The Good Dog Read online

  Pycraft went into the house and closed the door behind him.

  “McKinley” Jack called. “Come here, boy. Come on! I’m going to put a leash on you for just a minute.”

  Leash was a word McKinley knew, and did not like. Determined to go no nearer to that man or his house, he stood his ground.

  “Come on, boy,” Jack pleaded. “Good boy. Do it for me.”

  McKinley lowered his head, wrinkled his nose again, and flattened his ears. A growl rumbled in his chest.

  The door opened, and Pycraft reappeared. In one hand was a heavy chain leash. In the other hand was a rifle. He set the gun against the wall.

  McKinley growled. The few times he had been near guns when they went off had been very frightening. Partly it was the noise. But he knew well the harm they caused. Moreover, he sensed that humans were nervous about them, too. “Why’d you bring the gun?” Jack asked, alarmed.

  Mr. Pycraft laughed. “Just to show that dog of yours—if he’s got any brains—not to fool with me. Now, bring him over here,” he commanded.

  Jack hesitated. Then he called, “McKinley. “Come on! Good boy!”

  Refusing to budge, McKinley whimpered.

  Jack asked for the leash. The man handed it over. Leash in hand, Jack approached McKinley. “What’s the matter, boy?” he asked. “Come on. This is for me. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  McKinley took a step back.

  Pycraft snorted. “See,” he snapped. “Just when you think you can control a dog, it turns on you. I know dogs, kid, and that’s a nasty one you got there. Look at him, ready to attack. A dog like that, he’s a menace to the whole town. I’m telling you, he’s got a lot of wolf in him.”

  The wolf word, again. Whimpering, McKinley gazed at the pup’s puzzled eyes, trying to make him understand the danger of this man.

  “Okay, fella,” Jack said softly. “I won’t make you wear it.” McKinley watched the boy give the leash back to Pycraft. “He won’t do it, sir. I know McKinley. Once he makes up his mind, no way I can make him.”

  “I could teach him,” Pycraft sneered.

  Jack said, “Is there something you could bring out for him to smell, something that belonged to your dog?”

  “Sure,” Pycraft said. “This!” He flung the leash at McKinley, who saw immediately that it would miss him. With a heavy clunk it landed at his feet.

  “Dumb dog,” Pycraft snapped. “I could have knocked him out silly. Serve him right.”

  Jack ran to the sidewalk, picked the leash up, and passed it under McKinley’s nose. “Smell this, boy. Come on, McKinley,” he whispered. “I really need to get that camping gear.”

  McKinley took a couple of loud sniffs. Duchess’s smell was strong on the chain links.

  “Good boy!” Jack said, and brought the leash back to Pycraft.

  The man took it. “Okay, kid. Go look for Duchess, but if your dog hurts my dog, your folks are going to hear about it.”

  He turned and disappeared into his house, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

  Jack came back to McKinley. “Boy, you sure don’t like that guy, do you?”

  McKinley, feeling more relaxed now, wagged his tail slightly.

  “But you don’t have to like him to find his dog, right? Come on now, McKinley, don’t let me down. Find Duchess!”

  6

  McKinley gazed up at Jack, whined, and lifted his paw.

  The boy squatted down before him. “You know Duchess’s smell now, big guy,” he said. “I know you do. So come on, put your nose to the ground and find her. For me, okay?”

  McKinley lay down, resting his head on his forepaws. Strawberry Park was the one place he would not go.

  “Don’t quit on me, McKinley,” Jack pleaded. “Please. I really want to find her. Come on, boy. Let’s find Duchess!”

  Rolling his eyes, McKinley studied Jack. Why, he wondered, couldn’t humans spend as much time learning about dogs as dogs spent on humans? He needed to tire the pup out so he would give up the search on his own. Then he remembered the perfect place, a trail that headed straight into the woods at the end of Horse Smell Way. Trees and bushes grew thickly on both sides. On one side a small creek trickled—Fish Creek, the dogs called it. Most of all, the trail was a stiff climb.

