The Good Dog (2 page)

Too annoyed to respond, McKinley watched them go. His ears had pricked up at the word
Duchess.
Because the setter had a reputation for tracking skills, and since the people were looking at the paper—had even used the word
track
—McKinley tried to make sense of what he'd heard. He decided that the Sullivans were going to use Redburn to find Duchess. It figured. Sometimes, McKinley thought, it seemed Redburn acted as if he would have preferred being a human.

McKinley stood stiff-legged, shifted his ears forward, and lowered his tail. He was thinking a thought that often came to him: Why did humans think they owned their dogs when dogs only rarely thought they owned people? Sure, dogs and people lived together. The way McKinley saw it, they needed each other. But no dog should have to live with a human who treated her the way Pycraft did. Tied up in a yard. Forced to sleep in a doghouse
made of hard, airless stuff. As far as McKinley was concerned, Duchess had every right to run off.

He was still gazing after the Sullivans and thinking hard when he heard a bark. He looked around. From out of the bushes peered Tubbs, a basset hound who lived at the corner of McKinley's way. With his big muzzle, deep-set eyes, long, droopy ears, and stubby legs, no one—neither dogs nor humans—took Tubbs very seriously.

He looked up and down the way. “Redburn gone?” Growling, McKinley nodded toward the paper.

Tubbs looked up. “You know me, McKinley, all nose, no eyes. Anything important?”

McKinley made a low grunt. “Duchess has taken off.”

“Again?”

“Only this time I'm pretty sure Pycraft wants to track her down. And I think the Pine Smell Way Sullivans are getting Redburn to do it.”

“Redburn! Oh, wow! That dog has a great nose. I mean, he and Sullivan go hunting all the time. What are you going to do about it?”

“Not sure. Guess I better let Duchess know.” “How do you do that?”

“Go up to Strawberry Park. Last time she hid out in the boulders.”

“Wish her luck from me.”

Tubbs—long tail wagging—waddled away.

McKinley knew why Tubbs assumed he should be the one to help Duchess. The Steamboat pack expected him to take charge of problems. He either provided successful leadership and protected their freedoms, or he would not be head dog for long.

McKinley turned, lifted a leg, and peed on the pole to inform the other dogs he had seen the paper about Duchess. If they didn't know he knew, they'd be coming by at all hours to bring him the news.

That done, McKinley headed downtown. Along Most Cars Way he came upon several dogs visiting the crowded food places. They met, sniffed each other, frolicked some. There was the usual exchange of gossip: who chased who, what this or that human did, the trouble some dog got into.
But most of the conversations were about Duchess and how she had run off.

No one mentioned a wolf. Nor did McKinley. By the time he completed his rounds he was sure there was no wolf. Jack must have made a mistake.

McKinley glanced up. The dark sky told him he'd spent more time downtown than he had intended. He needed to make sure his pup was in his sleeping place.

Under his breath, McKinley allowed himself a growl. It was always hard to take care of the pack and his humans at the same time. Dealing with Duchess would have to wait.

•  •  •

After letting himself in at home, McKinley lapped up some water from his bowl, then trotted to Jack's room. The boy was in his sleeping place, a block of staring papers in his hand.

“Hey, McKinley,” Jack cried. “Where you been?”

McKinley wagged his tail and let himself be patted on the head.

Jack held up his staring papers. “Look at this book, boy. It's all about wolves.”

Sure enough, on one side of the papers was a picture of a wolf's head.

McKinley gazed at it and whimpered.

“Hey, don't you like wolves? They're your relatives.”

McKinley barked.

“Come on up here, boy,” Jack said, tapping his soft sleeping place. “I'll protect you.”

McKinley jumped up and lay down, head resting on the same lump of softness where his pup put his head.

Rolling over, Jack whispered into McKinley's ear: “Hey, McKinley, guess what? I'm thinking about finding that wolf.”

McKinley lifted his head. There it was again, the
wolf
word. He gazed into the pup's eyes.

“I mean, wouldn't it be cool to live with wolves for a while? Like in
Julie of the Wolves.
Or
The Jungle Books.
But, you know, not forever. Just awhile.”

