The Dream Widow Read Free

Mast.
    Wilson stared at the fire and listened to drips of deer fat pop on the logs. “What was in that wine you gave me?”
    Mast shrugged. “Nothing but the special ingredient.”
    “You’re both lucky I didn’t shoot you.”
    “We’re all lucky. In the old days you had to kill a bear before the wedding.”
    “I think–”
    “You’re going to be sick?”
    “Yes, and I think a doe is more appro.... pp...priate....”
    “Don’t throw up near me! Get away,” said Robb.
    Mast shook his head. “To think that Badger has to look at your ugly face for the rest of her life. It’s making me sick, too.”
    Wilson wiped his mouth. “What a great friend.”
    “I know. You’re welcome.”
    Robb had stopped giggling. He’d taken off his moccasins and now cleaned his toes with a stick.
    “Tell us about the Circle machines, Wilson.”
    “For the love of cats, stop asking him,” said Mast.
    “But I want to hear how he blew up the tank.”
    Wilson shook his head. “All I saw was a fireball. Stop asking me about it.”
    “No need to get mad,” said Mast. “It’s your special night. Aren’t you having fun?”
    “I’m sorry. It’s just ... things are changing too fast,” said Wilson. “After my father’s death, the escape, and the attack on the village, I don’t want to talk about the Circle. I feel like Darius could show up at any moment.”
    “That guy? He’s got to be dead. You said Badger cut off his–”
    “Don’t say it.”
    “Fine,” said Mast. “But I’d be more worried about that fossilized graybeard under the mountain. With all those machines keeping him alive, he’s barely human. What if he snaps over breakfast and floods the valley with gas?”
    “If he even eats breakfast,” said Robb.
    “Listen, I know Jack better than anyone,” said Wilson. “He’s kept us safe for three hundred years, he’s not going to chuck everything in the bin because it’s a Tuesday.”
    Robb looked up from his toe-cleaning. “Today’s Saturday!”
    “That was an example.”
    Mast pointed at Robb. “Like you: an example of how to shave a bobcat and teach it to walk.”
    Robb hissed.
     
    BADGER ADDED A CUP of water to the mixture of cornmeal, lard, salt, and honey and stirred the dough. She’d only been doing this for an hour but her hands were aching.
    “This is a stupid tradition,” she said.
    “Aren’t they all, dear?” said Wilson’s mother, Mary, from the other end of the kitchen. She twisted a dial that controlled temperature for the wall oven.
    “Yes, but this one is even stupider. I should be the one hunting a deer and he should be making the bread.”
    “It’s only for tonight. After the wedding you two can ‘bake bread’ however you want.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Mary ignored the question and peered into the bowl of cornmeal dough. “Needs more water.”
    Badger wrinkled her nose and mixed another bowl.
    “I just don’t understand why you like hunting and the outdoors so much,” said Mary.
    Badger wiped a drop of wet cornmeal from the scarred right side of her face. “Why shouldn’t I like it?”
    “I don’t mean anything by it, but girls aren’t usually interested in that. Was it something your tribe taught you?”
    Badger stopped mixing and stared at the wall.
    “I’m sorry,” said Mary. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m getting like a nosy old skunk in my old age.”
    “No, it’s fine,” said Badger. “I was too young for hunting then. I helped my mother in the fields.”
    Mary watched her spin the wooden spoon in the mixture for a few minutes.
    “Are you happy?” she asked.
    “Happy as I’ve ever been,” said Badger.
    “It’s hard to tell sometimes.”
    “I don’t ... do well around people. I don’t know what to say. When I’m alone in the forest or on a mountain I don’t have that problem.”
    “Is that why you joined the hunters?”
    “It was a good a reason as any. Mary, I know I’m not the perfect daughter-in-law. I’m sorry