Lara's Gift Read online

  And with all the commotion, the wolves we housed for training purposes began to howl, too.

  Papa peered through the icy glass. “Wolves, just under the birches.”

  I rushed to the window with Chara in my hands. With the night sky on the brink of dawn, I could make out the silhouettes of three of them.

  “That’s him, Tyatya! The Red Thief has come back.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Red Thief Returns

  Two of the wolves howled, hiked on their haunches and noses pointed to the pinky-plum blue sky. Such powerful songs came from deep within their bellies.

  The thought of them so close, standing under the birches Zar and I had passed—alone—in the dark of night frightened me. I cradled Chara even closer to me. “I thought wolves were afraid of us.”

  “Normally they are,” Papa replied, pulling on his coat.

  “Then why are they coming so close?”

  But I answered my own question.

  They must be desperate to eat.

  “Don’t worry.” Papa headed for the rifle cabinet. “They’ll learn soon enough that they aren’t welcome here.”

  On cue, Zar flew over the birthing stall fence and headed for the door to join Papa—his nose poking the latch and his feet dancing.

  “Nyet, boy, stay,” Papa said.

  Zar pawed at the door, and the fur on his neck bristled.

  “Let him hunt, Tyatya. He wants to go with you.”

  Papa grabbed a lead and dragged Zar, his feet flying like mad, his claws scarring up the dirt floor, to a spot where he tied him to one of the brass rings attached to the wall.

  How Zar struggled to free himself, pulling and twisting and leaping toward the door. His front feet pawed the air like a rabid dog.

  “Don’t let him out,” Papa said to me. “He’ll get in the way.”

  “Zar has experience with the Red Thief.”

  “Zar’s got experience, all right,” Papa said. “Lucky for him Borei came when he did.”

  “Who told you?”

  Papa kissed the hunting horn that hung around his neck three times, and then he disappeared. The kennel door slammed shut, followed by the music of his horn and a quick …

  Boom!

  The noise from the gun shook my insides. I braced myself for the next one, and even though pups are born deaf, I covered Chara’s little ears just the same.

  Boom! rang the second shot.

  I prepared myself for a third one and closed my eyes, my whole body cringing.

  Just like Papa had promised, the howling stopped. Little by little, the borzoi settled down.

  Except for Zar. His ears still stood on alert, his focus unbreakable.

  Papa returned, kicking the snow off his felt boots. He wore a look of defeat on his face. “They got away.”

  “Tyatya, you’ve got to train Zar,” I said. “Look at how much he wants to hunt.”

  I expected Papa to walk away from me, as if he were deaf to my question. “Did you see how big the Red Thief was? He’d tear Zar to shreds.”

  Part of me wanted to stick up for Zar, and another part of me was afraid to lose him.

  What if Papa was right?

  Not long after Papa left to send a telegram to the Count with good news about the birth of the pups, the zvon of stable bells pulsed—ding ding dong, ding ding dong, ding ding dong. And even as the bells continued to ring like a chorus of singing icons, Alexander rushed in, wiping his tired, sleepy eyes.

  “Did the pups come early?” The tone of his voice sounded worried.

  “Everyone’s fine,” I assured him.

  “You’re always right where you’re needed most, Larochka. You’re like a crystal ball.”

  I needed to be more careful. How long could I keep my visions a secret from him?

  Alexander felt Zola’s abdomen first to make sure that there were no more pups hidden inside, just as Papa and I had done, and then Alexander inspected each of the six pups nestled close to Zola.

  “They all look healthy.” He patted Zar and Zola on the head.

  “Except this one.” I lifted her from my lap. “Her name’s Chara.”

  Alexander’s eyes widened. “I don’t dare ask how you came up with that name, nor do I doubt she’ll work her charm over all of us.” Alexander knelt down beside me. Gently, he took her from my hands and cradled her against his neck. “What happened?”

  “Zola rejected her,” I answered.

