by Ellen Miles
Maybe what Bentley needed most was a family. After all, Bentley loved kids. He had comforted Mateo when he fell. He had played with the girls at the bonfire. Even if Charles couldn’t be the one to find Bentley a forever home, now he could tell Mr. Merrick what kind of home would be best for the silver pup.
By the time the group was leaving the woods, Charles felt better. He knew he would be able to help Bentley, even if just a little.
“Look! A merlin!” Logan called out just as they came into the meadow. He pointed. “See it, flying past the flagpole? You can tell it from other falcons because it beats its wings faster, and it’s usually on the smaller side.”
The group stopped, everyone squinting to see the bird against the dull gray sky. Charles looked up, too. He saw the bird, flying fast over the meadow. Then he looked back down to see Bruce, the older ranger, standing by the flagpole. Charles recognized the wide brim of his felt hat. But Bruce was alone. Dad and Buddy were not with him.
Something was wrong. Where was Dad?
“Mom,” said Charles. He tugged on her sleeve. “Mom.” His mother was still trying to find the merlin through her binoculars.
Charles stepped away from the group. He raised both hands and waved them. Bruce waved back. Then he motioned to Charles with one hand. “Mom, it’s Bruce,” Charles said. “He wants us. We have to go to the flagpole.” Bruce motioned again, and Charles took off running.
He heard Mom call to him, but he didn’t stop. He ran the whole way, nearly stumbling up to Bruce. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Where’s my dad?”
“He’s fine,” Bruce said quickly. “But Buddy got loose, and your dad is trying to track him down.”
“What? Loose? Where?” Charles felt his heart thudding in his chest.
“In the woods. Buddy heard something and took off,” Bruce explained. “He couldn’t have gotten far, but your dad asked me to come back and tell you.”
Charles gazed at the hills where Dad and Buddy had gone. The woods went on forever, as far as he could see. What if Buddy got lost in that endless forest? They’d never find him. He glanced back at Mom. She was jogging toward them, the binoculars banging against her chest.
“Hurry!” he yelled to her. “We have to find Buddy!” He took off running, toward the hills.
“Charles, wait!” called Mom.
But Charles didn’t stop. Buddy needed his help.
“Hold on, Charles! I can take you right to your dad,” Bruce shouted.
Charles glanced back. Bruce and his mom were running, too. They were right behind him.
Charles forced himself to slow down, but his mind was still racing. What had happened? Buddy liked to be outside, but he liked to be with his people even more. What could have made him disappear?
Charles’s mind buzzed with all that Logan had told them about raptors. Maybe a small merlin wouldn’t go after a puppy, but Logan had said that owls sometimes hunted larger prey. Charles reminded himself that Logan said owls were nocturnal — they hunted at night. How many hours did they have before sunset?
Charles knew one thing for sure: if he’d been along on the hike with Dad and Bruce, Buddy would never have run off. When Mom reached him, he blurted out, “It’s my fault. If I had gone with Dad, Buddy wouldn’t have gotten loose.”
“Oh, no,” Mom said, hugging Charles close. “It’s not your fault at all. It isn’t anyone’s fault. Don’t worry. We just need to focus on finding him.” She gave him one last squeeze and let him go. “Come on,” she said. She grabbed his hand, and they took off up the trail.
“There was a group of hikers,” Bruce called out from behind. “They were on a trail up the hill. They were singing. Your dad thinks Buddy might have heard that.”
“It must have been the Greenies!” said Charles. “I bet Buddy heard Lizzie and ran off to find her.”
It wasn’t long before they found Dad. He was striding along the trail, calling Buddy’s name. “He went that way,” Dad said, pointing. “He still has his leash on.”
“I sent out an alert on my walkie-talkie. We’ll hear back if anyone finds him,” Bruce said. “We should probably head on up the trail and keep our eyes peeled.”
Charles scanned the forest floor as they hiked. They were on a dirt path, but he thought he heard a rustle in the dried leaves. Then he was sure he heard a bark. “Quiet!” he declared. “I hear something.” The adults all froze in place. Charles crossed his fingers. Was it Buddy?
