The Good Dog

  McKinley backed away.

  “Hey, don’t act so insulted, McKinley. It’ll be all right, I promise. I won’t stay with the wolf forever. Anyway, I told you, if you want, you can come with me.”

  Furious at the boy for even considering such a thing, McKinley turned his back on him and began to trot off.

  Jack leaped on his bike and began to pedal. “Hey, boy, don’t go so fast. I know you want to get home. But it’s too dark for me to see.”

  McKinley ran, forcing Jack to pump as hard as he could just to keep up.

  9

  When they reached home, Jack went right inside. McKinley hung back. He wanted to find Aspen and tell her everything that had happened.

  He trotted over to the bushes that separated the two houses and pushed his way through. When he came out on the other side, he barked once, twice.

  There was no response.

  Disappointed, McKinley retreated. Opening the door to Jack’s house by his usual method, he went inside. Sarah, the pup’s mother, was in the food place.

  “Hi, McKinley, old boy,” she said, greeting him warmly. “That was so clever, Jack teaching you to open doors.”

  McKinley paused to look at her. She was a tall human, always smelling of interesting food. “He’s in his room,” she said. “Our dinner will be ready soon. Better get him to feed you.”

  McKinley went to Jack’s room. The boy was propped up on his soft sleeping place, gazing again at a block of staring papers.

  “Look here,” Jack whispered to McKinley, pointing. “Exactly what that wolf was like.”

  Instead of looking, McKinley studied the boy. How was he going to keep the pup from running off?

  “McKinley,” the boy confided, “they’re so cool, aren’t they? Think you want to come with me?”

  Whimpering, McKinley let his tail droop.

  “That’s okay, pal,” Jack said. “I can go on my own.” He got up and slid open his clothing box door. On the floor was a jumble of shoes, balls, a skateboard, a snow-sliding board. From the bottom the boy pulled out his new backpack, the one with the extra straps. McKinley recognized it as something Jack had taken with him when they slept in the woods during the hot time.

  “Best birthday gift I ever got,” the pup said. “I better start pulling my gear together.” He looked over to McKinley. “Now don’t go telling my folks.”

  The dog barked with frustration.

  “McKinley, shhh! I know what I’m doing.”

  Turning, McKinley went outside and sniffed the air for Aspen. He wanted her to know about the wolf—and about the boy. When he discovered that she was still not around, he lay down with a sigh. Maybe Aspen was right. Life was getting too complicated. He had to take care of Duchess. And Jack. And if the pup ran off . . . but Lupin had come for dogs, not for humans.

  Smelling dinner, he went back into the house. McKinley gazed at the woman, wishing there was some way he could tell her what the pup was planning.

  “McKinley,” she said, “how many times have I told you, if you’re hungry, tell Jack to get your dinner. That’s his job.”

  McKinley contented himself with some water.

  While the humans ate, he listened closely. The boy said nothing about the wolf. Instead, he used other words, which McKinley did not know. From time to time Jack looked at him and gave a wink. A glum McKinley gazed at him, whimpering twice. At one point, wanting the boy to tell Sarah and Gil about what he was planning, he put a paw on the pup’s arm.

  “What’s bothering McKinley?” the woman asked.

  “Beats me,” Jack said, bending over his food.

  Gil said, “I think you forgot to feed him.”

  Jack started up. “Dang! Sorry, McKinley!” He hurried to fill McKinley’s bowl, placing three biscuits on top of the food.

  After eating, a discouraged McKinley went outside again. The night air was thick with the aroma of human dinners. Redburn had come by. Only a few dogs were out now, none needing his attention. A block away a skunk passed by in search of garbage. Cats were prowling through the darkness.

  Finally, Aspen appeared, mouth slightly open, tail wagging. McKinley stood, and the dogs sniffed each other, then sat side by side.

  Aspen lifted one paw in mild apprehension. “What’s that smell on you? I can’t place it.”

  “A wolf.”

  Aspen immediately stood and barked. “Tell me.”

