Molly let go of Buckie’s harness. “Get him!” she screamed and she pointed at Craine. “Get Craine!”
Buckie leaped. With his teeth bared, he flew through the open doorway, straight toward Craine.
At the same instant that Molly yelled at Buckie to get Craine, Sheriff Donley raised his gun and aimed quickly at Craine’s legs. Just as Buckie landed on the porch and sank his teeth into Craine’s thigh, the sheriff pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot exploded in Molly’s ears.
Buckie yelped.
Glendon screamed.
Molly put her face in her hands.
She didn’t want to look.
Thirteen
The hospital bed felt wonderful. It was warm and clean and, best of all, safe. At last she could relax, knowing Craine was behind bars.
“There’s some mild frostbite in those fingers and toes,” the doctor said, “but otherwise you’re in remarkably good shape, considering what you’ve been through. We’ll keep you here a day or so, to rest, and then you should be good as new.”
“I’m starving,” Molly said. “I’m so hungry, I’m even willing to eat cauliflower. And brussels sprouts. And spinach.”
Uncle Phil laughed. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “We’ve already ordered soup for you.”
“How’s Glendon?” Molly asked.
“He’s suffering from hypothermia, torn ligaments, and a broken arm,” the doctor said. “They’re putting a cast on his arm now and he’ll need to stay here in the hospital for a few days, but he should heal nicely. I foresee no complications. You did a nice job with that splint, by the way. He probably would have needed surgery on his arm, if you hadn’t held it straight with the spoon.”
“Glendon is lucky to be alive,” Uncle Phil said. “When the avalanche hit, he covered his head and that must have created an air pocket big enough for him to survive until you dug him out.”
Chicken-vegetable soup arrived and Molly thought she’d never tasted anything so delicious. She didn’t even bother to pick out the peas. While she ate, Uncle Phil told her what had happened while she and Glendon tried to escape from the avalanche and Craine.
“Karen hovered between life and death all night,” he said. “I stayed with her, of course, and I didn’t worry about you and Glendon because I got two messages that said Glendon had called and everything at the ranch was fine.”
“How is Aunt Karen now?”
“Better. The crisis is over, thank God, and she’ll get well. It wasn’t poisoning, after all. Your cod-liver-oil pills had a tamperproof seal—the manufacturer can tell from a code number on the label—and the lab found no trace of cyanide or any other poison.”
“What was it, then?”
“The cookies.”
“My cookies? There was poison in the cookies I made?” Molly was horrified. This was even worse than if the cod-liver-oil pills had been at fault. Glendon would hate her for sure, when he heard this.
“Not poison,” Uncle Phil said. “Peanuts. Karen is allergic to peanuts and she didn’t realize there were any in the cookies. She thought she remembered your mom’s recipe.”
“There weren’t supposed to be peanuts. We didn’t have any chocolate chips so I used peanut M & Ms instead.”
“Karen couldn’t sleep because of her cold, so she got up in the night and made a cup of tea. She decided to have a cookie, too. She said with the raisins and the chocolate, she didn’t taste the peanuts right away and she swallowed some. Apparently it triggered a severe asthma attack and she slipped into a coma.”
“Just from eating a few peanuts?” Molly was incredulous.
“An allergy to peanuts is not uncommon,” the doctor said. “An extreme reaction like this—it’s called anaphylactic shock—is rare, but it’s happened before. Peanut allergy is a strong food allergy.”
“I didn’t know she was allergic to peanuts,” Molly said. “I would never have put them in the cookies, if I’d known.”
“There was no way for you to know,” Uncle Phil said. “She got a rash from eating peanuts once when she was a child and hasn’t eaten any since. I had at least six of those delicious cookies myself, so I should have warned her about the peanuts. I didn’t even think about her allergy.”
“Neither of you could have guessed she’d have this kind of reaction,” the doctor said, “so don’t blame yourselves. Just be glad we were able to save her.”
