Me & Jack (15 page)

chapter 36

W
hen I woke up the next morning, my heart jolted with one thought:
coyote
. He was real, and I'd seen him. I peeled the covers off and looked at the picture I'd shot last night. As hard as I stared, I could not make out the coyote's form in the darkness beyond the window. But he was there. I knew it. Now I had to prove it.

Flashes of Dad's anger filled my mind. How he'd yelled at me, how he didn't believe me, how he'd slammed the door. If only he'd woken up sooner, he'd have seen that coyote for himself. I shook my head. It didn't matter. The coyote would be back. And I'd be waiting for him.

I was still staring at the picture when my door opened and Dad stepped in.

“It's late,” he said.

I nodded, looking at him.

“Get dressed. Eat breakfast.”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“You're grounded.”

“What?” I couldn't be grounded—I had too much to do. I had to get more bait. I wanted to look for tracks. I needed Ray to come by and go over the whole thing bit by bit with me to make a better plan for tonight. “I can't be grounded. Not today.”

Dad shook his head. “Joshua, you do not have a choice in this. You snuck out of the house last night.”

“I didn't sneak out. I called and called you, but you—”

Dad held up his hand and closed his eyes. “Enough. I don't want to hear it again.” He looked at me and his jaws tightened. “You're grounded for the weekend. No going out of the house and no one coming over. That's it.” He turned and slipped out of the room. “Get dressed,” he called from the stairs, “and eat your breakfast.”

I tried to keep out of Dad's way after breakfast. I didn't want him any angrier than he already was. Jack and I looked at my shoe box stuff for a while, and I read some comic books. Voices floated upstairs, Dad's and Mark's and someone else's. I figured having company might have helped Dad cool down, so I took a chance and went downstairs.

“Hey!” Mark greeted me. He seemed looser than usual, lighter. “What's going on?”

If we'd been alone, I could've told him all that happened last night. I bet
he'd
believe me, and he might even help me. But Dad was here and this other man. “Nothing,” I said.

“So you're Joshua,” the other man said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “I'm Mark's dad.” He stuck out his hand. For a second, I thought he was doing that thing adults sometimes do—shaking kids' hands because they think it's cute—but he didn't have that jokey look on his face. I was a real person to him.

I shook his hand.

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Your father's a fine man. I hope you haven't minded sharing him with Mark.” Then he turned to Dad. “Thanks again for all you've done. If there's ever anything we can do for you, let us know.”

Before Mark followed him out the door, he stopped and shook Dad's hand, too. “Thanks, man. You've been great.” To me, he said, “See you around, little man.”

Dad smiled. “Keep in touch.”

Mark's hair had been growing out since the funeral. I watched him walk behind his dad in his jeans and T-shirt. It struck me all of a sudden how young he looked.

“Mark!” I called before he made it to the car. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen!” He gave me a big smile, then waved and piled into the car.

“Are they going somewhere?” I asked after they left. Those were pretty big good-byes.

Dad allowed himself a grin. “They stopped by to tell me Mark's registered for college. Not Penn State—too late for that—but he'll be starting at the community college this fall.”

So that's why he was smiling. “That means you'll still see him.”

“It means”—Dad paused—“he's going to do something with his life. He's going to have all kinds of opportunities.” Dad's face was open, his voice upbeat. “I feel like—I feel like it's me going to college!”

I high-fived him. “Way to go, Dad!”

He was no good at holding it in—he broke into a big, wide smile. Afterward, he futzed around the house, fixing things, cleaning, even humming as he worked. He was the happiest I'd seen him since we moved here.

chapter 37

L
ater, in my room, I studied the photo I'd taken, hoping desperately to make out some part of the coyote. Being grounded kept me from talking to Ray, but maybe I could think it through by writing a letter to Scott. I grabbed a pencil and a notebook, but when it came down to it, I didn't feel like writing a letter; I felt like taking action.