  Alexander kissed her on the rump before handing her back to me. “Then she’d better work her charm over Zola soon.”

  “She’ll need help over the first few weeks.” I laid Chara across my chest, and ran my finger along her spine. “She shows promise.”

  Alexander ran his finger along her spine, too, and nodded. “She does!”

  “Did you see the wolves?” I asked Alexander.

  Zar’s ears shot up, and he bounded over to the window.

  “Unfortunately not.” Alexander joined Zar and peered through the veil of lacy frost that covered the glass panes. He stood there and wiped away the frost with his bare hands, creating visible gaps here and there, as he looked out. “I heard the Red Thief weaseled his way into the stable and got to our livestock again.”

  Even in his frustration, Alexander’s voice was kind and gentle.

  “When the wind dies down, we’ll get the Red Thief.” Alexander said it more to Zar than to me, and then glided his hand along the arch of his back. “Right, boy?”

  Zar responded with a little dance. And my heart danced, too.

  “Have you talked to my papa about training Zar?”

  “Don’t worry, Larochka. I know how important this is to you,” he answered. “I will.”

  I glanced up at the icon of the mother staring down at her child with such love in her eyes. She reminded me of my own mama. And she also reminded me of the kind of love I had for Zar. “I don’t know how I’d fill my days without the dogs.”

  “Me too,” Alexander said. “Father begs me to join him and take over the bell foundry with my older brother, promising me there is no other work more fulfilling than making bells for the Tsar’s churches.”

  I hoped that day wouldn’t come too soon. With Alexander gone, the Woronzova Kennel would be like a crown without the jewels. “Would you have to live in Moscow like your brother?”

  “For now, no—Father’s agreed to give me a chance to live my dream and make something of this kennel. I have two years. If I don’t produce borzoi worthy of the Tsar, I agreed to join him.”

  “You’ll succeed,” I told him. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

  “You should get some sleep,” Alexander said. “Your eyes look tired.”

  “Chara needs me—”

  “I’ll see to her myself,” Alexander said. “I give you my word.”

  A promise from a noble meant something. Keeping one was a higher honor than dying for the Tsar, Golden Rule Number One—and my personal favorite because this Rule gave everyone willing to live by his word a chance to be noble, whether born into nobility or not.

  Alexander took Chara from my hands and cuddled her against his chest. “Take Zar for protection.”

  “Do you think the wolves will be back?”

  “They wouldn’t dare with Zar by your side,” he said. “For certain the Red Thief would remember him.”

  On my way home, I stopped at the chapel to light a candle for Chara. Part of me hoped I might find Ruslan. While Pushkin’s words touched my soul and gave me strength, Ruslan’s words made me think.

  I approached the icon of the Virgin Mary, bent down on both knees, and genuflected. I walked over to the candles and pulled out a long, slender taper from the glass jar. I placed it over a burning flame until it caught fire, and then lit a candle for Chara. As I thought of her pudgy little face, I lit another candle … and another … and another … until all of the candles had been lit and glowed brightly.

  “You’re going to burn the place down with so many
candles,” Ruslan said when he entered the chapel.

  I told him about the Red Thief returning, about Zola and the birth, as well as about the bet I had with Papa, and how we almost lost Chara. “This pup has to live. I don’t know why just yet. Even Papa helped.”

  “Maybe your father’s coming around?”

  “Maybe.” I sensed that Papa was struggling with something.

  “Change is what we all fear at some level. Once we learn to embrace it, only then can it become our friend. It’s the first step, but a difficult one.”

  I wondered if the first step to change was part of a bigger plan. And did God play a part in that plan. “Does God speak to you through your work?”

  Ruslan chuckled. “That’s an odd question.”

  “It would seem so to me.” Nobody could paint figures like Ruslan did, figures that looked so saintly they could float off the wood they were painted on and join us for tea, unless God had a say in it.

  Ruslan looked around as if he worried someone might overhear him, and instead of speaking his answer, he nodded his head, and then he whispered, “I like to think that God has a hand in my work.”

