Grimm checked a pair of drawers behind the counter before he found the week-old Two Harbors Ledger in question. At the bottom of the back page an outfit in Castle River advertised the dogs. Grimm asked Rebekah to bring Trond a cup of tea and left him to the classified.
The headline read, world's biggest dogs! Two droopy-faced hounds were drawn muzzle to muzzle, looking not unlike the foreman's St. Bernard. Trond read the rest of the ad: russian ovcharka watchdogs, beasts of the bravest order, fear nothing and no one.
bred for our killing winters. guard your livestock or family. $30. litter of six yearlings ready for you! It then listed the name of the breeder and an address at which to contact him.
"What can you tell me about this Olli?" Trond said.
"He's a Laplander," Grimm began. "Used to run a trapline way the hell up the Bunchberry River, but he lost a foot winter of '93. Now he raises these dogs. And a little hell if truth be told."
"On one leg he gets around?"
"He limps and curses, but he does get around. Got a stump made of hickory. He runs a ferry up to Duluth in the summer months, keeps butter on his bread."
"And what have you heard about the dogs?"
"Joseph Riverfish tells a story how one of them giant mutts treed a bear this fall. Way up a white pine. Then waited the bear out. When it finally came down, the dog and it squared off. The dog won. Olli's got the pelt to prove it. I guess it's true they're two hundred pounds. Feet the size of skillets. Probably wouldn't want to curl up with one, but might keep the wolves at bay."
Trond read the advertisement again, then asked, "When does Joseph make the next mail run?"
"Not until Friday. But he can't bring those dogs back. He'll be fully loaded. He always is."
Trond ran his hand through his beard again. "I can't spare the men or the time," he said.
"For the right price his son would make that run."
"He's what, fourteen years old?"
"He might be, but he's been helping his father with the mail route. He can look after himself."
"What do you suppose the right price is?"
"Christ, Trond, they live in a wigwam. Eleanor is pregnant. It's been a long, hard winter. I imagine any price is right. Just be fair."
" Could he run up the lake?"
"I've not heard reports from along the way, though you can be damn certain I'd not do it. You can see the water's still open just a mile offshore." He peered out the big window in front of his store. "But the trail is fast, from what I hear. The cold, you know. He could have those dogs back here in three or four days."
"The dogs, you think they could run the trail?"
"I imagine those dogs dictate their own terms. If they can't handle the trail, they'll let the lad know it."
Trond walked to the window. He didn't have a choice, he reckoned. The jacks would tolerate about anything, but not wolves in their backyard. He turned to Grimm. " Where can I find the boy?"
IX.
(March 1910)
In the middle of the night, exhausted, over a finger of Canadian whiskey, Hosea paged through Howe's thirty-year-old Manual of Eye Surgery for the fourth time. Odd lay sedated on the same table on which he'd been born, the bleeding from his eye stanched, the hole in his face where his eyeball had been like a potato gone to mush.
Rebekah slept in a chair at Odd's side. The cuffs of her blouse sleeves were stained with blood. Hosea set the manual down on the bedside table and stepped into the next room, returning with an afghan that he placed over her. He thought he could see her settle into a deeper sleep under the warmth of it. To what dreams he could not imagine. These two children, he did love them. Which was what made Odd's pain so difficult to bear. He was still just a boy. A boy whose only chance had been Hosea.
Hosea looked down on Odd, the ether having blanched the color from his cheeks. I have offered him a chance, haven't I? This question had been dogging him since Danny had delivered Odd twelve hours earlier.
Danny had left Odd unconscious on the toboggan outside the apothecary while he bounded up the steps and into the store. Breathlessly he shouted, "Hosea! Hosea! It's Odd! He needs help! Quick!"
Hosea had been taking his evening inventory, up on the ladder counting the contents of the canisters on the shelves behind the counter. He jumped down and hurried around the counter to meet Daniel.
"What is it, lad?"
Danny still had his snowshoes on and he sat on the floor to take them off as he panted, "Odd, he's outside. He's hurt bad."
Hosea ran outside, down the steps, and found the boy lying there. One of the town dogs had sniffed Odd out and was poking his cold nose into the wound on his face. Hosea kicked the dog away.