Suddenly, I heard a car roar into the driveway, screech to a stop, and
Wham! Wham!
Two doors slamming shut. Loud banging at the back door. I heard people yelling, and one sounded like a kid. I jumped up to my window and saw a police car pulling in behind a truck. I shot down the stairs. Jack ran with me, barking the whole way.

Dad beat me to the door. I stepped behind him as he swung it open. Prater's dad filled the doorway with his huge frame.

Dad moved squarely in front of him. “What's going on here? What's this all about?” he shouted over the yelling.

Mr. Prater's face was red. “Your dog—your dog—”

Ed, the policeman, leaned in front of Mr. Prater. “Listen, Rich, there was an incident at Bruce's place this morning. I was called in—”

“Incident?” Mr. Prater yelled. “That dog killed my boy's horse.”

My heart dropped. I caught a glimpse of Prater behind his dad. His eyes looked swollen and the rims were red. Dried streaks of salt stained his cheeks and his whole face was puffy. He cried openly.

Stricken, I stood behind Dad.

“This dog didn't do anything,” Dad said.

“First he attacks my kid, then he—”

Dad stepped forward. “Back off, Bruce,” he said in a low, menacing voice I'd never heard before. “You're on my property.”

“Yes,” Ed said, turning to Mr. Prater. “I told you before to let me handle this. Step back from the door.”

Mr. Prater glared at Dad. Taking one step back, he shook his finger at Ed. “You'd
better
handle this.” The veins in his neck popped out. “You'd better do something this time.”

Ed took a big breath and exhaled loudly. “Something attacked their horse early this morning. Got ahold of its hind leg and ripped it up something good. Tore into some of the muscle and buttocks, too. Bruce ran out, fired a shot in the air, and saw a dog run into the woods.

“The vet came out but said there was too much damage. They had to put the horse down.”

On those words, sobs shook Prater's body. Poor, gentle Shadow. That beautiful horse. I felt tears spring to my own eyes. I knew how I'd feel if something hurt Jack.

“Your dog did it,” Prater said, trying to control his sobs. “I know it was him.”

I shook my head, scared. “Jack's been home all morning.”

The policeman waved his notebook. “We got a witness found your dog loose in his yard early this morning.”

My mouth dropped open. I stared up at Dad.

“Yes, the dog got loose.” Dad folded his arms.

My breath escaped me. I couldn't believe Dad would betray me like this.

Dad narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “What else? What real proof do you have?”

Ed stared at him. “Well, the animal that ran away headed into the woods in your general direction.”

“You mean he ran into the woods.”

Ed sighed. “Okay, I can see where this is going.” He turned toward Mr. Prater and his voice became clipped. “Bruce, do you have a definite description?”

Mr. Prater's face bulged with rage. “I had a horse to take care of,” he said between clenched teeth. “Are you going to let him get away with this? I don't believe it! He destroys our horse and you're letting him off?”

“Mr. Prater, go to your truck,” Ed said.

“What?”

“Mr. Prater, go to your truck now.”

Mr. Prater's hands clenched into fists. His eyes became wild. “Are you kidding me?”

“Mr. Prater, I am not joking.” Ed spoke firmly. “Go to your vehicle now with your boy.”

For a moment, Mr. Prater stood there, opening and closing his fists. The three men glared at one another. Finally, Mr. Prater grabbed the back of Prater's shirt and turned with him to leave.

“That's it?” Prater yelled up to his dad. “He gets away with it?”

“Come on,” Mr. Prater said gruffly under his breath.

“I can't believe this,” Prater shouted as his dad pushed him along to their truck. Prater turned and locked eyes with me. “I hate you! I hate you and your stupid dog.”

“Shut up,” Mr. Prater said and jerked Prater forward.

Prater wrenched away and faced me again. “You killed mine; I'm going to kill yours. I'll leave poison meat outside for him. I'll set leg traps by the corral. I'll—”

“Get in,” Mr. Prater said. He gritted his teeth. Without another look at us, he got in, slammed the truck into reverse, and tore through the side yard around Ed's patrol car. Gravel shot out from under the tires when he hit the driveway. Then they were gone.

