“Go get Dad,” Alex told Benjie.
Benjie hurried toward the kitchen door.
6
You must be the kids who found my pig on the road,” the man said.
Alex, Rocky, and Mary looked at him, but nobody spoke.
“What’s the matter?” the man said. “The cat got your tongues?”
Pete, who was listening from under his bush, growled softly. What a horrid thing to say! As if a cat would take the tongue out of a child, or anyone else. Where do the humans come up with such nonsense? To say, “The cat got your tongue,” was even worse than calling a thief a “cat burglar.”
“That pig belongs to me,” the man continued. “I’ll drive my truck over to the pen, then you all can help me get her loaded.”
“You’ll have to talk to my gramma first,” Mary said.
“Don’t need to talk to anybody. Only need to load up my pig.”
“Gramma has the key to the pigpen,” Mary said. “The gate’s locked.”
“That your gramma’s house?” The dirty hand pointed again.
Mary nodded.
“Go get her while I move my truck,” the man said. He got in the vehicle, turned it around, and drove off. Seconds later, he had driven down Mary’s driveway and was backing up to the pigpen. Again, he left the truck door open when he got out.
Alex and Rocky had cut across the yard and were already standing in front of the pen. Mary had gone inside.
“I ain’t got all day,” the man said. “You sure you kids don’t have a key to that gate?”
“I don’t have one,” Alex said.
“Neither do I,” said Rocky.
They knew Mary had the key, but they weren’t going to mention that.
Mrs. Sunburg and Mary came out of the house together. “What’s going on here?” Mrs. Sunburg asked.
“That’s my pig,” the man said. “I came to get her. I have a rope and a ramp. I’ll put her on my truck as soon as y’all open the pen.”
“Can you prove this pig belongs to you?” Alex asked.
“Prove? I don’t need to prove anything. It’s my pig! I was driving down the road when she fell off my truck, and when I went back to get her, she was gone. Stole! My brother saw on the TV news that some kids found her and took her to Valley View Estates. This is Valley View Estates, ain’t it?”
“It is,” Mrs. Sunburg said.
“Well, then, that proves the pig’s mine. Now if you’ll kindly open that lock, I’ll take my property and leave.”
“The fact that this is Valley View Estates doesn’t prove who owns the pig,” Mary said.
The man glared at her.
“I’ve called the animal rescue group that delivered Piccolo here,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “They have custody of this pig, and they entrusted her to me. I can’t let her go.”
“Then I’ll have to take her without your permission because she belongs to me.”
Mrs. Sunburg folded her arms across her chest. “If you touch that pig, I’ll call the police.”
“Police!” He spit out the word as if it tasted bitter. “Why would you call the cops?”
“Because you broke the law by not keeping the pig safe in your truck,” Alex said.
“You also left the scene of an accident,” Rocky said.
“I wasn’t in any accident. It’s not my fault if the stupid pig jumped off the truck.”
“The police gave custody of this pig to the Foothills Animal Rescue,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “You’ll need to discuss the matter with them or with the police.”
“I ain’t talking to no cops,” the man said.
While the people argued, Pete crept out from under his bush and slowly approached the open door of the truck. The distinct odor of a fried-egg-and-cheese sandwich wafted out of the cab, making Pete curious to see what Hogman might have on the seat. Had he just come from Mad Dogs Café or McDonald’s? Was there a bite or two of sandwich left in the wrapper, lying on the seat?
Pete stood on his hind legs and stretched up to look inside the truck. He froze, forgetting all about a possible sandwich. What he saw in the truck was a far worse horror than anything he had ever seen or could have imagined. The fur rose along the ridge of Pete’s spine, and his tail bushed out to twice its normal size.
“Hey! Get away from my truck, cat!”
Pete jumped at the sudden shout, then raced away from the truck as fast as he could run. Behind him, he heard the slam of the truck’s door. Pete climbed the nearest tree, clung to a low branch, then peered down through the leaves. Although he knew he was safe, the memory of what he’d seen made his heart pound and kept every nerve on edge.
