Page 34 of God’s Country

Stan made no move to stop him.

From where he was bound to the tree, Cordell called out weakly, “Can’t see the asshole from here.”

Ollie held up laying into me. To Stan, he said, “I told you the Indian knew.”

Stan looked at me. “Okay, we’ll go out in the canoe, you and me. Ollie will stay here. If you try anything funny, he’ll kill your friend.”

“I think he’s going to kill him anyway. I want some assurance that’s not how things will play out.”

“This is the deal I’ll make with you,” Stan said. “Help us get the pack and then guide us out of here, we’ll leave your friend behind. It should take him quite a while to get back to civilization. By then, we’ll be long gone.”

“The hell—” Ollie began.

“Shut up!” Stan snapped.

“I need something more substantial,” I said. “A down payment, if you will.”

“Like what?”

“Let Cordell go first. I’ve got a canoe halfway up the portage. Let him take that. In his condition, it’ll be days before he can make his way out of the Boundary Waters. By then, I’ll have you and your brother wherever it is you want to be.”

Stan was quiet for a while, obviously thinking through the possibilities. Finally he said, “We let the Indian go, but no canoe. He walks out.”

“He’s not in any shape to walk,” I said.

“We let the Indian go, he’s still out there. Maybe he slits our throats in the night,” Ollie said. He eyed me like a badger I’d poked with a stick. “Let me see what I can get out of this guy.”

Stan gave his brother a hard look. “You beat Crispin nearly to death and it got us nowhere. You beat the Indian, too, and that got us nowhere. I think if you laid into this man, the result would be pretty much the same, especially if he thinks you’re going to kill him anyway. Do you want that pack or not?”

Ollie’s face showed that it was a torture for him to let go of the idea of beating me to death, but greed finally won out. “All right,” he said. “I’ll untie the Indian.”

“Cordell,” I said. “His name is Cordell.”

CHAPTER 21

As I’d told Stephen, I’d seen my death in a vision I had when I almost drowned as a teenager. Dying at Devil’s End wasn’t in that vision. Still, what I saw could have been nothing more than the desperate imagining of a frenzied brain as my lungs sucked in water. At the moment, my chances of surviving this encounter with the Kennedy brothers seemed bleak. So, when the probability that you’re going to die looks pretty good, what’s left to you? Maybe only the hope of choosing the manner of your death. Which was what I figured I’d done in striking the deal with the Kennedy brothers. But I also hoped that I might give Cordell a fighting chance.

“Not going,” Cordell said after Ollie cut him loose.

Honestly, he looked as if he couldn’t walk ten steps, let alone walk his way out of the Boundary Waters.

“If you don’t get going, I’ll shoot you right here,” Ollie threatened.

“Then shoot me.”

“No,” Stan said. He turned to me. “Talk to him.”

Cordell Bishop was Marten Clan, a warrior, hunter, protector. He was as stubborn a human being as ever I’ve known.

“Remember the game against the Northeast Range Nighthawks?” I said.

“Like it was yesterday,” Cordell said.

“Fourth quarter. Minute left in the game.”

He studied me for about ten seconds, then said, “I’ll go.”

Stan said, “That’s it?”