Legend of the Ghost Dog (13 page)

“That's settled, then, and you'd best get a move on before you get caught in another blizzard,” Dodie said. “And you've drunk all my tea, so you're on your own.”

“I'll bring some,” Clay said. “Next time.”

“And who invited you back, Clayton Nolan?” Dodie called.

“Well, nobody, but I figure Sam and Tee's dad here are gonna need a ride,” Clay said. “I guess I could throw in a couple slices of cake to sweeten the deal.”

Dodie made a little waving gesture and closed the door, more shooing us away than saying good-bye.

We were all smiling as we climbed onto the snowmobiles, and although the air was bitterly cold and we all covered our faces with scarves, I, for one, kept smiling beneath the layers all the way home.

I banged on the door.

“Quin! QUIN!” I yelled.

I wanted to stomp my foot with frustration. Where was she?

“Just one more minute,” I called to my dad, who was sitting in the car waiting for me. “She's got to be home — where else would she be?”

I knocked again.

“Quin!”

“Geez, why don't you yell loud enough to wake the dead?” called a voice from down the street.

I turned to see Quin leaning out the front door two houses down — Clay's house.

“Hey!” I called back.

“Come on over here to Clay's,” Quin shouted. “Guess who's here — Sam! He's sooo cute — come meet him!”

I ran to the car. “Dad, can I go over to Clay's with Quin and meet Sam the puppy?”

“Oh, isn't Clay taking him up to Dodie's today? Sure, go on. I can pick you up later on my way back.”

“I want to see the puppy too!” yelled Jack from the backseat.

My father turned around to look at him.

“Yeah?” he asked. “More than you want to see the 3-D dinosaur shark movie?”

Jack looked genuinely flummoxed.

“Well, nope,” he said. “But in a different way. I want to see them both!”

“So you and I will go the movie like we planned,” my father told him. “And when Sam's settled in with Dodie, we'll borrow a couple of snowmobiles and go up there to visit.”

“Can I drive a snowmobile?” Jack cried. “Can I?”

I grinned.

“Good luck handling that one,” I said. “See you later.”

“See you later,” Dad repeated. “Oh, and Tee? Have fun.”

“I will,” I told him. “Thanks.”

He gave me a little nod. In the best of times my father was not that big of a talker. He communicated best through the written word. But a lot had been communicated
between the two of us since the blizzard two days earlier. Already, I could see the difference it was going to make in our lives.

I ran the short distance down the street, to where Quin was still standing impatiently in the doorway.

“Come on,” she called. “Sam is so cute. You're gonna die!”

She held the door open and I dashed inside, excited to see the famous Sam, and full of my own good news.

“Hey there, Tee,” Clay called. “Come meet this young fella.”

Clay was sitting on the floor with a small, sleek husky who was watching him attentively. The dog was dark gray on top, but his chest, stomach, and legs were white. Both of his ears were jet-black, and when he turned his head to look at me, I could see the spot of black under one eye that Clay had described.

“Sam, stay,” Clay said.

Sam instantly turned his attention back to Clay, appearing to be concentrating with every cell in his little body. His tail wagged hopefully.

“Good boy, Sam,” Clay said, tossing the puppy a treat.

Sam jumped up, caught and swallowed the treat, then immediately sat back down again to stare hard at Clay.

“Oh, Haverson was right, this pup's as smart as they come,” Clay said. “Come on over, Tee, meet him up close in person. He won't bite. Actually, maybe he will, but only puppy nibbles!”

I walked over and knelt next to Sam, who smelled deliciously of the special scent of puppies — kibble and newspaper and puppy breath.

“Hi there, buddy,” I said, scratching his ears. “Boy, do I know a bored beagle I left in the cabin who'd like to meet you!”

“That would be good for him,” Quin said. “You should bring Henry out to Dodie's once Sam gets settled in. Except it will probably be time for you to go home by then,” she added, her eyes darkening.

“You're going back to New York?” Clay asked. “That's a shame.”

“Well, our plan was only to stay two weeks,” I said. “It overlapped with spring break at our school, even though we still missed a week. And my dad spent two whole days with Dodie and it apparently completely got him going on his book. She's letting him use photographs, the old logbooks and diaries from the kennel, everything he wants. And guess what?” I said, turning to face Quin, my eyes shining.

“You're moving here?” Quin asked hopefully.

“Well, sorry, no,” I said. “But it's something you'll like. Dodie told Dad the whole story about Caspian. He was totally enthralled with it. He thought it was a perfect example of how dogs and humans can bond, but also how people still don't fully understand dog behavior — even people who have worked with them all their lives can make a mistake. So get this — he asked Dodie if he could tell Caspian's story — and not just tell it — he wants to start the whole book with the story. Plus, he wants to use the photo of Caspian and Silla as the cover. And Dodie said okay!”

“That's amazing!” Quin exclaimed. “Now everybody will know Caspian's story — his real story!”

“Oh yes,” Clay said, a little gruffly. “That's … well, that's a gift I didn't think anybody could give Dodie. That'll just mean the whole world to her. Give her some peace.”

“Can we tell Tee about the other thing?” Quin asked.

