Ghost Cave (3 page)

Hermie reached out immediately.

Eddie frowned and hesitated. “Only if we're together when we find it. If I stumble over a grave when I'm alone, I'm not going to share it.”

Eddie and Hermie looked at Marc. “That's fair enough,” Marc agreed. He was certain that wouldn't happen.

Eddie took Marc's hand and Hermie laid his on top of theirs. Under the reward poster, the three of them shook. Then they crossed their hearts and pulled a finger across their throats, swearing they'd never tell about the pact.

4

B
LUEDOG'S
R
ABBIT

Bluedog barked, saying she wanted in on their deal. Marc hugged her. “Yes, you too, Blue,” he said, laughing. “You can help dig.”

“And we'll buy you the biggest bone you ever saw if you find anything,” Hermie said in agreement.

“Let's begin looking this afternoon,” Marc suggested as they jumped on their bikes and started back toward town. “It could rain again tomorrow.”

“I'm hungry.” Hermie puffed as he pumped to keep up with Marc and Eddie. “I don't want to go exploring until after lunch.”

Marc was hungry, too, but he didn't want to go back home for lunch. He hesitated. Hermie knew what he was thinking. Marc didn't tell Hermie too many of his feelings, but Hermie was good at figuring out what was going on in people's minds—especially Marc's. Marc guessed that was why they'd been friends for so long. They didn't always have to talk about how they felt.

“Come eat at my house, both of you,” Hermie invited, after looking at his watch. “Mom will be gone again now. She's working afternoons at the beauty shop this summer.”

“Thanks, Herm. If you're sure your mom won't mind.” Marc knew that even if Mrs. Harrington wasn't home, she would know three boys and a dog had eaten there.

“She will, but I don't care.” Hermie led the way.

Bluedog followed them inside at Hermie's, but Marc made her sit on the sleeping porch. She scooted forward until she could see the boys in the kitchen. Then she put her head on her paws and took on her sad look.

“She never gives up, does she?” Hermie took peanut butter and a loaf of Wonder Bread out of the cupboard. From the fridge he got his mom's homemade muscadine jam.

Marc's mouth watered at the thought of the sweetly tart taste of muscadines. He smeared his bread generously and washed down two sandwiches with ice-cold milk.

“Let's take a snack with us.” Hermie found his day pack, khaki-colored and crumpled like an old paper bag.

“That looks like a pack Pops might have carried in World War I,” Eddie teased, as Hermie tossed in apples, cookies, and a Hershey bar each.

Hermie laughed. “Maybe it is. My dad got it at the Army Surplus.”

Marc was glad Mrs. Harrington kept plenty of food in the house. At his place he either had to remind his dad to go grocery shopping or else do it himself, adding it to their bill at the City Market. Marc's mother had always kept the pantry overflowing. He'd found out a lot of things that she did for them after she left. Things he liked—things he'd always taken for granted.

They crossed the south side of the square again to get to the old highway that led to the bluffs. Marc soon wished they'd taken the back streets when Howard Moon appeared and skidded his bike right in front of them, forcing them to stop.

“Where are you all going? Hunting for Indian relics, by any chance?” Mooney grinned.

Eddie could never keep his mouth shut. “None of your beeswax, Mooney.” Marc kept telling Eddie that ignoring Mooney worked best, but Eddie had a short fuse and a big mouth.

“What if I make it my business, Greasehead?” Mooney dodged in front of Marc. Marc had already started to go around him.

“We're going out to the bluffs to look for arrowheads, Mooney,” Marc said. “Want to come along?” Sometimes the truth worked best.

“Naw. You think a handful of arrowheads is going to win that reward, Schaller? You've got to think bigger than that. Let me know when you're going for the big find. Then I'll tag along with the kiddies here.” Mooney nodded toward Hermie and Eddie.

Eddie was eleven in November, but he was so small people sometimes mistook him for ten. He'd come to Arkansas from a California school. The teachers found he'd had all the fourth grade books before, so they let him try fifth. He'd made it through, just barely. Hermie and Marc had to help him a lot with math. Marc never worried about running around with two guys younger than he was. Hermie and Eddie were certainly better company than Mooney.

