Stay East, Young Woman

*Isabella*

March, 1885

“It’s an irrational decision.” My pa lowers his mug to the table, setting it down slowly where others would slam it in frustration. His black mustache has a waxy sheen in the light of the fireplace to his right, the left side of his face cast in shadow. Next to him, my ma shifts in her chair, her fingers knit together on the dining room table. I know that expression on her face, the one she wears when she wants to speak but knows my pa is handling the situation by himself. Any word from her would be cast aside by the other men in the room. My uncle, my ma’s brother, sits with his arms folded over his chest. Our neighbor, Mr. Casper, narrows his eyes, unhappy with my pa’s assertion but not sure how to respond. My older brother and my aunt also occupy chairs around our dining room table.

“It’s the only decision that makes sense,” Uncle Tim replies. He has always been the sort to speak before he thinks. Now is no exception. When he is out of sorts, he’s likely to make all kinds of statements that have no sort of evidence to support them.

“We are comfortable here,” my pa reminds them both. “Sure, there have been more settlers moving into the territory recently. That was to be expected. But moving west won’t solve that issue. It will only delay it.”

“The west is a vast open space, Mac,” Mr. Casper argues. No one ever calls my pa by his given name, which happens to be Arthur. “Miles and miles of open land with hardly a dwelling dotting the landscape. Out there, we can claim our own territory, assign a new Alpha, a real Alpha, and finally break free of all these damn humans who think we’re nothing but dogs they can slaughter for their own amusement.”

I see the left side of my pa’s mouth twitch slightly twice during Mr. Casper’s statement. The first time is when he mentions Alpha Beck. It’s no secret that Beck’s pa took the title illegally when the last Alpha was shot by a human hunter. The details of the dispute are kept secret from most of us youngins. I hope that when I turn nineteen in a few months I’ll be old enough to learn more about our pack history, but even meeting my wolf last year didn’t necessitate my parents cluing me in. 

My pa also had a slight reaction to Mr. Casper’s mention of humans. Whether it be ignorance of our existence or cruelty, they see us as mindless creatures and shoot us down without a second thought anytime they come upon us in our wolf forms. They have no idea that some of the people they do their trading with or purchase goods from at the market are the same “mongrels” they would shoot in cold blood simply because they came across us hunting deer on our own lands.

Pa takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. He doesn’t want to go, and I can’t blame him. Our family has lived here for almost two hundred years. They were among the first to settle the territory, back before the great human war, long before the war of attrition twenty years ago that sucked in people like my pa and my uncle to fight on one side or the other simply because not doing so would create questions in the minds of those who cannot shift. 

No, we do not want to go.

At least, my parents don’t want to.

When I think about heading west, a nervous tingle erupts deep down in my belly in that space that comes to life whenever the whisper of change is in the air. My mind fills with visions of wide open spaces--tall golden grass blowing in the wind, snow capped mountains kissing vibrant blue skies, rivers so clear my own reflection smiles back at me. Adventure and excitement beckon to my soul, promising a life I’ll never have if we stay here. 

Our settlement used to be on the edge of civilization, but in my short lifetime, I’ve seen it swallowed whole by the hordes of people pouring in from the east coast and overseas. Humans and shifters alike, they come, looking for freedom, opportunity, and the same auspicious possibilities that whisper my name. 

“Listen, Mac,” Uncle Tim tries again. “There’s a group leaving day after tomorrow. The timing couldn’t be better. If we leave now, we’re certain to get to Wyoming before winter.”

“Two days?” Ma scoffs, unable to hold back any longer. “You expect us to pack up everything we own and set out for unknown lands in only two days?”

Uncle Tim looks at my ma as if she has overstepped. Sometimes, I think he forgets my pa treats her as an equal partner, like she is our family’s Luna. As he should. “You don’t need to pack much of anything, Reba,” he argues. “Sell it. You’ll get a good price from all the rich folk coming here to Kentucky from Savannah and Richmond. Money is more valuable than all this.” He gestures at the modest furniture and other possessions my parents have managed to accumulate over the years. Most of it has been in our family for generations.

“We travel by paw, not in those damn wagon trains the humans have concocted,” Mr. Casper explains. “We move faster that way. We take only what we need.”

“And what of the children? They can’t shift yet,” my ma asks, not caring if Uncle Tim scolds her again. She gestures in our direction. I sit on the fringes of the dining room, on a cot in the corner. My little sister, Alice, who is eight, and my younger brother, Robert, who will be ten next month, are on either side of me. My cousin Hannah is only a few years younger than me and sits next to Robert on the cot. Her brother, Henry, who just found his wolf, is out hunting with some friends. My oldest brother, Joseph, is considered an adult, so he sits at the table next to Aunt Lena. Neither Joseph nor Lena have said a word the entire duration of the conversation.

“The children will ride on their parents’ backs,” Mr. Casper says with a shrug.

“And sleep on the ground?” Pa shakes his head.

“No.” Tim practically rolls his eyes, and I see my pa’s shoulders tighten. “We will bring tents. Limited supplies. A herd of game.”

“To be handled by who?” When Joseph finally speaks, he sounds so much like my pa, if I wasn’t looking, I wouldn’t have known it was him who spoke up. 

“We hire some hands to go along with us.” Mr. Casper makes it sound simple enough. “Shifters who have made the run before.”

My pa is shaking his head before the sentence is even out of our neighbor’s mouth. “No. I will not do that to my family.” The decision has been made, and I feel that prickle of excitement in my gut begin to fade, replaced by the dull ache of acceptance. “We’re staying here.”

“But we can’t do it without you, Mac.” Uncle Tim sounds desperate.

Wood screeches against wood as my pa pushes his chair back, walking toward the door. “I appreciate your concerns, I truly do, but my decision is final.” He makes it to the door in two strides and pulls it open. “If you choose to go, I’ll do what I can to help you, but the Mackenzie family is staying here.”

A cool spring breeze wafts inside as he gestures for our guests to see their way out into the dusk. Distant howls hit my ears, along with the sounds of horse’s hooves, carriages, and a thousand other reminders that our lands are growing more crowded by the day.

Uncle Tim sighs as he pushes back his chair and gestures for Aunt Lena and Hannah to follow him. Mr. Casper takes an extra moment to stand and trails them to the door. He pauses before following them out, turning to look my pa in the eyes. He has to tilt his head up slightly since Pa is so tall. “You’re making a mistake.” His words are not ominous, only spoken in a tone that makes them seem factual.

“Have a good night, Casper.” My pa waits for him to step through the door, ignoring his grumbles and shuts it behind him. Then, turning to my ma, he asks, “What’s for supper?” as if the entire conversation has already been forgotten.

Maybe it has been for them, but that billow of fresh air has reignited a spark inside of me, and that yearning is back. The yearning to run free over open, virgin territory. 

Inside of me, my wolf longs to go. “Head west, young woman,” she breathes. 

And I promise, “One day, I will.”