Ed turned to Dad. “It's a shame what happened to that horse,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes, it's a shame. But I don't appreciate—” Dad turned to me. “Joshua, go in the house.”

I pulled Jack in, closed the door, and pretended to walk to the living room, but I turned and leaned my ear against the crack of the door.

“Bruce is a hothead,” Ed said. “As soon as he picked up his car keys I knew where he was going. That boy of his was so insistent.”

“Ed, if either of them ever touches my boy or his dog, I will do something about it.”

“Well, now, I do need to talk with you about that,” Ed said evenly. “This is the second time someone's pointed to your dog for killing their animal. I have to ask you—what was the dog doing outside?”

“Joshua accidentally let him out—they heard a noise in the yard. We were both right behind the dog; he certainly didn't run all the way to Bruce Prater's.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, he didn't come home with blood on his face.” Dad's voice rose with irritation. “Something else is going on here. I didn't believe it at first, but now I'm not so sure.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My boy says he heard a coyote the other day, and last night he saw it.”

“Rich, do you really believe that?” Ed paused. “I've never heard of a coyote showing up around here before.”

“I don't know. He said he heard it howling.”

A few seconds passed.

“Well,” Ed said. “Could be a fox or a wolf. Let me make a few phone calls, see if any other counties are having wolf problems. In the meantime, keep an eye on that dog. People are scared of him.” Ed clicked his tongue. “He sure is a strange-looking mutt.”

Dad's voice became formal. “He's a Pharaoh hound. And do me a favor,” Dad said. “Tell Bruce Prater to stay off my property.”

chapter 38

I
scrambled away from the kitchen door when I heard Dad and Ed saying their good-byes. I climbed onto the couch and watched as Ed got into his patrol car and drove away.

Dad slammed the door as he came in. “Joshua,” he yelled from the kitchen.

I jumped up. My nerves felt all jangly.

He rounded the corner into the living room. “Where's that picture you took last night?”

“Upstairs.”

“Go get it,” he said. His cheeks were hard and his mouth set in a straight line.

I took the stairs two at a time and flew back down with the picture. I didn't know what was going on, but I wasn't about to question him.

“Here,” I said, looking up to him.

He grabbed it. I stood in front of him while he inspected the picture. He shook his head. “I don't see anything.”

He handed the picture back to me and raked his fingers through his hair. He began to pace around the room. “This has gotten so out of hand,” he muttered. “Ridiculous.” He was talking to himself, working something out.

“If I could just get a better picture …,” I said.

“No,” he said loudly. Then more gently, “No, it's not going to work. They've already decided who to blame.” He paced back and forth like a caged-up lion. “What if I hadn't been home? What if Ed hadn't followed him?” He shook his hands in the air.

“But he won't come back now, right?” I said. “You told the policeman.”

“I can't go to work worried that people are threatening you.” He stopped in his tracks and looked at me. “C'mere,” he said.

I stepped closer to him, unsure of what he wanted, when he grabbed me close and hugged me so tight I almost couldn't breathe. My eyes felt wet and my feelings were all mixed up.

Dad let me go and sighed. “I need to know that you're safe.”

“I am safe,” I said. What was he talking about?

Dad shook his head. “Joshua …” His voice trailed off. Then I saw him look at Jack. “I think we need to find a new home for Jack.”

My heart bottomed out. “No!” I backed away from him.

“Joshua.” Dad's voice was gentle. “I'll start asking around on Monday.”

“No!” I yelled. “You know he didn't do it! I heard you tell that policeman.”

“It doesn't matter,” Dad said, exasperated. “They think he's done all these things. Look, the police have tagged Jack twice now. I can't have any more of this. I'm not going to have Bruce Prater or anyone else banging at my door again.” He turned and paced off from me.

“You only care what people think,” I yelled. “You don't even care about Jack!”

Dad whipped around. “I can't care about Jack; I care about you. You don't know what angry people are capable of. I'm done with this. I won't take him to the pound—he's too good for that. But I
am
finding him a new home come Monday.”