Trapped! (14 page)

“If there’s any way I can help, I’ll be glad to do it,” she said. “That guy was a slime bag.” Realizing she was talking about a patient, Rosemary glanced quickly at Dr. Fleming.

Dr. Fleming only nodded his agreement, and picked up the next patient’s chart.

Officer Dingam called headquarters from his patrol car. “I’m leaving the hospital,” he told Sgt. Skyler. “The patient admitted he had the cat, although he claims he didn’t take it on purpose. He tried to shoot it, but somehow the cat managed to hit the trigger with his paw and the man got shot in the leg.”

He heard muffled laughter on the other end of the line. “If there’s nothing urgent for me,” he went on, “I’m going to have a chat with the cat’s owners. Bick Badgerton dropped the cat after it shot him, and the cat ran off into the woods. Since the family knows approximately where that happened, they might be able to go there and find their pet.”

Sgt. Skyler said, “Nothing much happening, for a change.” He gave Officer Dingam the Kendrills’ address. “Can you charge him with animal cruelty?”

“Not yet. Since the doctor was in the room when we
had the discussion, Badgerton claims he was talking to the doc and everything he said is confidential. That’s another reason I want to talk to the cat’s owners. If I can’t nail this guy on cruelty, maybe I can get him on theft.”

•  •  •

Mrs. Kendrill was home when Officer Dingam arrived. “My husband and my oldest son are up there now, looking for Pete,” she said, after he had told her about his conversation at the hospital.

“I knew it!” Benjie said. “I knew Pete would shoot the meanie Hogman!”

Officer Dingam had Benjie tell him about seeing Pete in the truck. Then Mrs. Kendrill told about hearing the gun go off, and seeing the man speed away. They also filled him in on the pig situation and explained that this was the reason they recognized the truck.

Officer Dingam said, “The pig puts a new slant on all of this. I can charge him with transporting an animal in an unsafe manner.”

After the police officer left, Mrs. Kendrill said, “Now that we know for sure that Pete is somewhere in the woods, we don’t need to stay here to answer the phone. Let’s go find Dad and Alex, and help them look for Pete.”

As Mrs. Kendrill and Benjie drove out of Valley View Estates, they saw someone running down the road toward them.

“It’s Alex!” Benjie cried.

Alex ran to the car. “Dad’s hurt!” he said. “He broke his leg!”

Mrs. Kendrill went home, called 911, gave directions, and said she would meet the ambulance at the scene.

Ten minutes later, she parked behind her husband’s car.

“He’s that way,” Alex said, pointing into the woods. “I’ll honk the horn, to let him know we’re here.” Alex hit the horn, dum-da-da-dum-dum, as he had before. He got matches out of the glove compartment and relit the kerosene lantern, which still sat on the car roof.

“Benjie, you stay in the car and wait for the medics,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Alex is going to take me to Dad. When the medics come, honk the horn, then show them which way to go.”

Benjie nodded.

Alex and his mother turned on their flashlights and started into the woods. Alex’s legs ached from all the running; it hurt to lift his feet up high enough to walk back into the undergrowth, but he knew his pain was nothing compared to his dad’s.

“Dad!” he called, over and over. “Where are you?”

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“Yes.” Alex thought he was headed in the right direction, but it was hard to be positive in the dark. “Dad!” he called again.

A faint glimmer of light appeared through the trees. “There!” Alex said. “That must be his flashlight!”

Alex and his mom walked faster; the light grew brighter.

“We’re coming, Dad!” Alex called. “We see your light!”

They found him on the ground, in exactly the same position he’d been in when Alex left. He smiled weakly. “Good job, son,” he said. “I knew you could do it.”

“The medics are on their way,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Benjie’s in the car, waiting for them.”

“I’ll go partway back,” Alex said, “so they can see my flashlight and get here quickly.”

He started toward the car and soon heard the horn and saw a flashing blue light. “This way!” he called, waving his flashlight back and forth. Two men carrying a stretcher and other supplies came toward him through the trees with Benjie trailing behind them. Alex led them to his dad.

