McKinley noticed. “When we leave, you can close the door, mostly. Just make sure you keep it open a crack. That way—if you have to—you can always get out.”
Lupin growled, “Where am I to sleep?”
“Most comfortable place in the world. Follow me.”
McKinley led the way into the far room.
“What’s that?”
“A soft sleeping place,” Aspen barked. She jumped on it and began to pummel the thick covering with her paws. “Try it. It’s really nice.”
“I don’t need niceness,” Lupin grunted.
McKinley was beginning to feel weary. “Lupin, you can sleep anywhere you want.”
“What about food?” the wolf wanted to know. “Water?”
McKinley left the others and checked the water room. The low bowl was full of water. He came back. “Plenty of water up front. And we’ll bring you food in the morning.”
Avoiding the soft sleeping place, a tense Lupin limped back into the room with the two doors. She sat awkwardly.
McKinley and Aspen started for the back door.
“McKinley! Aspen!” Lupin barked sharply.
The two dogs looked around.
The wolf had closed her eyes. “Have either of you ever lived in the forest?”
“No, neither of us.”
Lupin sighed. “Out there,” she growled softly, “in the wilderness, there are no walls. Overhead is the sun, or clouds, or the moon. At night there are as many stars in the sky as there are stones on earth. The moon glides between the trees before leaping up. Water runs free. Food is where you find it. What you eat you have earned because you have worked to catch it. You live in a river of many smells, smells that are constantly changing, that bring you news of the entire world. You are part of that world. Always.”
The wolf lay down, head resting on her forepaws. “But here . . .” she whimpered, “all is enclosed. Like . . . like an old nut in a hard shell.”
McKinley and Aspen remained still.
Lupin growled. “Why are you leaving me?”
It was Aspen who answered. “You couldn’t stay where you were. But you can’t come into town. And we need to be in our homes.”
“Why?” Lupin persisted.
McKinley whimpered. “The humans depend on us, too.”
Lupin shook her head, then closed her eyes.
After a moment Aspen and McKinley went toward the back door. “Remember,” McKinley warned, “don’t shut the door completely. Otherwise you won’t be able to get out.”
Lupin looked toward the front door. “That one is closed.”
Aspen shook her head. “You only need one way out.”
“Don’t worry,” McKinley added. “You’ll be perfectly safe.”
“McKinley! Aspen!”
They paused.
“If one of those people does come here,” Lupin growled, “I won’t go easy.”
“No one will come.”
Aspen followed McKinley out onto the wooden surface. Once beyond the door, they waited.
Behind them, the door shut with a click.
Aspen looked around. “What’s that click mean?”
McKinley sighed. “She shut the door too hard. It’s locked.”
“Don’t you think you should open it?”
McKinley thought a moment. “I can always use the window. Be better if she stays. She can’t survive on her own. Not yet.”
Aspen gazed at McKinley, who only turned from her, toward the stream. In silence, they waded back into it, then took the dirt way toward town.
• • •
They had not traveled far before Aspen stopped. “Now that Lupin’s safe, what do you intend to do?”
“Feed her until she’s strong enough to return home on her own. Can you get some food? I’m going to be in big trouble about that when I get home.”
“I can try.”
As they trotted down their way, Tubbs, tail wagging, waddled toward them. “Where have you two been?” he barked.
Weary, McKinley sat. “Taking care of business.”
Tubbs drew closer but suddenly halted. His tail drooped. His nose wrinkled. “What’s that smell?”
“The wolf.”
“Have . . . have you been with her?”
McKinley barked once.
“I sure hope she’s gone.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you remember? You asked me to go to the human’s gathering? Well, I did.”
“And . . . ?”
“At their big meeting place there were lots of people. Lots of excitement. A few dogs, too. Redburn was there.”
“Tubbs, just tell us what happened,” McKinley snapped.
