Trapped! (15 page)

•  •  •

The grandfather clock in the hall was striking one
A.M.
when Alex, his mom, and Benjie finally got home. Benjie had fallen asleep in the car, so Alex helped him stagger into the house.

They had stayed at the hospital until Alex’s dad had the cast on his leg and was drowsy from the pain medicine he’d been given.

Alex was half asleep himself. What a day! He turned down his mom’s offer of some hot chocolate and slid between the sheets.

Most nights, as soon as Alex turned out the light, Pete would jump on the bed, purring and rubbing against Alex. He would climb on Alex’s legs and settle himself there, stretched out with his head toward Alex’s feet. Pete would sleep on Alex’s legs all night if Alex would let him, but after ten or fifteen minutes, Alex always had to shift position, and Pete would slide off.

Now, alone in the bed, Alex couldn’t fall asleep. He lay
there, missing Pete and worrying. Despite Pete’s size and his noisy ways, Pete was a big softie. Except for leaping to the top of the entertainment unit and an occasional cat fit, Pete mostly slept, ate, and purred. He loved to sit in Alex’s lap and get petted and although he sneaked outside frequently, he rarely left his own yard. Alex thought Pete went out mainly because he was curious about what the people were doing and wanted to be in on it, not because he had a desire for outdoor exercise.

Pete won’t be able to defend himself if a coyote or other wild animal attacks him, Alex thought as his worry ripened into panic.

If I find him, Alex decided, he’s going to be an indoor cat from now on, and this time I’ll enforce the rule. I’ll take him out on his leash so he can eat grass, and I’ll throw his ball for him in the house, and I’ll drag a long piece of string around so he can attack it. If I keep him entertained, he won’t want to bolt out the door all the time.

First I have to find him.

Alex got out of bed, went downstairs, and opened the kitchen door, in case Pete had come home. In his imagination he could see Pete sitting in the grass at the foot of the steps, yowling at Alex and trying to get Alex to chase him.

He closed the door and went back to bed.

Eventually, Alex slept, but he woke early and his first thought was, “Pete’s lost. I have to find Pete.”

Mrs. Kendrill was in the kitchen making coffee when Alex went downstairs. “I’m going over to the hospital soon,” she said. “Do you want to come along?”

“I’m going to look for Pete.”

“I don’t want you out in the woods by yourself. It isn’t safe.”

“Benjie can go with me.”

“I know you’re worried about Pete,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “So am I. But you’ll have to wait until later today, when I can go with you.”

“Maybe Rocky and Mary can go with me now,” Alex said. “You could drive us up the hill before you go to the hospital.”

“It’s too early to call them. They’re probably still sleeping.”

Alex looked at the clock. Seven thirty was earlier than he would normally call anyone, but this was an emergency and he was sure his friends wouldn’t mind.

“They won’t care if I wake them up,” Alex said. “Not for something like this. If Rufus was missing, I’d help Rocky look for him, no matter what time it was. Remember when Pearly the possum was loose, and I helped Mary find her in the middle of the night? When someone needs help, their friends understand.”

Mrs. Kendrill thought a second, then said, “You’re right. Go ahead and call.”

The plans were quickly made and half an hour later, Mary and Rocky arrived. Mrs. Sunburg came, too. She had offered to stay at the Kendrills’ house so Mrs. Kendrill didn’t have to wake up Benjie. She said she and Benjie would drive up the hill in two hours, to make sure the searchers were okay and to give them a ride home if they wanted to return.

“I brought whistles,” Mary said, handing one to Alex and one to Rocky. “If we’re separated, and you need help, blow the whistle.”

By eight fifteen, Alex, Mary, and Rocky were standing by the bloodstains on the side of the road, watching Mrs. Kendrill’s car go back down the hill toward the hospital.

“Dad and I went this way last night,” Alex said, pointing.

“Then we should probably go the opposite direction now,” Rocky said.

“I don’t think it matters,” Mary said. “Pete probably kept moving. Even if you looked in one area last night, that doesn’t mean he isn’t there now.”

“I think we should search on the other side of the road today,” Alex said, “but I left my jacket here last night, and I’m going to go get it first. It looks like rain, and I may need it.”

“I’ll start looking across the road,” Rocky said.

“I’ll go a little farther uphill,” Mary said. “Blow your
whistle every ten minutes, so we keep track of each other. One toot means you’re okay; more than one means come right away.”