McKinley wondered why the boy was talking
so much about wolves when there were none around.

“The only two problems,” Jack continued, “I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't let me. And I'd have to do it before snow sets in. So don't tell them what I'm thinking, okay?” He gave McKinley a kiss on the snout.

“Can I ask you something?” Jack asked suddenly.

McKinley stared into the pup's eyes.

“How come when you lick my face, you always lick my cheeks, not my nose?”

Not waiting for an answer, Jack flopped down on his back.

With a yawn that was half nervous, half sleepiness, McKinley settled again onto the soft white lump and shut his eyes.

“I'm serious about finding that wolf, McKinley,” Jack insisted as he reached up and clicked off the light. “I really am.”

McKinley, still wondering what the boy was talking about, drifted off to sleep.

N
ext morning, a well-fed McKinley waited until Jack biked to his regular meeting of human pups. Then he himself headed for Strawberry Park.

Two ways led to the valley. One of them McKinley knew as Horse Smell Way. The other was called Porcupine Way. Nestled between the two was the many-doored place where, on most days, human pups got together.

McKinley truly liked young humans, enjoyed playing and going on outings while taking care of them. Even so, he was glad that, as he passed by
this morning, the pups were in their special house. Duchess's hideaway needed to remain secret.

After trotting along for a while—staying to one side of Horse Smell Way to avoid cars—McKinley took a turn onto Cow Pen Way. It wound steeply up toward the high wilderness country—Buffalo Pass—a place he rarely visited.

But before going very far, McKinley turned onto Fox Haven Way, which was so muddy during the wet time after the snow that deep water ditches had been cut along the sides. McKinley stopped at the smallest house in the valley. Only during snow season did people come there. So the area around the cabin was almost entirely free of their smells. That was the reason local dogs used it to leave messages.

Behind the little house ran a creek. When hot weather came it was one of the best places to take a cooling swim after a ramble.

McKinley sniffed the trunk of a small aspen tree in front of the cabin. It grew where people stopped their cars. There he found exactly what
he'd hoped to find. Duchess had left her mark in the dirt nearby—recently.

Barking with satisfaction, McKinley put his nose to the ground and trotted across the way, leaped over a ditch, and passed on into a field. He was headed toward the foothills and the woods. Here, thick groves of pine, aspen, and scrub oak grew. The smell of damp earth, moldy leaves, and decaying berries filled the air. Even so, Duchess's scent was easy to follow.

McKinley was well into the hills when he stopped in his tracks. He sniffed deeply. An entirely new scent was mixed in with the one Duchess had left. Leaning forward, tail extended tensely, McKinley ransacked his memory of smells. Suddenly, he knew what he was smelling. A wolf. A female wolf. Jack
had
seen one!

McKinley pulled back his ears, wrinkled his nose, and hunched his trembling body lower to the ground. Heart thumping, he thrust his nose directly into the wolf's scent. The smell was somewhat older than Duchess's, which meant
the wolf had been here first. Perhaps she had gone on.

Tension easing, McKinley stood erect. The stiff black hairs along his back flattened. He lifted his tail. Once again he went forward but—this time—with caution.

Farther up into the hills—behind an open meadow of low grass—sat a circle of large boulders. During the summer, snakes sometimes gathered there. At first glance the boulders seemed wedged tightly together. But McKinley knew they concealed a cavelike chamber, a perfect den. To get in or out a dog needed only to crawl through a passage tunneled under one boulder. Duchess's trail led directly to that crevice.

Drawing closer, McKinley sniffed deeply. The wolf scent had intensified. Then he saw that the hole under the boulder had been enlarged to accommodate an animal bigger than Duchess. But though the wolf's smell certainly lingered, Duchess's scent was stronger. McKinley felt convinced that the wolf was no longer near.

Presenting himself in as friendly a way as possible, he lifted his rump, lowered his forepaws, raised his tail and, with his mouth open and tongue exposed, gave a friendly bark.

A short, sharp yelp came from among the boulders. The next moment Duchess popped out of the entry passage.

