. “You didn’t have any babies with him, did you.”
Jessica sat for a few minutes, watching the flames.
“Yes,” she said, so quietly that Martha had to strain to hear her. “When he died, I was only two months gone.”
“You lost it,” Martha said flatly.
“Yes, I lost it. It was the shock, everyone said, and I believed that. But Martha, what if I can’t have children? I see how many children there are in this town, more than I thought. Every family must have four or five running around. You have six! But if Joseph can’t have any with me, will he want to send me back?” The tears started pouring again.
“I told you I’d be like a mother to you,” Martha said, “and I still mean it. She patted the girl’s knee. The fire crackled, while Jessica got herself under control and sat up.
“You’re good at being mother,” she said, with a smile.
“Years of practice,” Martha said, “and having six cubs of my own.”
“I’ve heard other people call their children cubs,” Jessica said. “Wonder why that is? I heard Max ask Joseph if we were going to have any cubs soon. So even Max thinks it’s odd that we haven’t.”
Martha made a mental note to have a sharp word with her tactless mate. She wondered if Jessica would ask more about cubs, and wondered how she would answer those questions, but her friend seemed to have moved on from that topic.
“Martha,” Jessica said, “do you think Joseph loves me?”
“Land sakes child, what makes you think he don’t?”
Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. But I do know he’s hiding something. I’ve tried asking him if I’ve offended anyone in the town and that’s why people don’t seem to want to be friendly. He always changes the subject. He gets tetchy a lot lately, and I don’t know why.”
“Do you love him?” Martha said.
Jessica was quiet for a moment. Then, she nodded. “I do, more than anyone I’ve ever known. If anything ever happened to him, I think my heart would stop.” As it had not, when Hwyl died. “But something very strange happened yesterday,” she said. “I went into the living room for something to read. You know how it rained all day after lunch?”
Martha nodded. “Good for the garden though,” she said.
Jessica smiled. “I couldn’t go for a walk. I like to walk to the paddocks, or talk to the horses in the stables. At least they don’t get tetchy with me or tell me I’m asking silly questions. Anyway, I couldn’t go out, so I went looking for a book. Joseph has lots of books about Kentucky, and I found one about this town.”
Martha sat up straight. Was it coming at last?
“I didn’t get to read the book,” Jessica went on, and Martha slumped again. “Charlie called me into the kitchen. Turned out he’d just baked a batch of cookies to a new recipe and he wanted me to try one, see if it was all right. But when I went back into the living room, the book had gone. I’d left it on the desk. You know the one, that’s right by the window that looks over the garden? And the bookcase had been locked. I couldn’t open the doors. But it was open when I took the book out. I can only think that Joseph had come in while I was talking to Charlie, and put the book away, and locked it up. And I don’t understand why.”
“Did you ask him about it?” Martha said, privately cursing Joseph for being such a fool.
“Of course I did, but he snapped at me so horribly that I went away, and well, had a bit of a cry. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. The horses are getting tired of seeing me in tears. Every time I go near them, I’m sure they say oh dear, here comes the weepy woman.”

      It was obvious what the problem was. Joseph was cracking under the strain of having to keep the most fundamental facts about himself and the town hidden from his own wife. Martha sighed. The girl was still besotted with him, despite his display of bad temper. Why could he not trust her, and tell her? Martha made another mental note, in a list that was already far too long. She did not like the dark shadows under Jessica’s eyes, nor the hollows that had appeared at her temples. The happy, light-hearted girl was turning into a sorrowful shadow of herself. Something had to be done before it was too late.
      Jessica stood up and smoothed down her skirt. “I’ll have to be going,” she said. “Charlie will wonder where I’ve got to, even if Joseph won’t notice.”
There was a knock at the door, and when Martha opened it, Joseph’s Chinese man was standing there. He was an odd creature, bobbing and tapping his cap as though he had learned that servants were supposed to “pull the forelock”. But Jessica seemed to like him and his funny ways. She smiled cheeerfully at him.
“I’ve got a few things for you to put in the cart,” she said, helping Martha to gather up her bits and pieces. Charlie took them from her, dropping several in his haste and chuckling. But eventually all the parcels were stored under the seat, and Charlie helped Jessica to climb up beside him.
“Do you like the horses?” Jessica said, laughing. “They’re new. Joseph bought them just last week. He said I could name them.”
“So what did you name them?” Martha said. Perhaps Joseph was not so oblivious to his young wife’s low moods.
“They’re Flori and Swallow,” Jessica said. “From old English legends, you know.”
      Charlie cracked the reins and the horses started off. Martha turned to go back into her house, thinking of ways to make Max do his duty by that girl, and knock some sense into Joseph. To Martha, Joseph was still that worrisome orphan boy her husband had brought home, starving, beaten, and friendless. She thought of him as her first cub. He deserved to have a good life, and she was not going to let him ruin it or Jessica’s just because he was too stubborn to see the harm he was doing. Even if she never had cubs, that girl was worth holding onto, and it would be a strange day if Martha did not make him realise that.

      Several days passed, during which Jessica decided she had done all she could to try to get through to her stubborn and taciturn husband. But it was difficult, not knowing where it had all gone wrong. He was still as ardent, even loving and affectionate, when they went to bed for the night. She had learned quickly, to hold on to those moments when Joseph was the tender, sweet man she had first met, and who had easily persuaded her to link her life with his. He made her believe that perhaps everything was not lost. But in the morning, he was back to merely remarking on the weather over breakfast, or running off to do who knew what, who knew where, and would be unable to be found until the evening. On those occasions, he would spend the evening staring at her, as though trying to remind himself why he had wanted to marry her. Then at night, he would remember all over again. It was exhausting. Max had called once, and a fierce argument had broken out, after Joseph had heavily hinted that Jessica might run and see the new foal in the stables. Standing at the door of the stables, Jessica heard her own name shouted once or twice. But Max left and Joseph would not talk about what had caused the row. Jessica no longer bombarded him with questions at odd moments of the day. Secretly, he hoped she would forget all about the secrets he was keeping tight inside. Secretly, he knew he was not going to get away with it for very much longer. He had taken to spending longer each day in the stables, or supervising the work of the ranch hands. It was unnecessary, he had a manager to do that, and he knew he was simply running away from Jessica and making everything ten thousand times worse.

      A day came when sun was shining and looked fair to stay that way all day. After breakfast, Jessica watched while Joseph left the house and wandered off. Well, Jessica thought, sauce for that goose was sauce for this gander. She put on her oldest, shabbiest skirt and blouse and pulled on her new boots, said goodbye to Charlie, and walked away from the ranch, down the dust road, but in the opposite direction from the town, not towards it.
      There were plenty of wildflowers growing by the sides of the road, a lovely sight to lighten the spirits. She stopped to pluck a few and inhale their lovely scent. No one passed her in either direction, so the road must not lead to anywhere important. After half an hour, Jessica stopped for a moment to rest. What was that legend she had heard about? If you hear someone call your name from the forest, do not answer. She smiled. No one was going to call her name. She had deliberately walked in a different direction from the one Joseph had taken. Maybe he would go home, find her gone, and worry. Then she was ashamed of herself. That was unworthy and childish, something Pamela would do.
      Her new boots soon lost their polish in the dust. It was wearying, walking along the straight, unrelieved colour of the dry ground, kicking up clouds of it with every footfall. The trees that grew alongside the road changed as she walked, from an avenue to a copse, and then to the edge of the forest. Nothing but green in all the shades were in there; trees, grass, growing things. She stepped off the path and walked in, through the sentinel trees at the edge. Outside of the forest there were eddies of wind blown dust and birds, calling to each other, danger, stranger on the road. Inside the forest, under the trees, there were no birds, no wind, no leaves rustling. Absolute silence. Absolute peace, balm to a bruised heart and a confused mind.
      Jessica walked on and on, for miles, and hours, getting further and further away from the road and the last signs of civilisation. She saw toadstools in incredible colours and forms, but no faeries danced around them. The strangest flowers grew in pale shades of yellow and pink. She strained her ears to hear her name, but no one called out. After an hour of walking, by her reckoning, she came to a clearing, where she saw a circle of paw prints, and strangely, the marks of bare human feet that had stamped down the earth. A stray shoelace decorated a large, flat stone. How and why people had come this far into the forest, were questions she no longer cared about. All she could do was walk, one foot in front of the other. Running a race with time and space, as the sun rose over the trees and moved on, and she began to forget which was the way back to the road.

      The path she took was edged with thick brambles a yard deep. As she walked, she could hear faint sounds coming from the other side of the bramble hedge. Too loud to be mice or squirrels; in any case, she hadn’t heard any animal sounds in the forest until then. A soft pad padding, a stifled huff. Wolfie? But he would have come out and made himself known. The constant shadowing of her, the holding back of breathing and moving slowly were unsettling. The edge of the bramble hedge was just ahead, then she would know. She stood completely still, waiting for whatever it was to come around the top of the hedge and face her. Whatever it was, she would rather look it in the eyes, know what was coming. Grey clouds moved over the space at the tops of the trees, colouring everything in a gloomy, bleak shade. Everything else in the forest, if there was anything else in the forest, was silent, also waiting. She held her breath.
      Three wolves came out from behind the hedge and ranged themselves across the path. Smaller than Wolfie, and younger, perhaps. The middle wolf lowered it’s head and growled, it’s teeth bared, showing off the savage, jagged, cutting and rending tools it possessed. The other two whined and yelped. One of them began a howl, and the nerve-rending sound was cut off by a sharp yip from the other. The one in the middle was the one to watch, as it moved its head from side to side in a menacing motion. Jessica felt a cold shiver run up her spine. Wolfie, she frantically called inside her head, but silently, afraid to make a sound, help me please.
      The wolf in the middle never heard him arrive, but the other two did. Wolfie, the large grey wolf, was standing a few yards behind her. Where had he come from? He padded almost silently along the hedge, and stood in front of Jessica. He didn’t have to growl, or lower his head in threat. He merely stood, a protective shield between her and the three young wolves. He stared at them for several minutes, communicating something in their silent language. The silence ended with a shake of his head and a huff, and the other three turned and walked away. The middle one stopped and looked back for a moment and growled, but Wolfie growled louder, and it raced away after the others.

