The Good Dog (6 page)

“Morning, McKinley!”

He stood still while Tubbs trotted over. “Hey, McKinley, guess what?”

“What?”

“There's this rumor going around town about a wolf coming down from the hills.”

McKinley gazed at him. “No kidding?”

“It's true. Ollie, from over on Garlic Smell Way, told me.”

“Did Ollie see the wolf himself?”

“No.”

“Hey, Tubbs, don't believe everything you hear.” With one wag of his tail, McKinley hurried away.

The rumor worried him. News about Lupin would move fast. By dinnertime the whole dog pack would know about her. And they would turn to him to know what to do.

But McKinley had no answers. Not about anything.

He reached Redburn's house the moment the front door opened and the setter loped into the yard. The male Sullivan followed. They were heading for a truck.

Seeing McKinley, Redburn lifted a bristling tail and barked vigorously.

McKinley ignored him, but he was thinking.
Redburn could not track Duchess from a truck. He would have to start from Pycraft's house. Yes, that was where they were probably going.

With an impulsive, angry bark, McKinley wheeled about and galloped away toward Horse Smell Way. This was no time for questions that had no answers. The best, and easiest, thing to do was to get to Duchess first and help her get away.

L
ong and looping, Horse Smell Way led over a high ridge, sweeping in and around a part of town crowded with new houses. Usually the way provided a fine view of the mountains but the morning's fog made it hard to see.

Moving at a steady trot, McKinley kept to the side of the way, not wanting to be surprised by car, bicycle, or human runner.

As he crested the top of the ridge, he heard barking. Pausing, he peered into the fog and sniffed. It was Nemo, a wiry spaniel whose house stood some distance from the others'. Nemo's
humans did not like him playing with the rest of the pack.

Nemo stood in the middle of the way, holding to a respectful stance. McKinley, as head dog, paused, allowing himself to be sniffed.

“How come you're up here?” Nemo wanted to know once formal greetings were complete.

“Heading for Strawberry Park.”

Nemo's ears pricked up with interest. “Hey, do you want some company?” He stole an anxious look at his own house. “It's early,” Nemo whined. “My humans sleep late. I bet I could get away.”

“Thanks, no.”

“Hey,” Nemo yapped, “I heard some gossip that there's a wolf up there. Is that what you're doing, looking for him?”

“I don't think so.” McKinley set off without glancing back.

Nemo scampered after him. “Hey, McKinley, I think I know where an old fox—”

McKinley stopped abruptly, turned, planted his feet, wrinkled his nose, and growled.

Nemo skidded to a halt. He dropped his tail between his legs and sighed. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be pushy. . . .” He slunk away.

McKinley trotted on, mouth open, ears forward. But he was worried. If a dog like Nemo knew about Lupin, the rest of the pack dogs must know. Had they heard about the wolf's challenge? No, he thought, only Aspen knows.

As McKinley came off the ridge, the fog thinned enough so that he could see down the hill to the pups' gathering place. They were arriving in bunches by car and bicycle. Dogs played around them. A lot of the young humans were running about, tossing pointed balls.

McKinley hated those balls. No matter how much he stretched his mouth, they were impossible to grip. A
baseball
—one of Jack's favorite words—was so much more fun to play with.

“Kids!” a voice called from below. “Almost time for school. Start putting games away.”

Just then McKinley saw Jack—on his bicycle—race into the car place. Within seconds the pup
was surrounded by others his size. McKinley wondered if he was telling them about the wolf.

The next moment he saw Jack chasing after another pup with a pointed ball, leap at him, and knock him down. He's good at that, McKinley thought.

As he kept on, a couple of dogs looked up at him. One—his name was Montana—barked a greeting. Then another—Lily—spied him, too, and began to yap. “Hey, McKinley, is it true about the wolf?”

McKinley could not stop. Duchess needed him.

He soon reached the small house in Strawberry Park. It appeared as abandoned as ever.

McKinley checked the aspen tree in front of the house to see if there were any new messages. All he found was Duchess's scent. He left a mark just in case anyone was looking for him.