While they checked Mr. Kendrill, Alex took off his jacket and placed it on the ground a short distance from where his dad was. “I’m leaving my jacket here,” he told Benjie. “Cats have a good sense of smell. If Pete comes this way, maybe he will recognize my scent and stay nearby.”

As his dad was safely loaded into the ambulance, Alex’s mother told the medics, “We’ll follow you to the hospital.”

“What about Pete?” Alex asked. “Maybe I should stay here and look some more.”

“I could stay, too,” Benjie said. “I can help find Pete.”

“Pete will have to wait until tomorrow,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “I don’t want you boys out here by yourselves at night, with no way to get home.”

Alex hated the thought of Pete spending the rest of the night lost in the woods, but he knew his mom was right. He was too tired to search properly, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to walk all the way back home again. He got into the car, followed by Benjie.

When they arrived at the hospital, Mr. Kendrill was taken to have his leg X-rayed while Mrs. Kendrill filled out the paperwork. Half an hour later, Rosemary met the whole family in an emergency-room cubicle and told them that Mr. Kendrill’s leg was definitely broken.

“How did it happen?” she asked.

“My son and I were out in the woods looking for our cat,” Mr. Kendrill said.

Before he could continue, Rosemary interrupted. “The cat that got kidnapped?” she asked.

“Yes,” Alex said. “How do you know about Pete?”

“I helped treat the man who accidentally got shot,” she said. “I’m the one who called the police.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Officer Dingam came to our house after he left the hospital.”

“He did?” Alex said.

“He’s looking for evidence to charge Hogman with stealing Pete,” Benjie said.

Dr. Fleming came then and explained that he would need to set the leg and put a cast on it. “We’ll keep you overnight,” he told Mr. Kendrill, “but you will probably be able to go home tomorrow. No walking in the woods for a while, though.”

“These are the cat owners,” Rosemary told him. “That’s why Mr. Kendrill was in the woods at night; he was looking for Pete.”

“I hope you find him,” Dr. Fleming said. “By the way, that splint made out of branches was a clever idea, and helped stabilize the leg while you were being transported.”

Alex smiled. It was good to know that one thing had gone right.

The smile didn’t last long. Talk of Pete made all of Alex’s fears rise up from the back of his mind, where he had pushed them while he ran for help. He was relieved that Dad was going to be okay, but by helping Dad he had abandoned the search for Pete. Now his imagination filled with all the potential tragedies that could befall a cat in the deep woods at night.

O
fficer Dingam and
Sgt. Skyler stared glumly into their coffee mugs. “I can’t arrest him for taking the cat,” Officer Dingam said, “or for trying to shoot it. There isn’t enough evidence to make a case.”

“What about the pig?”

“That case is dicey, too. If I pursue it and some hotshot attorney gets him off, Badgerton would get the pig back. Then those kids would have lost their cat and their pig. I’m not sure it’s worth taking the chance.”

“Where’s a bum like Badgerton going to come up with money for a hotshot attorney?”

“You never know. He might have a rich uncle.”

“Does he have a job? How does he support himself?”

“He wrote ‘self-employed farmer’ on the hospital information sheet, but that doesn’t mean anything. He put a fictitious name and address, too.”

“Sounds as if he has something to hide.”

“Yes. But what is it?”

•  •  •

I’m lost, Pete thought. He had made it down out of the tall tree, but now that he was on the ground, he had no idea which way he should go. He looked around. Every direction he looked, he saw nothing but trees.

Pete shivered but not from the cold. His beautiful brown-and-white fur coat kept him warm enough. He shivered at the idea that he might never find his way home. He might never see Alex again and eat kitty num-num and get a kitty massage. He might never get to catapult and caterwaul at the same time.

Pete sat at the base of the tree and tried to make a plan. He was a clever, courageous, and capable cat who had helped his family many times. Now he needed to figure out a way to help himself.

I would be able to think better if I wasn’t hungry, Pete decided. He sat as still as a stone, listening. Before long he heard a slight scurrying sound from under a nearby bush. Pete crept closer to the sound, his whiskers twitching as he smelled a mouse.

The sound stopped. Pete crouched beside the bush and waited, staring at the base of the bush. Soon the scurrying started again, and when a plump mouse poked its head out from under the bush, Pete pounced.