  “My mama believes in such things, too,” I whispered back to him.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  When I thought of Papa and his Rules, the very ones my ancestors had passed down for generations, I knew I fought to fit in and be just like Papa and all the other kennel stewards before him. But every time I had a vision, I saw nothing evil in using it to guide me to do the right thing. And every time I kept quiet, I felt like I was betraying my gift. My eyes dropped to the floor. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “In these times, a gift from God can be dangerous,” Ruslan said. “One shouldn’t fight it. One should use the gift for good.”

  “My mama says the same thing.” Still, I was afraid.

  I didn’t want to risk losing everything that mattered to me.

  Alexander.

  My family.

  Zola and the dogs, and especially Zar.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Red Snow

  I slept soundly and woke the next morning to thrashing pain along my forehead, dreading the evil that I knew would come. I keeled over, gripping my forehead, to alleviate the crushing pain. I tried to force my eyes to stay open so I wouldn’t see what was coming, but the pain was too much. When I closed my eyes, I saw Zar’s littermates Borei, Sila, and Bistri—chasing the Red Thief, trying to separate it from its pack.

  The image brought me joy.

  I squeezed my eyes more tightly. I had to see more. I had to know the outcome.

  As soon as the vision faded, another appeared—one of red-drenched snow, and lots of it.

  And then that image faded, too.

  Was it blood?

  But whose?

  Surely, it belonged to the wolves.

  In my gut I wasn’t convinced. I had to find a way to stop this hunt from happening.

  When I opened my eyes, I found Mama looking down at me, her lacy, woolen shawl wrapped around her tiny shoulders. In her arms lay Bohdan, nursing.

  “Another vision?” Mama asked.

  I sat up from my sleeping bench. A cold ball of fear settled in my stomach. “Something awful’s about to happen. I must warn Papa.”

  “He’s at the kennel,” Mama said. “Don’t be afraid. There’s a reason God is speaking to you.”

  “Matushka, if Papa believes in God, why is he against my visions?”

  “That is for him to tell you,” Mama said. “When he does, you’ll understand.”

  Balled up on a pallet of straw in a cocoon by our front door, Zar stood up, stretched and arched his back, and then shook the snow off his coat. Together we headed to the kennel first to check on Chara in the birthing room. When we reached it, I found Alexander, cuddled up just underneath the Mother with Child icon.

  I expected Chara to be in Alexander’s arms, but she wasn’t. “Did she—” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  “No, she didn’t die. Chara’s fine.” Alexander pointed to Zola and my eyes followed.

  There, among the other pups nestled between Zola’s long legs, lay a pudgy ball of white, nursing. She looked so much like her father, Zar, when he was a pup.

  “That’s amazing! How did you get Zola to accept her so quickly?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It was Chara’s charm that did it.”

  “You’re too humble,” I said. It was his patience that had won out with Zola. I stroked Chara’s back with one finger and she responded with a bob of her head.

  “She’s through the tough part, Larochka,” Alexander said. “Thanks for being there when Zola needed you.”

  Alexander made me feel like I belonged exactly where I was, and that I had earned it on my own—and not through a birthright.

  “My father wants to go after the Red Thief,” Alexander said.

  “When?”

  “Today,” he answered.

  All I could see was red snow. “Which dogs are you taking?”

  “The usual team—Borei, Bistri, and Sila,” Alexander answered. “Plus Zar.”

  Zar’s ears perked. He jumped up on Alexander and rested his paws on Alexander’s shoulders. A pang of jealousy hit me.

  “Did Papa agree to take him?” Four dogs went against Golden Rule Number Six. Anyone who hunted, especially Alexander, knew that three borzoi make up a team.

  “Not yet,” Alexander said. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s time the Rules become more flexible.”

  I wanted to warn him, to tell him to postpone the hunt. But Alexander would want to know why, and I couldn’t tell him. A promise is a promise.

  “Do you know where I can find my papa?”