“That guy's a pile of horse pucky. He makes me want to punch him out.” Eddie ran his hands down both sides of his head, smoothing his hair. Then he stood on his pedals and pumped to get going fast.

“Why don't you ignore him? I keep telling you that works best.” The chain on Marc's bike slipped, and he had to pedal a lot to make it catch.
I'm the one who needs that money for a new bike
, he thought.

“I can't ignore him. What if he'd come with us? Why'd you invite him, Marc?” Eddie circled back to where Marc was trying to get some traction.

“He'd never want to tag along with us,” explained Hermie, who understood Marc's tactics. “Unless we didn't want him to, or he thought we'd found something good.”

“Hey!” Mooney yelled. He was following them. Had he changed his mind? “If you ever want to get rid of that funny-looking dog, Schaller, I have a friend who runs a freak show.” Mooney cackled with laughter, zipped in front of them, then took off back to town, singing, “How much is that doggie in the window?” as he disappeared.

“Very funny,” Eddie shouted after him.

Mooney knew how attached Marc was to Bluedog—how she went every place he went, except to school. He figured if he couldn't get to Marc any other way, he'd try making fun of his dog. And it almost worked.

Marc knew Bluedog was funny-looking, but she was the smartest dog he'd ever known. His dad had said so, too, when they got her. A man who'd needed some insurance had traded Bluedog for the first premium. She had funny markings even as a puppy, but she learned every trick Marc could think of in record time.

Then Marc nearly lost her. She got sick, and the vet didn't know what it was. Marc sat up with her day and night, making her eat one bite at a time out of his hand. He talked to her, begged her not to die. The vet said Marc saved her life. Then he told Marc the Chinese people believe that when you save someone's life, you're responsible for them forever. Marc had been especially close to Bluedog ever since. Sometimes he knew how she was feeling, and she always knew how Marc was feeling. His mother called them twins—said twins sometimes didn't even have to talk to each other, they understood without words or just talked with their minds. “Twin to a dog,” she'd teased Marc.

The man had called her an Australian Blue, a type of sheepdog found in Australia. There was a layer of dark hair under Blue's short white coat, causing her to have a bluish tint all over. She had black spots, and her eyes were a funny light brown. Bluedog's extra-long legs added to her odd look, but that made her the jumper she was. Marc loved to see her sail out and over a low fence, chasing her ball.

Bluedog had one fault, as far as Marc was concerned. She had a passion for rabbits.

Now she ran ahead of their bikes for a time, anticipating the fun she was going to have in the woods. As soon as they stopped riding, though, she was off and running through the woods. First one way, then another, nose to the ground, hunting fresh rabbit scent.

“Look at that fool dog, Marc.” Eddie laughed. “She'd never be any good herding sheep now. She wouldn't have time.”

“Not that we'd trade her, but maybe there's a job for a dog who herds rabbits.” Hermie laughed at Bluedog, too, but Marc knew both he and Eddie really loved her.

“Let's hide our bikes,” Marc suggested, picking his up and setting it down in a small thicket of shrub oak that was thick with new leaves and full of water droplets.

Marc's action frightened a rabbit who'd taken up hiding in the thicket. The cottontail flashed across the clearing ahead of Bluedog. She tore after it.

“You could say thanks,” Marc yelled after the streak of blue and gray. He laughed. She
was
funny.

“What would she do if she caught one?” Eddie asked, setting his bike alongside Marc's.

“I think it would scare her to death,” Marc answered. “Let's go down to the river. Something may have washed up in the rains.”

“Come back, Blue. We're going this way,” Hermie called to Bluedog as he swung his knapsack onto his back, pushed up his glasses, and took the trail that led down to the bluffs and the river.

Eddie and Marc followed Hermie, but Marc held back a little, calling to Bluedog. She seemed obsessed with this particular rabbit.

They walked along in silence, their sneakers pad, pad, padding on the soft earth, still soggy from the rain. The oaks and hickories overhead were green and lush, creating a shady tunnel as they headed downhill through deep forest. Verbenas were covered with pink blossoms that perfumed the damp air. Slender dogwoods had finished their spring blooming. Now their green leaves blended into the approaching summer. Here it was, all around them, at last—the freedom Marc had craved all through May while they were stuck in school. Best yet, the sun kept peeking out, promising dryer days.

