The Good Dog (13 page)

“Then we better start.”

Lupin, then Aspen, followed him upstream.

A
t the way, McKinley clambered out of the creek. A car came into view, its twin headlights glowing through the thick snow. It was heading for town.

He trotted back to the others. “Car,” he whimpered.

Lupin raised her head to watch. “What's that?”

“You'll see,” Aspen answered.

The three remained perfectly still as the car rolled by. The driver gave no indication he had noticed them.

Lupin trembled. “How does it move?”

Aspen shook her head. “I'm not sure.”

McKinley grunted. “Let's go.” He led them over
the way. Once on the far side he stepped back into the creek, which, on this side, had become clotted with snow. The only way to follow it was by its faint scent.

Nose down, McKinley guided the others across the field and up into the hills. Every few steps he paused, lifted his head and, ears pricked forward, listened intently. The weather, he knew, was dulling his hearing as well as his sense of smell. Though he strained for the slightest whiff of the humans or Redburn, he detected nothing. There was no choice but to keep moving.

After a few moments he stopped again and looked back. Lupin's limp was becoming more pronounced. Aspen was following right behind her. When Lupin moved, she moved. When she stopped, so did Aspen. McKinley, watching, saw his friend occasionally give Lupin a little nudge whenever she faltered.

They pushed on, traveling slowly but steadily. Suddenly, McKinley stopped. He lifted his nose and sniffed. A low growl rose in his chest.

Aspen drew close. “What is it?”

McKinley cocked his head and flicked his ears forward. “I'm not sure.”

Lupin snapped, “Humans?” Her eyes were half lidded with encrusted snow.

McKinley sighed. “I think so. They're off that way.” He pointed with his nose to show her. “If we keep following the creek, we'll be heading right toward them. We have to go a different way.”

“But if we leave the water,” Lupin whined, “won't it be easier for that dog to follow us?”

Aspen stepped forward. “Lupin, I think McKinley is saying we don't have a choice.”

McKinley shifted uneasily. “The snow will help hide us.” For the first time, he heard Lupin whimper. He tried to ignore it. “There's a ridge in front of us. Along the top is a line of sticks stuck in the ground. I've been with my pup lots of times when we've come upon them. He told me there was no hunting beyond those markers.”

“Who's your pup?” Lupin growled.

“My young human. The one with me the first time we met.”

“I met him before I met you. He was full of fear.”

“Lupin,” McKinley snapped, “that boy wants to join your pack. I think he wants to be a wolf.”

Lupin gazed into McKinley's eyes. “I don't understand your world.”

“It
is
hard to understand.”

The wolf made no further sound.

Aspen gave her a gentle nudge. “Please. Let's go.”

Snowdrifts had formed. McKinley broke through them with his broad chest to make passage easier for the others.

They soon reached a clump of trees at the edge of a rise. Here the snow was less deep. But there were more bushes. McKinley had to slow their pace.

Suddenly he caught a scent and stopped. Even as he did, barking erupted from beyond the bushes. A call to attention.

“It's Redburn,” McKinley snarled. “He's not far away. Sounds like he's caught a whiff of us.”

Lupin panted, “Where are the people?”

McKinley took a deep sniff, turning his head. “They're spread out from there to there on either side of Redburn. Like a thin moon coming toward us.” Then, with a growl, he snapped, “I can smell guns. Come on.”

Though still heading uphill, he set off in a different direction.

Lupin groaned at the faster pace. “McKinley!”

“What?”

“I can't go so fast.”

“You have to.”

Aspen drew closer to the wolf. “I'll help.” She pushed at Lupin from the rear.

They continued on for a few paces.

Lupin stopped. “No more,” she whimpered in pain. “I'd rather stand and fight.” The caked snow on her wound had turned pink.

McKinley gazed at her for a moment. Then he looked at Aspen. “Take the lead. I'll guard the rear. Whatever happens, don't worry about me. Keep heading uphill. Don't stop until you reach a marker.”

“I'm not afraid to fight them,” Lupin snarled angrily.

McKinley drew so close, the wolf's breath mingled with his. “Lupin, if you fight, you'll lose. I won't let them kill you.”

