Wolves of the Calla

ONE

Jake and Benny Slightman spent the morning of that same day moving hay bales from the upper lofts of the Rocking B's three inner barns to the lower lofts, then breaking them open. The afternoon was for swimming and water-fighting in the Whye, which was still pleasant enough if one avoided the deep pools; those had grown cold with the season.

In between these two activities they ate a huge lunch in the bunkhouse with half a dozen of the hands (not Slightman the Elder; he was off at Telford's Buckhead Ranch, working a stock-trade). 'I en't seen that boy of Ben's work's'hard in my life,' Cookie said as he put fried chops down on the table and the boys dug in eagerly. 'You'll wear him plumb out, Jake.'

That was Jake's intention, of course. After haying in the morning, swimming in the afternoon, and a dozen or more barn-jumps for each of them by the red light of evening, he thought Benny would sleep like the dead. The problem was he might do the same himself. When he went out to wash at the pump—sunset come and gone by then, leaving ashes of roses deepening to true dark—he took Oy with him. He splashed his face clean and flicked drops of water for the animal to catch, which he did with great alacrity. Then Jake dropped to one knee and gently took hold of the sides of the billy-bumbler's face. 'Listen to me, Oy.'

'Oy!'

'I'm going to go to sleep, but when the moon rises, I want you to wake me up. Quietly, do'ee ken?'

'Ken!' Which might mean something or nothing. If someone had been taking wagers on it, Jake would have bet on something. He had great faith in Oy. Or maybe it was love. Or maybe those things were the same.

'When the moon rises. Say moon, Oy.'

'Moon!'

Sounded good, but Jake would set his own internal alarm clock to wake him up at moonrise. Because he wanted to go out to where he'd seen Benny's Da' and Andy that other time. That queer meeting worried at his mind more rather than less as time went by. He didn't want to believe Benny's Da' was involved with the Wolves—Andy, either—but he had to make sure. Because it was what Roland would do. For that reason if no other.

TWO

The two boys lay in Benny's room. There was one bed, which Benny had of course offered to his guest, but Jake had refused it. What they'd come up with instead was a system by which Benny took the bed on what he called 'even-hand' nights, and Jake took it on 'odd-hand' nights. This was Jake's night for the floor, and he was glad. Benny's goosedown-filled mattress was far too soft. In light of his plan to rise with the moon, the floor was probably better. Safer.

Benny lay with his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. He had coaxed Oy up onto the bed with him and the bumbler lay sleeping in a curled comma, his nose beneath his cartoon squiggle of a tail.

'Jake?' A whisper. 'You asleep?'

'No.'

'Me neither.' A pause. 'It's been great, having you here.'

'It's been great for me,' Jake said, and meant it.

'Sometimes being the only kid gets lonely.'

'Don't I know it… and I was always the only one.' Jake paused. 'Bet you were sad after your sissa died.'

'Sometimes I'm still sad.' At least he said it in a matter-of-fact tone, which made it easier to hear. 'Reckon you'll stay after you beat the Wolves?'

'Probably not long.'

'You're on a quest, aren't you?'

'I guess so.'

'For what?'

The quest was to save the Dark Tower in this where and the rose in the New York where he and Eddie and Susannah had come from, but Jake did not want to say this to Benny, much as he liked him. The Tower and the rose were kind of secret things. The ka-tet's business. But neither did he want to lie.

'Roland doesn't talk about stuff much,' he said.

A longer pause. The sound of Benny shifting, doing it quietly so as not to disturb Oy. 'He scares me a little, your dinh.'

Jake thought about that, then said: 'He scares me a little, too.'

'He scares my Pa.'

Jake was suddenly very alert. 'Really?'

'Yes. He says it wouldn't surprise him if, after you got rid of the Wolves, you turned on us. Then he said he was just joking, but that the old cowboy with the hard face scared him. I reckon that must have been your dinh, don't you?'

'Yeah,' Jake said.

Jake had begun thinking Benny had gone to sleep when the other boy asked, 'What was your room like back where you came from?'

Jake thought of his room and at first found it surprisingly hard to picture. It had been a long time since he'd thought of it. And now that he did, he was embarrassed to describe it too closely to Benny. His friend lived well indeed by Calla standards—Jake guessed there were very few smallhold kids Benny's age with their own rooms— but he would think a room such as Jake could describe that of an enchanted prince. The television? The stereo, with all his records, and the headphones for privacy? His posters of Stevie Wonder and The Jackson Five? His microscope, which showed him things too small to see with the naked eye? Was he supposed to tell this boy about such wonders and miracles?

'It was like this, only I had a desk,' Jake said at last.

'A writing desk?' Benny got up on one elbow.

'Well yeah ,' Jake said, the tone implying Sheesh, what else ?

'Paper? Pens? Quill pens?'

'Paper,' Jake agreed. Here, at least, was a wonder Benny could understand. 'And pens. But not quill. Ball.'

'Ball pens? I don't understand.'

So Jake began to explain, but halfway through he heard a snore. He looked across the room and saw Benny still facing him, but now with his eyes closed.

Oy opened his eyes—they were bright in the darkness—then winked at Jake. After that, he appeared to go back to sleep.

Jake looked at Benny for a long time, deeply troubled in ways he did not precisely understand… or want to.

At last, he went to sleep himself.

THREE

Some dark, dreamless time later, he came back to a semblance of wakefulness because of pressure on his wrist. Something pulling there. Almost painful. Teeth. Oy's.

'Oy, no, quittit,' he mumbled, but Oy would not stop. He had Jake's wrist in his jaws and continued to shake it gently from side to side, stopping occasionally to administer a brisk tug. He only quit when Jake finally sat up and stared dopily out into the silver-flooded night.

'Moon,' Oy said. He was sitting on the floor beside Jake, jaws open in an unmistakable grin, eyes bright. They should have been bright; a tiny white stone burned deep down in each one. 'Moon !'

'Yeah,' Jake whispered, and then closed his fingers around Oy's muzzle. 'Hush!' He let go and looked over at Benny, who was now facing the wall and snoring deeply. Jake doubted if a howitzer shell would wake