Legend of the Ghost Dog (12 page)

“And that day when you and your father saw Caspian?” I asked.

“He had probably just left her,” Dodie said. “And hadn't eaten in three days — he probably pounced on the first rabbit he saw.”

“And your father jumped to conclusions when he saw the blood, and never stopped to realize Caspian was trying to lead you to the cabin,” I said.

“Yes,” Dodie said, very quietly.

“I'm so sorry,” Quin said.

Dodie replaced the picture on the chest, and turned to me. She smiled, the first real smile we'd seen.

“On the contrary,” Dodie said. “You can't imagine what this means to me. To know what happened, after all these years. To finally understand. I feel happier than I have in years. And I know what I need to do now.”

“I'm glad Caspian found us,” Quin said.

“So am I,” Dodie said. “Especially today of all days. Living in Nome, Quin, you ought to know better than to wander off when bad weather is on the way. Surely you were raised with more sense than that.”

Quin gasped with dismay.

“Tee, they don't know where we are!” Quin cried.

I jumped to my feet.

“We have to go,” I said. “We have to go right now.”

“The snow hasn't stopped, you can't go yet,” Dodie said.

“You don't understand — my father will be sick with worry. If he got home and found us gone, he'd …”

My voice trailed off as I realized Dodie knew exactly how my father would feel.

“It's all right,” Dodie said. “I'm only sorry I kept you talking for an hour before thinking of it. I did tell you I'm not a crazy old hermit lady.”

She pulled open the top drawer of the chest as she spoke, and pulled something out.

“I think this will do the trick,” she said.

“What is it?” I asked.

Dodie smiled. “Really, child, use your eyes. It's a satellite phone.”

I was sure my father would be ready to string me up by the time we reached him on Dodie's satellite phone. He and Joe had taken Joe's snowmobile and headed for our cabin. They had been stunned and completely powerless to do anything when they'd reached it and found all three of us missing. But by the time I got the call through, he was so overcome with relief that he didn't yell at all.

“You're sure all three of you are all right?” he kept asking, over and over again.

“Dad, we're fine,” I repeated. “I'm just so, so sorry — all of this is my fault.”

“We both know that's not entirely true,” he said. “Anyway, all that matters is you're all okay. Listen, it's still blowing badly, and we can't get you out of there today. Joe's made a plan. He and Clay and I will each take a snowmobile out to you tomorrow — that way we can get all three of you
back here at the same time. You're just going to have to hold Henry on your lap, unless he can run alongside.”

“Cool,” I said, thinking it was going to be pretty funny to see Dad driving a snowmobile, and wondering how I could make sure I was the passenger on Clay's.

When I hung up I explained the plan to Quin and Dodie.

“You two had best get some rest, then,” Dodie said. “Your brother is still fast asleep. I've got more blankets and some pillows.”

“How long were they looking for us?” Quin asked.

“Dad said they got up to the cabin about an hour earlier. Probably about the same time we got to Dodie's. So they'd been freaking out for that whole hour.”

“Well, it could have been a lot worse,” Quin said. “If Dodie didn't have a satellite phone, we'd be unaccounted for until we were able to get back tomorrow. I hope your dad's not too mad at you.”

“Actually, he wasn't that mad at all,” I told her. “He practically apologized to me, said it was his fault.”

“Really?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Well, hey. Looks like more than one unexpected thing happened today.”

“You'll have to make do with these,” Dodie said.

She'd piled a fat goose-down comforter and a quilt by the fire, pulling them carefully over Jack. A few small pillows had been laid out.

“The two of you must be exhausted,” Dodie remarked, fussing a little with the corner of the quilt.

As soon as she said it, I realized how right she was. I was more tired than I'd ever been in my life.

Quin and I climbed into the makeshift bed carefully, with me in the middle next to Jack. As soon as Quin's head hit the pillow, I swear I heard snoring. I drew the comforter up to my chin and took a deep breath. I wanted to let my mind run over everything that had happened today, everything Dodie had told us. But I knew I'd be asleep before I could do that.

Jack rolled over so he was facing me, and his eyes opened sleepily.

“Tee?” he asked. “Whassgoinon?”

“Nothing, Jackster,” I said quietly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Long as I don't miss anything,” he murmured, the last syllable falling off into nothing.

I smiled, snuggled deeper under the blankets, and followed my little brother to sleep.

 

The three of us were sitting around Dodie's kitchen table eating oatmeal for breakfast when we first heard the sound of approaching snowmobiles. Jack raced to the window.