  McKinley recounted his meeting with Lupin. “She was . . . amazing. And she isn’t just passing through. She told Duchess her pack is dying out. She’s trying to get the dogs from around here to join it.”

  Aspen was staring at him with intense interest. “Did you really submit to her?” She sat again, to listen.

  “I didn’t have much choice.”

  “Would you . . . want to follow her?”

  McKinley looked away. “Don’t know that, either. I’m head dog—unless Lupin comes here to challenge me. Or until some other dog hears about what happened and makes a challenge. And I lose.”

  “McKinley, ease up. Think about what you want.”

  McKinley whimpered. “I know. . . .” He stretched out on the ground, his head on his forepaws.

  Aspen gave him a lick across his nose. “You worry too much.”

  McKinley beat his tail on the ground. “I just hope the humans don’t learn about Lupin.”

  “Will Jack tell?”

  “When the family ate, he never said the wolf word.”

  This time it was Aspen who whimpered.

  “And guess what?” McKinley glanced toward his house. “I’m pretty sure my human pup wants to run off with Lupin.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  McKinley sighed. “Wish I were. It’s crazy. I have to help Duchess get away. I have to make sure the boy stays. I have to deal with the wolf.”

  “McKinley,” Aspen growled, “Redburn was here.”

  “I smelled him. What did he want?”

  “Said he had something to tell you.”

  Yawning nervously, McKinley stood up and shook himself. Then he lifted his head and gave a drawn-out howl to let the neighborhood know he was ready to defend his territory. Even as he called out, Lupin’s howl reverberated in his head. Her howl was bolder, stronger. He wished he could howl like that.

  Aspen remained still.

  McKinley turned to her. “Guess I better go find Redburn.”

  “I’ll be around.”

  With a slow wag of his tail, McKinley started off, trotting through the quiet ways, claws clicking on the pavement. Occasionally a car passed by. Few humans were out. From time to time McKinley looked through house windows into rooms where he saw people watching their glow boxes or holding staring papers in their hands. He could see dogs asleep on rugs, on couches. All was calm. Peaceful.

  It is a good life here, McKinley thought, as if he were having an argument with himself. Then he recalled Lupin’s description of a wolf’s life, wondering: Which is better? This or that?

  When McKinley reached Redburn’s house on Pine Smell Way, he peered through the white picket fence. Seeing lights on, he barked twice.

  Within moments the front door opened. McKinley saw a human behind it, but it was Redburn who came out and loped down the path.

  Even at night the setter’s fur seemed burnished. When he drew close to McKinley, he stopped and tossed his head.

  McKinley chose to take his stand in a power position, stiff-legged, tail raised, ears forward. He barked once, then again. “You came by my place.”

  Redburn growled. “Thought I’d let you know my human and I are going to track down Duchess tomorrow morning. She’s up by the Strawberry Park boulders. Isn’t she?”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Redburn snorted. “Everyone knows that’s where she goes. I’ll lead my human right there.”

  McKinley wrinkled his nose. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?

  “Duchess has every right to run away. She was being mistreated.”


  “Nothing to do with me.”

  McKinley issued a soft, low-pitched growl. “Of course it does. Would you want to be leashed all the time? Locked up in a yard? Kept in a doghouse hardly big enough for a rabbit?”

  “McKinley, when are you going to understand? The power in Steamboat Springs is with humans, not dogs. It’s smarter to do what humans want you to do. Makes life easier.”

  “Leash-licker!” McKinley snapped—Lupin’s insult, he realized.

  Head high, Redburn glared at him. Then he turned and began to trot away.

  McKinley barked. “Do you have to do everything your master tells you to do?”

  Redburn stopped and looked back. “At least I don’t have a pup giving me orders. McKinley, if anyone should be head dog around here, it’s me.”

  McKinley growled. “I’m going to stop you tomorrow.”

  When Redburn reached the door of his house, he scratched to be let in. As the door opened, he glanced back at McKinley. “Don’t try it,” he snapped. “You’ll only regret it.”