Clay nodded, nudging Sam so that he rolled over to have his tummy scratched.

“Clay and some of Dodie's family, Clyde and Pete Jr., went with Dodie yesterday to the cabin and cleared away all the rubble. They got the trapdoor open, and Silla's bones are down there, just like Dodie thought. They need to meet with
somebody from the government to get permission, but they're going to be able to bury Silla in a real grave, on Dodie's land.”

“Oh,” I breathed. “That's what Caspian wanted — that's what he's been waiting for — for Silla to be found!”

“That's just so,” Clay agreed. “And I didn't tell you the last part yet, Quin. Doe called me up on her space-phone thing this morning.”

“She did?” Quin said, making google eyes at me when she thought Clay couldn't see.

“Yes, she did,” Clay said. “Asked me if I'd give her a hand training Sam, here. Maybe think about rounding up a few other pups folks has that aren't fitting in. Who knows, maybe we'll get a team together.”

“That would be amazing,” Quin exclaimed, her eyes shining. “If you do, would you teach me to run them?”

“We'd need you to,” Clay said. “Doe and I are a bit old to be doing too much of that. But you get a team in shape, Quin, you could enter 'em in the Junior Iditarod.”

“There's a Junior Iditarod?” I asked.

Quin nodded, grinning wildly. “There is — a big race just for kids and their teams!”

“You are so lucky,” I said. “Maybe I can come back for it!”

“That would be so cool,” Quin said. “It's going to be so lonely around here with you gone — especially if Clay is spending all this time out at Dodie's.”

Clay's face suddenly went red, and he bent over Sam and rubbed the exposed underside of his muzzle.

“There's actually one more thing I have to tell you,” I said, unable to stop the huge smile crossing my face. “A happy thing.”

“What?” Quin asked. “You said you weren't moving here.”

“I'm not,” I replied. “But my dad wants to spend more time with Dodie — he's talking about unearthing the ruins of the old kennel, having a photographer come up and document it. Basically, he's decided to keep renting the cabin, and to come back up here for the summer. He said Jack and I could each decide if we wanted to stay in New York or come back here with him.”

“Tee, speak in shorter sentences. Are you going to be here this summer?”

“I am!” I exclaimed.

Quin made a high-pitched squeal of delight and hugged me, and I squealed too. Then a high, piercing sound made us let go of each other and look around.

Sam had gotten to his feet and was standing next to us, his little head thrown back, a high puppy howl singing from his throat.

“What's he saying?” I asked, laughing.

“Same thing as you and Quin, I guess,” Clay said.

“He's saying he's happy,” Quin said. “He feels like good things are happening. He feels like his life is going to be a little different now, and he likes it.”

I stroked Sam's sleek, smooth head, and looked into his brown eyes. He looked back at me, and I felt like he could see into me a little. Like he could tap into something that couldn't be expressed very well in words, but that I was saying loudly anyway.

That I would be coming back again, would have the whole summer with Quin, and Clay, and Dodie. That in some way, I had helped Caspian to let go, and that Dodie's world had opened up because of it. That good things were happening.

And I was happy.

I don't know when I'd seen so many people at the same time, all of them right there in my cottage. And old Clayton Nolan, of all people. He's as handsome now as he was when he was a boy. I only hope he didn't notice how my heart almost jumped right out of my chest when he walked through that door.

It was so quiet after they all left and the buzzing of the snowmobiles had died away. I was just about knackered from all the goings-on, but I waited until dark to start getting ready for bed, just like always. It was then that I heard the bark. So I went to the door and opened it up. I knew he was there before I saw him.

Caspian was sitting just ten feet or so from the door, and the moon was so bright and full I could see him plain as day. He didn't do anything, he just sat there in the snow looking at me. I looked right back at him, until the picture
of his face was so clear in my mind I knew I'd never forget it. And then he just got up, and he walked toward the place where the trees began in long lines of moonshadows. It was only then I realized Caspian had not come alone.

Silla was standing near the trees, the same little wisp of a girl I remembered, her hair silvery in the moonlight. Her face shone like the moon itself — everything about her seemed illuminated from the inside as well as the outside. She raised one hand and waved at me, reaching her other hand toward Caspian, who was now sitting at her feet.

I could not speak, but I didn't have to. I raised my hand too, and waved at my sister. A smile lit her face, and the pureness of her beauty almost broke my heart with happiness. Caspian stood up, and began walking toward the woods. Silla paused a moment, her hand still raised, the ethereal smile still on her lips. Then she followed our dog, and they disappeared together, side by side, swallowed up by the shadows.

I was alone again. But I would not be for long.

Tomorrow I would begin getting the cottage ready for Sam, the puppy. Caspian will always be my heart dog — he took up all the space there I had to love a dog, and I never wanted for company all the years I lived alone.
Not while he was still nearby. I know I won't see Caspian again, not in this lifetime. But I have peace with that. Caspian brought me the children, and he brought me Clay, and he brought my Silla back to me.

Whatever else had happened to him while he was alive, Caspian knew that there were two girls who loved him best, and who always believed in the goodness of his heart.

Now after so many years, I saw how Caspian had thanked us. And now that I understood him, he had gone home at last. No dog ever deserved a better rest.