Nervous now, McKinley gazed at the woods beyond the field. With the white fog seeping through them, the pines and aspen groves seemed to be drifting. He scratched himself behind one ear. He was stalling and he knew it.

McKinley lifted his head and sniffed the air. A slight breeze rippled in from the north but bore no hint of either Duchess or Lupin. Perhaps they were gone. That would be good. He could easily take care of Redburn.

He sniffed again. The weather was changing.

McKinley was still pondering what to do when he caught the sound of human voices. People were coming down Fox Haven Way. Though he could neither smell nor see who it was, every instinct told him it was Sullivan and Redburn. And Pycraft. There was little choice: He had to act as if Duchess was still up in the boulders.

Repressing a bark, he bounded across the way that ran before the little house, sprinted over the field, and plunged up into the woods. As soon as he was under cover he halted and looked back. Sure enough, Redburn, his nose down, tail wagging, was sniffing his way toward the house. Sullivan was right there with him. Walking a short way behind was Pycraft, his rifle in his hands. It was as long and thin as he was short and fat.

Seeing the gun, McKinley wrinkled his nose and growled with anger. Were they going to shoot Duchess?

As the humans talked, McKinley kept his eyes on Redburn. It took only seconds before the setter discovered McKinley's fresh mark.

Redburn looked across the field to the woods and began to bark.

Sullivan turned. “What's the matter, fella?” McKinley heard him say. “Smell something?”

Redburn yelped a few times, informing him about McKinley. Sullivan, not understanding, patted the dog on the head, then beckoned Pycraft over. Pycraft pulled something out of a jacket pocket. McKinley recognized it as the leash that had been thrown at him. The man shoved it into Redburn's face so the setter could smell Duchess's scent.

Sullivan cried loudly, “Okay, Redburn, you got us this far. Now find Duchess. Come on, fella! Find her!”

Redburn, whimpering, swung around to face the woods.

McKinley could almost see the glint in his eyes but he could not know his thoughts: Redburn had his master's commands—telling him to go forward after Duchess—ringing in his ears. He also knew that McKinley was in the woods, waiting for him. The question was, what would Redburn do?

“C
ome on, Redburn,” Sullivan insisted. “Go find Duchess! Do it for me, boy.”

As McKinley looked on, Redburn lowered his tail and began to bark loudly. “Keep out of my way, McKinley!”

“Shut that fool dog up!” Pycraft snapped. “If Duchess is out there, she'll get scared away.”

Sullivan, frowning, stepped forward and patted Redburn on the head again. “Easy, boy,” he said. “Just do your thing, big fella. Find Duchess. You'll get a special treat when you do. Get back on the trail now.”

Redburn licked the man's hands. Then he raised his tail and allowed himself a low growl. “McKinley, I know you're out there.”

“Maybe my gun is scaring him,” Pycraft said. “But like I warned you, there might be snakes up in those woods. I don't want to mess with them. Give me the willies.”

“Don't worry,” Sullivan assured him. “Seeing the gun lets him know we're on a hunt. That's the way I trained him.”

“He's sure looking skittish,” Pycraft said.

McKinley, observing the whole scene, felt disgust.

“Give me the gun,” Sullivan said. Pycraft handed it over. “Come on, fella,” Sullivan urged, waving the gun in front of the setter's face. “Hunting time.”

With a snort, Redburn crossed the way, then pranced nervously into the field.

“That-a-boy,” Sullivan said.

McKinley, looking on, realized suddenly that Redburn was following
his
scent. Well, then, he would lead Redburn in the wrong direction, leaving
a trail that would lure the setter and the humans away from the boulders—and away from Duchess.

Not caring if he made any noise, McKinley plunged through the woods. As he went, he brushed up against trees and bushes so his trail would be strong. He was so sure about his trick, he did not even look back.

He soon reached a place where the foliage was as thick as a wall. And the fog was dense again, too, blanketing all smells.

Panting, McKinley paused, looked back, and listened intently. He could see nothing of Redburn. Nor could he hear anything from the humans.

Puzzled by the silence, McKinley edged back the way he had come. Every few steps he halted, lifting his head to listen and sniff.

Only when he had retraced half of his own trail did he hear sounds. Voices. But they were moving
away.

