The Wolf

II.

By next light, having tended my chores for the next day or two, I set off for town with my brown bess and horn, a flask of water, and a gunny sack full of food and ammunition slung 'round my shoulder. I must admit, I felt somewhat a fool for my vulnerability to the possible rewards of Joseph's offer. 'Twas not money that I sought, nor reconciliation with Father Horace, but rather some recompense from my fellow countrymen. I confess that I had long hoped I would receive it out of their good grace as Christians, but seeing now that it had been nearly a year without so much as a sign of forgiveness towards me I felt no use in hopeful waiting. I may pray for God to bless me with forgiveness, but perhaps I cannot expect my fellow man to do the same without reason that he deems fit.

The trek was longer than I recalled. By the time I came upon sight of Ruth, it was nearing midday. The village boasted no more than one new stone building, which I presumed to be the home of a new resident or a new home of a current resident. The rest was more or less as I remembered. The main road ran up a gentle slope between a handful of houses and a general store and bisected another path that had along it a number of other residences and the church. Some ways west of the town lay the beginnings of the forest, while to the east was a stretch of prairie land that eventually reached the sea. I restrained a scowl at the sight of the church, reminding myself that it was God's house and not Father Horace's, and continued down the small ridge I stood atop and towards the town.

I recalled that Joseph's house resided past the opposite edge of town that I was entering, and that I would have to walk the length of town to find it. My inclination was to abandon the business and turn around and retreat to the safety of my home's isolation so as to avoid any scornful looks from the residents, but, feeding my courage, I continued forward onto where the road began.

Looks did come my way, though I found them to carry more confusion than contempt. I wondered if perhaps I wasn't recognized anymore, for my beard and hair had no doubt grown long and unkempt in my time away. Despite my newfound anonymity among the common folk, I did worry that I would cross paths with Father Horace before reaching Joseph's residence. It was an encounter I wished to avoid at all costs, for I had suspicion that he would remember me, and therefore reveal my identity to those others who seemed to have forgotten that I had once lived among them.

Thankfully and surprisingly, I made my way through Ruth without being accosted and found myself at Joseph's door. I knocked twice, and a few moments later he swung open the door and greeted me warmly. I could tell that he was surprised I had come, though he did not mention having doubt of my arrival. He led me inside, around the stairway that sat parallel to the door, and to his table in the kitchen, where I sat while he went about clearing off some clutter from his surrounding countertops. The room remained quite dark until he opened wide the shutters on a window in the wall beside the table. Pale light floated in, weakly illuminating the space about us.

"I must confess, you had caught me asleep when you knocked," Joseph said. He brought two wooden plates to the table and set one before me. He broke a small loaf of bread, setting a half at each of our places, then sat opposite me. "It's good to see you came," he added. "I thought it best to try and reconcile with the folk," I replied, masking the reservations that still lingered in my mind. He smiled at me, then had some look of realization cross his face. "This is a special occasion, then," he said, rising suddenly from his seat. He turned and stooped down to a cupboard, then brought out a dull green bottle and two cups. "We shall treat it as such." He set a cup at each of our ends of the table and filled them with what I assumed was wine. He sat and raised his cup, I matched his action, and we both drank.

Joseph seemed in a queer state. He was dressed in no more than what I assumed was his nightgown, though it was already nearly the afternoon, and he was speaking and acting as though nervous in my company. It was almost as if I were sharing a drink with a different man than I had the night before. Had he indeed been sleeping when I arrived, I could only predict he had gone to bed sometime in the early hours of the morning. I debated inquiring about his odd manner, but decided against it.