Molly finished the soup, closed her eyes, and drifted into sleep. When she awoke, her first thought was that the hospital room would make a terrible collage. Everything was white. She wondered if the administration had ever considered painting all the ceilings red or putting plaid blankets on the beds.
She realized that Sheriff Donley and Uncle Phil were in her room, talking. Apparently their voices had awakened her. She stopped thinking about collages and listened to the conversation.
“How did you know Craine was stealing my llamas?” Uncle Phil asked. “What tipped you off?”
“I got a call from Mort Simmons, a new llama breeder over near Glacier. He said someone from Baldwin Llama Ranch brought in three llamas yesterday, and sold them for less than their value because he needed money fast. The fellow brought a pregnant llama early yesterday morning and returned late in the afternoon with the other two. He had registration papers but Mort wasn’t comfortable with Craine’s explanation of the background of the animals. He said he had the feeling that Craine didn’t really know anything about them.”
“I’m surprised Craine used his real name.”
“Craine showed him an old business card for Baldwin Llama Ranch, one that still gave his name as a partner. That’s what made Mort believe it was a legitimate sale. And he did have the papers for the animals.”
Uncle Phil slammed his fist into his palm. “That rat! He knew I keep the registration papers in my file in the barn. All he had to do was match the coloring on the llama to the description on the paper. I don’t have any business cards with his name on them, though. I burned those long ago. Do you suppose he saved some cards all this time because he planned to do this?”
Sheriff Donley shrugged. “Business card or not, Mort still felt uneasy about the deal, so this morning he decided to call and ask a few more questions. When he tried to telephone your place, the line was dead. That’s when he notified me.”
“Thank goodness he did,” Uncle Phil said.
“As soon as he said he bought the llamas from Craine, I knew something was wrong,” Sheriff Donley said. “My deputy and I headed out to your ranch right away. We had just turned off the Forest Service road onto your lane, when we saw your black truck coming toward us, with a llama tied in the back. Craine was driving.”
Molly shifted in bed, listening intently.
“I turned on my siren and blue lights,” Sheriff Donley continued, “but instead of pulling over, Craine made a fast U-turn and started back to the ranch.”
“Why would he do that?” Uncle Phil said. “The road doesn’t go anywhere. He must have known he couldn’t escape.”
“I suspect he’s on some drug and not thinking clearly. I don’t know. People like Craine, who break the law, never think they’ll be caught and then when they are, they get desperate. He told me in the car on our way to the jail that he would do anything to keep from being locked up again. Anything!”
Uncle Phil shook his head sadly. “Anything except try to earn an honest living,” he said. “The saddest part of all this is that Craine wrote to me, just before he got out of prison. He asked me to hire him, to help on the ranch.”
“After what happened before?” Sheriff Donley said. “He must be crazy.”
“He swore that he’d learned his lesson. He said he’d get $100 when he was discharged and asked me how far I thought he could get with $100 and no job.”
“Other people make it. If they want to go straight, they can find work. Don’t feel guilty for turning him down.”
“I didn’t turn him down. I
hoped he really had changed so I offered to let him stay at the ranch with us until he found a job. But he never showed up. After he got out of prison, six weeks ago, I never heard from him. I thought he must have found a job.”
“Not Craine,” the sheriff said. “He tried to get rich quick by stealing.”
“And in the process, he nearly killed my son.”
“Your son and your niece. Craine admitted he pushed the bale of hay out of the loft.”
“What was he doing in the loft?” Uncle Phil asked. “And why would he want to hurt Molly?”
“He says he only planned to visit you. He hitchhiked as far as he could and then walked the rest of the way to your place. He got there late at night and didn’t want to wake you, so he decided to sleep in the barn. He woke up when the ambulance arrived. He saw the attendants put Karen in the ambulance and he saw you leave. That’s when he decided he could make some quick money. He’d already seen Merrylegs in the barn and, of course, he knew what she’s worth. He figured he could take her away, sell her, and return the truck and you would never know he had been there.”