Smaller and thinner than McKinley, Duchess's strong, sleek greyhound body was covered with short fur. Her muzzle was long and narrow, her large eyes liquid. Small ears were constantly in motion as they responded warily to the slightest sounds.

As soon as Duchess crept from the hole, she took up the proper posture for greeting the head dog—ears back, tongue extended, one paw raised. She kept her tail low, wagging it slightly, averting her eyes.

McKinley, gazing down at Duchess, wagged his tail gently, and approached.

The two dogs touched noses, then sniffed each other's bodies to discover where they had been,
with whom they had visited. McKinley noted that the wolf's scent was strong on the greyhound, but decided to keep quiet about it. For now. “Are you all right?” he barked.

The greyhound did not look directly at McKinley. “Oh, yes, fine.”

“How long have you been up here?”

“A few days and nights.”

“What happened?”

Duchess sat and glanced shyly at him. “You know me, McKinley, I need to run. To get about. But my human doesn't want me hanging around other dogs. Thinks I'm too highbred. So he keeps me leashed up all day—all night, too—except when
he
wants to play.”

McKinley growled. “At night?”

“I'm afraid so. He stays up late watching his glow box. McKinley, I may not be the most social of dogs, but I do get lonely. And that doghouse is awful, made of foul-smelling, hard stuff. So I do what he wants. I play.”

McKinley barked to show his sympathy.

“The worst of it is, every once in a while Pycraft pulls me into his truck, goes somewhere new, and makes me race against other dogs.”

McKinley sighed.

“I'm fast,” Duchess whined. “I know that. Actually, I enjoy racing. Besides, it's my only real chance to be with other dogs. But when I lose . . .” She looked away.

McKinley felt a rumble of anger gathering in his throat. “What happens?”

“Pycraft yells at me. Calls me dumb. Or stupid. Says it in front of other dogs, too. McKinley, I try to win, I do. But, let's face it, if I'm leashed most of the time I can't stay in shape. So, I lose. A lot. Right after I lost the last one I took off. Pycraft was so mad, he forgot to leash me right or even shut the yard entryway. It was no big deal to slip out, and . . . well, here I am.”

“Not the first time.”

Duchess took on a guilty look. “I suppose I should have checked with you first, but you know how it gets with us dogs and people. They need us.
And Pycraft doesn't have many friends. I get to feeling sorry for him. But, McKinley, really, I'm done with him now.”

“I'm all for that,” McKinley barked promptly. “But you should know something. Pycraft has put your picture up all over town.”

The greyhound whimpered. “What do you mean?”

“I'm pretty sure he's trying to hunt you down.”

Duchess stretched out, resting her chin on her forepaws. “McKinley, I'm not worried about people. But . . .” She looked up. “You don't think any of our pack would come after me, do you?”

“Redburn might.”

Duchess came to her feet and barked.

“Don't worry. I'll assert my authority.”

“Redburn does anything his people ask him to do.”

“We'll see,” McKinley growled. “But don't forget, I'm head dog.”

The greyhound whimpered again. “Sorry for the trouble.”

McKinley looked around, then leaned over. “Listen, Duchess. I heard the man in my family say
there's already snow on the pass. Cold times are coming. Can you survive out here?”

She did not respond.

“Well?”

“McKinley . . . I have a new . . . friend.”

“Oh?”

“She's a . . . wolf. Her name is Lupin. It was she who found me. She's amazingly strong. Hate to tell you, but I've never met anyone—among us dogs—who is so powerful. But she's kind, McKinley. And smart. You can't believe all she knows.”

“Where's she coming from?”

“Up north, she told me. The Zirkel Wilderness. She's on a mission.”

McKinley tried to conceal his growing worry. “What kind of mission?” He was gazing right at the greyhound.

Duchess avoided his look. “Her wolf pack has become so small, it's in danger of disappearing. She's coming to meet our pack. Get us to join the wolves up there.”

McKinley growled.

“McKinley, Lupin says all dogs are descendants of wolves.”

“A long time ago, yes.”

“Lupin says it wasn't
that
long ago. Anyway, she believes that it's time we stopped living with people. Time to be independent again, to get back to the wild the way we once lived. That's what she said. And it's what I'm thinking of doing.”