The man sat in the truck now, talking through the open window. “I’ll be back,” he said, “and I’ll have someone with me, to help load MY pig. The gate on that pen had better be unlocked when I get here because I’ll have my wire cutters in my pocket, and I’ll use them if I need to.”
He started the engine, turned around on Mrs. Sunburg’s grass, and drove off.
Mr. Kendrill, his hair still damp, rushed across the yard beside Benjie. He buttoned his shirt as he approached. “I was in the shower,” he said. “I came as fast as I could. What happened?”
As the others explained, Benjie started to cry again. “That meanie man’s going to take Piccolo,” he sobbed.
Alex wanted to console his brother, but he was afraid Benjie might be right.
Pete dug his toenails into the tree branch, shaken by what he had seen. A large box on the floor of the truck overflowed with animal skins! Pete had seen dead animals before, usually along the side of a busy road, but he had never seen pelts, and he shuddered as he thought how the pelts must have been obtained.
“Maybe Eric and Jacob can come,” Mary suggested. “If they get here before the man returns, they’d know how to handle this.”
“They can’t come,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “When I called to tell them he was here, they were on their way to investigate a cruelty case and said they’d probably be there all morning. That’s why I threatened to call the police. I don’t really want to do that, though. The police are too busy to deal with a situation like this where nobody’s in danger.”
“Piccolo’s in danger!” Benjie said. “If that meanie Hogman takes her away, she’ll be made into pork chops. The man on TV said so.”
“Maybe that’s who we should call,” Alex said. “The TV station that ran the story on Piccolo might be interested in doing a follow-up.”
“That’s a great idea,” Mr. Kendrill said. “There’s always a need for human-interest stories about animals.”
“The man might not be in such a hurry to use his wire cutters on our pen if there’s a news camera here, recording everything,” Mrs. Sunburg said.
“Let’s go call right now,” Mary said.
While the people went inside Mary’s house, Pete stretched his front paws down the tree trunk and used his back feet to keep himself from sliding down too fast. When he was five feet from the ground, he shoved off with his hind feet and leaped to the ground. Then he ran for home and waited on the back steps of his house for Alex to return.
When Alex, Benjie, and Mr. Kendrill approached, Pete said, “I looked in Hogman’s truck and it’s full of animal pelts. I think he’s the one who’s setting traps! Either that, or he’s hunting out of season. You need to call the Department of Fish and Wildlife and have them send someone here. When Hogman returns, I can show them the evidence.”
“Stop complaining, Pete,” Alex said. “If you wouldn’t sneak out, you wouldn’t have to wait to be let back in.”
“I’m not asking to be let in,” Pete said. “I’m telling you I found proof of a catastrophic crime!”
“Make sure he has cat food,” Mr. Kendrill said as he held the door for Pete.
“Forget the cat food,” Pete said. “If we’re going to eat, let’s have fried-egg-and-cheese sandwiches. I had my heart set on one of those; that’s what I smelled when I looked in Hogman’s truck.”
br />
Alex poured dry cat food into Pete’s bowl while Pete rubbed against his ankles. “There you go, Pete,” he said as he set the bowl on the floor.
“That is not a fried-egg-and-cheese sandwich,” Pete said. “It isn’t even kitty num-num.” Kitty num-num came in small cans, labeled “Ocean Whitefish and Tuna.” He usually got kitty num-num only at night because Alex used it as a bribe to make sure Pete came home before dark, but once in a while he got it as a reward.
He had hoped such important news as the box of pelts would merit a reward, but, as usual, the humans were not clever enough to figure out what Pete was telling them. The schools really should offer Cat as a second language.
He sighed, settled himself in front of his bowl, and began to eat. While he would have preferred a fried-egg-and-cheese sandwich or some kitty num-num, Pete appreciated the satisfying “crunch” sound that dry cat food made when he bit it. Pete chewed, pretending the cat food was mouse bones.
“What will we do if the man returns before the TV reporter gets here?” Benjie asked.
“We’ll stall him,” Alex said.
