Bad Grrlz' Guide to Reality: The Complete Novels Wild Angel and Adventures in Time and Space with Max Merriwell Read Online Free

California—three in Selby Flat, half a dozen in Nevada City. There were more down in Sacramento and San Francisco, but those cities were a long way off. Men would travel fifty miles on foot to eat an apple pie made by Mrs. Selby, a matronly woman with a broad pleasant face that no one would call beautiful. Women were precious; women were rare. A woman’s murder demanded action.
    It was a rough crowd that filled Selby’s barroom. Men from every walk of life had come to California in search of gold-farmers who had abandoned the plow, husbands who had abandoned their wives, sailors who had abandoned their ships. Rascals and heroes, wise men and drunkards. All of them sat silent as Max told of the dead woman who lay by the side of the creek. He read Rachel’s letter aloud: “I think this place will be good to us. I just know that we will find a rich claim here, and I’ll send you gold nuggets the size of goose eggs. I hope…”
    Rachel’s last words hung in the air as Max put the letter down. For a moment, each man in the room thought of his own hopes and dreams. I hope I’ll be rich. I hope I’ll be happy. I hope that my sweetheart will still be waiting when I get back to the States. I hope that I get out of these mountains alive.
    A moment later, the miners were all talking at once—shouting about finding the murderers, about justice, about honor. One man was sure that Indians killed the woman. He’d seen some Diggers up that way not a month ago. It must have been Mexicans, shouted another. You couldn’t trust Mexicans around a white woman. They had to form a posse and catch the killers and string them up, showing them that this was a civilized place.
    Then Mrs. Selby’s voice cut through the babble. “That poor little girl,” she said, her voice breaking. Her hands were knotted in her apron; her broad face was wet with tears. “She’s in the mountains with the wild beasts. You’ve got to find her.”
    “We’ll find her, ma’am,” called Jasper Davis. He had climbed onto a bench and was standing above the crowd. “I’ll lead a search party. We’ll start tonight. Who’s with me?”
    Max stood at the back of the room with Mr. Selby, watching the miners crowd around the man, ready to rescue the poor little girl and bring her to Mrs. Selby’s motherly arms. “Who is that fellow?” he asked Mr. Selby, gesturing at the blond man.
    “His name’s Jasper Davis,” Mr. Selby said. “He came here a month ago from Sacramento. A few days back, he struck a rich streak up the creek a piece. He’s a good fellow.”
    Max nodded, accepting the information but reserving judgment on whether Davis was a good fellow or not. Mr. Selby’s estimation of a fellow’s goodness depended more on the man’s financial stability than on any other characteristic.
    Outside, the sky had grown overcast. The clouds had darkened from the pale gray of granite to an ominous gray-black. As the miners shouted about how they would find the little girl and hang the killers, the first drops of rain began to fall.
    Sarah was as Mrs. Selby had said, in the mountains with the wild beasts. The wolf pack had taken shelter in a grove of pines. Wauna lay down close to the trunk of a tree, and the girl sat on the carpet of pine needles beside her, surrounded by wolves.
    “Dog,” she said to Wauna, testing one of the sounds that her parents had taught her. The wolf made a low whining noise in her throat, and Sarah responded with a whimper of her own.
    Wauna leaned close to sniff the girl’s face. Sarah grabbed the ruff of fur at the wolf’s neck and used it to pull herself to her feet. When Wauna licked Sarah’s face, the girl lost her grip on the wolf’s fur. She fell into a sitting position, still holding her hands out to the wolf.
    After two days of suckling at Wauna’s teats and sleeping beside the female wolf, Sarah smelled of milk and wolf, just like any wolf pup. While the girl sat in the litter of pine needles that covered the