  “He’s in the tack room,” Alexander answered.

  “Sorry to rush away, Sasha. I’ve got to take care of something.” And then I took off in a sprint.

  “What’s happened?” Alexander called out to me.

  I pretended not to hear him.

  When I entered the tack room, Papa already had his hunting horn around his neck. He spoke before I could even say a word. “You can’t come.”

  “That’s not what I’m here about.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Papa quickly busied himself with a cowhide lead that needed mending.

  “We’re taking our best team of dogs and we’ll get the Red Thief, once and for all,” Papa said.

  He struggled to fix the lead. His fingers fumbled with it, and I could see that all of this weighed on him.

  “Let me,” I offered, taking the broken lead from his clumsy hands. I rewove the three strands of leather as tightly as I could to create one strong, single lead. Then I bound the strands together with six silver clips that Papa positioned along the lead in equal intervals. I shined the silver with the cuff of my shirt, admiring the decorative clip stamped with the Vorontsov coat of arms: a double-headed Tsarist eagle perched above two gray-white Orlov Trotters. The inscribed motto, Semper Immota Fides, captured the Vorontsov family value of steadfast loyalty.

  “Easy now,” Papa said.

  I lifted the hammer above one of the clips. Ever so gently, I tapped down on each of them with the head of the hammer to lock the braid in place.

  When I finished, I handed the lead back to Papa, who inspected it from top to bottom with a careful eye. “It’s impeccable,” he said with more than a hint of pride in his voice.

  Papa gestured in a way that reminded me of the old Papa—the one who let me shadow him around the kennel. “I know how much you love the dogs.” For a brief second he paused, as if he reconsidered his thoughts. But the new Papa—the one with a son—spoke instead. “But you’ll be better off with a husband. The midwife tells me she has a nephew.”

  Before I could say a word, Papa’s eyes narrowed on Alexander approaching us from the stalls. Prancing alongside him were Borei, Bistri, Sila, and Zar.

  When Zar saw me, he bounded straight ahead of the others. He nudge
d my hand and licked it. I stroked his silky coat of white fur and scratched behind his tiny, tucked-back ears. The others joined him and wiggled their way next to me, goosing me with their long noses for my attention.

  Alexander popped into the tack room. “I need a longer lead.” He searched the walls for one among those hanging. He chose the white one I had just mended to match his long white gloves and the coats of the dogs, as was custom.

  Although I tried to hide it, I grinned from ear to ear.

  “What’s he doing here?” Papa grunted, pointing at Zar.

  “I’d like to try something new,” Alexander said.

  “Three’s the lucky number,” Papa reminded him.

  “How will Zar ever learn to properly kill a wolf, if he never trains with a team?” Alexander asked.

  “An inexperienced borzoi is a dead one,” Papa said. “Golden Rule Number Seven.” He crossed his arms and stood rooted to the ground.

  “He has experience with the Red Thief,” Alexander shot back.

  “And nearly got himself killed,” Papa said.

  “Zar held his own, despite no proper training. He’s got a keen instinct I’ve never seen in a borzoi.”

  “It’s not the way we do things.” Papa expected everyone to follow the Golden Rules like a row of ducklings tottering faithfully behind their mother.

  “I respect your Rules. Still, we need to strive to improve our hunting methods, even if it means breaking the Rules,” Alexander said. “Of course, my father could settle this when he gets here. But it’s your cooperation I’d like to gain.”

  Papa threw up his hands, shaking his head. He bent down and stroked Borei. “If anyone outsmarts the Red Thief, it’ll be Borei. If you insist on bringing Zar, so be it, but he stays on the sledge. I don’t want him getting in the way of the hunt.”

  Alexander extended his hand to Papa. “That’s a fair compromise,” he said, and before he hurried off with all four dogs tethered to the lead I had just mended, he gave me a warm wink.

  Once Alexander was out of earshot, words of warning lined up on my tongue and took aim. But they got lodged in my throat.

  You can do it, I told myself.