The Good Dog (5 page)

“Hey,” Jack said, “if I went off to join the wolves, would you come with me? You understand, don't you, boy?” Speaking slowly, the pup pointed to himself.
“I'm
going to
stay
with”—he pointed back up the trail—“the wolves.”

At last McKinley understood: Jack wanted to go off with Lupin. The idea horrified him. Fine for Duchess, but not the boy. Duchess could survive. Jack would not.

He turned and trotted off, not stopping till they reached the pup's bike.

“Good boy,” Jack cried when he saw it. He bent over and tried to give McKinley another hug.

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.

W
hen 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.

N
ext 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.