A few minutes later, as he washed his paws and whiskers, Pete wondered why the cat food companies only offered flavors such as “salmon” and “chicken.” Any cat could tell them “mouse” cat food would be an instant hit.

With his stomach pleasantly full, Pete decided on a plan. He would walk in one direction, stopping every few feet to scratch in the dirt or on a tree trunk. That way, if he didn’t come to the road, he would be able to retrace his steps by watching for his scratch marks. Then he would try going in a different direction.

Pleased with his cleverness, he decided not to put the plan in motion right away. He needed a nap first. Running away from a cat murderer was tiring. Pete curled into a tight ball at the base of the fir tree, and fell asleep.

A loud flapping sound woke him. Instinctively, Pete leaped away. A sharp pain speared his shoulder and he felt a breeze in his face. Pete was raised up off the ground, his legs dangling, as if he were flying.

An owl! A huge owl had one talon hooked in Pete’s shoulder and was lifting him upward. If he had not tried to jump aside when he woke up, the owl would have both talons embedded in Pete’s back. Pete let out a caterwaul so loud that it hurt his own ears. At the same time he twisted around, trying to get free.

The owl screeched. It flew higher, with Pete suspended from one of its talons.

Pete was heavier than the owl’s usual prey of field mice and voles; the owl struggled to fly high enough to clear the trees. As it came to a tall fir tree, Pete quit struggling and reached downward, grabbing a thick branch. He dug his
claws in, as the owl cried out. For a moment Pete thought he would have to let go of the branch or have a chunk of his shoulder torn out, but the owl loosened its grip and flew away, complaining loudly.

Pete clung to the branch, fearing that the owl would circle around and try again. If the big bird got him with both talons, Pete knew he’d never get away.

When the owl did not return, Pete tried to lick the wound on his shoulder, but, although he could twist his head far enough to smell his own blood, he couldn’t reach the injury with his tongue. I need to go home, Pete thought, and have my family take care of me. He moved slowly along the branch until he reached the trunk of the tree, then slid down.

When he reached the ground and tried to walk, he knew he was in big trouble. Each time he moved his right front foot, pain sliced through his shoulder. Every leaf or branch that grazed his back caused his wound to throb.

He couldn’t walk all the way home. He’d never make it. He would have to find a hiding place, a safe spot where an owl couldn’t swoop down on him. He would hide and wait for Alex to find him.

Keeping his eyes and ears alert for the owl or other predators, Pete limped toward where he thought the road was. He watched for a place to hide until morning, but found nothing. After a while, the shoulder pain settled into a steady
ache. Pete kept going. If I make it home, he promised himself, I will never, ever leave the house again.

“Who—who—who.”

Pete froze when he heard the owl’s call ahead of him. Soon he heard an answering call and then the sound of wings flapping as the closer owl flew away.

Pete altered his course, veering to his right, away from the direction the owl had gone.

Just when he thought he was too tired to lift his paws one more time, he smelled something familiar. Pete sniffed. His heart quickened as he recognized Alex’s scent. He wanted to call Alex’s name, but he was afraid of making any sound, for fear that the owl would hear him and attack again.

Instead, Pete walked toward the smell, hoping, hoping.

The scent grew stronger, but Pete heard no humans in the woods. Unlike cats, people make sounds when they walk, even when they’re trying to be quiet. Pete heard no leaves crunching, no twigs breaking, but he was certain he smelled Alex and soon he also smelled Mr. and Mrs. Kendrill and Benjie and other humans he didn’t recognize.

His family had been here, in the woods, and he had missed them. They probably came looking for me, he thought. He sniffed all around, wondering what had happened in this place, and who the other people were.

Then he spotted Alex’s jacket. Pete rubbed his face against it, inhaling the strong scent of Alex. This will be my
hiding place, he decided. I will be safe if I stay underneath Alex’s jacket.

He pawed at the jacket, which Alex had folded, until it made a heap on the ground. Then he put his head down, and crawled underneath it, making sure the jacket covered him completely. Satisfied that none of his fur showed, Pete lay on the ground beneath the jacket and fell asleep.