  McKinley watched the setter disappear into the house. That dumb dog, he thought, is going to lead his human to Duchess. But what they’ll find is Lupin.

  10

  Next morning McKinley was awake the minute the bell box in Jack’s room began to ring. He jumped off the soft sleeping place—where he, too, had slept—and gazed at the still-sleeping pup.

  “How am I going to keep him from going off with Lupin?” McKinley asked himself again. Having no answer, and knowing this was a gathering day with other pups, he thrust his wet nose into Jack’s face and began to lick.

  The boy responded by turning over, hitting the bell box, then drawing his coverings over his head. “Go away, you dumb dog,” he murmured. “I want to sleep.”

  McKinley barked. The barking drew the female to the room.

  “Hey, Jack,” she called in her big voice. “Let’s go, guy. McKinley is right. Check your clock. Time for school.”

  McKinley joined in with more loud barking.

  “I’m tired,” the boy groaned, burrowing deeper under his coverings. “Do I have to go to school?”

  McKinley took hold of the boy’s coverings with his teeth and pulled.

  “McKinley,” the boy screamed. “Stop!” He sat up and worked the sleep out of his eyes.

  “Thataway,” Sarah said. “Now take your shower and get dressed.” She left the room.

  A grumpy Jack remained sitting on the edge of his sleeping place.

  McKinley wagged his tail, lifted himself up with his front paws, and barked into the boy’s face.

  “Why’d you have to call her?” Jack said, using two hands to shove him down. “I could have slept five more minutes. Go away!”

  McKinley, tail drooping, went to the kitchen. The female was working on the boy’s food. The male sat at the sitting board looking over a pile of staring papers while drinking something steamy.

  “Morning, McKinley,” he mumbled.

  McKinley checked his food bowl, only to find it empty. Annoyed, he put his paw into it and flipped it over, making a clatter. When that had no effect, he did the same with his empty water bowl.

  The man put aside his staring papers and stood up. “Okay, McKinley, I get the message. I’m coming.”

  McKinley wagged his tail and barked his appreciation.

  “This is supposed to be Jack’s job,” the man grumbled good-naturedly.

  As soon as the bowls were filled, McKinley swallowed his food, lapped up some water, then hurried to the door.

  Gripping the doorknob in his mouth, he twisted and pulled the door open a bit, then used his nose to open it wider. He was just about to head out when the boy ran up. “Hey, McKinley,” he called.

  McKinley looked around.

  Jack said, “Just because Dad taught you to open doors doesn’t mean you’re on your own. Come to school with me.”

  McKinley, head cocked, considered the boy. First he’s angry at me. Then he wants to play. Annoyed, McKinley went outside.

  “Don’t go far!” Jack shouted after him.

  The air was cooler and damper than before. Foggy in the mountains. McKinley understood what that meant: Snow would be coming soon.

  He lifted his nose and took in the smells. A whiff of cooking meat came from some houses. Cats were on their morning prowls. It was the day loud trucks came for the food people wished to share.

  McKinley padded to the end of the driveway to check if any messages had been left for him. Aspen, he noted, was out and long gone.

  With a sigh, McKinley trotted to the middle of the way and looked up and down. The neighborhood was as calm as usual. People were starting from their homes. A few pups were already heading for their daily gathering.

  McKinley peered back over his shoulder at Jack’s house. He knew the boy wanted him to come along. But it was Duchess who was mostly in McKinley’s mind. Human hunters were early risers. There was a good likelihood that the male Sullivan had already gone off, taking Redburn with him.

  Giving a low moan of impatience, McKinley took off with a quick bound. Jack would have to get to his gathering place without him. After all, he had called him dumb. He could almost hear what Lupin would make of that. Just thinking of it made McKinley tense.

  Halfway to Redburn’s house, McKinley heard a bark. He stopped and peered around. Tubbs, the basset hound, squirmed out from under some bushes, tail wagging.

  “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.

  11

  Long 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 g
ossip 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.