A Child Is Missing (19 page)

“My father lives in a house on a hill near Long Creek. My mother got mad and left. I go to see my father a lot.”

“Jamie, do you know who stuck you in the ground?”

Jamie got tears in his eyes.

“Don't cry, Jamie.” The hermit felt badly. He shouldn't have talked to a kid like that. “I'm sorry I made you cry. I didn't mean to.”

The dog put its paws on Jamie's legs, stood on its hind feet, and licked the side of Jamie's face. It tickled so much that Jamie laughed.

“See, Wolf wants you to feel better.”

“I have to go to the bathroom. Then I want to go home and be with my father.”

“Your mom must miss you, too.”

Jamie frowned. “She got mad and left. I feel sorry for my father sometimes.”

“In there, Jamie. When you're done, I'm going to give you something to eat. Then I want you to tell me what happened to you.”

“Then will you take me home?”

The hermit thought about the man he'd seen in the night. “Yes, Jamie.”

“I want my daddy.”

“I know. I know.” The hermit didn't want the boy to cry anymore. “Just go in there, Jamie.” To his astonishment, the hermit was embarrassed. “If you have to do anything but pee, take some lime—the white stuff in the can—and throw it in the hole. Okay? But don't get any in your eyes.”

When Jamie came out, he heard sizzling sounds from the stove. He smelled cooking.

“I saved some warm water in the sink for you to wash your hands, Jamie. Around here, we don't waste water.”

Jamie stood on tiptoes to dip his hands in the soapy water, then wiped them dry on a raggedy towel hanging on the side of the sink.

“Sit here, Jamie. Your cough is almost gone, do you know that?”

“Yes.” It was, Jamie realized.

“That jolt of whiskey fixed you right up, didn't it?”

“Yes.” Jamie didn't know quite what the hermit meant. “What should I call you? You still didn't tell me.”

Jamie watched the hermit stand by the stove, scraping stuff around in a frying pan. His dog sat near the stove, looking right at the hermit.

“Tell you what, Jamie. I'm going to take you home pretty soon, so what we're doing right now is just, oh, sort of a visit. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jamie didn't know what he meant.

“It's just a visit. So we can play a game. If you want to, you can call me, uh, call me Da—” Suddenly, the hermit was overwhelmed with sorrow and shame. He turned away, shook his head, forced himself not to cry.

Jamie didn't know what was happening. He was glad when the hermit looked at him again. The hermit's eyes were shiny.

“Tell you what,” the hermit said. “I live in the woods, so you can call me Woody. How's that?”

“Is that your nickname?”

“No.”

“Then why.…?”

“It'll be my nickname if you call me that. Starting right now.”

Jamie didn't quite understand. “I don't get to call many old people by their first names.”

“If it makes you feel better, you can call me
Mr.
Woody.” Just then, Wolf whined. “Wolf, you'll get your share, you greedy bastard. Oops, excuse me, Jamie.”

Jamie laughed at the funny name, laughed at the swearing. “The men who took me away swore a lot.”

“When was that, Jamie?”

“A long time ago.”

“How long?”

“I don't know. I thought they were going to do things to me.”

“Did they?”

“No. But they hit me. And two men put me in that tin place. With bread and water.”

“You mean where I found you?”

“Yes.”

“How long were you there?”

“I don't know. I couldn't tell when it was night.”

God, the hermit thought. “Where were you before that, Jamie?”

“In a long cement room with no windows. It was a bath-room.”

“A bathroom?”

“Yes. It had a toilet and a sink. I remember men talking.”

“How long were you in that place, Jamie?”

“I don't know. At first, I couldn't tell when it was night, because there weren't any windows. But when I got sleepy, I guessed it must be night. Only, there were times when I wanted to sleep but when I was too scared.”

“How many times did you sleep, Jamie?”

“A couple, I think. I don't know. I was scared.”

“I bet.”

“They gave me baloney sandwiches to eat and a toy furry bear to play with. But I was still scared.”

“Jamie, where were you when the bad men first took you?”

“With Tony. He was driving me back to my mother.”

“Who's Tony?”

“He drives me and my dad places. He's real nice.”

“So he's like a chauffeur?”