  McKinley rose to his feet and gave himself a shake. He looked at the sky. Night was not far off. He should be able to exhaust the boy before dark. With a sharp bark, McKinley broke into a run.

  “Hey!” Jack jumped on his bike and pedaled hard to catch up.

  With a look back at the pup, McKinley ran on, his nose to the ground as if he were following a scent. All the while he wagged his tail so the boy would think they were on a real hunt.

  “Way to go, boy! You can find her!” Jack cried, pedaling furiously. “I bet she’s close, huh? Good boy!”

  After a short distance the trail narrowed and rose so steeply that Jack had to stop and dismount from his bike. Running, he pushed it to the top of the hill.

  McKinley was waiting for him.

  “Did Duchess come this way, fella?” Jack called. “How long ago? I’m getting tired.”

  Barking twice, McKinley dropped into his playful posture, inviting Jack to roughhouse.

  “Stop, McKinley,” Jack snapped. “No fooling around. I really want that reward money. Keep going.”

  Stop. Going. McKinley understood. He halted his frisking, looked around, and watched the treetops sway. There was usually a breeze before the darkness came.

  Two trails led away from the hilltop. One was easy for the bike. The other wound upward into the foothills. Determined to make the pup want to quit, McKinley bolted for the high trail, tail wagging, mouth open.

  Jack, pedaling again, followed after. In a few moments he stopped. “McKinley!” he shouted. “Hold on. This is too steep for me!” He dumped his bike to the ground and began to run.

  McKinley barked and continued on. Once, twice, he looked back. Jack was puffing hard.

  “McKinley,” the pup called. “Not so fast!”

  Each time Jack caught up, McKinley bounded off. By the time they reached the top of the next hill, the pup was thoroughly winded.

  “Think . . . we have . . . a lot farther . . . to go?” he panted.

  McKinley barked again and ran ahead.

  “Come on!” Jack begged. “Slow down!”

  They came to a level area, and McKinley went on at a slower pace.

  “Better,” the boy said.

  But then once again the trail rose. It became narrower, crowded in by rough, often sharp rocks.

  “How much . . . time till . . . we . . . get to Duchess?” Jack asked when he caught up, even more bushed than before.

  McKinley pawed the ground, barked sharply, and went forward a few paces.

  “Wait!” Jack commanded. He threw himself down and leaned against a rock. “I need to rest for a moment, boy.”

  Glad to oblige, McKinley came back, sank down, and lowered his head to Jack’s leg. When the boy fondled his ears, he thumped the ground with his tail.

  “This is pretty much a canyon, isn’t it?” Jack said, looking up and down the trail. “Perfect place for an ambush,” he added. “Wonder if in the old days it ever happened.”

  McKinley, not understanding any of these words, closed his eyes. The sky was darkening. They would have to be turning back soon. It was the perfect moment for the boy to give up.

  “Tell you what,” the pup said. “If we don’t find that stupid Duchess soon, we’re heading home. Come back tomorrow. Earlier. Okay?”

  Hearing the word home, McKinley wagged his tail.

  Jack stood up. “Come on, big boy,” he said. “A little more. If I get that reward I’ll buy you a juicy hamburger all for yourself.”

  McKinley came to his feet slowly, then continued along the now-narrow trail. Suddenly, he halted and sniffed. A growl rose in his throat.

  “What’s up, McKinley?” Jack called. “Did you smell Duchess? Did you find
her? Come on, keep going!”

  McKinley stared ahead. It was the wolf. Not only was she on the trail before them, she was coming in their direction.

  7

  “McKinley?” the boy asked, “is something the matter?”

  McKinley stood stiff-legged, body leaning forward, ears pricked up, nose wrinkled and lips pulled back to expose his teeth. His tail bristled and the black hair rose along the ridge on his back.

  With McKinley’s instincts urging him to flee, he darted a look back over his shoulder to see if a retreat was clear. It was. But the pup was behind him. And he knew he must protect Jack.

  As the wolf’s scent grew stronger, it took all of McKinley’s courage not to shrink away. He forced himself—body trembling—to move forward, shielding the boy from the approaching danger.