      Wolfie caught her skirt in his teeth and pulled her around. Obviously he wanted her to walk back the way she had came. Along the bramble hedge, past the end and she saw the flat rock again, and realised she had been walking in circles, though she had approached it from a different direction. Her feet hurt so badly. The new shoes were pinching and her feet were reluctant to go on. Finally, when she saw the flat rock, she gave up and sat down on it. “Wolfie,” she said, her voice croaky, the silence having got into her mouth along with the dust. She coughed to clear the dryness. She took off her shoes and ruefully inspected her torn stockings, and blood smeared blisters.
“What am I going to do Wolfie?” she said. “I can’t walk back with these feet, even if I did find the road again. I wish I had a piece of paper and a pencil, and you had a collar, so I could get you to find Joseph and give him a note from me.” Her eyes filled with weary tears, making tracks in the dirt on her face. “He’s going to be so angry with me for getting lost. He’s angry with me a lot and I don’t know why, I wish he’d talk to me. I love him so much Wolfie, but I don’t think he believes me. Why won’t he just trust me?”
The wolf padded closer and nuzzled at her face, as though he was trying to dry her tears. She sank down onto the ground and put her arms around the wolf.
“I’m so tired Wolfie,” she said. “Maybe if I doze here for a little while, I’ll remember how to get back when I wake up. What do you think? Don’t know what I’m going to do about my feet though.” She leaned against the side of the big wolf and closed her eyes. “Just a little while. Five minutes, no longer.”
      In a few minutes she was deeply asleep, So deeply that she didn’t noticed when the wolf moved away, stretching, shrinking, and shifting, fur melting to be replaced with clothes; trousers, shirt, waistcoat, shoes, all the trappings of humanity; until Joseph stood, looking at his wife curled up in the grass. He carefully picked her up, so gently that she slumbered on. He carried her to a path she had missed, where a black horse waited patiently. It was not easy, climbing onto the back of the horse while carrying his wife, but somehow he managed, without jolting her awake, and she slept crumpled against him, all the way home.

      Joseph lifted Jessica out of the bathtub, wrapping her in a large towel that swamped her small body. He sat her gently on his lap, patting her dry. She was awake, but too exhausted to do anything but smile a little, weakly. She stared at him as though memorising every part of his face, his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Her eyes, so dark and green, were disconcerting. He wondered what she was looking for. Her feet were covered in blisters, most having broken and bleeding. He stood up and put her into the chair. He knelt at her feet, gently cleaning away the blood and patting them dry with a soft towel. He covered them with Martha’s patent ointment for all ailments. Then he wound bandages around her feet. And still she stared unwaveringly at him. As though, too worn out to speak, she was trying to communicate something through her gaze, as the wolves had done in the forest. He took her nightgown from the clothes horse in front of the fire, where it had been warming, and got her into it. Finally, he picked her up again and tucked her into bed. She closed her eyes, and in a moment she was asleep again.

      Jessica woke up as the light dimmed. She slowly turned around, she ached all over. Sitting in a chair next to bed, was Joseph reading a book. He looked up as she moved. She slid further down under the quilt, trying not to cry. Joseph stood up and removed his boots and waistcoat. Then he lay down beside her, pulled her close into his arms, and rested her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed what he could see of her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I promised to love and cherish you, and I’ve not kept my promise. I’m ashamed of myself, sweetheart. Were you trying to run away from me?”
“If I had, I would have worn older shoes,” Jessica said, “and took a bottle of water with me. I just got lost.”
“So did I,” Joseph said. “There’s things I have to talk about with you.”
“Why did you want to hide them from me?”
“I was ashamed of things I said and did. Even if I was angry, that was no excuse.”
      Jessica turned a little so she could see his face. Joseph sighed.
“All right, here goes,” he said. “Five years ago, I was going to get married. Her name was Susannah and she was from the town. Her parents had lived here for so many years. Since the ark, I reckon. Susannah loved me, or so she said. And right up until the day before the wedding, everything was fine. Her mother and Martha were filling the church with flowers. Seriously, I don’t know how anyone else was going to get in with all the flowers everywhere.” Jessica smiled. Tell it whichever way you want, she said to herself.
“Susannah had a new white dress, I had a new suit.”
“I’m sure you looked very handsome,” Jessica said, smiling.
“Funny thing, I didn’t get any new duds for our wedding, but I reckon it was happier.”
Jessica kissed his cheek for that. Even if she wasn’t convinced he meant it, it was a lovely thing to say.
      “So, it was late in the evening. I was staying with Max and Martha. Susannah’s brother came to the door with a letter from her. She wrote that she was fond of me, but she didn’t really love me. That it had always been my brother Samuel that she loved. And now he’d turned up, supposed to be going to my wedding. Be my best man. You want your brother to do that, stand up for you, even though I hadn’t seen him for years. Instead he ran off with the woman I was supposed to marry.”
Jessica had no words. She snuggled under his chin, with her arms wrapped around him as far as she could. If he couldn’t believe her, that she loved him, then there was nothing she could say to persuade him. If he did believe her, then there were no words in the world left to say.
      “That book you got out of the bookcase,” he said. “She bought it for me for my birthday months before, and wrote an inscription in the front. I didn’t want you to see it, as I’d have to explain. There’s a bit more, and this is hard for me to talk about.”
Jessica kissed his cheek again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said.
“I owe you,” Joseph said. “There was also a letter from my brother. Martha had put it with the kind of letters people send you, to wish you well when you’re getting married. The letter from my brother didn’t wish me any kind of well at all. He wrote that he’d be willing to give Susannah up. Give her back to me. If I signed the ranch over to him. He was always angry that it came to me, from our grandfather. Samuel is the elder and he thought he had the right.”
“And you didn’t give up the ranch,” Jessica said, sternly. “I think you did the right thing. She had already thrown you away, you couldn’t have her back after that. She wouldn’t have the right to expect you to do that.”
“Well aren’t you a ferocious little she-wolf?” he said, with a smile.
Jessica looked up at him. “One of these days,” she said, “I hope you will tell me why everyone is obsessed with wolves. Not that I’m complaining. I wouldn’t be here now if Wolfie hadn’t found me. Did he find you?”
“Should I be jealous of this ‘Wolfie’?” Joseph said, his lips twitching with a smile he was trying to hide.
“Don’t be silly. It’s just that, he follows me around and he protects me, and looks after me. When I’m sad, he tries to cheer me up. Is that pathetic of me, that my friend is a wolf?” She was anxiously hoping he wouldn’t laugh at her. Instead he gently kissed her.
“Wolves are special to folks around here.” No need yet to tell her the truth, he decided. His wolf, Wolfie, growled and shook his great head in disagreement.

      Jessica was drifting off to sleep again. Joseph stayed with her hugging her, a moment of peace in the quiet bedroom, listening to her breathing. He was skirting dangerously close to telling her. His wolf was already on her side. He had been aware for a while now, that sometimes the wolf left him and wandered away on it’s own. Which was not normal or natural, his wolf should have been fixed inside him, body and soul, waiting for the moment when they could exchange existence. Or so it had always seemed to him. Some people, Max for example, believed that the wolf already existed, somewhere else. Some other St. Ailbhe’s Drift, in another place. Or in the same place, overlapping with the St. Ailbhe’s Drift he knew. Thinking about it confused him, so Joseph managed to avoid thinking about it as much as possible. The wolf was, the wolf is, the wolf will be. That was as it had always been, since he was a cub and the wolf had first shredded and twisted him, blood and bone, and took his place for a while. So how could he ever explain it to Jessica, as Max thought he should, if he couldn’t explain it to himself?
      Sometimes, when the wolf returned to him, it gave him strange, jumbled mental pictures. Of Jessica sitting beside her trunk in tears, in Max and Martha’s house. Of Jessica, walking along the road. Always Jessica. The wolf knew before he did; it summoned him when she wandered into the forest. Otherwise he would still be out, searching for her, calling her name, afraid. What was it that made the wolf react to her like that? Even before he had met her, holding her photograph and reading her letters, the wolf had howled inside his head, demanding her. Joseph remembered a story his father had told, not too many months before he died, of a wolf’s destined mate. His father believed that one’s mate was preordained, already chosen and called, only needing to grow into adulthood to be discovered. Joseph had loved Susannah so much it scared him, and yet she found it easy to walk away from him and go to Samuel. Did that mean that she was not his destined mate? The wolf had said nothing in all the time he courted Susannah. Not a howl, not a huff of disapproval, or approval. It turned it’s head away and barely condescended to come to him when called. Now, Joseph realised that he could barely remember the colour of her eyes, or the way she lied when she told him she would marry him. The wolf knew.

