This thing we call a wolverine is not a pleasant thing. The fanged beast has stolen our kills on numerous occasions, ripping down deer from our gutting ropes. One month on it still trails us, back there in the snow and mists. Although many of the men are angry, we can’t help but admire its tenaciousness. The beast’s energy is unmatched. Clearly, the woods belong to it, and not us. We are our destination. But this wolverine, it is the places in between.

—JON P. RIGGINS, OREGON TRAIL, 1830

“Hey Anneli, a cold PBR, eh?” Bob Sanders said, raising one scarred finger above the bar.

Anneli reached under the bar (and Sanders took a peek down her blouse, eh?) and popped back up with a frosted mug and a cold can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Sanders eyed her as she poured the cool beverage into the mug. He’d always had a thing for her he supposed. She was cut from the same Nor wegian cloth that many Yoopers were—in her thirties, cropped blonde hair, meat on her bones, pretty without makeup. She was a smart one too, and Sanders figured she knew what he was thinking at all times. Some women had a way of doing that, and it creeped him out, the way they caught him staring and doubled the stare right back through his soul. They read him like witches. All of ’em. He wished he had that kind of ability. Sure, he had a sense for the animals at his place up on the Silver grade, even smelling ’em and predicting their movement in thick brush. But back in L’ander, and here in the Bayside Tavern, his senses dulled.

“Yer eyes look mighty nice today, eh?” Sanders said, working his scarred thumb on the frosty mug rim.

Anneli rolled her eyes and waved a white dishrag at him. “Knock it off,” she said. “There’s a ring on your finger for a reason.”

Sanders held his hand in front of his face and flipped his palm a few times. “This? Ah, nothing but a friendship ring. Funny thing, eh?”

“Yeah real funny. Have you told your wife that joke?”

Sanders frowned at his beer and took a chug, the frosted handle chilling his fingers. Like dippin’ his hand in the mighty Silver River.