“I’m going to sit by Piccolo’s pen and guard her,” Benjie said.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Alex said, “as soon as I get something to eat.”
Benjie left, letting the door bang behind him.
“I still can’t believe your good luck in getting to talk to that reporter,” Mr. Kendrill told Alex. “I thought you’d get voice mail and have to leave a message.”
“I did get voice mail,” Alex said, “but the message gave a number to use if the call was about a breaking news story. When I called that number, the reporter answered. Her name is Jenna.”
Pete stopped eating so he could hear the conversation. He had planned to take a nap now, but he would need to stay alert so that he could sneak out the door in time to see the reporter. If Hogman returned, Pete would go in the truck again and then holler at the people. He would caterwaul so they’d come and find the box of animal pelts, and they’d arrest Hogman for illegally trapping animals. Pete would be a hero! He’d be the lead story on the five o’clock news! That would show the people which animal is most intelligent.
Of course, he’d have to be careful not to let Hogman see him go in the truck. Anyone who killed animals and skinned them should be avoided, especially by a curious cat.
The dark brown pelts in Hogman’s box were beautiful, but not as lovely as Pete’s soft white-and-brown fur. He didn’t think the humans ever wore coats made of cat fur, but he wasn’t positive about that. If they wore mink and beaver and rabbit fur, why not cat?
7
I want to wait in the pen with Piccolo,” Benjie said. “I’m going to comb her.” He took his own comb out of his back pocket and showed it to Alex.
“You should wait a while before you go in the pen,” Alex said. “The gate needs to stay locked in case Hogman returns.”
“Then I’ll go to the corner and wait in my spy station,” Benjie said. “When the TV people come, I can show them where Piccolo is.”
Alex watched his brother run down the driveway. He knew Benjie was too antsy to stay in one place very long, and Alex didn’t blame him. He felt uneasy himself, and he could tell that Rocky and Mary were anxious, too.
Relax, Alex told himself. Dad’s home, and Mrs. Sunburg is home, and the reporter is on her way. If the man got obnoxious, the adults would handle him, or they’d call the police.
“I’ve gotten really fond of Piccolo,” Mary said, “even though she’s only been here one day. She’s such a friendly pig. It’s almost as if she knows we rescued her.”
Pete, who had leaped over Alex’s foot when Alex tried to keep him inside, shook his head in disbelief. Well, of course she knows, he thought. The pig might not be as smart as a cat, but she wasn’t stupid. Humans didn’t give animals enough credit.
“Maybe Hogman won’t be put off by publicity,” Alex said. “If he thinks he has a right to take the pig, maybe he won’t care who sees him do it.”
“He might want to be on television,” Rocky said. “Have you noticed how people react when they see someone with a big video camera? They wave and jump up and down and hold signs; they act ridiculous, trying to call attention to themselves so they’ll be on TV.”
It was true, Alex thought. Maybe his idea of calling the reporter hadn’t been so great, after all.
“Gramma called the police department’s nonemergency line and told them the situation,” Mary said. “If that man comes back for Piccolo, we’re not supposed to try to stop him.”
“What?” Alex said. “We’re supposed to let him take the pig?”
“We’re supposed to call 911, and let the police handle it.”
“What if they don’t get here in time?” Rocky said.
The three friends sat on the grass, and Pete sat under a bush, listening for the noisy truck. Piccolo heard it first, then Pete, and finally the humans. Mary ran inside to alert Mrs. Sunburg.
The truck rattled down the driveway, backed up to the pigpen, and stopped. The man got out, leaving the door open, as usual. Another man got out of the passenger side of the truck.
Pete immediately ran from the bush to the truck, but instead of going to the open door, he went underneath the truck and stayed behind a tire. He wanted to be certain neither of the men saw him before he jumped inside the truck.
He peered around the tire. Nobody was looking in his direction. Hogman was talking loudly and waving his hands around. The other man stood by the gate with a ring of keys. He was trying them on the lock, one at a time.
