Mattie bit her lip. This was the trap. If she didn’t answer, he would be angry. If she tried to explain, he would be angry.
“Well?”
She should try, at least. Maybe he would understand this time.
“Something killed the fox and left it there,” she said.
His gaze sharpened. “A person? Someone in the woods?”
“No, no,” she said quickly. She knew how careful he was about keeping the location of their home a secret, how upset he got if there was any sign of people nearby. “There was a track, like a bear track, but much bigger than any bear I’ve ever seen.”
William’s jaw relaxed a fraction. He did seem relieved that she hadn’t found evidence of a person.
That slight unclenching deceived her, though—she wasn’t braced when he dropped the axe in the snow and his fist flew out.
Stars shot across her vision and she tasted blood on her tongue. Her bottom felt cold.
You’re sitting in the snow. Get up before your skirt gets wet, she thought.
“You know if you find anything unusual you’re supposed to come get me immediately.” William didn’t sound angry, but then he never did. There was never any yelling, any warning that the blow was about to fall.
“I thought it would be better if I checked the traps first,” she said.
She knew she ought to stand up, but if she stayed on the ground she was harder to reach.
“That’s your trouble, Martha,” he said, using her Christian name—always a bad sign. “It’s not your role to think.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m very sorry.”
He stared down at her, and she could tell he was deciding whether or not he’d punished her sufficiently for her transgression.
“Take those rabbits inside and skin them,” he said. “When you’re finished you show me this dead fox.”
“Yes,” she said, pushing out of the snow.
Her stockings were wet just above the tops of her boots. It would be nice to change them when she went inside but William might come in with the firewood and find her doing something other than the task he assigned.
Mattie hurried toward the door of the cabin, her shoulders hunched. She didn’t relax until she heard the whistle and thud of the axe again. That meant William wasn’t following her.
She put her boots away and set about the task of skinning and dressing the rabbits for cooking later. Rabbits were small and not much work, and Mattie knew that William would expect her to finish quickly.
Don’t make him angry again. Do your job as you’re supposed to.
But her mind wandered away, as it often did, and she had to call it back so that William wouldn’t find her woolgathering. Her hands made quick work of the rabbits even as her thoughts drifted elsewhere, to that place they weren’t supposed to go.
William came to the door of the cabin and called in. “Are you finished?”
Mattie knew he didn’t want to remove his snow-coated boots only to put them on again. This was less about saving her the trouble of wiping up the water on the cabin floor and more about saving himself the effort of lacing and unlacing.
“Just about,” she called back.
“Don’t take too long,” he said, and shut the door again.
In truth she was finished, but she wanted an extra minute or two to wash up and compose herself. She’d been thinking about the dream again, thinking that she heard a song playing (something about a dove, there are these big black things and the music is coming out of them, coming from a silver disc, but that seems silly. Something from a dream like William always says)
William believed music was sinful so she knew it wasn’t anything she’d heard since she’d come to live with him.
Mattie plunged her hands into the cold water in the basin and scrubbed the blood away, trying to scrub the dream away with it. William seemed to be able to sense her dreams on her, like a scent that clung. He was already irritated. If she went outside with those strange images still in her eyes, he’d be even angrier.
A few moments later she was outside again, bundled in her coat and mittens and boots. William had his rifle in his hand.
“Show me,” he said.
Mattie indicated the deer path she’d followed earlier. William didn’t like Mattie to walk in front of him and she was careful not to do this. Her tracks were still visible in the snow, in any case. Only a few flurries had fallen since Mattie returned home.
There were crows gathered around the fox corpse, picking at the exposed meat. William shooed them away and they flew off, cawing loudly.
Mattie stood behind him and a little off to the side, so she could see his face. She hated being surprised by his moods. He might decide she was silly for mentioning the fox to him in the first place, and that would stack on top of his earlier mood to create a fury she could not escape.
Sometimes Mattie wondered why he married her, why he’d chosen her in the first place, especially when he always seemed to find fault. He could have picked a different girl, one with more of the qualities he seemed to desire—someone less curious, more biddable.
Mattie watched her husband closely as he scanned the area around the fox. His eyes widened when he saw the paw print. “Did you find any more of these?”
She pointed toward the scrub to their right. “There.”
William went to take a closer look, and it was only then that Mattie noticed the scrub was broken, like something very large had blundered through it. The bark on one of the trees had long, deep claw marks, as if the animal had scraped it as it went by. William ran his hand over the marks, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“If it’s a grizzly, it’s the biggest damned grizzly there ever was,” he said. “I wonder where it came from. Something that big would need a lot of game.”
Mattie remembered then just how
