No Small Thing (19 page)

Smokey and I cut down through the park and back out the other side. We keep going full out until we reach the woods on the far end of town. I think I’m pretty safe here, so I slow Smokey to a walk. We move along the path through the trees, Smokey snorting and tossing his head. The sunlight glitters through the branches and leaves. The woods are quiet, save for the sounds of a few birds.

As we walk along, I start thinking. I’m not sure how smart it was to just take off, but I don’t care. I feel kind of bad for leaving Queenie and Cid like that, but there was no time to hang around and explain myself. I didn’t even know what I was going to do until I did it. Now I have to think of a plan.

Smokey grunts and snorts again contentedly. He’s happy to be walking in the woods on such a nice day. I pat his neck firmly. His coat is wet and foaming from the run. “You’re a good boy, Smokey.”

I think about how furious Ted Henry’s going tobe when he finds out. Serves him right. It’s his fault this whole thing happened anyway. If he were a better person, the barn never would have caught fire in the first place. I bet he’ll call the cops on me, though. This gets me worrying. Can they charge someone for deciding not to sell something? I didn’t sign any papers. Still, if someone can think of a way to get somebody, it’s Ted.

Smokey and I walk until the woods open out into a wide meadow. The sun is warm and inviting. I dismount and tie the reins to a low branch on a nearby tree, then stretch out on the grass to think. I lie like this and let my mind wander. Maybe it’s the seriousness of the situation, or the warmth of the sun on my face, but I can’t seem to form a plan. Images run through my head of Ted calling the cops, Ma crying, the cops coming to get me, and me growing a beard and living off the land. After several hours of this, I start to feel hungry. Smokey is grazing lazily on the grass at his feet, completely unaware that we are fugitives. He looks magical in the sunlight, like a pony from a fairy tale. I feel scared and unsure of what to do next, but decide that no matter what happens, I’m glad I ran away. A pony like Smokey is worth fighting for—even if we did get him for free. A pony like Smokey is no small thing.

I don’t have any food or money with me, so I lean against a boulder in the grass until the sun creeps down from the sky and the meadow turns from green to gold and then grey. The air has grown colder and my hunger pains are getting worse. I’m thirsty too. I bet Smokey is even thirstier than I am. I decide to wait until it’s dark enough to safely venture out of the woods, then take my chances and ride Smokey home, get some money, a few blankets and some warmer clothes, and take off again—to where, I don’t know. I’m hoping an idea will pop into my head along the way.

We pick our way through the forest. The trees are dark and mean-looking in the night. They seem to lean towards us as we move along the path. The branches creak like old coffin lids and the leaves whisper like voices all around us. And there are other strange noises that I can’t make out, coming from deep in the woods. I think I hear an owl hoot somewhere in the distance. Scenes from
Night of the Living Dead
keep flashing through my head. Smokey must be scared too, because he’s walking quickly, his ears all pricked up and his eyes wide and searching. I grab a handful of mane, just in case. I hum a tuneless song softly to myself, to take my mind off the situation.

At last we hit the street. I look up and down the road, although I don’t know what I’m expecting to see. In any case, it’s all clear. I cluck my tongue, urging Smokey on. That’s when I notice a police cruiser driving slowly up the hill. I kick Smokey and trot across the road, then duck behind a group of bushes. The cruiser glides past, so close I can see the officer’s face illuminated by the dashboard lights. I don’t know if Ted called the cops, but I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry. Smokey stamps impatiently. I hold the reins in a bit tighter.

When the cruiser is out of sight, we move back onto the street. It’s quiet and dark, so I kick Smokey into a canter. We reach the next intersection and run right into the cruiser, coming from the opposite direction. I rein Smokey around in an instant, but it’s too late. The cop spots me and gives a quick blast on his siren. So Ted Henry did call the cops! I cut across several lawns and into the backyard of a house. The siren wails and the lights flash as the cruiser streaks around the corner, trying to cut me off. Smokey weaves like a barrel pony, past an old swing set and a rusty barbecue, around a forgotten tricycle and over some garden hose. We burst through the bushes at the back of the house and crash onto the street, justahead of the cruiser. A branch catches my arm and rips my sleeve. I can hear tires on asphalt and I don’t even have to look back to know the cop is right behind me.

All I can think about is going home. I have to get home. I rein Smokey around and gallop straight into town. The siren grows fainter as we leave the cruiser behind, the cop struggling to turn the car around in the narrow street. Everyone stares open-mouthed as I gallop by—people in shops and in cars and strolling along the street. I nearly hit an old lady who steps out of a store to rubberneck. She dashes back inside as I blast past.

