crawled in after, and Stephen followed.
Except for the sunlight that lay at the opening, the cave was dark, and it took a few moments for Jenny’s eyes to adjust. The floor sloped down toward the entrance, so that any water that might have found its way in would have quickly drained. The chamber was small, fifteen feet in diameter, and edged with rock shelves. On the shelves lay many items, some that appeared to be quite old. Jenny could see no rhyme or reason to what had been placed there: a bow made of hard maple with a deer-hide quiver full of arrow shafts whose featherings had long ago turned to dust; a colorfully beaded bandolier bag; a rag doll; a muzzle-loader with a rotted stock and beside it a powder horn, still in good condition; a woven blanket; a coil of rope. There were knives and a tomahawk and what looked to be a collection of human scalps. There was, however, one item she recognized: a rolled bearskin. It had belonged to her father, but a few years ago had disappeared from the house.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“
“What are all these things?”
“Symptoms of sickness,” Rainy said.
“What do you mean?” Stephen said.
“These are the symptoms of illness in some people,” Rainy said. “These are symbols of the burdens that they could no longer bear and that made them sick, in body and in spirit. Hate. Anger. Revenge. Jealousy. Even love, I suppose. These things, these are reminders of what they hoped to leave behind in this place. They wanted to lead a different kind of life, an unburdened life, a life of wholeness and spiritual health.”
“Hoped to leave?” Stephen said.
“There’s powerful energy here,” Rainy replied. “But even that power can’t work unless the desire to be healed and whole is sincere. That’s what Uncle Henry has told me anyway.”
Jenny wondered what sickness it was that her father, in leaving the rolled bearskin, was trying to heal.
“Henry,” Stephen said, and his voice was only a wisp of a whisper and full of sadness. “Do you think he’s really . . .”
Jenny thought that her brother could not finish.
But Stephen drew himself up and said, “Do you think he’s on the Path of Souls now?”
“I don’t know,” Rainy said. “But if so, he was prepared to make that journey.”
Waaboo began to fuss, and Jenny picked him up from the bedding in the ice chest. “He’s hungry,” she said. “I wish I had a bottle.”
They heard a rustling from outside and froze. All except Waaboo, who’d begun to flail his arms and legs and emit unhappy little squeals. A moment later, the sunlight that filled the cave opening was eclipsed.
“You in there?” Aaron asked.
“Come in,” Rainy said. “It’s a little tight, but we’ll fit.”
Aaron crawled in, dripping wet.
“There’s no way to get to that little landing except by canoe or swimming,” he explained. “The lake’s pretty chilly. I hope we don’t have to hide out here for long.”
Stephen shot his hand up, signaling them to be quiet. Again, they all held still, except Waaboo, who was becoming more vocal in his insistence on being fed. From outside the cave and somewhere above them came voices. Angry men.
“I don’t know, but the signal was coming from somewhere around here. Then it was gone,” one of the voices said.
“There’s nothing here, Josh. Unless they jumped off the cliff.”
Waaboo fussed, and the sound seemed huge in the small cave and in its consequences. Jenny offered him her little finger as a pacifier, and she was thankful when he took it.
“They’re here somewhere,” the first voice said. “We’ll find them.”
In the cave, they barely breathed.
“How did they follow us?” Stephen whispered.
A question to which no one had an answer.
Waaboo pulled away, maybe sensing all the tension, and let out a cry.
Stephen leaned near the opening of the cave. “They’re still above us,” he whispered.
Aaron went to his hands and knees and crawled toward the opening. “I’m going out there.”
“No,” Jenny said.
“I’ll try to lead them away.”
“Aaron, don’t.”
“I’ll be okay. Never told you this, but I was a champion hurdler in high school.” He kissed the top of her head, then crept into the cave mouth and slipped outside.
A moment later, Jenny heard a splash in the water.
“There! See him?”
“Yeah, come on.”
For several minutes, everything was quiet. Waaboo had settled, and Jenny hoped desperately that Aaron was successful and safe.
Then the evening stillness outside was shattered by gunshots. Several of them. Rainy took Jenny’s hand. Stephen put his head into the cave mouth and listened. They held that way for several minutes more.
Stephen drew back suddenly, and Jenny understood immediately why. She heard the scrape of boots on the rock face outside and the rustle of blackberry brambles.
“All right, you have a choice,” came a voice from the mouth of the cave. “You can come out, or we’ll just spray the inside of this place with bullets. You have ten seconds to decide.”
They exchanged looks, and Jenny saw in the eyes of the others exactly what she felt, too: sudden and complete despair at the inevitability of what lay ahead.
“Wait,” Rainy said, in a tired voice. “We’re coming.”
One by one, they crawled out, Stephen first, then Jenny with Waaboo, and finally Rainy. Two men stood outside, one on either side of the cave opening, each holding a powerful-looking rifle.
“All right, Josh is going to lead the way,” said the man to Jenny’s right. It was his voice she’d heard before. He was tall, with a sharp jaw, long nose, and eyes as blue as a cold winter sky. “You folks just follow him. And if you try anything, I’ll put a bullet through you as surely as I’m standing here.”
“Aaron?” Jenny asked.
“Your boyfriend?” said the man with the cold blue eyes. He shrugged. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”
FIFTY-ONE
Just before sunset, the De Havilland approached Iron Lake. From above, the expanse of water appeared smooth and shiny in the late afternoon light, and the irregular shoreline gave it the look of a ragged piece of gold lame torn from a dress. Cork saw the jut of Crow Point far ahead, and as they approached, Overturf put his hand to his headset, then lifted the radio mike and spoke into it.
“I read you, Deputy.”
He turned to Cork. “Says there’s a hostage situation in progress down there. He wants us to land on the northwest side of the point, well away from where the cabin sits. He’ll have somebody there to meet us.”
“A hostage situation?” Rose said at Cork’s back. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Cork replied. But it wasn’t good.
Overturf brought the Beaver down smoothly onto the lake. A uniformed officer waved from the shore, and the pilot motored the plane to where he stood. Cork climbed out, and the others followed.
Overturf slid back the cockpit window and called, “I’ll stay here with the plane, Deputy. You figure you need