“Why should you care?”

“We need you.”

Lupin shook her head, tossing the snow away from her eyes and staring hard at McKinley. “Need me? What for?”

McKinley turned away from the wolf's gaze. He became aware of his own beating heart, and the gentle but unceasing sound of the falling snow all around him. The snow was so light—like summer dust—but branches bowed under its weight.

Lupin shifted her body nervously. “Answer my question!”

McKinley faced the wolf. “Lupin, you remind me of what we dogs once were. What I could be.”

He heard Aspen gasp.

“Does that mean you might still join us?” Lupin snapped.

McKinley, not answering, turned away.

Lupin gazed at McKinley for a long moment. Then she faced the hunters. “How close are they?” she asked.

McKinley turned back. “Not far.”

For a moment the wolf held still. Then she sighed. “Very well. I'll try to escape.”

Aspen trotted forward. As she passed McKinley, she paused to touch his nose with hers. Then she opened her mouth wide and gently nipped his muzzle. He gave her a lick across her nose. Eyes averted, he moved toward the rear, pausing when he drew even with Lupin.

“Aspen will get you there,” he panted into the wolf's ear. “Don't give up.”

Her face shrouded again by snow, Lupin turned sad eyes on him. Slowly, she bowed her head. “McKinley,” she whimpered, “you are a true head dog. I, who am a free wolf, honor you.”

McKinley shook his head with impatience. “Let's see what happens.”

Aspen nudged the wolf. “We need to go.”

As they moved off—at a slower pace now—McKinley let himself trail farther and farther behind. It was not long before the falling snow seemed to swallow them whole.

Once the two were out of sight, McKinley halted. Lupin and Aspen would have to make their own way.

For a moment he closed his eyes. To whom, he asked himself, did he owe his loyalty? To the dog pack, to his humans, to wolves, or . . . to himself?

He turned and looked toward Redburn and the humans—with their guns. As he stood there, McKinley wondered how much—in the snow—he might look like a wolf.

F
rom somewhere in the snowy deep came the sound of twigs crackling.

Then barking erupted. McKinley cocked his head. He knew it was Redburn, gloating.

Oaf, McKinley thought.

The barking came again.

McKinley's senses told him that the setter was farther up the hill. He lifted his nose to catch the drift of the air, determining quickly that he was almost downwind of him. Shifting so that the airflow came directly his way, he inhaled deeply. The hunting party was drawing closer.

Redburn barked again.

McKinley understood the barks as the sound of an excited, very confident dog.

He began to trot up the hill right toward the barks. Feeling sure of himself, he broke into a run. Faster and faster he went, his heart pounding in time with his thumping feet.

With his head well-forward, tail stuck straight out behind him, McKinley lengthened his strides more and more. No longer did he care how much noise he made. Instead, he smashed through bushes and breasted through snowdrifts. Never had he felt so strong.

Redburn was baying with triumph, high-stepping grandly through the snow, head erect, nose up, when McKinley spotted him.

When McKinley drew near enough, he launched himself into the air, forelegs extended. Before the setter knew he was even being attacked, McKinley hit him broadside.

Taken completely by surprise, Redburn went tumbling. With a yelp of shock and fright, he struggled to get back on his legs.

McKinley, landing on the setter's far side, spun about, then flung himself at the dog again. Once more the setter fell, once more he went wallowing desperately in the snow.

McKinley leaped yet again, landing with his four feet on top of Redburn. Bending down, he nipped the setter's neck with enough force to make the dog cry out.

“Pet! Dogcatcher!” McKinley snarled. “Catch me if you can!”

The next instant he broke away, charging uphill in a direction opposite from Aspen and Lupin's.

Behind him he heard Redburn howling with fury. The next moment he caught the panting, thudding sounds of the setter coming after him. It was exactly what he wanted.

Sure enough, the next moment he heard a shout, Sullivan's voice: “Redburn's got the wolf on the run! I see him! Follow him!”

Whooping with excitement, the humans began to run, too.

McKinley sprinted uphill. When he reached the
crest, he paused to listen. Redburn, barking madly, was pressing hard after him. The humans were racing right along.