Charles felt a rush of relief when he saw a pair of floppy ears appear. But then he realized that those ears did not belong to his puppy. Those ears were silver, not brown.
“Bentley? What are you doing here?” Charles asked as the gangly pup galloped toward him. He glanced around. “Is someone with you?” He bent down, and Bentley bounded into his arms.
Bentley wagged his thick whip of a tail. He strained his neck to try to lick Charles’s face.
I’m so glad I found you! I thought I could smell you on this trail. I smell trouble, too. Does somebody need my help?
“Hello?” Charles called out. “Is anyone there?”
His parents and Bruce joined in. “Hello!” Dad shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Did someone bring Bentley? Helloooo!” There was no response, just a happy yip from the puppy with the big paws and the slate-blue eyes.
“Lizzie said Weimaraners are good tracking dogs!” Charles said. “Maybe we can get him to help us find Buddy.”
“Give him something of Buddy’s,” Bruce advised, “so he can get the scent.”
Buddy had run off with his leash, so they needed to find something else.
Dad searched his backpack. “I have an old leash in here, but it probably doesn’t smell like Buddy. It’s one we use for foster dogs,” he said, pulling out a black leash.
Charles took it and snapped the leash onto Bentley’s collar so he couldn’t run off. They didn’t need two lost dogs on their hands.
“I can’t find anything with Buddy’s scent,” Dad said when he got to the bottom of his pack.
“Oh! He slept on my fleece last night,” Charles said. Quickly, he unzipped his jacket and pulled his arms out of the sleeves. “Here, Bentley. Smell this.” Charles knelt down and held the blue fleece to Bentley’s nose. He could see some of Buddy’s short brown hairs caught in the nubby material.
Bentley buried his wet, brown nose in the fleece, his tail still wagging.
I know that smell. It’s my friend! Where is my friend?
“See?” Charles said to the puppy. “It smells like Buddy. Buddy’s lost. You need to help us find him.”
Bentley began to whimper. The puppy pushed his nose back into the jacket, then looked up and glanced around. Charles held his breath. Bentley looked first at Mom, then Dad, and then Charles. He took a deep breath.
Then he sneezed.
Charles’s shoulders drooped. He had thought Bentley understood.
Bentley let out a bark and wagged his tail.
What are we waiting for? Let’s go find my friend!
The silver pup trotted off up the trail, the leash dragging behind him. He barked again.
“Grab his leash!” Mom yelled.
Charles jumped forward and stepped on the leash, then bent to take hold of it. “Got him!” he said. “Let’s go, Bentley!”
Bentley lowered his nose to the ground. He took a couple of sniffs and a couple of steps. He moved quickly. Sniff, sniff. Step, step. Sniff, sniff. Step, step. He’d stop and smell the air, his nose pointed up to the sky. His nose was always working, and so were his legs. He tugged on the leash, leading Charles uphill, off the trail. Charles struggled to keep pace, slipping on wet clumps of leaves and loose rocks.
“I think I hear water!” he yelled out. He remembered that the Greenies were hiking on the waterfall trail that day. Lizzie had said it was one of the hardest.
“I just got a message,” Bruce said, holding up his walkie-talkie. “Buddy isn’t with the nature group. But they’re looking for him.
” He paused. “I also got a message from Melvin Merrick. He just realized that Bentley was missing, too. I guess he figured out how to get loose.”
Charles wasn’t surprised. Bentley was smart. He had probably learned how to open the latch on his crate. Charles wondered if Bentley had sensed something was wrong. He sure seemed to want to help. The puppy stuck his nose in the dirt again and whined. Charles had the feeling he smelled Buddy.
“Should we take Bentley back?” Mom asked. “I don’t want Mr. Merrick to worry.”
“No!” Charles said. He held on to the leash as Bentley tugged him uphill. “He’s getting close. I know he is.”
Bruce nodded. “Melvin knows that Bentley is safe with us,” the ranger said. “Also, Melvin said he’s sending someone. Someone who can help.”
“Hey, down there!”
Everyone looked up to see who was yelling. It was Lizzie!
“We heard there’s a puppy missing. We’re searching for it,” Lizzie called from a path above them. Charles tilted his head way back to see her waving from the top of a steep hill.