  From around the bend in the trail, Lupin limped into Jack’s view.

  “McKinley!” the pup gasped. “It’s the wolf!”

  As big as McKinley was, Lupin was bigger. Broad shouldered with a massive head, she had bright, piercing eyes and powerful jaws. Her legs were strong, her paws huge, larger than McKinley’s.

  The wolf continued to approach until she was within an easy leap of McKinley. There she halted, her crooked foot raised, her head high, ears pointing almost straight up. Her glowing eyes were focused right on McKinley. From her throat emerged a low rumble: “They call me Lupin.”

  McKinley tried to return the wolf’s stare but was overwhelmed with a sense of his own weakness. Unable to hide his fear, he backed up a step and lowered his body. His ears flattened. His tail drooped. “I’m called McKinley,” he whimpered.

  “You are a dog.”

  “I am . . . yes.”

  “Dog,” the wolf growled, “you who live with humans, who take food from their hands and garbage piles, do you know who your ancestors were? Do you know your true family and what kind of blood runs even now through your veins?”

  “The blood of . . . wolves,” McKinley whined softly.

  “Yes, wolves. The free ones,” Lupin snapped. “Yet you choose to be no more than a groveling servant to humans.”

  McKinley tried to stand taller. “I am head dog.”

  “Head dog over whom?” Lupin barked. “Over a pack of weak-legged, tongue-lapping, tail-wagging slaves who take their food from bowls! Have you no honor, McKinley? No pride?

  “You call yourself head dog,” Lupin growled, “but are you a true leader? Is not that feeble pup behind you your real master?” Lupin shook her head, causing her thick mane to ripple. “Look at you! Collar-wearer. Leash-licker. Shake your head and you will hear the tinkle of tags that say you belong to—that you are owned by—some human. I dare you to look at your reflection in a stream. You will see the wolf in you.

  “McKinley, if you were true to your nature, you could still be a wolf. Imagine what it would be like to live in the wilderness with a pack of free wolves. Sense how it would be to match your wits and strength with the best. Consider the courage it takes to live and die through the use of your own muscles and intelligence. Think what it means to have whelps who are born free—who can never be taken from you.

  “McKinley, our meeting here today is no accident. I tracked you down so that you might hear my message. You are easy to find. You stink of human food.”

  McKinley hung his head.

  “You call yourself head dog, but with one stroke of my crooked paw, I could send you tumbling into the mud. Beware of me, McKinley, for I am a free wolf!”

  McKinley quailed. He could not help himself. His ears fell back. He stuck out his tongue in submission.

  Suddenly, Lupin leaped forward. Landing close to McKinley, she held her head higher than ever, sharp teeth exposed.

  McKinley, collapsing in terror, rolled over and, with his paws limp, exposed his belly.

  “So much for you, dog!” Lupin barked. Then she lifted her nose to the sky, shaped her mouth into an almost perfect circle, and let forth a howl. It was part moan, part cry of triumph, throaty and rough-edged at first, then rising to a single clear note that vaulted high and echoed down the canyon.

  The sound terrified McKinley. Engulfed him. He was sure he was about to be attacked.

  Except the wolf backed away and only growled, “I did not come to humiliate you, McKinley. Stand up.”

  Obedient, McKinley rolled over, rose, and stole a look at Lupin. The wolf had relaxed. Her tail—no longer bristling—wagged gently. Her mouth was open. McKinley could see her tongue.

  “I did not want to make you submit,” Lupin whined. “I only wished to make you understand what you’ve become.”

  McKinley lowered his head. “I understood.”

  “Listen to me, dog. Duchess has become my friend. She told me of you. She admires you. I know all about your pack, too. You are a good leader, strong and caring. You are worthy of the position and name ‘head dog.’ ”

  McKinley sighed. “Thank you.”

  “But, dog, you remain a slave to humans. So I urge you, return to the wilderness. Join my pack. Hunted by men with guns and traps, we are diminishing rapidly. We need dogs like you to replenish us.”