“Yes.” Jamie remembered the word. “I'm allowed to call him by his first name.”

“So, Jamie, your mom and dad don't live together?”

“No. My mom got mad and left, and then she made me go with her.”

“It's okay, Jamie. Okay to cry. Here.”

Jamie took the rag from the hermit and wiped off his face.

“Let's eat, Jamie. We can talk while we eat.”

Jamie looked at the big plate of food: chunks of meat, potatoes, carrots. It smelled good.

“Stew, Jamie. The vegetables are from cans. Do you like venison?”

“What's that?”

The hermit decided not to tell him. “It's like beef, Jamie. It's a kind of beef.”

Jamie started to eat. He had had stew before, but never like this. It was good. Jamie was surprised at how hungry he was.

“Eat as much as you can, Jamie. 'Cuz you know what? In just a little while, I'm going to take you home. Or close to it.”

“To my father?”

“To your mother and father. Before it gets dark. Now tell me some more, Jamie.”

Proud that the boy seemed to like his cooking, the hermit let him eat. Every third or fourth spoonful, the hermit asked a question, letting Jamie answer in his own good time.

Jamie was getting used to Mr. Woody's face. Wolf sat next to Jamie, and when he felt full Jamie asked if he could give the dog what was left on his plate. Mr. Woody said he could.

When the hermit thought he understood what had happened to the boy, he said, “I'll bet your dad has a real big house, Jamie.”

“Yep, he does. I have a pony there.”

Rich, the hermit thought. “Jamie, I think someone kidnapped you to hold you for ransom.”

Jamie gave him a blank look, and the hermit reminded himself that the boy was only five.

“Can I go home?” Jamie said.

“Sure, Jamie. It's fun to visit, though. Isn't it?”

“I want to see my father,” Jamie said. “You're not my father.”

“I know, Jamie. I know.” The hermit turned his face away to hide his sadness.

“I think I have to go to the bathroom again.” Jamie had eaten a lot.

“Okay. You know what to do.”

Alone, the hermit stood up and tried to clear his mind. He felt ashamed for almost asking the boy to call him Daddy. What a rotten thing to do. The boy had seen through it, too: “You're not my father.”

Oh, Jesus Christ. The hermit sat down on his bed, put his head in his hands. Guilt was heavy on his shoulders. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and gulped once, twice, three times. He swallowed more than he meant to.

Good, the boy hadn't come out yet. The hermit lay down and closed his eyes. He would rest for a few minutes, clear his mind.

Jamie was surprised to see Mr. Woody lying down. Then he heard the snoring. Jamie wanted to go home, but he was afraid to wake up the hermit.

Something cold and wet touched his hand. Wolf had nuzzled him.

“Wolf, do you want to play with me?”

The dog's eyes were friendly, and his tail was wagging.

Jamie decided to play outside with Wolf until Mr. Woody was done with his nap. Jamie wanted a dog of his own someday.

Jamie put on his outdoor clothes as quietly as he could. Then he opened the door and stepped outside. He could smell the trees. “Come on, Wolf.”

Wolf didn't seem to know what to do. The dog looked toward the figure snoring on the bed, then at Jamie. Finally, he followed the boy.

Jamie closed the door quietly and took a step in the fluffy snow. Then another step, and then he was running in the snow, kicking it up, and Wolf was right next to him. Jamie laughed. Wolf was almost as much fun as the pony back home. Jamie made little snowballs and threw them at the dog. The dog liked the game: He ran away from Jamie, then turned around and came racing back, as if he was going to run right into him. But he always turned away at the last second, and Jamie could tell from the eyes that the dog was having fun. Jamie wished he could take Wolf home. Jamie felt snow on his face, felt the wind.

The hermit stirred when he heard the tin cans jingle. The whiskey had left him sluggish, but he knew he hadn't dreamed the noise. Why didn't Wolf bark? The damn dog was supposed to be guarding—

The hermit sat up, looked around the cabin. Empty. “Jason! Where are you? Wolf…”

He leaped out of bed, grabbed his rifle, opened the door. He saw the tracks of boy and dog, heard the boy laughing and the dog snorting playfully on the other side of the cabin.

“Jas … Jamie! Come back in here! Wolf!”

