Trapped!

by Peg Kehret

  Pete ran into the woods behind Alex’s house, then put the invoice in a thick clump of ferns where the wind couldn’t blow it away. He didn’t watch Hogman drive off; he didn’t watch the TV people leave, either. He was too busy pawing at the rabbit’s foot that was stuck in his mouth.

  He pushed at it with his pink tongue. Yuck! He didn’t like the taste, and he didn’t want to cough up a hair ball made of rabbit fur. When the rabbit’s foot finally came loose, he laid it on top of the invoice.

  Then he took a complete cat bath, licking his shoulders and washing his face. Grooming himself calmed him. When he finished, he crept back to Mary’s yard. The pig was asleep in her pen; Alex and the others had left.

  Pete didn’t want to put the rabbit’s foot in his mouth again in order to carry it home. Too many pieces of fur had stuck to his tongue the first time.

  He decided to leave the evidence where it was, and try to get Alex to follow him. If he howled loudly enough and acted distressed, Alex should get the hint and go see what Pete wanted to show him.

  I’ll sit on the steps and caterwaul, Pete decided, and when Alex opens the door, I’ll run toward the clump of ferns.

  • • •

  Bick Badgerton drove his brother, Ram, to the gas station where Ram worked.

  “I’ll be off work at seven,” Ram said. “If you want me to go back up there with you to get the pig, I can do it then.”

  “I’ll have the pig long before seven,” Bick said. “The slaughterhouse closes at six. As soon as I take this box of pelts to Ned, I’ll go back and get the pig. By then that TV crew will be gone. I can’t believe those kids got a reporter to drive all the way out there to take pictures of my pig.”

  “Maybe you ought to keep that pig,” Ram said. “If she gets famous enough, you can sell pictures of her.”

  Bick looked at his brother as if he’d suddenly started speaking Chinese. “You’re crazy,” he said. “Who’d buy pictures of my pig?”

  “She was already on the news once,” Ram said, “and maybe she’ll be on again today. I wouldn’t want you to miss a chance for some easy money. A guy I heard about got two hundred dollars from one of the networks for a home video he took.”

  “Of a pig?”

  “No, of Mount Saint Helens blowing its top.”

  “A volcano erupting is not the same as my pig lying in the dirt.”

  Ram shrugged. “You never know what’s going to catch the public’s attention,” he said. “There are a lot of animal lovers out there. Maybe the pig will be a celebrity. You can make a pig Web page and sell hoofprints.” He got out, then as Bick drove off, he called, “W-w-w dot p-i-g dot com!”

  Don’t listen to him, Bick told himself. Ram always had some get-rich-quick scheme, and not one of them had ever panned out. I shouldn’t have involved him in the first place. I have a ramp for the truck and sturdy rope. I can lead the pig up the ramp by myself, the same as I did when I loaded her the first time.

  He fumed while he drove the fifteen miles to Ned’s shop. He had successfully avoided newspeople for seven years; he shouldn’t have to confront them now in order to get his own pig back. He shouldn’t have to put up with that snoopy cat prowling around in his truck, either. He shouldn’t have to go through any of this hassle.

  Drat those kids, anyway! This whole mess was their fault. If they had minded their own business and left his pig alone, none of this would have happened. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. By the time he parked his truck in Ned’s parking lot, he was steaming.

  He picked up the box of pelts, then looked for the invoice. Where was it? He was positive he had laid it on the floor beside the box. Bick set the box on the roof of the truck while he looked under the seat. All he saw was an empty beer can, two old scratch-off lottery tickets with losing numbers, and the wrapper from yesterday’s breakfast sandwich.

  He went around to the driver’s side and looked under that seat, too, in case the invoice had somehow slid over there, but the invoice wasn’t under there, either.

  Bick stomped into Ned’s store and plopped the box down on the counter.

  “I had an invoice ready for you,” he said, “but it’s gone. I gave my brother a ride to work; it must have fallen out of the truck when he got out. I have nine beaver, two rabbits, and a fisher. Total comes to one hundred twenty bucks.”