Alex started into the woods. It looked different in the daylight, less threatening. It was hard walking, though, because his whole body was stiff from the night before. Twice he heard Mary and Rocky blow a quick
tweet
on their whistles, and he blew his in reply. The second time, the whistles sounded far away.

It took him half an hour to find the place where his dad had fallen. He spotted his jacket, but it was not the way he had left it. He had folded it and laid it down; now it was crumpled in a heap.

Alex picked the jacket up and looked closely at it. There was cat hair on it—white-and-brown cat hair, Pete hair—but it could have been there all along. Lots of Alex’s clothes were unintentionally decorated with Pete fur. He looked again. Two small spots stained the jacket lining, dark red spots. Bloodstains.

“Pete!” Alex shouted. “Pete, where are you? Here, kitty, kitty!” He took the whistle out of his pocket and blew it sharply three times. Pete had been here! Alex was sure of it. Pete had found the jacket and lain on it, maybe slept on it.

The bloodstains gave urgency to the search. Alex’s hands felt clammy and the Cocoa Puffs he’d had for breakfast
threatened to reappear. He blew three more sharp blasts on his whistle.

“Pete! Here, Pete!”

Tears stung Alex’s eyes as he plunged deeper into the forest, away from the road. All he could think was: Pete is hurt, and I have to find him.

Pete had finished his breakfast mouse and was washing his face when he heard Alex’s whistle.

What kind of bird is that? Pete wondered. It was a harsh sound, and Pete looked anxiously around, fearing another owl attack.

His shoulder throbbed this morning. It had taken all his determination to pounce on that mouse because he knew the jump would hurt, but it was either catch his own breakfast or go hungry. Pete believed a hearty breakfast was important. Also a tasty lunch, a dinner of kitty num-num, and several snacks in between.

With his stomach full of mouse, Pete washed his paws and whiskers. As soon as he was clean, he planned to return to Alex’s jacket for a nap.

He heard the sharp “tweet” sound again. This time, he also heard Alex calling his name! Pete stood and limped toward the sound. “Here I am!” he cried. “Come and get me!”

Alex stopped. A tingle of excitement zapped from the back of his neck down both arms and legs. “Pete?” he called again. “Is that you?”

Pete thought, Now would be a good time for me to caterwaul. He took a deep breath, threw his head back, and let out the most shrill, harsh howl he could manage.

Seconds later, Alex spotted white fur ahead. He ran to Pete and scooped him up.

“Oh, Pete,” Alex said. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“What took you so long?” asked Pete.

A
lex, still holding Pete,
sat cross-legged on the side of the road beside Rocky and Mary, waiting for Mrs. Sunburg to arrive to give them a ride home. The sun felt warm on his back, and Pete was warm against his chest. I’m lucky, Alex thought. I’m incredibly lucky to have my cat back.

Instead of Mrs. Sunburg, Alex’s mom drove up to the meeting place, with Benjie in the backseat.

Benjie jumped out of the car before it came to a complete stop. “You found him!” he said. “You found Pete!”

“
Actually, I found Alex,” Pete said. “I discovered his jacket and had the good sense to stay near it until he came back.”

“He’s hurt,” Alex said. “I think he’ll need to go to the vet.”

“No!” Pete said. “Not the vet! I don’t need to go to the vet. I refuse! All I need is some kitty num-num and a nap under the table.”

Mrs. Kendrill examined the wound on Pete’s back. “He may not need the vet,” she said. “I can clean that up. It looks to me like Pete tangled with a hawk or some other big bird.”

“How’s Dad?” Alex asked.

“He’s home. He was ready to be discharged when I got to the hospital.”

They piled in the car and drove back to Valley View Estates.

“Why didn’t you wake me up this morning?” Benjie complained. “I wanted to help look for Pete.”

“You can help take care of him when we get home,” Alex said. “He’ll probably want some kitty num-num.”

Pete sighed. Less than one minute ago, he had told Alex he wanted some kitty num-num, and now Alex said “probably” as if he hadn’t heard a word Pete said.

Mrs. Kendrill started down the driveway.

“Oh, oh,” Mary said. “Look who’s at my house.”

The old black pickup truck, with the door open, was backed up to the pigpen.