      At this point in his thoughts, Joseph was aware that he was being watched. The wolf sat at the side of the bed, merging into the dust that danced in the moonlight that flooded in through the gap in the curtains. And Jessica’s eyes were open, looking right into his. He had the terrible feeling that she could see right through him, through blood and bone, and into the wolf that lived inside him. He was still holding her in his arms. She reached out and touched his face with one hand, then the other. She kissed him, so softly, and laid her head down on his chest, and sighed.
“I give up,” she said quietly. “I won’t worry about it ever again. If you never tell me, I won’t ask you.”
      Joseph knew he had to tell her, and soon.

Jessica was dreaming. She was walking in the forest again, barefoot this time, with no shoes to rub against her skin and cripple her. The forest canopy dappled the light that streamed in through the branches, and the floor was dry but soft underfoot. Something was running just out of sight, beyond the nearest trees, its breath panting faint clouds into the cool air. It occurred to her that she was not afraid. Whatever it was that kept pace with her, she knew she had nothing to fear. Once, she thought she saw Joseph running in the place of that something. He was naked, and as she watched, fur grew all over him; thick grey fur. He was still running as the fur swept over him, but keeping pace with her, even though she was walking slowly. She saw him drop to run on four legs, his face lengthened and his ears grew, until he was a strange hybrid of man and wolf. Then he vanished, and she remembered that she had something terribly important to tell him. But now she couldn’t find him, and she couldn't remember what it was she had to say.
      She woke up, with Joseph holding her tightly against him. It suddenly occurred to her that Joseph and Wolfie had the same eyes.
“Bad dream?” he said, letting go of her. “I hope it wasn’t about me.”
“Not a bad dream,” she said, “just a strange one.” She was still staring into his eyes. Joseph smiled.
“Don’t you know me by now?” he said.
“I’m beginning to wonder,” Jessica said quietly. She touched his face. “How well do any of us know each other?”
“That’s a wee bit too philosophical for me, this early in the morning,” Joseph laughed, as he got out of bed.
      Jessica lay quietly, watching him as he sluiced his face and neck at the washstand, and dressed. He realised that she had not moved. He sat down on the bed next to her and stroked her hair.
“Are you all right?” he said. “You’re not quite awake yet, are you.”
She smiled, to cover the sudden flood of tears that threatened to overspill, if she said anything at all.
“Stay in bed a bit longer,” he said. “I’ll get Charlie to bring you your breakfast, so you don’t have to get up yet.”
      She nodded, but still could not speak. He kissed her, and then left the room. She heard him going downstairs, and slid down under the blankets, determined not to give in to tears. So, Joseph and Wolfie had the same eyes. Was that so strange, she asked herself? Considering one was a human man and one a wolf, yes, very strange, was her answer. And yet, there was the secret that James was keeping. Was it significant that in her dream, he changed into a wolf? She wished she had someone she could ask. Talking to Martha might have helped, but that would mean going into town, and she was avoiding that place. When she got to that part in her thoughts, she was overcome with a desperate wish to see her friend. But Martha was so far away, and she had the cubs — that was right, why did Martha call her children, the cubs? Slowly, the pieces were coming together like a huge jigsaw puzzle that had no clear outline, and although some pieces did fit together, they didn’t make up a coherent picture. Joseph held most of the pieces, but Martha had some. All she had to do was get up the courage to go to town, and visit Martha. All she had to do.
      She heard the bedroom door open.
“Missie, Missie Conall, you want breakfast now? Where you go Missie?” Poor Charlie, hovering in the doorway with a loaded breakfast tray, wanting to put the tray down, but not sure if he could walk into the bedroom. Jessica pulled herself up and sat against the pillow.
“Just here please Charlie,” she said. “Where is Mr Conall?”
“Mr Conall has gone into town Missie. He take the buggy, and Flori and Swallow.”
Her feet had healed after her foolish walk in the forest, so if the buggy was not available, there was the excuse she needed not to go into town. Not that day, anyway. It was strange though, Joseph usually went on his own rather spoiled horse, Caleb.
“Is there something wrong with Caleb?” Jessica said, tackling the scrambled eggs on toast that Charlie had brought her.
“Not a thing Missie, but Mister says he has something to haul back.”
Jessica drained her coffee cup. “That was lovely Charlie, thank you. Very kind of you.”
She thought he would pick up the tray and go, but instead he sat down on the little armchair, looking like he was prepared to stay all morning.
“What is it Charlie?” she said. Charlie took off his skullcap and scratched at his bald head.
“Is like this Missie,” he said. “I has to tell Mister something important, but I afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?” Jessica said. “Not Joseph surely.” She knew that Joseph was fond of the Chinese man. He had relied on Charlie for many years, after rescuing him from appalling abuse in the mines.
“No, but it will make him angry. Not at Charlie, not at me. But is not good.” Charlie was obviously very upset by whatever it was he had to say.
“Why don’t you tell me,” Jessica said. “Then I can tell him.”
Charlie grinned broadly. “Thas right Missie, I tell you. I went to town last night.” He squirmed a little on the chair. Jessica smiled.
“It’s all right,” she said. “No one would mind if you went to your friend’s house to drink or play cards.”
“I tell you Missie, I saw that Mister Joseph’s brother, Mister Samuel walking in the street. Mister Samuel is no good. He should stay away. I afraid of him.”
Jessica sat up, remembering the things Joseph had told her about his brother. She was not surprised that Charlie was so scared.
“Well, don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll get up now and wait for Joseph, and I’ll tell him. Unless he’s already seen his brother in town. Everything will be all right, and thank you for telling me Charlie.”
Charlie raced out of the room and clattered down the stairs. Jessica slowly eased herself out of the bed and set about washing and dressing. She chose her clothes carefully. She had the strangest notion that if she was going to have to give her husband some news he would rather not hear, she should at least look as well as she could. So she picked out a sky blue skirt with a flower pattern, and a blouse in the same shade of blue. The skirt seemed a little tighter. It had been washed and ironed a few days ago. Perhaps Charlie had washed in water that was too hot. She ran her finger around the waistband. It still fitted, just a little snugger than usual. Perhaps she had eaten too much of Charlie’s delicious cooking.

      Jessica was sitting in the living room, reading, when she heard the sound of the buggy returning. Joseph had left the book cabinet unlocked, but all the books about their part of Kentucky had been removed. Jessica damped that thought down inside and resolved not to ask him. If he wanted to tell her, he would. But she was having her suspicions, especially when a book with the title “Wolves of Kentucky” was obviously missing. Another little piece of the puzzle: they were mounting up. At this rate, the picture would come into focus soon.

      Jessica was amazed and unable to speak, when Martha came bouncing into the living room, as big, as cheerful, and sonsy as ever. She enveloped Jessica in an oversized hug.
“If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed,” she said, laughing, “someone has to go and fetch Mohammed to the mountain.”
Jessica stayed wrapped in Martha’s arms for a while longer.
“I’ve missed you sweet girl,” Martha said, “why won’t you come into town any more?”
Jessica looked down at her feet, extricated herself from Martha and sat on the sofa.
“Come and sit down,” she said, “Charlie will bring us some tea.”
Joseph was lounging in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb and looking exactly as he did when she saw him for the first time; sans wolf. Jessica smiled, he looked a bit anxious, worried that he might have overstepped. She wished he wouldn’t tiptoe around her, which he had been doing ever since he found her in the forest. She wished he would understand that she hadn’t meant to run away and never would.
      Martha sat down. She was waiting for a reply, but Jessica was not about to give her one. Martha had discussed this with Joseph on the journey to the ranch, and they had both decided that it was going to be a battle to make Jessica agree to go to town again. Of course they knew why she had taken up being a hermit. The sidelong looks and whisperings had never ceased, until Jessica refused to even go to church. And she was missed. Not only by Max and Martha’s family, but by the vicar, the Reverend Edards, brother of the sheriff. One missing sheep in a flock of wolves, was how Martha described Jessica’s absence.
      “How are everyone?” Jessica said.
“Well you should come over for tea and find out,” Martha countered.
Jessica smiled, but did not reply to that. Charlie came in with everything they needed for a good cup of tea, including slices of his lemon cake. Jessica decided she had been indulging in cakes baked by Charlie far too often. She passed the plate to Martha.
“Please do have some,” she said. “I won’t, but I don’t want Charlie’s feelings to be hurt.”
“Don’t you like lemon cake?” Martha said.
“I do, too much. And I’m rapidly getting to be too big for my skirts.” Jessica laughed, but Martha looked at Joseph, startled.
“Joseph dear,” Martha said, “why don’t you go and put those lovely horses into their stable. They could do with a bite to eat too, only not lemon cake!”
Joseph nodded and left.
      Jessica poured the tea. Martha took her cup, added milk, and thirstily drank the tea.
“Ah that’s better,” she said, with a chuckle, “it’s dusty, riding in a buggy. Now what’s this about your skirts being too tight?”
Jessica laughed. “I think Charlie’s been using water that’s too hot to wash my things. Either that or I’ve been eating too many cakes. And….” she stopped.
“And what?”
“And I’m tried all the time. I don’t know why, I haven’t gone walking down the trail again, not after last time. I don’t go to town, and Charlie does all the work in the house, so I don’t understand why I’m so tired.”
Martha gave her an old-fashioned look. “I think I had better take you to see Dr Cole.”
“Martha, I can’t go into town, you know why.”
“All right. No, I can’t ask him to come here. He won’t come out this far from town. Hmm, don’t worry, I think I know who to ask.”
“Talking of asking, I have something to ask you,” Jessica said.
Martha waited. What was it going to be? At least Joseph was not far away if Jessica asked any awkward questions.
“It’s about the stained glass window in the church,” Jessica said. “I noticed it the last time we went to church.”
Which was well over a month ago, probably two, Martha said to herself. “I think I know the one you mean, the one with the two wolves and their cubs,” she said.
Jessica nodded.
Well that was easily explained away. “It’s because of the name of the town, St. Ailbhe’s Drift. Him being the patron saint of wolves. And don’t ask me how that happened.” Martha laughed, but even to herself, it sounded forced. Jessica frowned, it was obvious that her friend was holding something back. However, another little piece of the puzzle had slotted into place. An insignificant piece, a tiny piece of sky, in a place where there were so many other tiny pieces all coloured the same.