  “I can’t pay you without an invoice,” Ned said. “You know that.” As he talked he picked up two pelts and looked at them. “What happened to this one?” he asked as he turned the fur over in his hands. “Looks like your dog took a bite out of it.”

  “I don’t have a dog.” Bick leaned closer. “Where?”

  “Right there. One of the rabbit’s front feet has been chewed off. That’ll cut in half the amount I can pay you for it.”

  Bick grabbed the pelt in question and examined it. “That rabbit had all four feet when I put it in the box,” he said. “You know I’m more careful than that. I wouldn’t try to sell you a damaged pelt.”

  Ned shrugged. “You just did.” He lifted each of the other pelts out of the box and looked them over carefully, as if expecting the others might also have missing parts.

  Suddenly Bick slammed his fist on the counter, making Ned jump. “It was that cat!” he said.

  “What cat?”

  “Some kids stole my pig, and when I went to get her back, their cat got in my truck. He must have chewed on that rabbit pelt and ripped a foot off it.”

  Ned looked doubtful. “I suppose the cat took the invoice, too?”

  “Maybe. Maybe he kicked it out accidentally, or maybe it stuck to his foot. How should I know? All I know is that me and my brother and that cat are the only ones who’ve been in my truck since I put the pelts and the invoice in there. Ram didn’t chew off that rabbit’s foot, and I sure didn’t touch it, so that leaves the cat.”

  “Maybe you should go find that cat,” Ned said. He started to laugh. “Ask him to return your invoice and your rabbit’s foot.”

  “It isn’t funny.”

  Ned struggled to quit smiling but lost the battle. “If the cat doesn’t have your invoice, you can write up another one and send it to me. I’ll mail you a check.”

  Bick shook his head. “I gotta have cash,” he said. “Give me some paper and I’ll make a new invoice now.”

  Ned took a lined yellow tablet from a drawer and handed it to Bick. “Just remember to only bill half for the rabbit that’s missing a foot.” He laughed some more. “Maybe the cat wanted a good-luck charm,” he said.

  “Ha. Ha.” Bick wrote out the new invoice, collected his money, and left the shop. He’d find that cat, all right, and when he did, no good-luck charm on Earth would save the little thief.

  8

  As soon as the reporter and cameraman left, Mary unlocked the pigpen gate. She went in the pen, followed by Alex and Rocky.

  Piccolo seemed glad to have company. She leaned against Alex’s leg while the kids scratched behind her ears.

  “I did some more Internet research about pigs this morning,” Rocky said. “There’s one really cool Web site that compares pigs to people. It said pigs are more like humans than any other animal is. Pig hearts, arteries, livers, and immune systems are like ours. So are their teeth!”

  Alex squatted beside Piccolo, trying to see her teeth. Piccolo kept her mouth closed but pushed her snout toward Alex’s face.

  “Pigs get cancer and arthritis,” Rocky continued, “and they respond to drugs much the same way people do.”

  “Gramma told me that when my great-uncle Fred had open heart surgery he got a pig’s heart valve put in his heart,” Mary said. “She said the mitral heart valves of pigs are grafted into human patients all the time. They last longer than man-made valves.”

  “I read about that,” Rocky said. “Pig livers are used in humans, too, and pig cells have been used to treat diabetes.”

  Alex wondered how many pigs had given their lives so that sick people could have a new mitral
heart valve or a liver transplant or some other life-saving treatment. Ordinarily, Alex was against using animals for research. His parents supported a group called Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine that encouraged medical schools to use computer images instead of dogs and other animals in their laboratories. They also lobbied against cruel and unnecessary testing on animals for cosmetic products.

  He thought about the ethics of using pig parts to save people. He wouldn’t want Piccolo to be killed, but he wasn’t sure how he would feel if someone in his family needed that kind of medical treatment. You can’t get a liver from a computer.

  Alex moved his fingers back and forth as he ran his hands down Piccolo’s back, scratching her with his fingertips. Pete loved it when Alex did that to him, and the pig seemed to like it, too. Mary was right; this was a friendly, good-natured pig, and Alex was glad she had jumped off the truck and escaped.