Watching for poison ivy, they ignored the other bushes that slapped against their jeans, splattering water on their legs.

Soon Marc realized that Bluedog wasn't catching up to them. There was no muffled thump-thump-thump behind them. No huffing and puffing. No Bluedog crashing crosscountry taking canine shortcuts.

Marc stopped. Listened. “Bluedog! Bluedog—come on, now. Bluedog! Wait up, guys.”

“Dumb dog.” Eddie shuffled back to where Marc waited.

“We'd better go back.” Hermie sounded worried.

“She knows these woods better than we do.” Marc felt frustrated. He didn't want to go back. It'd been three weeks since he'd been in the woods. He had sat in the classroom imagining the feel of the river's lazy, warm water on his bare feet. He wanted to wander around at the foot of the bluffs. He'd found arrowheads there before, especially after a lot of rain, and they'd had high water all spring. Anything could have washed up. Excitement filled Marc's stomach, and he felt as wiggly as Bluedog when she knew they were going someplace.

Marc sighed and turned around. “Bluedog, where are you!” he yelled.

They kept calling as they retraced their steps, impatiently, all the way back to where they'd hidden the bikes. Then they walked in the direction that Bluedog had first chased the rabbit.

“She wouldn't go far away from us,” Marc said. “Even for a rabbit. She always keeps up.”

“Well, then, where is she?” Eddie stood still and listened again. His patience had run out.

Marc listened, too, but he had a strange feeling. Bluedog never did anything like this, never got this far from him. But the fact was, she was gone. Something was wrong. Bluedog had completely disappeared.

5

T
HE
C
AVE

“I think she's in trouble,” Marc said, sensing Bluedog was frightened, but not telling Eddie and Hermie how he knew. They would think he was crazy if he told them that he and Bluedog were like twins. How many people can read dog thoughts? But Marc knew his feelings were true. Bluedog was trying to tell him she needed him.

He got more and more scared, but all he knew to do was to keep looking and calling out. They searched the area methodically, circling farther and farther away from the bikes, fighting the wet, bushy undergrowth. When their route met the road on one side, they concentrated on the other. They would soon run out of space on that side, too, since there was a drop-off to the river below.

“We could sure use a machete,” Hermie said, as he pushed aside verbena branches, shaking water droplets, sweetly perfumed, onto the three of them.

“We're going to be lucky if we don't get covered with poison ivy.” Eddie jerked limbs from in front of his face, letting them slap back at Marc, who caught them, ignoring Eddie's mood. His own anger had dissolved into worry. Bluedog was his best friend, and he had to find her.

A hackberry branch slapped his cheek. He barely noticed the stinging.
I'm here, I'm here
, Bluedog kept saying to him.
Where?
Marc felt like shouting, but Hermie and Eddie would freak out if he went around talking to Blue when she wasn't there.

Finally the sound of barking reached his ears, but it seemed to come from far off. It had a funny, hollow sound as if she were in a tunnel. “Bluedog?” Marc shouted.

“Over this way!” Hermie heard it, too.

A huge outcropping of rocks bordered the edge of the drop-off to the river. They made their way in that direction, calling and looking in all possible hiding spaces. Maybe she was tangled in blackberry vines. But no Bluedog.

Marc held to the rocks and looked over the bluff, half expecting to see Bluedog standing on a ledge looking up at him. Could she have fallen off? She wasn't that dumb, but if she was excited about the rabbit she might have been careless.

“Bluedog?” Marc called out again.

“Down here, Marc, down here! Jumpin' Jehoshaphat! Come and look!” Hermie shouted.

“It's—it's a cave,” Marc said. It had to be. They could hear Bluedog right under them, but they couldn't see her.

They searched the rocks until they found the small hole. All around it the dirt was loose, as if Bluedog had tried to hold on to the edge.

“Holy Cow! I knew we'd find something good this summer.” Eddie grinned ear to ear, taking all the credit, as if he'd stumbled into the cave himself.

“Jeez, this is something you only read about in books,” said Hermie, peering into the darkness.