Someone shouts at me. The siren grows louder again as the cruiser speeds along the main street. Just ahead, a set of granite stairs yawns down to the town square. Smokey shies and tries to turn away, but I kick him on. We clatter down the stairs, Smokey’s hooves skidding as we hit the pavement at the bottom. The stairs throw the cop for a loop, and we manage to make it all the way to the park before he figures out where we’ve gone.

As we gallop towards the house I can feel the cruiser getting closer. My mind races. What are we going to do when we get caught? I imagine myself in jail and Ma crying. I can see the house.

The lights are all blazing. We tear up the walk and right to the front steps. I jump from Smokey just as the cruiser screeches up to the house, lights throbbing angrily.

“Joy ride’s over, son!”

I freeze, standing at the top of the stairs, reins in one hand, the cruiser lights reflecting like flames against the windows of the house. Some neighbours poke their nosy heads out to see what’s going on.

The cop gets out and walks towards me, hitching up his pants at the waist. “What were you running for, son?”

I shrug. Smokey snorts and shakes his head.

“Am I in trouble?”

“You had your mother pretty scared.”

Just then, Cid and Queenie burst through the front door. “Nat!” They stare at the cop in amazement.

“Are they going to arrest you?” Queenie asks.

The cop clicks his pen and makes a note in a small book that he pulls from his pocket.

Then Queenie and Cid both start talking at once.

“Where were you?”

“We thought you ran away for good!”

“We were worried sick. Ma called the police and everything.”

“You should have seen how shocked that man and his boy were when you took off on Smokey!”

“Everything’s okay now, Nat,” Queenie says. “Ma said we can keep Smokey. We can use the money from the house!”

Then Ma rushes out the door. She looks as though she’s been crying for hours. To my surprise, she doesn’t yell, but throws her arms around me, kissing my head and face all over.

“Is this your son, ma’am?” the officer asks.

Ma just stands there, holding me so close I can feel her heart beating in her chest. “Yes, yes, it is.”

The officer writes a few more notes, then radioes someone at dispatch. He turns back to me. “You should tell people where you’re going next time, you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble.

And then the cop gets in the cruiser, turns off the lights and drives off. He doesn’t even hang around to grill me or anything. I guess that’s the advantage of living in a small town. People know when to leave well enough alone.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Nat?” Ma finally says when the cruiser is out of sight. “Why didn’t you let me know what was going on?”

I can feel a big lump forming in my throat. My head is dizzy and light from lack of food and fromriding so hard. “I promised not to worry you about things, Ma.”

Ma holds me even tighter. Her body shudders against mine as she cries.

I hold her for the longest time. I don’t care who sees us. “Is it true about Smokey, Ma?” I ask at last. “Can we keep him?”

Ma nods and sniffles. She forces a smile. “Come inside, Nat,” she says.

Ma runs me a hot bath and makes me a cup of tea, while Cid and Queenie tend to Smokey. They clear out the shed in the backyard to keep him there for the night, just like Queenie had wanted to do from the very beginning. As the hot water pours into the tub, Ma tells me how we can afford to keep Smokey with the money we’ll have once we sell the house. She says we’ll find some place really nice to keep him. She tells me not to worry about Ted Henry, or the man and his boy who came to buy the pony. She tells me she took care of it and that none of it matters anyway.

When Ma’s finished explaining things, I go into the bathroom and close the door. I strip off my dirty clothes and lower myself by inches into the steaming bath. The hot water soothes my tired bones, and despite how hungry I am, I drift off, my mug of tea growing cold on the edge of the tub. The sound of Queenie and Cid fussing around in the backyard filters in through the steam. I can hear Ma too, the faint clatter of pots being washed in the kitchen. I let myself relax completely and my mind starts to wander.

I think about the future and what life holds for us. I think about selling the house and where that’ll take us. I think about Ma and Queenie and Cid, and all the things we’ve been through together, and how I never could have survived any of it alone. I think about Dad and how he’s a part of me, whether I like it or not, and Cheryl and Tyler and how I’ll never be like either of them.

And then I think way into the future, beyond heartache and the lack of choices. I imagine a place where life is better for us. A place where Queenie won’t have to escape inside her dance. A place where Cid isn’t angry any more, and where Ma is happy and secure. And then I go beyond even that, to the whole great world of things, the stars up in the heavens, and the moon too, its frozen face pale and gaping. I imagine the planets moving silently in their orbits, and the earth tilting on its axis in the inky black of space. And then

I imagine Smokey, at the centre of it all, cantering in smooth, hypnotic circles, his mane and tail streaming, his hooves thundering tirelessly against the grass.