  “Gramma told me about a blind woman who has a trained pig instead of a Seeing Eye dog,” Mary said. “She calls it her ‘Seeing Eye hog’ and says it’s as efficient as a dog, and more visible.”

  “It would get noticed, that’s for sure,” Rocky said.

  When Alex quit scratching the pig’s back, Piccolo made low, grunting sounds and put her head under Alex’s hand. He laughed, and massaged her some more.

  Benjie came down the driveway and approached the pen. “I don’t think they’re going to show up,” he said.

  “Who?” Alex asked.

  “The television people. I’ve been in my spy station watching for their truck.”

  “They came,” Alex said. “They tried to interview Hogman, but he wouldn’t talk to them. They left about ten minutes ago.”

  “They were here?” Benjie cried. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

  “I thought you knew. You said you were going to watch for them.”

  “I was! Were they driving a big truck with the station’s letters on the side?”

  “No. They were in a minivan. I don’t think there was any sign on the door.” Alex looked at Rocky. “Did you see a sign?”

  “No,” Rocky said.

  “I was looking for a big truck,” Benjie said. “What happened? Did they interview all of you?”

  “Hogman got angry that they were here. He covered up his face and threatened to sue the station if they put pictures of him on the news.”

  “Wow!” Benjie said. “I’ll bet he’s hiding from someone! Maybe he moved without paying his rent and that’s why he doesn’t want his picture taken. Maybe he murdered someone in another state!”

  Alex smiled at his brother’s inventive mind. No matter what happened, Benjie always had a theory about it. “Could be,” Alex said.

  “I should have stayed here,” Benjie said. “I missed all the excitement. I saw Hogman’s truck come and I saw him leave without Piccolo, but I stayed at my spy station ’cause I didn’t want to miss the TV truck.”

  “Nothing much happened,” Rocky told him. “The camera guy took some shots of Piccolo in her pen and we told about seeing her fall off the truck, and that was about it.”

  “The most action was when Pete got in Hogman’s truck,” Alex said. “It really made him angry when Pete jumped out of the truck and went tearing off.”

  “Pete practically knocked Hogman over when he ran between Hogman’s legs,” Mary said.

  Alex and Mary laughed as they told about Pete, but Benjie looked worried. “Why did Pete go in the truck?” he asked.

  “You know how curious he is. Maybe he smelled food inside.”

  “Remember when those burglars came to our house,” Benjie said, “and Pete got in their truck and ate a bag of french fries and the burglars kidnapped him?”

  “I remember,” Alex said. “It was horrible.”

  “Pete should stay out of trucks,” Benjie said, “especially when they belong to bad guys.”

  “I have to leave,” Rocky said. “Mom’s going to take me and Rufus to the off-leash dog park this afternoon.”

  “I’m going home, too,” Alex said. “I promised I’d mow the lawn.”

  “Let’s meet at five o’clock,” Mary suggested, “and watch the news together, in case they show Piccolo.”

  “My house, five o’clock,” Alex said, and everyone agreed.

  When Alex and Benjie got home, Pete was waiting for them by the back door.

  Alex held the door open for him, but instead of going in, Pete said, “Follow me!” and headed toward the ferns.

  Benjie went inside.

  Alex stood by the door, watching Pete.

  The cat stopped partway across the yard and waited, looking back, as if expecting Alex to follow him.

  Sometimes Alex wondered if Pete understood more than most cats do. It was uncanny, how Pete seemed to find important information and get Alex to notice it. It was almost as if Pete knew exactly what Alex’s family and friends talked about and then tried to help them solve their problems.

  That’s ridiculous, Alex told himself. Pete was a great cat, but that’s all he was: a cat. He was a bit more adventuresome than most cats, and he was certainly entertaining, the way he had cat fits and leaped to the top of the entertainment center, but Pete had no concept of life beyond his own small cat world.

  When Alex didn’t follow him, Pete trotted partway back to the house, stopped, and called again. “Come on, Alex, I have something to show you. I have evidence of a catastrophic crime.”

  “Get back here,” Alex said. “I’m going in, and you’d better come in, too.”