      Joseph leaned against the stall that housed his favourite horse, Caleb. He scratched the great beast behind the ears, listening as familiar footsteps came closer. He grinned, as his friend, Max, came into the stables.
“Thanks for not kicking up a fuss when I Shanghaied Martha,” Joseph said.
“She’d been wanting to see how young Jessica was getting along,” Max said. “It wasn’t fair of you to tell her that Jessica was not well.”
“She’s not,” Joseph said flatly. “I told you about her running off and getting lost in the forest.”
“Yes, and Pamela got a good spanking for what she did, scaring Jessica like that. I told her friends’ parents, and I reckon they tanned their daughter’s hides as well.”
“Oh, I doubt Pamela would have really hurt Jessica. She’s just a bit jealous.”
“I beg to differ lad. I think Pamela would have attacked Jessica, if you hadn’t turned up and obviously backed your wife up. Hopefully that’s given Pam something to think about.”
      Joseph pulled up a bale of hay and sat down. Max claimed the only battered wooden chair in the stables, due to his greater age.
“I think I’ve got a problem Max,” Joseph said.
“I think you’ve got a few problems lad,” Max replied. “But which one is needling you?”
“I’m losing the wolf.”
Max stared at him. “Don’t be a damn fool,” he said. “How can you lose your own wolf? It’s part of you. It was born with you.”
“The wolf keeps deserting me for Jessica.” Joseph said. “It’s obsessed with her. I can be out in the paddocks, and I can’t feel it, it’s left and gone to her. She’s told me about how it protects her and follows her. I don’t understand. It summoned me when she was in the forest. It told me to help her, and then it was me, and I was the wolf. And I just don’t understand how it can be there, with her, and here with me at the same time.”
Max sighed. “It’s simple lad. He knows that she is his, and that means yours as well, and he’s taking care of her as a mate should.”
“Yes, but is it Jessica’s mate, or am I?”
Max slapped his thigh. “That’s your problem right there. You’ve got into the habit of thinking that you and the wolf are separate people, and you’re not. Look lad, just tell her. You’re trying too hard to keep it from her. If you don’t tell her, the wolf will think he has to be with her more and more and you’ll become even more separate. Until you won’t be a wolf-shifter any longer. Is it worth it?”

      “Why are you so afraid to tell her,” Martha said, striding into the stables. Max grinned. He recognised his mate’s determined gait and stern expression. Perhaps she would have better luck.
“Where’s Jessica?” Joseph said.
“I sent her out to the kitchen garden with Charlie,” Martha said, “to pick vegetables for dinner. Don’t worry, Charlie won’t let her overtire herself.”
Max and Joseph looked at her, puzzled. Martha clicked her tongue. “I swear you men are the densest critters on God’s good Earth. Haven’t you noticed yet? Her skirts don’t fit as they should, she’s tired, weepy?”
Max laughed. “Oh you’ve got another trouble on the way lad,” he said. “Only worry is, will it be one cub or a litter? You’ll have to tell her now.”
Joseph buried his head in his hands. “I can’t tell her,” he said. He sounded so distressed that even Martha refrained from scolding him. Caleb responded to the sound in his master’s voice, kicking against the stall door, so Joseph continued but moderated his tone. “If I do tell her, I’ll have lost her. She’ll be to frightened to stay with me. She’ll go racing back to New York on the next train.”
Martha huffed. “Men are so stupid. Jessica loves you, you idiot. She’s afraid that you’re keeping secrets from her because you don’t trust her. Think of it, she came clear across the world, never mind from New York, to marry you and you still don’t trust her?”
“Martha,” Max said gently, “you know why it’s so difficult for the lad.”
      Martha thought back to Joseph’s childhood, after his mother died, leaving her three cubs behind. Samuel, the eldest, was old enough to care for his younger brother, and their little sister, Theresa. He should have looked after them. But he grew into his wolf, and drifted into a pack of wild youths the same age. No one would blame him; he was looking for his own pack to belong to. But while they ran around, causing as much trouble as they could, Joseph tried to look after Theresa on his own. The little girl missed their mother. And where was their father? Coward that he was, he ran off, abandoned his cubs, and tried to scrape a living as a river boat gambler, and a chronically unsuccessful one at that. He fetched Theresa back with him, and he was actually planning to give her up to cover his losses in a card game. But brave little Joseph had followed, and attacked his father. Max had also followed, and he only barely managed to prevent Joseph from killing his own father, the erstwhile alpha of their family pack, and a terrible crime by the lights of St Ailbhe’s. Little Theresa took fright, and ran, and fell into the river and drowned. Max dragged the grieving Joseph home, and that wild boy, who would as soon bite and claw as give in to affection, became her oldest cub. Which, she decided, gave her the right to tell him a few home truths.
“Tell her Joseph,” she said gently. “Please, just tell her. If it’s true that she’s going to have a baby, she’s going to need you even more than ever. And she needs you to be truthful.” Martha sighed. “Come on Max,” she said, “we’ve got our own cubs to look after.” She walked over to Joseph and patted his shoulder.

      A week after that conversation, Jessica ran into the kitchen like a whirlwind. “Charlie, where’s Joseph?” she said, already halfway out of the back door.
“Mister in stables Missy,” Charlie called after her, shaking his head at the way she flew out of the house and ran across the yard.
      At the stables she slowed down and kept quiet. She knew there were two new foals with their mothers in the end stalls, and it was important that they weren’t frightened. Joseph was standing near them, looking over at the new babies, and chatting to his manager. When he looked up and saw Jessica, he smiled. She beckoned him, and he started to walk towards her, but she was so impatient she ran and threw herself into his arms. She kissed him, and she heard the manager, Matthew, laughing.
“I’ve got something wonderful to tell you,” she said breathlessly. She whispered frantically in his ear.
“Are you sure?” he said, excitedly.
“Absolutely,” Jessica said. “Dr. Seymour was just here, you know, Anna, the lady who looks after the Indians? I asked her in for a drink of lemonade. I nearly fainted. I’m all right now,” she added as Joseph led her to a bale of hay and made her sit down. “Anna made me go upstairs with her so she could examine me. And she said, I’m definitely, absolutely pregnant.”
      While Jessica hugged him, joy radiating from her, he was aware of the wolf. Who padded into the stables, past the newborn foals, who shifted on their tiny hooves, but were not afraid. It sat next to Jessica and to Joseph’s horror, it looked at him and growled, low and deep in it’s throat. The message was clear, obey it, or lose everything. Joseph wrapped his arms around his wife, and promised, in his heart, that he would tell her the whole truth.

Jessica sat at the kitchen table. Breakfast was over, the ranch hands and Joseph had gone to work. There was nothing on the table, she was not working on anything, she just sat, silent and still, staring at the pattern in the wood. Charlie washed the dishes, and kept looking at her with a worried frown. She had refused a cup of coffee or anything more to eat. He wondered if he should run and fetch Mr Joseph if his wife was going to act strangely again. Charlie was fond of his employer’s wife, but he had been wound up tighter than a spring since she came to live in the ranch house, and he was not entirely sure in his mind that it was all her fault.

      Jessica stared at the table. She could almost see them, all the pieces of the puzzle lying out in front of her. The stained glass window, Martha’s cubs, Wolfie, her dream of Joseph becoming a wolf, the attitude of the town towards her, the missing books, and the three young wolves in the forest. It was all there; the name of the town itself was a piece of the puzzle. Kentucky was rife with weird legends and happenings; she had heard that before she had even boarded the train in New York. Even Hwyl had a piece of his own in the puzzle. She remembered the stories he told her, of how no one in Welsh mythology seemed to be able to keep to one shape. There was the story of two brothers who were punished by being changed into wolves. She shook her head. This was the nineteenth century, the age of science, of trains and steamships, and people trying to learn how to fly. There were no wolf shapeshifters. Weren’t there?

      She slapped her hands on the table, and Charlie nearly jumped out of his skin. He dropped the plate he was wiping and the crash brought Jessica out of her reverie. It was still quite early in the day. Time to do something, anything except sit in one place.
"Charlie," she said, watching the Chinese man sweep up the broken pieces, "would you drive me into town?"
"You want to buy something?" he said eagerly, "you tell me what you want, I order for you."
"No Charlie, I don’t want to go shopping. Would you take me to see Martha?"
Charlie grinned. That was normal, something he could understand. "Yes Missie, I take you."

