Page 19 of God’s Country

“I’m not leaving,” I told them.

“Dad—” Stephen began.

“I’m not leaving. I need to know if Cordell’s okay.”

“We don’t know what might have really happened here,” Stephen said. “Maybe it didn’t involve Cordell at all.”

“It involved somebody. If it wasn’t Cordell, I want to know who.”

“Let the sheriff’s people handle this, Cork,” Mal said. “It’s not your responsibility. Yours is here with us, making sure we get out safely.”

“Stephen and Daniel both know the way. They’ll get you out.”

“And if you do find Cordell and those yahoos with him, what are you going to do?” Mal said.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“You said you heard a gunshot. You don’t have a firearm of any kind if it comes to that,” Daniel pointed out. “You’re not a cop anymore, Cork.”

“I’m not doing this because I was a cop once. I’m doing it because Cordell is a friend. No more argument. I’ve made up my mind. We should try to get some sleep. I suspect we all have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

But no one moved.

The clouds had broken up, and they crossed the moon in brief scatterings. I looked east across the water to where the many islands and inlets of Shrike lay, and as I stared, the moon lit everything brilliantly for a few moments, then the clouds pushed darkness over it all again.

In the firelight, Stephen’s face was illuminated with his concern for me. “I saw the wolf tearing your heart out. I was given that vision for a reason, Dad.”

“A reason you haven’t been able to understand yet.”

“To warn you,” Stephen said as if it was obvious.

“Consider me warned then.”

CHAPTER 12

Dawn came with a perfectly clear sky. The eastern horizon was amber as we began to break camp. The tents had dried overnight. The boys were still complaining about heading back out too soon, but they pitched in and did their share.

In the daylight, I could see evidence of the damage done by the storm. Although it had been brief, the wind had been powerful, and inland from the point, I spotted a couple of downed pines. In 1999, a derecho had blown through the Boundary Waters, uprooting or snapping approximately 20 million trees, flattening nearly half of that great wilderness. The storm we’d had the night before was nothing compared to that blowdown, but I knew it would present hardship for the others if the portages had been blocked by fallen trees.

We didn’t make a hot breakfast but dined instead on granola bars and dried fruit. Stephen and the boys had doused the campfire completely, and we finally stood together at the canoes, with the sun just beginning to top the trees on the far eastern shoreline of Shrike Lake.

“You’re sure about this,” Daniel said.

“I’m sure,” I told him.

“As soon as we have cell service, we’ll call the sheriff’s office, let them know what we’ve found,” Daniel promised.

“Which still isn’t much,” Stephen pointed out. “All we have is a lot of speculation.”

“Spoken like a lawyer.” I managed a smile.

“I want to stay,” Stephen said.

“We talked about this. You need to make sure the boys are safe.”

“If Marsha won’t send anyone, we’re coming back for you,” Daniel said.

“Damn straight,” Mal said.