Uncle Phil swore under his breath. “He probably intended all along to steal a llama,” he said. “Why else would he carry a gun and come in the middle of the night?”
“Good question. He put Merrylegs on your truck, parked in the woods until early the next morning, and then drove to Glacier and sold her. Then he brought the truck back and went up in the loft to sleep. He woke up when I arrived to collect the food samples. He thought Glendon had seen him and had called me, so he was furious at Glendon. Later, when he heard someone in the llama pen, he looked down, thought it was Glendon, and shoved the hay over the side.” Sheriff Donley ran his fingers through his hair. “Then he climbed down to see if Glendon was still alive and discovered it was Molly instead.”
“But why did he bring the truck back?” Uncle Phil asked. “He had the money from Merrylegs; why didn’t he keep the truck? Or abandon it somewhere?”
“Greed. It was so easy to sell Merrylegs, and he got so much money, he decided to come back for more llamas.”
“Damn him!” Uncle Phil cried. “I should never have answered his letter. I certainly should not have told him how well the ranch was doing and offered to let him stay here while he looked for work.” Uncle Phil stood, walked to the window, and gazed out. “All my life, I’ve been giving him another chance and he always disappoints me. I should have known this wouldn’t be any different, even though he gave me that sob story about people on the outside never trusting an ex-con. In his case, he shouldn’t be trusted. I know that now.”
“If you had not offered to help him, and he ended up in prison again, you’d always blame yourself for not giving him a second chance. Some people do change. Some become fine citizens after they’re released from prison. You had no way to know if Craine was one of them.”
Sheriff Donley turned to Molly. “I owe you an apology,” he said. “I assumed the hay incident was accidental. I should have gone up to the loft and looked. I might have found evidence that Craine had been up there. If I had looked around more, perhaps I would even have found Craine, and that would have saved a lot of trouble.”
“He had a gun,” Uncle Phil said. “If you had looked for him then, we might have had a real tragedy.”
“Why does Craine hate Glendon so much?” Molly asked.
“When Craine lived with us,” Uncle Phil said, “he was always angry because I spent my spare time with Glendon. Craine wanted me to go fishing and play tennis with him, to do all the things we used to do when we were kids.”
Uncle Phil looked sad. “Glendon needed a lot of attention then and when I tried to give it to him, Craine accused me of spoiling him. We argued about it so often that Craine couldn’t stand to have Glendon around. To be honest, I think he was jealous.”
“Glendon was only four years old,” Molly said. “How could a grown man be jealous of a four-year-old?”
“Craine has always had emotional problems. I hoped he’d outgrow them. I thought he would come to his senses and see that he was ruining his life. Unfortunately he never did and now it looks like he never will.” Uncle Phil sighed. “I admit Glendon was extremely difficult during that time. But there were reasons for his behavior and Craine should have been more tolerant. Glendon’s life hasn’t always been easy, Molly. There were problems in the past that you don’t know about.”
“You mean Gladys?”
Uncle Phil looked astonished. “He told you about Gladys?”
Molly nodded. “And about how his—his mommy left.”
“He’s never talked about that to anyone. I even took him to a child psychologist, because I knew he had some fears and resentment that he needed help with, but no one could get through to him. He simply refused to discuss it.”
Uncle Phil leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. “While Craine was with us, Glendon got more and more withdrawn and even after Craine was gone, the problem didn’t get better. If I hadn’t met Karen, I don’t know what would have happened to him. As it is, it was almost a year after Karen and I got married before Glendon accepted her. I know he loves her now and he’s been much happier the last couple of years, but even with Karen, he refuses to talk about Gladys and about my divorce. He’s kept it bottled up inside himself all this time.”