      Jessica looked round as she climbed into the buggy next to Charlie. There was no sign of Joseph. Not that he would have stopped her, but she wanted to avoid giving him more anxiety on top of everything else. He would have wanted to know why she was seeing Martha, questions piled onto questions. With a baby on the way, it was nice to be cared for and watched over. But sometimes, she said to herself, a woman wants to go her own way now and then. As the buggy clattered and rattled over the dusty road, she worked out everything she wanted to say to Martha, everything she wanted to ask. Of course, the sensible, reasonable thing to do would have been to ask Joseph. She sighed. Poor man. He still seemed unable, or perhaps unwilling, to believe that she actually meant to stay with him. She wasn’t some fragile creature who would break into pieces, like Charlie’s plate, but she couldn’t trust him to give her truthful answers to her questions. As the outskirts of the town came into view, she sat up straighter. Now that she was pregnant at last, she realised that she no longer felt afraid of those people, their whispers, and their accusing, disapproving eyes. She was as good as any of them, though she did come from a long way away and across the Atlantic Ocean.

      Charlie pulled up at Martha and Max’s house.
"Will you be all right?" Jessica said.
Charlie grinned. "I go to store Missie, order things. And I think maybe I see my friends in the saloon."
Jessica laughed. "Well don’t drink too much. We don’t want to have an accident on the way home because you can’t see straight to hold the reins."
"I promise Missie. You watch, I drink tea. Lots and lots and lots of tea."
Jessica climbed down and watched as Charlie drove the carriage to the main street. It was a quiet day, no one else in the street. Martha and Max’s house looked empty. There was no smoke billowing from the chimney, the curtains were still drawn and the front doorstep was unswept. Knowing Martha’s fastidious ways, Jessica felt alone and a little afraid in the empty street, with a chill wind blowing. A shutter banged against a window somewhere, further away. Jessica began to wonder if this had been a good idea after all.
"Nil desperandum," she said firmly, giving herself a mental shake, and she stepped up to the door, and knocked.

      The door flew open and Pamela was standing there. It occurred to Jessica that Pamela had heard her arrive and had been waiting behind the door, watching her.
"Is your mother in?" Jessica said.
"No," Pamela said, snappy and insolent enough to cause offence, if Jessica was minded to take notice. She did not. She smiled as warmly as she could.
"When will she be back?" she said.
"Don’t know," was the reply; brief and to the point. Jessica heard voices inside the house, whispering to Pamela.
"All right, stop nagging," she said sharply. "Would you please come in and wait?" she said to Jessica, who did not trust Pamela’s sweet tone, but walked into the house anyway.
      The house was cold, the fire had not been lit that day. The table was still laid with breakfast things.
"Mother’s gone to see Aunty Junilla," Pamela said, "she went last night and she took the cubs with her." Two young girls stepped forward from the shadows; presumably Pamela’s friends from school. Jessica had the strangest feeling that she knew the girls from somewhere, though as far as she knew, she had never met them before. One of them would not meet her eyes.
"Mrs Conall," the other girl said, "my mother said I should say sorry…." Whatever else she was going to say enraged Pamela, who slapped her hand across her friend’s mouth.
"Shut up you idiot," Pamela hissed.
"Sorry for what?" Jessica said. "I’m sure you don’t have anything to have to apologise to me for."
"Take no notice of her, Jessica," Pamela said, emphasising the name, to show that she was not going to be respectful and refer to an older lady by her married name. Again, Jessica thought it best to take no notice of Miss Pamela’s rude behaviour, remembering that the child had a crush on Joseph. But it was a while after breakfast and now Jessica was feeling a little light-headed. She could sorely do with a cup of Martha’s tea, but it was obvious that Pamela was not going to represent her mother as a hostess.
"Do you mind if I sit down?" she said. Pamela sniffed and tossed her head, leaving her talkative friend to lead Jessica to a seat.
"Are you sick?" Pamela said sharply.
"No dear, just a little dizzy," Jessica said. "It happens when you’re going to have a baby."
Pamela stared, her eyes narrowed. For a moment Jessica thought she saw the outline of the girl fade into grey. The fury in her eyes glowed scorching red. The other two girls stepped in front of her. One shook her by the arm while the other held a glass of water ready to throw on her.
"Be careful," the girl hissed. But another piece of Jessica’s puzzle came into focus and slotted into others around it.

      Pamela recovered herself and smiled. Jessica was reminded of the smile of a crocodile, in a picture she once saw in a book about strange animals. Pamela certainly seemed to be all teeth and her smile was terrifying.
"I know," Pamela said silkily, "perhaps you’d like to see the house Mother and Father are planning to move us all into. It’s just outside of town and it’s much bigger than this one. The cubs are growing so fast," she added with a world-weary sigh and her head on one side.
"I didn’t know your parents were planning to move," Jessica said. "What fun! Joseph and I would be glad to help."
"Well, you’ll have to come and see it now," Pamela said, taking a hold of Jessica’s arm. She pulled so hard that Jessica decided it was better to stand up than be dragged up. As Jessica stood up, Pamela stared at her, still holding Jessica’s arm. "Is it his? This baby," she said.
"His?" Jessica said, "oh you mean is it my husband’s. Yes, this is Joseph’s baby, and mine." Martha and Max might see their only daughter as an innocent child, but Jessica was in no doubt that she understood more than she admitted to. Pamela seemed to have come to a decision. "Come on you two," she said to her friends. Jessica was surprised when the other girls shuffled their feet and looked at each other nervously. At a baleful look from Pamela, they wrapped their shawls tightly around themselves and followed, out of the house.
      Oddly, Pamela led the small group through the back yard and into the lane that ran along between the streets. There was still no one around; no humans, though a small wolfish dog with the look of a coyote passed them. It gave them a long look, which made the other girls even more nervous.
"Pammie," one of them said quietly, "what if he tells on us?"
Pamela snorted, a very unladylike sound. "What, that half breed? No one takes any notice of him anyway."
      Another piece of Jessica’s jigsaw puzzle fitted into its place. Thank you Pamela. The picture was coming together. Jessica was surprised at how calm she was about it. She was imagining and believing in the most preposterous and ridiculous thing she could ever have heard of, and yet, it seemed perfectly natural, given everything she had seen and heard since she came to St. Ailbhe’s Drift.

      The girls reached the edge of the town, and still Pamela led them on, away from the road and towards Tamblin’s mines. Joseph had warned Jessica never to go there, hinting at the rough out-of-town men who lived and worked there. So why would Max and Martha want to move their children to that place? Jessica could have cheerfully kicked herself for allowing Pamela to fool her. Giving her the benefit of the doubt was obviously a misplaced courtesy when it came to Miss Pamela. Of course she was lying, the looks on the faces of her friends should have telegraphed that little fact. Even now they kept nudging each other and whispering. One girl started to slip back the way they had come.
"I can hear you, Annie Marlow, don’t think I can’t." Pamela called, in a sing-song voice. She was fizzing with some inner glee, pulling Jessica on. Who had little choice but to keep walking and see this, whatever it was, to the end.

      By now they had walked for two miles, far out of town. A buzzard circled overhead, calling its cold, eerie cry. They had walked across a grassy plain, skirting boulders, and had reached a rocky outcrop. There were few trees, in fact, Pamela seemed to avoid walking into wooded areas.
"Can’t we stop for a rest?" Jessica said, "you two, aren’t you tired?"
Pamela pulled Jessica close, and the difference in their heights was apparent. Pamela was taller and built along her mother’s lines. The strength in her hand that held Jessica’s arm in a bone-cracking grip was unsettling. Wolfie, I need you, Jessica quickly thought. There was an answer, a sound inside her head; an animal huff, and Joseph’s voice, which was comforting. Pamela stared at her, again, the menacing, suspicious stare, as Jessica relaxed in the tight grip.
"Just round this corner," Pamela said.
      And there it was. Or had been. A large house, partly burned-out, the bare bones of half of it overgrown with weeds and ivy. Whatever it had been, this was not Martha and Max’s new home. Pamela began giggling, a high, hysterical sound that echoed.
"Your face," she laughed, "did you think I was going to live out here? I’m not that stupid, but you are." She lifted up her head and howled, long and loud. A man came out of the burned house, incongruously dressed in fashionable clothes that would not have looked out of place in the smartest salons of New York. He carried a gold-topped cane made of highly polished wood and he laughed as he walked over the rough ground.
"This her?" he said to Pamela, who preened and bridled. He smiled, and it should have been a smile full of charm and grace, had his eyes not been so cold and grey. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he said, "or a little girl neither. My dear brother should have remembered that, eh little Pammie." Pamela scowled.
"I’m not a little girl," she snapped. The man — by now Jessica realised that she was looking at Samuel Conall, Joseph’s faithless brother — grinned maliciously. "Well, don’t just stand there seething, take her into the house," he said.
Once again, Pamela grabbed Jessica by the arm and pulled her.
"Careful you fool," Samuel said, "we don’t want any harm to come to my dear sister-in-law." As Pamela half dragged Jessica past Samuel, he stopped them and took hold of Jessica’s chin. "Hmm, yes, my brother has good taste. Quite a pretty little human, aint you," he said. He put his hand vulgarly against her stomach. "She’s got a cub as well," he said. "Well, this day just gets better and better. I’ll have to think of something really special to reward you my dear Pamela. Well, go on then, inside the house please."