“Whoa, there's
three
of them,” he exclaimed. “No! Way! Tee, one of the drivers is Dad!”

I joined Jack at the window and watched with amusement. Joe and Clay had gotten off their snowmobiles, but my dad apparently needed some help figuring out how to turn his off. I'd be amazed if he hadn't taken out a couple of trees along the way.

“I'll get some water going so they can have tea,” Dodie said.

“I'm sorry you're having to deal with all these people,” I apologized. If Dodie had been living here alone for more or less fifty years, having six people in her home must be overwhelming.

“I'll manage,” Dodie said. I had no trouble believing that.

There was knocking at the door, which Jack pulled open triumphantly, as if he were responsible for all of it — the storm, the rescue, and the snowmobiles, everything. Joe came in next, and instantly crushed Quin in a bear hug. My father put one arm around my shoulders, the other around Jack.

“Thank goodness you're all okay,” he said.

“It was my fault, though,” I told him, my face pressed into his sleeve.

“We can talk about how it happened later, if you want. The point is, you're okay. It's a miracle you found this place —”

His voice dropped off as he looked around the cottage and took in all the pictures of the sled dogs.

“Tee,” he said quietly, “what
is
this place?”

“It's Dodie's cottage, Dad. She lives out here. She saved us.”

My father crossed to the corner, entranced by the photographs.

“Dorothy Shaktoolik?” Clay's voice came from the doorway.

Dodie turned from the stove.

“Clayton Nolan,” she said. “Are you gonna shut that door, or are we gonna have icicles in our tea?”

Clay pulled the door closed, and pulled off his hat and boots.

“Well hey, Doe. I heard something about you still living out here in Vernon's old place,” he said. “But frankly, I thought those stories was crazy.”

“Who's to say they're not?” Dodie said, smiling at Clay, with sparkling eyes. He smiled back.

Quin and I exchanged a look and tiny smiles that said,
What's going on there?

“I'm afraid there's far more of you than there are chairs,” Dodie said.

“You guys sit at the table, we'll sit on the floor,” I said quickly.

“But I don't wanna —” I silenced Jack by squeezing the back of his neck a little.

“Ow.”

Quin, Jack, and I sat by the fire on the blankets and comforter we had folded when we got up.

“If that's hot tea you've got there, I'd sure love a cup,” Joe said. “And I'm quite frankly dying to hear what exactly happened to these kids yesterday.”

We took turns telling the story, describing the cabin, the sudden arrival of snow, taking shelter. How we thought we'd freeze, and the snow was blowing in and covering us, when Dodie found us and led us back to her cottage. The only detail we left out was the most important one. We did not say anything about Caspian. That was Dodie's story, one she might well not care to have shared with others. Even Jack seemed to realize this, because most of his contributions to the story involved fingers and toes that almost
fell off, and his own brave behavior in the face of certain death.

“And I brought them back here, and fixed them up with some hot tea and blankets, and was glad for the company, if you want the truth,” Dodie was saying.

Joe had one hand over his eyes.

“Quin, sweetie, that was a close call for you guys. If you'd had to spend the night in that cabin …”

“I know,” Quin said, getting up off the floor and walking over to the table where her father sat. “I knew I was supposed to check the weather, and I … we were in a hurry and I just flat out forgot. I'm really, really sorry.”

“But she did the right thing holing up in the cabin,” Dodie said. “She bought them a lot of time — enough for me to happen by and find them. And I guess they're no worse for the wear, and I've had enough excitement to last me a year.”

“You've been out here all this time in Vernon's old place?” asked Clay.

Dodie nodded.

“I come into town once or twice a year, when Clyde can run up and get me,” she said. “And Pete Jr. brings me mail and supplies. We have a bit of a get-together every now and
again. But I was raised here, Clay, you know that. And I like the quiet.”

“I guess it's a good enough little house,” Clay said, looking around the room. Something caught his eye, and he rose and walked over to the chest of drawers.

“My stars, Doe, is this Caspian? And Silla?”

I stared at Clay in astonishment. How did he know Caspian? And I had assumed the girl in the picture was Dodie.

“Yes, it is.”

Clay shook his head sadly.

“That was a terrible thing,” he said. “Seeing Caspian's face it all comes back. Your father was just out of his mind with sadness when Silla went missing. But you know, I never believed that dog hurt anyone, let alone Silla. Didn't believe it then, and don't believe it now.”

Dodie sat rigid in her chair, her eyes on Clay, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Oh, Clay, I wish you'd said so. All these years I thought I was the only one who believed in Caspian.”