“I am, McKinley. But, you know how it is: I had to put together the words I understood. I’m pretty sure, though, a bunch of people are going to hunt that wolf. I mean, I heard the word wolf lots of times. Same for hunt. A few of those humans even brought long guns to that meeting. So I think I got it right. And I’m pretty sure Redburn is supposed to lead them.”
McKinley and Aspen glanced at one another.
“When are they going?”
“I heard tomorrow. And morning, too. Did . . . did I do good, McKinley? Did I?”
“You did great, Tubbs. Thanks.”
McKinley turned to Aspen. “We better meet here tomorrow, early.”
“Oh!” Tubbs barked. “I forgot something.”
“What’s that?”
“I think Pycraft is in charge of the hunt.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“He was doing most of the word saying. He sounded really angry.”
McKinley sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to make sure nothing bad happens.” He turned toward his house. “See you in the morning.”
Both Aspen and Tubbs barked a good night.
McKinley opened the front door and trotted down the hallway toward the food place. Jack and his parents were sitting around their food platform.
McKinley, tail wagging, approached meekly.
“McKinley!” Jack cried. “Where you been, you bad dog. Stealing our dinner!”
All three humans looked at him severely.
“Now you know why it wasn’t so great teaching him to open doors,” Gil said to Jack.
“I didn’t!”
“Well, somebody did.”
McKinley felt obliged to hang his head and droop his tail.
“McKinley,” the female announced, “consider yourself in prison. Tomorrow, it’s indoors for you. All day. You’re grounded.”
Grounded. That, too, was a word McKinley knew and understood.
20
McKinley lay on the floor of Jack’s room, ears alert. Though he kept his head on his forelegs, his eyes were fixed upward on the pup.
The boy was in his soft sleeping place, a cloth over his body, head propped up by one hand. A light glowed over his head, and staring papers rested on his lump of softness. But the boy wasn’t staring at the papers. He was gazing back at McKinley.
“McKinley,” he scolded in a whisper, “why did you do that?”
McKinley, wanting to cheer the boy up, wagged his tail a few times.
“Do you know how much I love pot roast?” the boy complained. “Do you have any idea how unusual that is around here? Like, once a month? Like, once a year?”
McKinley sighed. He did not know what the boy was saying, but he knew a scolding when he heard it.
“And another thing, McKinley,” Jack went on. “People know about the wolf. Dad said it all has to do with that dog, Duchess. And that you were there when they found her and the wolf. Is that true? Why didn’t you take me? Now there’s this hunt on to get the wolf tomorrow morning. A lot of stupid people are going. Like that nasty Mr. Pycraft. You know what that means?”
McKinley studied Jack’s face, trying to make sense of the words he understood: Wolf Dad. Found. Hunt. Pycraft.
“If I don’t get to the wolf first,” the boy continued, “I’ll never be able
to go off with him. Those people will kill him. So guess what? I’m going tomorrow, really early. Before those hunters. See, if I can get to the wolf, I’ll warn him off, then follow him back to his pack. What do you think?”
McKinley had caught the words go, get, find, kill, follow, home. Was the boy going to look for Lupin the next day? Was that it? But why would he say kill?
Suddenly, Jack jumped out of his sleeping place, went to his clothing storage box, and slid the door open. McKinley could see that the backpack was stuffed. And attached to the top was the bundle Gil crawled into when he slept outside.
“See,” the boy said to McKinley. “I’m ready to go.”
Ready and go. Head cocked, McKinley looked from the backpack to the pup.
“Oh, McKinley, I wish you could understand me!” Jack cried. He pointed to his chest. “Me. I’m going to the wolf. Tomorrow.”
This was what McKinley had understood before. The pup was going to Lupin. But now he seemed to be going tomorrow. Did that mean Jack knew where the wolf was hiding?
Horrified, McKinley whimpered and put a paw on the boy’s arm to restrain him.
“I set my alarm for five o’clock,” Jack explained, squeezing the large paw affectionately. “But you can’t go. You’d probably scare that old wolf, anyway.”