      The house, though half burned, had been carefully restored inside, in one room. The furnishings were quite new and thick rugs lay on the floor. The back wall was missing, but had been covered in with tarpaulin from a covered wagon. Jessica slipped her arm from Pamela’s grip and thankfully, sat down on the comfortable and well cushioned sofa. Her feet were sore after the long scramble. They heard the sounds of footsteps on the gravel outside and Pamela ran out.
"Where are they going?" she gasped, seeing her two friends scurrying away along the trail.
"We don’t want them," Samuel said kindly, putting his arm around Pamela’s shoulders. "Three’s company and five is just a mob."
"But they’ll tell," Pamela protested.
Samuel laughed loud and long. "But that’s what I want. I want someone to tell brother Joseph where his little wife is. Otherwise how would he know where to come to find her, and where I can kill him."
Pamela broke away from him. "You said you wouldn’t hurt him," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Well I lied, little girl. It’s what I do best. It’s a simple plan. They will tell him where she is, he will come here, and I will put a bullet through his head. And then the ranch will be mine, just as it should have been if our stupid Grandfather hadn’t doted on sweet little Joseph." He pushed her. "Now get on inside with the human bitch and stop whining."

      Jessica had heard everything. Of course Pamela had been stupid and selfish, and vindictive besides, but Jessica could not help but feel sorry for the girl. She had put all her hopes on Joseph never finding a wife, and turning to her. The problems of the differences in their ages aside, it never occurred to her that her parents would not be willing to let her marry just yet.
"Pamela dear," she said, as her friend’s daughter slouched into the burned-out room. "Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. You will find your own husband some day, but no need to race around, he will find you." She took Pamela’s hand and drew her down to the sofa. "In the meantime, stop bullying your friends around. Poor things, they’re scared of you, you’re quite as formidable as your mother."
It said a lot for the shock that Pamela had just had, that she took Jessica’s advice calmly and gratefully. She leaned her head against Jessica’s shoulder.
"I am sorry," she mumbled, dangerously close to tears.
"That’s all right. And I’m sure Joseph will forgive you too. If only he survives today," she added with a sigh.
There was a carafe of water and some glasses. Jessica poured some for herself and for Pamela.
"I could do with a cup of tea right now," Jessica laughed, "but this will have to do."
They sat for an hour, half dozing. In that strange, dream-like state, Jessica seemed to see Hwyl standing beside her; a hazy figure in the sunlight. As she watched the dream-Hwyl faded, smiling at her as he disappeared. Then she heard the whir of wheels, and knew that Joseph was approaching. She shook Pamela awake. The girl sat up, rubbing her eyes. Samuel strode into the room, bristling with excitement.
"Well, here he is, time to get this over with. The sooner I can dispose of my brother, the sooner I can move into the ranch." He leaned over Jessica. "What do you think sister-in-law? Do you fancy taking on the other Conall. Don’t think I’d let you keep the cub though." He grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "Come on, let brother Joseph see what he’s going to lose."

      They were all there: Martha and Max, he with a rifle aimed at Samuel; Joseph sitting next to them. Jessica recognised the horses as Flori and Swallow.
"Is my daughter there?" Martha called. "Pamela, come on out."
"Oh you can have her and welcome," Samuel said. "Come out little girl."
Pamela walked out, head down, her arms wrapped around herself, the very picture of misery and guilt. Samuel laughed and shoved her hard in the back. Martha jumped down from the wagon and enveloped her wayward daughter in her arms. Joseph followed her down.
"Get her out of this," Joseph said quietly. "A couple of my hands have followed us and are waiting with another wagon, just round the corner. I’ve told them to take you and Pamela home. Please don’t argue Martha," he added as she opened her mouth to do just that.
"Do as he says lass," Max said. "I asked him to."
Martha nodded. "Come on then little fool," she said. Pamela never lifted her head once as she and her mother walked away safely. Once they had gone, Jessica felt that she could now breath.

      "So where is Susannah?" Joseph said. "Did you get tired of her?"
"Little bitch kept whining. I want Joseph," Samuel said, affecting a childish voice. "Take me home. But she found another sucker to take her on and give her the fine jewels and clothes she wanted. Last I heard she was working her way through saloon gamblers in Texas. You were well rid of her brother dear, she’s a genuine bitch. I don’t think she would have been happy to live the life of a horse rancher. So what about you sweetheart?" he said, turning to Jessica. "Do you like being a horse rancher’s wife."
Jessica smiled serenely. She held out her other hand. "I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced," she said. "How do you do? I am Jessica Conall. Do you think you could hold on to my arm with less of a tight grip? Thank you, much obliged." Her tone was pleasant, unafraid, and calm, Joseph was proud to see. Then Joseph saw why she was so confident. Wolfie padded out of the burned house and took up position next to Jessica’s feet. Samuel seemed unable to see him, though Max could, by his startled expression.
"There’s no need for all this unpleasantness," Samuel said evenly. "Sign the ranch over to me, I have transfer papers in the house. And then I’ll give you your wife back, unharmed. As she’s going to have your cub, I’d think you would want her back in one piece."
      That was the last piece that Jessica needed. Standing still, she could feel it at last, the baby-cub, and she realised that she had been feeling it for some days. Changing while it grew; now a naked, furless cub, now a human child. She gently moved her arm from Samuel’s grip and placed her hands on her stomach. Joseph looked at her, and her smile was radiant.
"Why didn’t you tell me dearest? Did you think I’d be scared?" she said quietly. "Don’t give up the ranch, dearest. You’ve worked so hard for it, don’t throw it away."
Joseph took a step or two forward. "It wouldn’t be worth anything without you," he said. Samuel grinned; no, he smirked.
"Take your gun belt off, little brother," he said. Joseph did so, handing the holster, gun and belt up to Max. "And tell your goon to put down the rifle," Samuel added. Joseph nodded to Max, who placed the rifle, carefully, behind him, in the bed of the wagon.
"All right Samuel," Joseph said. "I’ve done what you wanted. Let Jessica get away with Max, and I’ll sign the papers."
"No," Jessica shouted, "he doesn’t want you to sign any papers. He’s going to shoot you." She turned to Samuel. "Hell hath no fury like a man scorned," she said, and stamped with all of her weight on his foot. He howled. Jessica started to run to Joseph, but Samuel was quicker. He viciously backhanded her across the face, almost knocking her to the ground. Wolfie growled and ran forward. Joseph growled deep in his throat, like an echo, and ran towards his wolf. At the moment when the two met, it was as if Jessica’s dream was becoming real. The wolf merged and melded into Joseph, who began to change, his body morphing into the wolf. As his head lengthened and shaped into a muzzle, he looked, anxiously at Jessica. But she was not afraid. She laughed delightedly, and Joseph knew that he had never needed to be afraid. He would never lose her, not to the wolf, not to anyone or anything.
"Look out lad," Max yelled, and at that moment, Samuel changed, shifting into his wolf. Without his fine clothes, scars and old bites showed up on his body.
      Jessica ran to Max and scrambled up into the wagon beside him.
"I swear Max, if Samuel harms Joseph, I will kill him."
Max smiled. "You really are a she-wolf. But I wouldn’t worry. Look at Samuel, his muzzle is white. He’s lived such a decadent life, it’s been rough on him. He’s no match for Joseph. And Joseph has more to lose. You mean more to him than the ranch, and that was Samuel’s mistake. If he hadn’t sent our Pamela to bring you here, he might have beaten Joseph. But not now. Just sit tight lass."

      They began by circling each other, testing for strength and weaknesses. Joseph was bigger and younger, but Samuel was more desperate. He was fighting for his life; it was all he had to bargain with. He snapped at Joseph’s legs, aiming to break a bone, hobble his younger brother. But he had forgotten that Joseph was a veteran of fights with his brother, he knew Samuel’s favourite tactics. He aimed for Samuel’s neck. Jessica could hardly bear the yelping as teeth found their mark. They sounded, not like savages ripping each other to pieces, but two dogs, with the heartbreaking sound of them crying in pain. Samuel ran, and Joseph followed, into the burned house and crashing through the tarpaulin. They leapt on each other, a flurry of grey fur and, to Jessica’s horror, drops of blood flew in all directions.
"We’ve got to stop them Max", she said.
Max put his arm around her shoulders. "No we don’t lass. They have to do this, or Samuel will think he can just come back and threaten Joseph again. Think of your cub. Joseph will never be able to sleep, thinking that Samuel will just come in and harm the little one."
Jessica covered her face with her hands. "I know, you’re right," she said, resignedly. "It’s just…"
"I know lass, they sound like a pair of whipped puppies and you want to help them. But you can’t. We have to see this through with them, to however it ends."

      Samuel had Joseph pinned down and was biting at him; the back of his neck, his legs, his muzzle. Jessica thought of how she loved to stroke the back of Joseph’s neck when he was reading, and then he would put the book down and pull her onto his lap and she would kiss him, over and over. She didn’t realise that tears poured down her face. She clasped her hands together and for the first time in a long while, she prayed, begging St. Ailbhe to help.
      Samuel bit at Joseph’s neck, aiming for his jugular. It should have been all over, blood soaking into the ground, but Joseph turned his head and looked right at Jessica. Something passed between them. A promise, a permission, a reason to live. Did Samuel give up? Jessica wondered about that in years to come. His head moved upwards, his throat was vulnerable, and Joseph tore into it. It was all over. Samuel lay on the ground while his life pumped out of the rip in his throat and chest. Joseph lay, exhausted and covered in his brother’s blood. Jessica jumped down from the wagon and ran to him, and Max didn’t even try to hold her back. She cradled Wolfie in her arms, kissing his bloody muzzle, and even when he slowly, painfully, transformed back into the shape of her husband, she didn’t stop. His clothes were tattered and soaked in blood. His face bore numerous small wounds from his brother’s teeth and claws.
      Samuel lay on the ground, a man again. He stretched out a hand to Joseph, who grasped it and held it as light left his brother’s eyes. Gone to rest and at peace, were kindly words, but true, as Samuel’s face softened and the lines of age and excess faded. The desperate, bitter man had gone, and he seemed younger. Jessica swore it had happened, though no one else saw it. But at the moment that his human body died, she saw his wolf rise up from the ground and walk away into the forest without a backward glance.