A moment later, the boy appeared at the door, looking frightened.

“We, we have to get ready, Jamie. I'm sorry I, uh, fell asleep.”

“I was playing with Wolf.”

“I know. I know.”

There was a light snow already on the ground, and the wind was picking up. The air was colder, and the graying sky hinted at still more snow. Hard weather to travel in—or maybe good weather to travel in. He knew the woods better than anyone.

The boy had said there were two men who had kidnapped him. The hermit had seen only one. Maybe the two of them would come looking. Maybe they were both out there right now. The hermit cursed himself for having been careless.

The wind gusted, and all the cans jangled at once. Big snowflakes appeared.

The hermit closed the door. “We're going for a long hike, Jamie. A hike in the snow. We're going to take you home.”

Jamie pouted. “Can I play with Wolf some more?”

“Not now.”

The boy looked disappointed.

“Jamie, you want to go home, don't you?”

“Yes, but I was having a good time with Wolf. And I wanted to build a snowman.”

“It'll have to wait. We have to go now.”

“All right. Mr. Woody?”

“What?”

“Can Wolf come and see me?”

“Maybe, Jamie. Maybe.”

He got the boy snug on the sled, wrapped him in a blanket, and handed him a woolen ski mask. The hermit saw fear in the young face.

“What's wrong, Jamie?”

“The men who took me had masks like that.”

“This is just a mask, Jamie. It'll keep your face warm. You can see out of it.”

Jamie put the mask on. It itched. “One man held a big gun in front of Tony's face.”

“A gun like this?” The hermit held up his carbine.

“Bigger even.”

Shotgun, the hermit thought. “I bet they wanted to make your dad pay a lot to get you back, Jamie. I bet that's what happened.”

“How come my daddy didn't just buy me back?”

The hermit was angry with himself for upsetting the boy. “Maybe he wanted to, Jamie. Maybe something went wrong.”

“Do you ever get lost in the snow?”

“I don't get lost in the snow, Jamie. You know why? Because this is my home, these woods. Even deer hunters get lost out here sometimes. But I don't.”

The hermit thought he saw the boy's mouth wrinkle into a smile under the wool mask. “Jamie, you won't be afraid of me if I wear a mask, will you?”

“No. I'll know it's still you.”

“Right. It's still Mr. Woody.” The hermit put his mask on. Next, he fastened a sling to his carbine so he could carry it across his back. Finally, he checked his pockets: compass, two extra pairs of gloves, extra socks, extra cartridges for the rifle. In the deep pockets of his coat, he had two bags, one with bread, another with chunks of cooked deer meat—enough for himself, the boy, and Wolf. On the sled, strapped under and around the boy, he had put ponchos, with blankets tucked between them for dryness. He had also packed a thermos of coffee and a big canteen of water.

“Anything comes loose from the sled, you holler. Okay, Jamie?”

“Okay.”

The hermit put his back to the boy and tugged. The sled began to move.

“Are we going to Long Creek?” Jamie asked.

“Nope.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Deer County.”

“How come? Is it closer?”

“No.”

“How come we're not going to the closer place? I want to see my daddy. And my mommy.”

The hermit thought fast. “I can't explain why, Jamie, but this is the quickest and safest way, even if it's farther. Do you trust me?”

Just then, Wolf appeared by the sled. The dog's face was all happy. Jamie reached out and touched the dog's back, and Wolf swung his head to brush Jamie on the leg. Jamie giggled.

“Do you trust me, Jamie?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Better tell Wolf you trust me.”

“Wolf, I trust”—Jamie giggled at the funny game—“I trust Mr. Woody.”

The dog looked at the boy, chortled deep in his throat, then trotted on ahead.

Jamie was happy. It was fun being pulled on the sled. Mr. Woody had fixed it so Jamie's back was resting on the blankets and ponchos. It was like sitting in a chair, only better.

Jamie kept looking at Mr. Woody's back as the sled glided along. The back looked big and strong. Jamie's face was warm inside the mask. He saw lots of big snowflakes, and they made him think of the night the bad men had taken him away. But this time it was fun to look at the snow. Now and then, a flake settled on Jamie's eyelashes and tickled as it melted. He was going home. Jamie closed his eyes and went to sleep.