The pup returned to his soft place, got under the cloth, and clicked the light off. “Wish me luck, buddy,” he whispered in the dark.
Wagging his tail, McKinley pushed his snout forward and gave Jack a lick on the face.
“No, McKinley, you can’t come with me,” the pup said. “You’re a bad dog.”
Backing away, McKinley headed out of the room. Why was he bad? And how would he be able to keep the boy from running off to Lupin?
He padded his way into the food place, where he lapped up some water from his bowl. A faint smell of meat clung to the floor. Feeling guilty, he gave the spots a couple of licks.
In the front room the male and female were watching the fluttering glow box, which as always gave off a faint smell of burning. Why humans stared at it so much was something McKinley never had understood.
He lay down at the woman’s feet, and rolled his eyes up at her. Why was she paying so little attention to her boy? How could he tell her what Jack was planning?
Sarah glanced down at him. “I hope you understand what you did, McKinley,” she said, sounding stern. “Though, I must admit, you are clever, putting the pot cover back on. I suppose you thought you could fool us. And you know what, McKinley? Keeping you in all day is going to be one big nuisance.”
The man, eyes fixed on the glow box, said, “Honey, McKinley doesn’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“Oh, probably more than we think,” she replied.
McKinley sat up and barked.
“See?” the female said with a laugh.
McKinley had an idea. If he could lead either the male or female to Jack’s clothing box, they might see the backpack and understand what their pup was about to do. Why couldn’t they be smarter? He took hold of Sarah’s clothing and gave it a tug.
“Scoot, McKinley,” she said, shaking her sleeve free. “I don’t want to play.”
McKinley trotted to the food place door and barked.
“McKinley!” Gil cried. “Be quiet. I’m trying to watch the news.”
Discouraged, McKinley came back into the room, lay down, closed his eyes, and sighed. There were times—and this was one of them—he wished the responsibility for the pup wasn’t just his.
Gradually another idea came. McKinley knew it meant trouble—but it should keep the boy from going and allow him to help Lupin. If that made him a bad dog, so be it. It had to be done.
• • •
When McKinley woke, the glow box was dark. The room was cooler, quiet. He lifted his head and listened. No one was moving about. He could hear the gentle breathing of sleep in the house.
He stood and stretched. In the food place he took a few nibbles of the dried biscuit bits left in his bowl, and followed that up with a lap of water.
Down the hall he saw only a faint light by the door to Jack’s water room.
Trotting over to his sleeping place, McKinley rested his chin on the cloth covering. Yes, the pup was asleep.
Silently, McKinley went to the clothing box. With a forepaw, he slid the door open. The backpack lay on the floor. McKinley gripped one of the straps in his teeth and began to chew. The strap tasted awful, and it was tough, but soon he had bitten it into two pieces. He started working on another strap.
The pup stirred and suddenly sat up. “McKinley?” he called. “That you?”
McKinley got up and went to the sleeping place.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked in a sleepy voice.
McKinley licked the pup’s face.
“Good boy,” Jack murmured, and gave him a hug. Then he flopped down and fell asleep again.
McKinley went back to the backpack and continued his work.
As soon as the last strap was chewed, McKinley checked on the pup. Still sleeping.
Satisfied, McKinley quit the room and crept to the front door of the house. Standing on his hind legs, he gripped the doorknob in his mouth, twisted, and pulled. Then he slipped through the opening and stepped outside. The air was sharp and tangy. The sky held no moon. And snow was falling steadily.
21
McKinley wagged his tail with joy. The snow would cover all scents, making it hard for anyone to track Lupin.
Moving at a quick trot, he set off for Pine Smell Way and Redburn’s house. Once there he stopped, studying the place. All was dark.
Lifting his head, he let loose a long, drawn-out howl, proclaiming that this was his territory and that he, McKinley, was head dog. Within moments, from all over the neighborhood, there came a satisfying response of howls, barks, and yelps. He could be sure Redburn heard that, too.