  McKinley stole a glance to where Jack stood a few feet behind, staring wide-eyed at the wolf.

  Lupin noticed the look. “The pup may even be a good human, McKinley. But he remains human, so full of fear and submission, he will turn himself into a cruel master. What I offer you and your pack is a life of freedom.”

  That said, she began to move away.

  Just before taking the turn in the trail, Lupin stopped and looked back over her massive shoulder. “I will not be far, McKinley. I can find you whenever I wish. Think about what I have said. Better yet, act on it. You are a head dog now, McKinley. But you could become a great dog. You could lead your whole pack to their liberation.”

  McKinley, watching the wolf disappear from view, stood very still.

  8

  In all his life McKinley had never met so awesome an animal as Lupin. Far from feeling ashamed of his submissive behavior, he felt stronger. It was as if he were linked now to some invincible force.

  “McKinley!” Jack’s voice startled him. “Is he really gone?”

  The pup was standing a few yards back along the trail, the smell of fear strong on him.

  Excited, McKinley bounded over. He dropped down on his front paws. His tail went up. He barked.

  “Are you crazy, McKinley?” Jack cried. “Don’t you have any idea who that was?”

  McKinley sat back and studied Jack intently. The pup seemed small, weak.

  “McKinley,” he said in a hushed voice, “that was the wolf.”

  The boy went down on his knees.

  “Wasn’t he wonderful?” He threw his arms around McKinley’s neck and buried his face in his dog’s fur. “And you were great.”

  Puzzled, McKinley wagged his tail.

  “McKinley,” the boy went on, “I’m sure that’s the wolf I saw before. Wasn’t he beautiful? And powerful. In that story, The Jungle Book, this kid lives with wolves just like that. They teach him all this neat stuff. That would be so cool.”

  The boy glanced at the sky. It had darkened. The moon had risen behind clouds. He said, “We better get going. The folks will be worried if I’m not home soon.” He grasped McKinley’s collar. “Home, boy,” he said. “Take us home.”

  McKinley, barking twice at the word home, began moving back down the trail.

  Jack continued to chatter as they traveled. “I did see a lot of wolves once, at the zoo in Denver. But you know what, McKinley? They didn’t look so great. I mean, this one is so cool, isn’t he? But did you notice his limp? Wonder what happened to him, where he came from. I mean, if I joined up with him I wouldn’t have to stay with the wolves long. Just a week, maybe. Be so sweet. Double sweet.

  “Thing is, I bet my parents wouldn’t let me. They’d say, like, I’m too young. Or, you know, I can’t miss school. So I’d have to do it without them knowing.”

  Pay
ing little attention to Jack, McKinley was still enthralled by the sense of power that had radiated from Lupin. And her challenge. It was troubling.

  Something about what he’d heard made him uneasy. He had always considered himself completely free. True, from time to time there had been problems: made to stay in the house when he hadn’t wished to; the occasional questioning of his authority as the town’s head dog; the difficulties humans—such as Pycraft—presented. But, all in all, he had always believed he lived a good life. Yet Lupin was freer than him.

  The more McKinley thought about that, the more he found Jack’s grip on his collar irritating, as if he were being choked.

  Shaking his head vigorously, he forced the boy to let go.

  “Sorry, boy,” Jack said. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  For a moment, McKinley recalled the wolf’s scent. It was free of anything human. Just the thought of it made McKinley pant with amazement.

  “Hey, McKinley, do you think you can find my bike?” he heard Jack say as though from a distant place.

  McKinley looked around. The boy’s face, in the cloud-shrouded moonlight, seemed soft, helpless.

  “We never did find Duchess, did we, McKinley?” the pup said. “But you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to tell my folks I saw the wolf again. Even Dad said I shouldn’t talk about him. He thinks people would hunt any wolf down. And if I’m going after him—”

  McKinley growled.

  Jack said, “What’s the matter?”

  Having heard the words hunt and wolf, McKinley gazed at the boy, head cocked.

  “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.