Pete crept along under the truck until he was beside the open door. He glanced out once more to be sure nobody was watching, then jumped onto the seat of the truck.
The box of pelts sat on the floor. Pete tentatively pawed at the one on top, moving it enough so that he could see underneath it. The next pelt was identical to the top one—sleek brown fur, soft and thick. A beaver? A mink? Pete wasn’t sure what kind of animal the pelts were from.
Pete noticed a piece of paper lying on the floor beside the box. It said INVOICE across the top, followed by the name Bick Badgerton. Below that, scrawled in untidy handwriting, it said, “Nine beaver. Two rabbit. One fisher. Total due on delivery: $120.00.”
I was right, Pete thought. Hogman is the trapper. He’s killed and skinned all these animals, and now he’s going to sell the pelts. Pete quickly did the division in his head, feeling sad. It came to only ten dollars per pelt. He thought the life of a wild creature with such beautiful fur should be worth more than ten dollars.
Pete’s plan had been to sit in the truck and caterwaul until Alex came to get him, and then he would show Alex the pelts. Now he worried that Hogman might get back to the truck first, and then Alex would never see what was inside.
Pete had a better idea. He would take this invoice and one of the pelts and SHOW them to Alex. The humans always misunderstood what he told them, but they wouldn’t be able to misunderstand this kind of evidence.
Pete sank his teeth into the top pelt and tried to drag it out of the box. It was heavier than he had anticipated. He braced his hind legs on the seat and tried again, but the pelt barely moved. He let go and pawed the first two pelts aside until he could see beneath them. He recognized the next pelt as a rabbit. He’d seen rabbits exactly like this one nibbling the grass in Alex’s backyard, and it made him cringe to think of them caught in a cruel trap. Pete shuddered.
He looked at the pelt’s four appendages, which had been the rabbit’s narrow legs. Pete bit the pelt in the thinnest place, right above one of the rabbit’s front feet. He bit as hard as he could, chewing and tugging until the whole rabbit’s foot came off in his mouth.
He tried to spit it out, but he had clamped down so hard that the pelt above the foot was stuck on his teeth. As Pete pawed at the side of his mouth, he heard another vehicle pull up beside the truck. Curious, Pete peeked out the window.
A van had parked beside Hogman??
?s truck. A woman holding a microphone and a man balancing a big camera on one shoulder got out of the van and walked toward the group by the pigpen.
“What’s going on?” Hogman asked. “Who are you?”
“I’m Jenna Martinez, from channel four,” the woman said. “I’m covering the pig story for the five o’clock news.”
Hogman put his hands in front of his face. “No pictures,” he said. “No comment. I don’t want to be on TV.”
Jenna turned to Alex. “Tell me what’s happening,” she said.
“This man was driving the truck when the pig fell off,” Alex said. “Now he wants to take her back, even though the police gave custody to Foothills Animal Rescue, and they gave her to us.”
Jenna stuck the microphone in Hogman’s face. “Is that true?” she asked. “The pig fell off your truck?”
He backed away from her, keeping his face covered and shaking his head. “No comment,” he said. “And no photos of me!”
“What’s your name, sir?”
“That’s none of your business, and if you put pictures of me on the air, I’ll sue the station.”
Pete quit watching while he tried to get the rabbit’s foot unstuck from his teeth. Suddenly he realized the voices were getting louder. Hogman was coming toward the truck. If I’m going to take evidence, Pete thought, I need to take it now. With the rabbit’s foot still hanging from the side of his mouth, he grabbed the invoice in his teeth, then jumped off the seat just as Hogman and the other man reached the two doors.
Pete dashed between Hogman’s legs, his tail streaming out behind him. He hoped the cameraman was filming his daring escape.
“What was that?” the brother said. “An animal jumped out of your truck!”
“That fool cat was here again,” Hogman said. Both men got in and slammed the doors. “He must belong to one of the kids or the old lady.”
Keeping one hand in front of his face in case the camera pointed his way, Hogman yelled out the window: “I’ll be back!” he shouted. To his brother, he added, “And next time I’ll be armed!”