  Pete put his nose in the grass, as if he were sniffing at something. Then he raised his head, looked at Alex, and caterwauled. The shrill noise brought Mrs. Kendrill to the door.

  “What’s wrong with Pete?” she asked.

  Alex was already hurrying toward him. Before he got to where Pete was, Pete trotted farther away toward the clump of ferns.

  Alex stopped. He examined the place Pete had sniffed, then looked toward the cat. “I’m not playing chase-the-cat,” Alex said.

  “Is Pete okay?” Mrs. Kendrill called.

  “Yes. He wants me to play with him.”

  “I wish he would play more quietly,” she said.

  Alex turned away from Pete, and headed back to the house.

  Disgusted, Pete followed. If Alex refused to look at Pete’s important evidence, he might as well go inside, eat some crunchies, and take his nap.

  • • •

  Bick Badgerton filled his truck with gas, then pulled in to the drive-through line at Taco Time. It’s a good thing Ned had let him make out a new invoice on the spot. He had been down to his last fifty cents, he was hungry, and the truck was running on fumes. If he hadn’t been able to get cash for the pelts, he’d have been in big trouble.

  Bick ordered his usual: a soft taco, a side of fries, and a large soda. Then, remembering that he’d had no breakfast, he changed his mind. Make that two tacos,” he said. “With extra salsa.”

  He ate as he drove, thinking about the rabbit pelt that had been chewed. That thieving cat had cost him five dollars. Five bucks would have paid for his lunch. The more he thought about it, the more angry he got.

  Soon his stomach was churning so much that he couldn’t enjoy his food. He left the second taco and half of the fries lying on the seat.

  Bick drove past Valley View Estates, past Hilltop, to the narrow road that led to the trailer he called home. It wasn’t really his; Bick didn’t know who actually owned it, but he had lived there for nearly two years now and nobody had noticed. The trailer sat well back in the woods, out of sight of the gravel road. It lacked indoor plumbing and electricity, but Bick didn’t mind. A small wood-burning stove kept him warm in winter, and there was plenty of free firewood. The site was secluded, there was room for him to raise a few pigs, and best of all, it was free.

  Bick parked in front of the trailer, went inside, and got his wire cutters. He also tucked a handgun into the top of his jeans. Then he returned to the truck to go after his
pig. This time he planned to keep an eye out for that cat. If the cat got in Bick’s truck again, it wouldn’t be leaving on its own four feet.

  What he’d really like to do is take a potshot at those smart-aleck kids who had stolen his pig, but he couldn’t risk jail time. A cat was a different matter. The more he thought about it, the more Bick hoped the cat would come around and give him an excuse for some target practice.

  He wondered if Ned had any market for cat pelts. That would be a fitting way to get revenge for the damaged rabbit skin, and pick up some extra money at the same time.

  • • •

  Rocky and Mary both arrived about fifteen minutes before five as Alex took popcorn out of the microwave and poured it into a big bowl. They all sat on the couch together.

  Pete jumped into Alex’s lap. He leaned his head toward the bowl, trying to get close enough to take a bite of popcorn.

  “No, Pete,” Alex said as he moved the bowl farther away. “You can’t eat out of the bowl.”

  “I could if you didn’t keep moving it,” Pete said.

  Alex lifted Pete off his lap and set the cat on the floor. Then he tossed one kernel of popcorn on the floor next to Pete.

  Lizzy rushed over to see what it was, so Alex threw a piece of popcorn to her, too. Lizzy batted hers across the floor and chased it. Pete ate his, then asked for more.

  “I’ve never been on TV,” Mary said.

  “Neither have I,” Rocky said.

  “We might not be on tonight, either,” Alex said. “Not every story that they make gets used.”

  “Excuse me,” Pete said. “One piece of popcorn is not nearly enough for a half-starved cat.”

  Alex tossed another kernel to Pete.

  “Next time put more butter on it,” Pete said.

  The newscast started, and everyone turned their attention to the Kendrills’ television set.

  Everyone, that is, except Pete. He had thought of a new plan to show his evidence to the humans, and this was the perfect time to do it, while the kids were all together.