“Lizzie,” Dad called back, using his calm firefighter voice. “The missing puppy is Buddy. Don’t worry. We think we’re close to finding him.”
“What can we do?” Now Charles could see Maria standing next to Lizzie.
“Can you search up there?” Dad asked. “We think Buddy may have been trying to find you.”
“Of course,” Lizzie said. She sounded confident. Charles knew that Lizzie liked to have a job.
“He still has on his red leash!” Charles yelled up to her.
The forest began to echo with calls for Buddy. Bentley ignored the noise and kept his nose to the ground, smelling everything. He spent a long time sniffing a big rock with shiny flecks in it, and then he moved on. Then, at the bottom of a steep, muddy hill, Bentley stopped. He cocked his head to one side. He lifted one of his floppy ears. He sniffed the air. He barked.
I hear something. I smell something, too. It smells like our friend.
“What is it, Bentley?” Charles asked. With everyone yelling Buddy’s name, it was hard to hear anything else. He strained his ears. Then he heard a tiny whine from above. “Buddy?” Charles cried. “Buddy! Where are you?”
Charles stared up the steep hill. “Buddy?” he yelled again. Bentley began to scramble up the hill. He found a rocky ledge and jumped up onto it, smelling the soggy brown leaves some more.
“Buddy!” Charles couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed a sapling and tried to pull himself up. The thin trunk of the tiny tree bent in his hand.
“Hold on! Hold on!” someone called. “That’s not safe! It’s too wet.”
Charles turned around. A man was running toward them. Charles didn’t know him, but he looked familiar.
“Holling!” Bruce called out. “You all, this is Holling. He’s Melvin’s boy.”
Holling did not look like a boy. He was a man. He was probably close to Logan’s age, but he was taller. He also had a short, tidy beard like his dad, Mr. Merrick.
“You still looking for your dog?” Holling asked.
“Yes,” Charles said. “Bentley has been tracking him. We think he’s up this hill.”
Holling looked up and whistled. “Hill? I’d say it’s more like a cliff,” he said. “I’m not sure how your pup got up there, but I think Bentley is right.”
Holling walked over to give Bentley a scratch between the ears. “Did you get us close, boy?” he asked. Bentley began wagging his tail so hard his whole body swayed back and forth. “How did you know these folks needed you? Did you let yourself out so you could help them?” he asked. “My dad will be glad you’re okay.” Bentley rested his chin in Holling’s open hand and whimpered a little. “Dad was right when he told me about you. He said you’re one sweet pup.”
Do I know you? I feel like I know you.
Holling studied the ridge.
“Holling used to lead a tracking hike at Misty Valley,” Bruce told the Petersons. “He’s an expert on following trails.”
“Well, maybe not an expert,” said Holling. “But I know a little. We’d try to follow an animal’s path by looking for clues,” he explained. “I run a similar hike at the camp where I work now.”
He walked closer to the ridge. “Some animal definitely came this way. You can see where its paws dug into the wet earth.” He pointed to where the leaves were overturned. “And up there, that fern has broken fronds.” He pointed to a ledge farther up. He paused, peering at the ground. “And was something dragging behind him? There’s a trail in the leaves.”
“Yes,” Dad said. “Buddy still had his leash on.”
Charles stared at Holling. He wasn’t at all what Charles had expected. He didn’t wear a suit, and he probably didn’t drive a fancy car, either. Plus, he was like a wildlife detective, which was totally cool. Charles was learning so much from him. Even Lizzie didn’t know this stuff, with all her camping. Charles noticed how Bentley leaned up against Holling’s knee. The pup sure seemed to like Holling. If only Holling wasn’t so against getting another dog!
Just then, they all heard a clear, sad whine.
“Buddy!” Charles yelled.
Bentley barked. He caught Charles off guard and yanked the leash from his hand. The puppy bolted up the hill.
“Whoa!” Holling watched Bentley. “I’m coming after you, little guy.” Holling stood back to examine the ridge. Then, with a big stretch, he stepped up to a mossy ledge. He grabbed the base of a young tree and pulled himself farther.
“I see the leash!” It was Lizzie. She and Maria were leaning over a wood railing at the top of the trail. Lizzie pointed. “Bentley found it, but I still can’t see Buddy.”