It was then that McKinley knew it was he who had been fooled. Redburn and the humans were
not following his scent, but the one Duchess had left. And they were heading straight for the boulders.

Furious with himself, McKinley charged back, crashing through the woods, thinking he would head them off. He was going so fast, he tripped. Tumbling head over heels, he crashed into a stump. Stunned, he stood up on wobbly legs, shook his head clear, and looked around.

He had come to an area of dense woods. The thick foggy air almost dripped. He listened hard.

“The dog must be in there,” he heard Sullivan say.

It was only a whisper, but enough to make McKinley realize he'd come down too far. Heart thumping, he crept back through the thick foliage. Gradually, he began to pick up the scent. The two men, as well as Redburn, were between him and the boulders.

McKinley decided to hold back, then startle them so Duchess could escape. For the greatest surprise he would come at them from behind.

He lifted his nose to catch the direction of the wind. Not that the humans could detect his approach, but Redburn would. Being downwind
of the setter would help conceal him. Crawling, McKinley stole forward.

“Bet you anything Duchess is right in among those boulders,” Pycraft said. “Come on, Duchess, you stupid dog. Get on out. You hear me?”

Drawing closer, McKinley sighted the boulders. Pycraft was standing on one side of the open space, Duchess's leash in hand. Sullivan was on the other side, holding the long gun. Between the two was Redburn. The setter had his tail stuck straight behind him, one paw lifted, head extended forward. He was pointing right at the boulders.

“Keep the rifle handy,” Pycraft warned. “Remember what I told you about snakes. If they're going to be anywhere, it'll be by those rocks.”

“Don't worry,” Sullivan said. “I'm ready.”

“Come on, Duchess,” Pycraft crooned.

To McKinley it was a sickening sound.

“Time to get on home, baby. Got some good food for you, girl.” Pycraft stretched his other hand out. There was a dog biscuit in it.

McKinley, watching intently, was not sure when
to rush forward. Perhaps Duchess would not stir and there would be no need. Surely the greyhound knew that the men were there, and that they could not go in after her.

Suddenly Redburn cringed, lowered himself, and let out a high-pitched whine. He looked around at Sullivan.

“What's the matter with him?” Pycraft cried.

“I don't know.”

McKinley knew immediately. The dog must have detected Lupin's presence. But was it just the wolf's scent, or was she actually close?

Pycraft was edging forward. “I know you're in there, Duchess sweetie,” he coaxed. “Come on, baby. Come to Papa.”

Duchess poked her face out of the entry hole. Her big eyes shifted from Pycraft to Redburn, then to Sullivan. When she saw the long gun, she cowered and whimpered.

Pycraft moved closer. Squatting, he stretched out the hand holding the biscuit. He kept the leash in his other hand, behind his back.

McKinley was sure Duchess would know about the leash. Why was she still moving forward?

“Here you go, girl,” Pycraft coaxed, showing the biscuit. “You got to be hungry. I know you are. Here. It's your favorite kind. Bacon flavored.”

Duchess, you fool! McKinley worried. What are you doing? Get back into the boulders!

But Duchess, tail tucked low, continued to slink from her hiding place. Now she was in the open. McKinley heard her whimper, and saw her look anxiously at Sullivan.

“That-a-girl,” Pycraft kept saying. He dropped the leash to the ground and reached out toward his dog. Duchess, her body low, crept toward him.

Redburn, meanwhile, was edging away. One paw was partly raised, his tongue was out, his tail down but wagging slightly.

Sullivan turned to his dog. “What's the matter, big boy?” he demanded. “You did your job. What's getting at you?”

McKinley was now sure that Lupin was nearby and drawing closer. But from what direction?

Pycraft was just about to grab Duchess when a gray blur exploded from the boulder entryway. The instant the wolf hit the ground, she rushed at Pycraft. The human went sprawling onto his back, arms spread wide.

Lupin, mouth wide, teeth exposed, straddled him, snarling. “Leave Duchess alone!” she barked.

An astonished McKinley just stared.

“Help! Help!” Pycraft screamed. “Get him off of me!”

Redburn, far from helping, skittered away, tail tucked between his legs.