Clay came back to the table, put a hand on Dodie's shoulder.

“I'm sure it wasn't just me,” he assured her. “Martin and Ike and all those fellows agreed when your daddy told them
Caspian was dangerous and ought to be shot. But I don't think none of them really believed it. I expect they knew your father was too hurt in his heart and was taking it out on the dog. Not one of them ever went out in the woods with their shotguns looking for Caspian, not that they told me, anyway. I figure that's just something they told your daddy to ease his pain a little.”

Dodie put her hand to her face for a moment, then looked up at Clay.

“All these years I thought everyone blamed him,” she said.

“I don't expect that's true,” Clay said, sitting back down.

Quin and I were now staring at Clay and Dodie with our mouths hanging open.

“Clay, how did you know Caspian?” Quin blurted out, and I almost hugged her because I could stand the anticipation no longer.

Clay turned around and looked at Quin as if he'd completely forgotten she was there — or that anyone was, except for Dodie.

“My brother, Vernon, used to be one of the dog handlers when the Shaktooliks had their kennel out here,” he said. “I came out every once in a while to give Vernon a hand with things, have a look at the dogs. At least, that's what I told everybody. Truth is I was kind of sweet on Doe here, but I
was a whole year younger than her, just sixteen years old and tall and skinny and ugly as a grasshopper and she wouldn't have nothing to do with me.”

Dodie flushed red, accentuating the lovely blue of her eyes.

“He's just poking fun,” she said.

“No, I ain't,” Clay said firmly.

Dodie dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and got up to put the kettle back on. But I got a glimpse of her expression as she turned, and to say she looked happy was quite an understatement.

“Much as we'd love to have another cup, I think we better get these kids back home,” Joe said.

“I guess Joe's right,” my father said. “But Ms. Shaktoolik …”

“Dodie,” she corrected. Then she pointed at Clay. “Only he calls me Doe.”

“Dodie,” my father said. “You've obviously got an incredible history of raising dogs. I already owe you the lives of my children, so I have no business asking you for anything else, but if there's any chance you'd let me come back up here and interview you, maybe find out more about these dogs, I'd be so incredibly grateful to you. I don't have a snowmobile, but if I could rent one I'd be happy to come and bring you anything you need at the same time.”

“No need for that, I can bring you up myself,” Clay said.

Dodie seemed to go red again.

“Well, I guess that might be all right,” she said.

Clay smiled at her, his whole face illuminated like it was shining from within.

“Oh, that's great, really great,” my father said. “This is exactly the chance I've been looking for — this is why we came to Alaska in the first place.”

“Kids, you'd better start getting bundled up,” Joe said. “It is really cold out there.”

We reluctantly left the fire and began layering on the fleeces and hats that we'd taken off the night before. Quin and I had to get our own on first, then maneuver Jack into his, since he seemed to have forgotten how to operate sleeves and zippers. After several long minutes we were more or less ready and standing by the door. I ran to Dodie and gave her a long hug, and she hugged me right back, and her grip was pretty tight. It didn't surprise me that she was way stronger than she looked.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “Can we come back to see you?”

Dodie smiled.

“I guess you better,” she said.

We had all walked outside into the brilliant sunlight and
the bitter cold, when Clay stopped and turned around. Dodie was standing in the open doorway.

“You know somethin', Doe, Whit Haverson's got two litters of pups right now — one of 'em was a winter litter. They're about, oh, almost three months now. He's been telling me how one's a bit of a runt, and is getting awful bullied by the others now as they're getting bigger. He's not gonna be able to train this little guy with the team, and he says truth is that dog could be a great dog if he wasn't getting pushed around so much. It's hard on his spirit being trounced by the rest of the litter all the time. A dog like that, I figure, could probably do with a spell away from other dogs, if there was only someplace for him to go.”

Dodie stood staring at Clay, who stood staring back.

“What's his name?” Dodie asked.

“Haverson just calls him Sam,” Clay said. “Gray and white, with a little black smudge under one eye, his own personal shiner. Says he's small but smart as a whip. He's just a little frustrated from getting whupped by his brothers and sisters every time he turns around.”

Dodie put a hand on her mouth, then reached up and smoothed the hair away from her face.

“You tell Whit he can send that pup out here, if he'd like,” Dodie said. “I can sort him out.”

“I think he'll be awful relieved to have someone help him out with the little guy,” Clay told her. He glanced at me and Quin, and winked.