Molly felt honored that Glendon had shared his troubles with her. She knew that it was good for him to talk about Gladys and about how mean his mother had been to him. By talking about it, he could help the pain go away. He could quit dwelling on what happened in the past and put those unhappy years behind him forever.
Sheriff Donley broke into her thoughts. “Mort said you can come and get the llamas any time,” he said. “All four of them.”
“Four?” Uncle Phil said. “Did Merrylegs have her baby?”
“A healthy little female. Born last night.”
“Now that is good news,” Uncle Phil said.
“Craine was so busy stealing more llamas,” the sheriff added, “that he never cashed Mort’s checks.”
“So there’s no money lost,” Uncle Phil said.
“Mom isn’t going to believe all of this when I write to her,” Molly said.
“You won’t need to write,” Uncle Phil said. “She’s catching the first plane home. While the doctor was examining you, your mom called, because she was worried about Karen. When she heard what’s happened, she said someone else can introduce the frozen yogurt; she’s going to take care of her almost-frozen daughter.”
Molly grinned and snuggled deeper under the warm blankets. Mom was coming home. Everything was going to be all right.
“I guess that means you’ll be going home to Los Angeles sooner than you thought,” Sheriff Donley said.
“Maybe not,” Uncle Phil said. “Molly’s mother wants to stay here awhile, to help out until Karen’s on her feet again.”
Good, Molly thought. Maybe Glendon and I can have some fun together yet. Just two days ago, she would have said the chances of being friends with Glendon were zip. But now that she knew why Glendon had acted the way he did, she was able to forgive him. Besides, they had something in common now; they’d survived an avalanche together.
“My deputy took Buckie to the veterinarian while I booked Craine,” Sheriff Donley said. “The vet says the bullet only made a surface wound. He stitched Buckie up and he’ll be ready to go home in the morning. You’d better have a good supply of dog food on hand; he’s earned it.”
“Forget the dog food,” Uncle Phil said. “Buckie deserves his favorite treat: macaroni and cheese.”
“And a medal for bravery,” Molly said.
“I know a certain girl who was brave, too,” Uncle Phil said. “If it hadn’t been for you, we would have lost Glendon.” He leaned over the bed and kissed Molly’s cheek.
“Hey!” said a voice from the doorway. “That’s my husband you’re kissing, young woman.”
“Aunt Karen!”
A n
urse’s aide was pushing Aunt Karen in a wheelchair.
“The doctor said I could be up in the chair for ten minutes. Just long enough to see for myself that my favorite niece is going to be all right.”
The aide wheeled Aunt Karen up next to Molly’s bed. Aunt Karen took Molly’s hand and held it. “Thank goodness you’re OK,” she said. “When I think how close we came to losing you and Glendon . . .” Her voice trailed off, as if the possibility was too horrible to put into words.
Molly looked at Aunt Karen and Uncle Phil, and saw their love for her shining in their eyes. Maybe tomorrow she’d start a “family collage.” She could use denim and red flannel for Uncle Phil’s clothes and a pretty pink gingham for Aunt Karen. She’d give Glendon something bright and cheerful, to indicate his new attitude. Yellow, perhaps, or a vivid orange. Maybe she could even find some fake fur and put Buckie in the collage.
“I just came from Glendon’s room,” Aunt Karen said, “and he said to tell you that when he gets home, he wants to learn the game with Buckie and Fifi. He hopes you’ll visit him in the hospital as soon as you can, too. He wondered if you’d like to help him build a model ship.”
“Sure,” Molly said. “Maybe we can start it tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. She smiled sleepily and closed her eyes. Tomorrow Mom would be here. Tomorrow she could leave the hospital and see Merrylegs’ new baby. Tomorrow she and Glendon would start being friends.
Tomorrow she might even get pizza for breakfast.
Peg Kehret is the author of many popular novels for young readers, including Cages, Earthquake Terror, Night of Fear, and Searching for Candlestick Park. She lives in Washington State with her husband.
Peg Kehret, Nightmare Mountain
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