“It’s Hogman,” Benjie said. “He’s in the pen with Piccolo!”

“He cut the wire!” Mary said.

“Everyone come inside with me,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “I’ll call your gramma, Mary, and find out what’s going on.”

Pete glared across the yard at the man in the pigpen. A
deep growl rumbled from his throat. “He tried to kill me,” Pete said. “He killed lots of other animals, too, and sold their pelts.”

“Shh, Pete,” Alex said. “We won’t let him get you.”

“I have proof!” Pete said. “Put me down, and I’ll show it to you.”

A police car pulled into the Sunburgs’ driveway, and stopped beside the truck. Officer Dingam got out, then walked toward the pigpen as Mrs. Sunburg hurried from the house.

“Gramma must have called the police,” Mary said.

“It’s the officer who came and questioned us about Pete,” Mrs. Kendrill said.

“Let’s go over there,” Benjie said. “He might need our help.”

“Hold my hand, Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill said, “and don’t say anything.”

“I’ll put Pete inside,” Alex said.

“Oh, no, you won’t,” Pete said. “I have something important to show you first.”

“Hold still, Pete!” Alex said. “You can’t get down now.” He tightened his grip on the struggling cat. “What’s the matter with you?” he said. “You need to go inside and stay there.”

Across the yard, he heard the police officer say, “Bick Badgerton! What do you think you’re doing with that pig?”

“I’m taking her home,” Bick said. “She belongs to me.”

“If she belongs to you, how’d she get here?”

“They stole her. Took her off the side of the road before I could get there to pick her up.”

“I heard she fell off your truck.”

“Well, now she’s going back on it,” Bick said.

Pete didn’t want to scratch Alex, but he couldn’t allow himself to be carried into the house. Not now, when the trapper was standing right there, talking to a police officer.

Pete thrust his hind feet against Alex’s arm.

“Ouch!” Alex said, and loosened his grip.

Pete leaped to the ground and raced toward the clump of ferns.

“Get back here,” Alex said. “Haven’t you had enough excitement? You’re lucky to be alive.”

“This way!” Pete said. “Follow me!”

Even though it made his shoulder hurt more, Pete ran toward where he’d left the rabbit’s foot and the invoice. This time, Alex ran after him.

Pete got there first and picked up the invoice in his teeth. Alex rushed to him, leaned down to pick him up, and stopped. “What’s that?” he asked. “What do you have in your mouth?”

Pete dropped the invoice, and Alex picked it up. While Alex read it, Pete batted the rabbit’s foot out from under the fern. Alex looked down, then picked up the rabbit’s foot, too.

“Where did you get these?” Alex said. “I need to show these to the policeman.”

Finally! Pete thought. He let Alex pick him up, but when Alex started toward his own house, Pete struggled again.

“Oh, all right,” Alex said. “You can come along while I talk to the police officer, but you can’t get down.”

“I don’t want to get down,” Pete said. “I only want to hear what’s said.”

Alex ran toward the others. “Look what Pete found!” he said. He handed the invoice and the rabbit’s foot to Officer Dingam.

“Where did you get these?” the officer said.

“My cat had them,” Alex said. “He must have taken them out of the truck.”

“That’s probably why Hogman got angry and stole Pete,” Benjie said.

“Hush, Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill said.

Officer Dingam said, “You’re under arrest, Badgerton, for illegal trapping and sale of wildlife.”

“You can’t prove that,” Bick said.

“I can!” Benjie said. “I have DNA evidence on a cigarette butt.”

“Hush, Benjie,” Mrs. Kendrill said.

Officer Dingam put the invoice in his pocket. “This invoice has your name on it,” he said. “Get in the squad car. We’re taking a trip to the station.”

•  •  •

That night after dinner, everyone gathered at the Kendrills’ house for ice cream. Mr. Kendrill sat with his leg propped up on a stool.

Pete sat by Alex’s feet, hoping he would get to lick the bowl when Alex finished eating. He had reminded the people that cats like dessert, too, but as usual, the humans had not done what he asked.

“Officer Dingam called,” Alex said. “He found six more leghold traps, all of them set, around the trailer where Hogman was living, and the fingerprints on them matched Hogman’s. He said there’s plenty of evidence to convict the man on animal cruelty, which is a felony, and he’ll ask that part of the sentence be that Hogman can’t own any animal for at least three years.”