Starfish_ A Novel - James Crowley [15]
Lionel believed him. The creature didn’t have trouble in the snow like Lionel and Corn Poe; as a matter of fact, it seemed to float.
“Hey, I told ya, I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” the deer head called out again. Its voice seemed old and cracked.
“How do we know you’re telling the truth? Ghostly apparitions from beyond ain’t known for honesty!” Corn Poe yelled, struggling through the snow.
Lionel turned. “How would you know?”
“I know! I saw the spirits when my kid sister Viola died! Run!” Corn Poe was out of breath and barely moving. He seemed to be making his situation worse, and Lionel thought he would soon bury himself alive. where was Beatrice?
The creature continued down the hill toward them. Lionel decided to make a stand. He crawled through the snowdrift back to Ulysses’s side, back to where Beatrice had told him to stay. He studied the creature as it came closer and concluded that although it was strange, it wasn’t a ghost. For starters, Lionel realized that it was not floating above the snow, but wore snowshoes that enabled it to skim easily across the top.
“What in the hell are you children doing way out here in weather like this, anyhow?” the deer head asked, now just ten paces away.
“That ain’t no concern of yours!” Corn Poe yelled from his snow hole. He was no longer moving and lay panting in the drift.
“It’s getting colder and colder, and here y’all are just out wandering?” the deer head continued. “I’d say that the storm pushed through, but another one’s on the way. Helluva time for a stroll.”
Lionel moved closer and saw that the deer head was actually a hood—a hood worn by an old man. The cowl covered the sides of his face and was fashioned from hide and antlers to mimic a deer’s head. Beneath the hood, his face was dark with deep creases around his eyes and mouth. Two thick braids with feathers woven into them fell onto his broad shoulders.
“Well, what’s it going to be? You gonna run off like your friend over there and hide in a hole like a rabbit, or are ya gonna stand up and tell me what the hell you’re doing out here? out here on my land?”
Lionel stood perfectly still.
“What—your tongue froze to the roof of your mouth?”
“No—no, sir. we’re out here looking…”
“Looking for what?” the man demanded.
“Well, I—” Lionel was interrupted as Ulysses’s ears shot back, and the big horse let out a long, hard whinny. The noise startled Lionel and caused the old man with the deer-antler hood to spin around—and face Beatrice.
Beatrice sat on the back of a large mule. Lionel had never been so happy to see his sister in all his life.
“Say there, just what do you think you’re doing?” the man yelled, pulling a large pistol from beneath his heavy coat.
Before he knew what he was doing, Lionel lunged at the man and the gun. “That’s just my sister, don’t shoot!” Lionel screamed. He hit the old man as hard as he could, but the man easily held him off with his free hand, aiming the pistol at Beatrice.
“If you know what’s good for ya, you’ll step down from my mule!”
But Beatrice didn’t get down from the mule. She chose instead to spur the animal forward and slowly ride it down the snowy slope toward Lionel, the man with the hood, and Ulysses.
“I knew this would come to no good!” Corn Poe yelled from his hole.
The man seemed puzzled and unsure how to react to Beatrice’s icy defiance. Beatrice continued forward, and Lionel saw that the mule pulled a travois, and on that sled was the carcass of a small elk.
Beatrice rode right up to them and slid effortlessly from the back of the mule to Ulysses. She then handed the man the mule’s reins. He watched Beatrice, a puzzled look still on his face.
“Beatrice?” the man stuttered in disbelief, then spun to face Lionel. “So…you’re Lionel. I should have seen it in your eyes. I’m slippin’ in my old age, I tell ya.”
Lionel looked up at Beatrice, who sat calmly on Ulysses’s back. Beatrice might have been a girl, Lionel thought, but she sure looked like a warrior up there on that great horse.
“Why, this is a surprise! Beatrice, it’s been a while, and you