Even so, McKinley kept his eyes on the Sullivans’ house. Within moments Redburn’s face appeared behind a window, fogging the glass with his breath.
Lifting his leg against the Sullivans’ gatepost, McKinley peed. No way that Redburn could miss this message.
As the snow continued to thicken, McKinley headed for Pycraft’s house. Duchess needed to know what had happened to Lupin.
• • •
McKinley peered through the fence into Pycraft’s yard. It appeared deserted, but there was enough light from the house for him to see the cable and leash system. The doghouse door was ajar, and the leash ran right into it. Duchess had to be there.
McKinley examined the fence. He blinked and cocked his head. The entry way was open. Drawing closer, he gave it a little shove. Though McKinley knew he could go on through, he held back. His ears flicked. He growled. Despite the snow, the whole area smelled of Pycraft. The stink made McKinley edgy.
He looked toward the house. Dimly, he could see the light of a flickering glow box. It meant nothing. Sometimes—McKinley didn’t understand why—people left the boxes glowing all the time.
Then, for a moment, he was sure he heard the sound of another dog behind him, in the dark somewhere. He thought of Redburn. The snow should hide me, he thought. But it can hide someone else, too. He swung around. The snow worked against him. He could see or smell nothing.
Yawning with nervousness, McKinley pawed the snow and allowed himself a high-pitched growl. He made up his mind to enter the yard.
Stepping with care over one of Duchess’s play sticks, McKinley trotted in, then stopped, ears up, listening. Nothing to alarm him.
He glanced back over his shoulder to make certain he could—if necessary—escape through the entryway.
When he reached the doghouse, he stuck his head past the door. The air inside was close and damp, but full of Duchess’s scent. He gave a quick, sharp bark.
“McKinley?” came the startled response. “That you?”
“It’s me, all right.” McKinley backed away from the door.
There was a clan
k as the leash banged the doghouse. Duchess crept out. “How did you get in here?” “The entry way was open.”
Duchess whimpered. “Be careful, McKinley. Pycraft may be careless, but he’s mean. And he’s around.”
“I can take care of myself,” McKinley growled.
“Why did you come?”
McKinley gazed into Duchess’s eyes. “I promised you I’d help Lupin, didn’t I? And I did. Aspen and I. But Lupin was wounded. We cleaned her wound and got her food. She’s doing fine, now.”
“Did she go back to the wilderness?”
McKinley shook his head. “She’s too weak to travel. We’ve got her hidden.”
“McKinley,” Duchess whined, “the humans are going to hunt for her this morning. Did you know that?”
“Yes. Who told you?”
“Redburn came around.”
McKinley snorted.
“He spoke to me through the back fence. Said he was the new head dog. That he beat you in a fair fight. Is that true?”
“No.”
“I’m really glad to hear that. Redburn was saying I should learn to make the best of my situation. That the humans were in charge of things. That it could be worse. But, McKinley, it’s Lupin I’m worried about. Can you stop the hunt?”
“I’m going to try. Now listen, we’ve got to hurry. Do you want your collar off?”
“Oh, McKinley, could you? It’s new.” Duchess nodded toward Pycraft’s house. “He bought it just yesterday.”
McKinley growled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Duchess lowered her head so he could get his teeth into the collar.
“McKinley . . . ,” Duchess said.
“What?”
“You’re a good dog. Thank you.” Shivering in the cold, snowy air, she held as still as she could.
McKinley kept chewing. “Almost . . . a little . . . more. There! Give a shake.”
Duchess shook her head. What remained of the collar fell away, dangling from the leash.
McKinley wagged his tail hard. “Come on,” he barked. “Let’s get out of here.” He turned and froze in his tracks.
At the fence, a human was watching. “What’s going on here?” came an angry voice.
“McKinley!” Duchess yelped. “It’s Pycraft.”