      The dust settled, and Jessica was still cradling Joseph’s head on her lap, reluctant to let go of him. Joseph grinned. "I’m all right," he said weakly, "I’m alive."
"I’m just making sure," Jessica said, kissing him again.
Max cleared his throat. "I think we should get you to Doc Cole."
"I’d rather go home," Joseph said.
"Martha could ask Doctor Seymour. She’d come to our house."
"All right," Max said, "Doc Seymour it is. I’ll just call the boys and heh, my girls. If I know my Martha, she didn’t go back to town when I told her to."
      Max vanished around the bend to find the other wagon.
"I meant what I said to Max," Jessica said. "If Samuel harmed you, I would kill him myself."
Joseph smiled and took her hand. "I wouldn’t expect anything less from my girl," he said.
      The other wagon came back round, with Martha and Pamela, looking anxious. When Pamela would have jumped down to run to Joseph, Martha held her back. For a moment, the girl was going to argue, but she thought better of it.
"All right," Max said, taking charge. "Martha, if you and our girl will come and sit up here with me, the lads can help me put Joseph into the back with Jessica. Then you two, wrap that up in tarpaulin and haul it to town." He indicated the lifeless body of Samuel. Pamela gasped, only just managing not to scream and disgrace her parents.
"Max," Joseph said quietly, "he was my brother. Please, treat him with a little respect."
Max looked down at his friend. "He would have killed you and your girl in an instant you know. But all right. Lads, take him to the undertaker, he’ll know what to do with him. Pamela, stay on the seat with your Mother."
      Joseph’s two ranch hands carefully carried their boss to Max’s wagon, with Jessica walking beside them. As gently as they could, they slid him onto the bed of the wagon, with Max’s coat for a pillow. Jessica climbed up and sat as close as she could beside him.
"Sure you don’t want to sit up on the seat, change with Martha?" Joseph said, "It won’t be a comfortable ride."
"I am not letting go of you again," Jessica said, as Max started the horses moving.
"Where did you run off to anyway?"
"I didn’t run anywhere. Didn’t Charlie tell you, he drove me into town. I wanted to see Martha."
"Because…."
"I thought she would give me some straight answers. You know, the ones you were supposed to tell me and didn’t."
Max chuckled, hearing their conversation. "Told you m’boy. You should listen to your elders and betters."
"Certainly my betters," Joseph said, kissing Jessica’s hand. "Can you ever forgive me?"
Jessica kissed him again. "Always," she said. "Only, don’t try to hide things from me again. I’m tougher than I look, you know."
"I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you," Joseph said quietly. Pamela heard, and though she looked sad, she said nothing at all. Martha hugged her. Into every girl’s life, a little heartbreak must come, she thought to herself, resolving to teach that to Pamela at the first opportunity. "Idiot," Jessica said tenderly, "you never will lose me."
      Max cracked the reins to speed up Flori and Swallow. "Now we’ve got that settled," he said, "let’s go home."

Jessica stood at the bedroom window, having just woken up from a nap. It was over a week after the wolf fight, and she was still finding it difficult to sleep at night as the nightmares would crowd in on her, in the darkest hours. Dreams in which it was Joseph’s broken and bleeding body that lay on the ground beside the burned-out house, not Samuel’s. She tried not to wake him, but Joseph woke up with her and held her close until she fell asleep again. The nightmares lasted mere minutes, but the constant waking and sleeping was taking it’s toll on her nerves.
      She looked out on the dust road that wound its way past trees, cool and green. She remembered how Pamela avoided going anywhere near the trees; she remembered Samuel’s wolf, that walked into the darkness of the forest, and wondered if the two events were connected. A truth, perhaps, that existed in the trees? Hwyl told her that in Welsh, there was a saying, that people went back to their trees to find peace and balance.

      The road ended in the next town over, where humans were humans and were not able to transform into some other shape whenever they wanted. She was sure she would not want to live there, not now. It must be dull, she thought, to live out a whole life, from birth to death, in one body, and never know the wonder of sharing blood and bone and spirit with something else. Of course, she only knew that wonder vicariously. But feeling her child growing inside her, constantly changing from one form to another was a wonder all of its own. She had asked Dr. Seymour whether the baby would be born human or wolf, but that kind and sympathetic woman did not know. She had witnessed both, sometimes in the same litter. A litter! That made Jessica smile. What must it be like to feel a whole crowd of younglings growing together. If she really needed to know, Martha would tell her, but it was a relief to be carrying just one cub. Cub or baby, it didn’t really matter. She would love it, whichever, and so would Joseph. But something was happening out there on the road while she was lost in thought. So far she had counted five wagons loaded with families going past the ranch. She had no expectations that anyone would have told her if there was a town event going on. Though surely Max would have told Joseph.

      Joseph ran into the bedroom, excitement on his face. But then he suddenly came to a stop and sat on the end of the bed.
“I don’t know if you’d like to go,” he said flatly.
Jessica sat next to him. She touched the livid scar that stood out down the side of his face.
“You’ve not been using the ointment Dr. Seymour gave you,” she said. “She said if you use it twice a day, the scar would fade. Well, I’ll put it on for you, and I won’t forget.”
Joseph smiled and kissed the palm of her hand.
“Now what is it you think I might not want to go to?” she said.
Joseph sighed, and held onto her hand.
“There’s a pack rally,” he said. “It happens once a year, and wouldn’t happen until next spring, but Reverend Edards thinks that after everything that’s happened, we need it now.”
Jessica snuggled into Joseph’s side and rested her head in the crook of his neck. “So what happens in a pack rally?”
Another sigh. Jessica waited one minute, two minutes, three. When the silence stretched into five minutes she turned his face to her. “No secrets, remember?” she said. “Tell me. I can see that you want to go. If I’m allowed, I would like to go with you.”
“We all meet in a clearing,” Joseph said. “You remember it, the one with the big flat stone? And we all…. Well, we all…”
“Shapeshift,” Jessica said. “You all transform into wolves. What fun! I would like to see that. If no one minds a mere human watching.”

      They both heard the sound of someone walking up the stairs. Not Charlie’s usual clatter, but heavy, ponderous steps.
“Martha!” they both said at the same time, as their dear friend came into the bedroom.
“Not disturbing you, am I?” she said, grinning and mopping her brow with a large white handkerchief. It occurred to Jessica that her friend was looking rather more rounder, and that stairs were not usually such a problem for her.
“Joseph was just telling me about this pack rally,” Jessica said. “Do you think anyone would mind if I come along?”
“Mind?” Martha pulled Jessica up and hugged her tightly. “I think they’d mind if you didn’t.” She looked seriously at Jessica and held a hand out to Joseph. “I don’t think you two realise just what you did to the town when you went up against Samuel.”
“What did we do?” Joseph said. “All I did was rescue my wife and finish something that should have been done with years ago.” He turned and smiled at Jessica. “I will never forget, as long as I live, the sight of you jumping on his foot.”
“That’s the point,” Martha said. She sat down into one of the comfortable armchairs. “It turns out that more than a few people knew he was hanging around near the mines, but did nothing about it. And doing nothing nearly led to both your deaths. You put a lot of noses out of joint when you sent to New York to find a wife. But they’re sorry about it now, after what Samuel meant to do, to both of you.” She looked at Jessica. “So, are you coming to the rally?”
“You bet I am!” Jessica said.
“All right,” Joseph said, “I’d better get Charlie to hitch up Flori and Swallow.”
He left the room and ran downstairs, taking three steps at a time.

      Martha laughed, then mopped her face again.
“Martha,” Jessica said slowly. “Don’t be offended, but…”
“Do I have a young’un on the way as well?” Martha said, smiling. “I do. And I think it’s not a case of one young’un. I sure do hope and pray that it isn’t a litter of five again. I don’t think I could cope with that.”
Jessica laughed and sat down on the bed. “Well I think, and Dr. Seymour thinks, that I’m only having one.”
“Watch out for that. I had Pamela on her own, she was my first, and then followed up with five all at once, all boys.” She looked Jessica up and down. “I don’t know though. Perhaps you being human means you won’t have your babies in batches like the rest of us.” She hauled herself out of the chair. “Well, come on then. I’ll have a drink of that delicious lemonade Charlie makes, then we’ll head off to the forest.”
As they walked downstairs, Jessica tapped her friend on the shoulder.
“So where are the rest of your pack?” she said, remembering just in time not to call them a family. “Have you hidden them?”
“They all went on ahead. So I’ll be asking for a lift with you and Joseph.”