I must confuse them, McKinley thought. If I can lead them back to where they started, the trail will be so muddled, Redburn will never be able to lead the humans to Lupin.

But where did they begin? McKinley asked himself. The next moment he was sure he knew: the boulders.

With a series of loud barks, he sped almost straight down the hill. Slipping and sliding, he made a terrible racket. He didn't care at all. The more noise he made, the more certain he was that he would be followed.

Sure enough, he heard Redburn coming after him, yapping at the top of his lungs. The excited humans shouted in pursuit.

McKinley plunged on.

Only when he saw the boulders did he slow down. Panting with exertion, tongue lolling, he skirted Duchess's hideaway and burst into the clearing.

There stood Pycraft, a long gun in his hands.

M
cKinley skidded to a stop. He and the human stared at each other.

His hair bristling, a low growl thundering in his chest, McKinley hunkered down. He curled his lips to reveal his teeth.

“You!” Pycraft yelled. “You're not a dog. You're a wolf!”

McKinley slowly rose and snarling, began to move toward the man.

“Back off!” Pycraft yelled. “Attack me, and I'll shoot. Do you hear me, you fool animal! I mean it. I'm warning you, I'll show you who's
in charge.” He aimed his long gun right at McKinley.

McKinley saw the man's hand tighten.

It was then, from behind the boulders, that Jack appeared. Screaming, he dove for Pycraft's legs, tumbling him.

Thrown off balance, the man jerked his gun upward and fired. The shot whipped over McKinley's head.

As Jack worked to free himself, McKinley leaped at Pycraft, his forepaws hard on the man's chest. The gun flew beyond reach.

“Help! Help!” Pycraft cried. “I'm being attacked by the wolf!”

As the man tried to scramble away, McKinley snatched the gun out of the snow. Dragging it with his teeth, he tore down the hill. He heard his pup trying to follow.

“Hurry! Hurry!” Pycraft screamed. “The wolf's got my rifle.”

Halfway downhill, McKinley stopped and dropped the gun. Frantically, he dug a pit in
the snow, pushed the gun into it, then used his back legs to heap snow over it. By the time he was done, Jack had caught up with him.

“Are you all right, boy?” the pup asked breathlessly.

McKinley leaped with happiness at Jack, covering the pup's face with licks.

“McKinley,” Jack cried, laughing. “Stop! What are you doing? Come on, guy. Get off.”

McKinley stepped back.

“McKinley,” the boy said, a grin on his face, “first you get locked in Mr. Pycraft's doghouse. Then you're about to get yourself killed. How many times do I have to save you? I mean, what is going on?”

McKinley studied the pup's face, trying to understand his words.

“You think you're so smart. When you ran off with Aspen, I just followed your footprints. I figured you were getting involved in that wolf hunt. I mean, there were dog prints from that cabin right up to those boulders, so I knew exactly where you went. But when I got up here,
all I saw was Mr. Pycraft with his rifle. I figured he was waiting for the wolf. When he didn't see me, I hid. Good thing I did, boy, wasn't it? You know what? I think he thought
you
were the wolf. He was going to shoot you. What did you do with the gun?”

McKinley, hearing the word
gun,
scratched at the snow, until Jack saw the butt end.

“Oh man, McKinley,” he exclaimed, “you
are
so smart.” He shoved the snow back, then tramped it down. “Guess they won't find that sucker till next May.”

McKinley, suddenly remembering that Jack was supposed to be in his gathering place, took a few steps down the hill, looked around, barked, then whined impatiently.

Jack looked back up the hill. “Wait a minute. McKinley, were you helping the wolf get away? Is
that
what this is all about?”

The
wolf
word. McKinley cocked his head and gazed at the pup. Did Jack understand?

The boy threw himself down on his knees and
hugged the dog hard. “Man, McKinley, if you did, I'm so glad. I really am.”

McKinley, trying to get the boy to move, pranced off.

“Yeah, let's get out of here. You know, McKinley, for chewing my backpack and all, I really should be mad at you. But if you helped that wolf get away, I'll forgive you.”