Free Starfish by James Crowley Page A

Beatrice leaned on the door with all of her weight until the wolverine realized that she was not going to let it through. Lionel sat up, and through the dingy windows saw the still-snarling animal slowly waddle through the windblown drifts of snow. Lionel looked down at his leg again, and then fell back against their bundles of supplies.
    â€œI don’t think that the wolverine liked us in his house,” Beatrice said as she knelt at Lionel’s side. “It looks like he got ya.”
    â€œJust a bit, eh?” Lionel said, trying to be brave.
    â€œYeah, just a bit,” Beatrice replied, pulling up the leg of his long underwear. “I’ll get some soap and water on it, and it should be all right. we did pretty good, huh—I mean all of us?” Beatrice reached up and scratched Ulysses’s long face.
    â€œYeah, Beatrice, pretty good,” Lionel said, as the pain slowly drifted up his leg.
    Beatrice wet the end of Lionel’s torn underwear and wiped the blood away. “The good news is that it ain’t all that deep,” she said, “and now you’re a part of that wolverine forever.”
    â€œHow do you figure?” Lionel asked.
    â€œWell, you ain’t never gonna forget it. You’ll have yerself that scar as a reminder,” Beatrice said as she dabbed at the cuts with a torn piece of cloth.
    â€œHow did he get in here?” Lionel asked, looking anxiously around the room.
    â€œI don’t know. I heard something. Sat up, and he was there,” Beatrice said, looking over toward the hulking pile of the chimney’s stacked rock. Then she noticed something and got up to investigate.
    â€œOh, I see. Look, look here. There’s a hole.”
    Lionel crawled to his feet, and limped over to Beatrice at the chimney. There in the side of the crumbling pile of stone was a large crack that he hadn’t seen when he had first found the lodge.
    â€œIt must have happened when the chimney fell forward, huh?” Lionel said.
    â€œYeah, I guess so, and now we ruined his hiding place,” Beatrice said. “He’ll be all right, now that winter’s about over.”
    Lionel looked out the grimy window at the freshly fallen snow that surrounded their new home.
    â€œHow’s the leg?” Beatrice asked.
    â€œI think it will be all right,” Lionel answered. “You okay? You sure got sleepy.”
    â€œI’m better now, I just get tired,” Beatrice said, and they both collapsed in a pile on the buffalo robe in front of the fire.
    â€œI’m going to think about that wolverine,” Lionel said. “Like Grandpa told us.”
    â€œGrandpa?” Beatrice asked.
    â€œYeah. I’m tryin’ to keep my eyes open and listen,” Lionel said again, more to himself this time.

Chapter Fifteen
    S LEEP • S ILK G OWNS AND T OP H ATS • T HE M EADOW’S G REEN • T HE G REAT W OOD • S URPRISE
    BEATRICE AND Lionel slept on and off for the next few days, taking turns getting water from the stream, stoking the fire, and preparing small meals from the provisions that their grandfather sent with them. once rested, Beatrice thought that they should assess the cabin for additional supplies, and upon further investigation Lionel discovered an old trunk and a phonograph under the rubble at the far end of the lodge.
    The children had never seen a phonograph or the hard wax cylinders that were labeled “Edison Gold Moulded Records” that accompanied the machine. It took the children the better part of a morning to figure out how to work the apparatus, but when they did, they were grateful that Edison, whoever he was, had left the cylinders for their enjoyment.
    The trunk had long since been scavenged for anything of real use but still held an eclectic assortment of moldy silk gowns and a coat with long tails. Beatrice took to wearing a dress of ivory silk and pearl buttons, Lionel a long coat and a hat