“On my way!” Holling called out.
He sounded calm and sure of himself — the same way Dad sounds in an emergency, thought Charles.
Charles backed up to watch Holling’s every move. Bentley watched him from above. The puppy followed Holling with his keen, blue-gray eyes. He barked.
I found my friend! I tracked him all the way up here. Hurry! You can help!
Step by step, Holling made his way up the dirt-and-rock wall. He was moving fast — maybe too fast. Charles gasped when he saw Holling’s boot slip.
Charles held his breath. Holling hung on to a ledge, his feet dangling in the air. He swung his body sideways to land his foot on the edge of a flat rock. Then he pulled himself up to the next level, where the hill was less steep. Clumps of wet earth fell to the ground as he climbed almost all the way to the top. “I see your dog!” he yelled, between raspy breaths. “He’s all right! His leash was caught between two rocks.”
Charles watched, still holding his breath. When Holling caught up with Bentley, the pup greeted Holling with happy barks. Holling pet him, and Bentley licked his hands. “Good boy. Good boy, Bentley.” Then Holling bent down to pick up Buddy. He gave him a hug. “Here we come,” he said as he worked the rest of the way up the hill, carrying Buddy under his arm. At the top, he ducked under the fence.
Lizzie and Maria were there to meet them. Charles rushed back to the trail. It would only take a few moments to run up the easier way. He couldn’t wait to hug Buddy, too!
Maria and the Petersons made a big fuss over Buddy.
Meanwhile, Holling and Bruce gave Bentley lots of love. “He did a fine job tracking that puppy,” Bruce said. “Especially when you figure he’s still only a puppy himself.”
“My dad sure thinks a lot of him,” Holling said. He held Bentley in his arms and rubbed his soft puppy belly. “I didn’t think he’d ever care for a dog the way he cared for Bones.”
“That’s what he said about you!” Charles exclaimed. “He said you’d never get another dog after Bones, that you loved Bones too much.”
Holling smiled. “You can never love a dog too much,” he said. “I guess I claimed I would never get another dog. I probably meant it at the time. But a person can change his mind, can’t he?”
Maybe Hollin
g wanted to adopt Bentley! Charles quickly went through the checklist in his mind. What were all the things Bentley needed for a good home? It was hard to remember. He wanted to ask the big question, but he suddenly felt a little shy about it. He looked over at Lizzie. She was never shy. If he didn’t ask now, she’d probably jump in and do it. She might be a big-time camper now, but he was the one who had figured out the best home for Bentley. He might as well finish what he’d started.
Charles cleared his throat. “Um,” he said, “do you think you might want to adopt Bentley?”
“I think he might have already adopted me,” Holling said, laughing as the puppy licked his face.
Charles thought they seemed perfect together. They both liked the outdoors. Holling was outside all the time; he didn’t have to stay behind a reception desk like his dad. Holling and Bentley were both athletic and fun.
“But what about winter?” Charles asked. “Don’t you go to the cold ski resorts, with Logan?”
“Not anymore,” Holling said. “My camp is busy all year, so I don’t go up north. We do have cross-country skiing if it snows enough.”
Charles glanced over at Lizzie with a question in his eyes. She nodded. Charles nodded back.
* * *
Later, Charles remembered one more thing that was on his checklist. The Petersons were all packed up. They stood in the parking lot, getting ready to leave. Mr. Merrick, Holling, and Bentley had just come out to say good-bye. That’s when Charles remembered. “Kids!” Charles blurted out. Everyone looked at him. “I forgot to ask if you have kids! Bentley likes kids, and he’d love having a whole family to keep him company.”
Holling laughed. “I forgot to say that my kids will be the most excited of all,” Holling admitted. “I just called them, and they can’t wait to meet this sweet guy. The campers will love him, too.”
“My grandkids have been asking for a dog forever,” Mr. Merrick said. “Charles, I’m not sure how you changed Holling’s mind, but thank you. I was hoping Bentley could stay in the family.”
Bentley and Buddy were saying their good-byes, too. Buddy was on his back with his paws in the air. Bentley stood over him, wagging his tail.