      Joseph was waiting in the kitchen with glasses of lemonade for Martha, and water for Jessica, knowing that the sugary drink Charlie made would upset her sensitive stomach. Charlie nodded and grinned. Life was much easier and pleasant now that Missie knew exactly what Mister was, and didn’t seem to mind at all. He no longer felt as though his head was full of buzzing bees, and he had stopped dropping plates. And maybe the ranch hands, wolf shifters to a man, would stop looking down at him.
“Are you coming as well Charlie?” Jessica said.
“Oh no Missie,” Charlie said, with his funny little half bow, bobbing up and down. “I stay here, get dinner ready for when you come back. Wolves always hungry.”
Joseph laughed and clapped Charlie on the back. “We certainly are. Well put your feet up this evening Charlie. You deserve a rest.”
“And lemon cake,” Martha said with a laugh.

      The ranch hands had gone in the other wagon. Jessica realised that she didn’t know their names or anything about them. They were not part of their pack of two, but she resolved to get to know them a little better in the future.
“So,” Jessica said as she climbed up onto the seat and Joseph started the horses, “I was the only one who didn’t know. Even Charlie knew.” She nearly laughed when Joseph looked uncomfortable.
“He saw me change, two weeks after he came here,” he said. “But he didn’t yell or scream, or run away. Seems they know all about us, at the mines. So he’d guessed I was a wolf right off.”
Jessica patted Joseph’s hand. “He kept your secret,” she said. “But if I find out there are any more secrets,” she laughed. “I don’t think Wolfie would let you keep them from me anyway.”
“You have no idea,” Joseph said seriously. “I spent the last few months fighting him, never mind feeling so bad for not telling you everything.” Jessica hugged his arm. “Well, it’s all over now. And I am so looking forward to this rally. What do you do?” she added, turning to Martha, who sat on a box topped with a cushion behind them.
“Shift, sit in family packs, and howl. There’s a lot of howling. Are you going to try that?”
“I certainly am. Don’t know how well I can do it, but I’ll try.”

      A few more wagons and buggies were on the road. Some of the men driving them called out to Joseph. Their wives eyed Jessica, but when she nodded and smiled to them, they responded. All right, so they were not disposed to be friendly, she thought, but their outright hostility had gone. Perhaps in time they would accept her. Perhaps after her baby was born and proved to be just as capable of transforming.
“Do you know why we howl?” Joseph said.
“I have no idea,” Jessica replied. “So why do you howl?”
“It’s like a song, or a hymn. We howl together, like a choir, and it binds us together. We spend so much time in our human forms, that sometimes, being a wolf gets shoved way down. So every year, or whenever the Reverend tells us it’s time, we get together in the forest. And howl.”
“I’ve known folks go a whole year without shifting,” Martha said. “And they forget that it’s just as important to accept new members of the pack. New people make the pack stronger.”
“Even though that new person cannot ever become a wolf?” Jessica said.
“Yes dear, even then.”
“And that is why I sent to New York to find a wife,” Joseph said. “Susannah came from St. Ailbhe’s and look what happened with her. You understood that, didn’t you Martha, even when Max didn’t.”
“You’ve been my cub, Joseph Conall, since you were not very much bigger than my boys are now. I’ve smacked your backside when you needed it, and slipped you extra slices of cake when you needed that. So I think I probably know you a little better than Max does. And while we’re talking, here we are. And there’s Max and the cubs.”

      They had reached a part of the road that Jessica knew well. How odd that she should have stopped at that very place and walked into the forest. Almost as though she knew, or was led. There were the wildflowers growing by the sides of the road, trees guarding the path into the forest, like guardians. Silence inside the forest; a cacophony of warning cries from birds outside. Returning to my trees, Jessica said to herself. She climbed down from the wagon and helped Joseph to pull Martha up from the seat. Max ran forward to assist his pregnant wife to leave the wagon. The boys ran around excitedly, but, Jessica was surprised to see, none of them so much as raised their voice. Pamela stood by her family’s wagon, her head down, her fingers twisting, unable to look anyone in the face. She was obviously remembering the last time she was here, in this forest, when she tried to frighten Jessica away. Jessica walked over to and held the girl’s hands in hers.
“I’m sorry,” Pamela said, quietly. “I was… I…”
“It’s all right,” Jessica said kindly. “It’s all over now, it wasn’t all your fault. And you won’t be as silly again. We can begin again. After all, I’ve got a baby on the way, so that’s something new.”
“And so does Mother,” Pamela said, grinning.
Jessica laughed. “She does. Do you think you can cope with a few more cubs in the house?”
“If they’re boys, we’ll have to squeeze them in with the others. Dad says we’ll have to build bunk beds. They’ll love that. And if they’re girls, they can squeeze in with me. It would be nice to have a sister, or two.”
“Or three!”
Pamela and Jessica laughed, and Jessica hugged her.
Max walked over to them. “If you’ve got that settled,” he said, “let’s get on with the rally.”

      There was no need to walk on and on for an hour, past toadstools and strange flowers. Everyone else knew the shortcut. Jessica walked arm in arm with Joseph, a little way behind Max and Martha and their family.
“If I’d know about this,” Jessica said, “I would have saved my feet.”
“But then I wouldn’t have heard you tell me, tell the wolf, what an idiot I was.” Joseph said ruefully.
“I said no such thing,” Jessica laughed. She looked at her husband slyly. “So, how often did Martha have to tan your behind?” she said.
Joseph laughed. “More often than I care to think about.” Martha looked back at them, walking arm in arm, laughing and easy with each other. She looked at Max and they both smiled.
“About time, eh lass,” Max said. "It'd have been quicker if he'd listened to us, but he got there in his own way."

      Other families passed them. The boys mingled into groups, tumbling about and coating their clothes in dry leaves, kicking up dirt and chasing the little girls with worms and snails clutched in damp, dirty hands. It was all so normal. A whole town spending some time together. As normal as a fete in the local vicar’s garden, except that the congregation were planning to change into animals. And yet, that was normal for St. Ailbhe’s Drift, so who knew what normal really was? They reached the clearing. There were no paw prints, just the marks of shoes, and lots of them.
      Most of the town had already reached the rallying place and had gathered into family groups: no, packs. Max led his pack, Jessica and Joseph included, to a space that had been left for them near the flat stone. The Reverend Edards stood in front of them all. Once the last stragglers had settled he raised his arms.
“Brothers and sisters,” he said, projecting his voice high into the trees. “We are gathered here today,” he stopped and smiled. “No, this is not a wedding,” he said, and there was laughter. “However, this is a reminder that there has been a wedding, between these two people.” He indicated Joseph and Jessica. “Too many people here today have been quick to repudiate their marriage. Too many people here today thought that if they showed nothing but hostility, that this lady would have returned to the human world. But, I tell you now, too many people here today underestimated the determination of this lady, and the love that these two people have for each other. Perhaps we have been so concerned with St. Ailbhe’s Drift ways that we have failed to take into consideration, that humans are not so very different from us. That they deserve our friendship, not our abhorrence. I have said, many times, that we need to stop looking inwards and look outwards, beyond the borders of our town.”
He ignored the muttering that swept around the semi-circle of families.
“And yet, here we are. Stronger together, with a human among us. Will we show her that strength? Will we show each other that we have nothing to fear from the stranger? That she is no longer a stranger, but one of us?”
A few people nodded, and this time the muttering was louder, agreeing with the Reverend.
“Then let us begin,” he said. He bowed his head, and everyone else copied. “We call upon St. Ailbhe of Emly in Ireland, who so loved the wolf that he fed it from his own table. We call upon him to bless us in our rallying call. Amen.”
The Reverend began, his human form slipping and sliding, morphing as his long black coat transformed into thick grey and black fur. All around the clearing, faces elongated into muzzles, some white with age. Small children became wolf cubs, playfighting in the dirt. As each person became their wolf, their tales wagged and they nuzzled and licked each other’s faces. Jessica watched, utterly fascinated, Max became a grizzly wolf, as big as a bear, while Martha grinned at her with small teeth that became ferocious cutting and tearing fangs. Joseph waited until last, watching her, and when he saw no fear in her fascinated smile, he began to change as well. Joseph became Wolfie, and Jessica loved them both. She put her arms around him, as far as she could reach. He nuzzled at her face and very gently licked the tip of her nose.
      The pack was silent, waiting. Far away, deep in the forest, the sound of a lone wolf howling could be heard. Its voice was full of grief, loss and loneliness, and Jessica knew that it was Samuel. At death, his wolf threw off its human form and haunted the infinite parts of the forest. Hearing the lone howl was strangely comforting, and now Jessica knew she would never have nightmares about that terrible day again.
      When the lonely howl of the solitary wolf ended, each wolf held up their head and began to howl. Jessica had always thought that the sound of wolves howling would be a cold, terrifying noise, like a fox barking. But each wolf had their own signature note that added to the whole. It truly was like a choir, as Joseph had said, singing a hymn of joy and companionship. It was a celebration of life, of young and old alike. Whatever role they played in the life of the town, they were joined together as one community.
      Jessica watched Martha and Max howl, and their boy cubs and Pamela joining them. She looked at Joseph and smiled. Then she lifted up her head and howled. Her howl was like that of a tone deaf human-wolf who could barely carry a tune, but she tried. She wondered if the baby-cub inside her could hear and perhaps, was joining in too. Joseph’s howl faltered and sounded more like laughter. Well, he could laugh. After all the heartache and anxiety of the past few months, laughter was its own song of joy. Jessica hugged the wolf that was her husband and listened to the song for a while, as the sky darkened overhead and stars began to shine.