by Rosa Jordan
Wendy walked quickly to the feeding window and flung the rabbit in. A split-second after it hit the ground Namu was on it, grabbing it with his huge paws, tossing it into the air and leaping to catch it.
“Is that amazing, or what!” Wendy exclaimed. “Blind as a bat, but he’s still got his hearing and smell and all those natural instincts!”
“Awesome!” Danny whispered. “Merry Christmas, Namu.”
“Merry Christmas, Namu,” Wendy echoed softly.
The lynx must have heard their voices, but he paid no attention. He seemed to have forgotten the threats that were out there in a world he couldn’t see. He was having too much fun doing what his heart must have told him lynx were meant to do.
Next they carried treats to the llamas. Although Danny had not been around for a month, they were clearly glad to see him. They crowded the fence, nipping eagerly at the grain and alfalfa pellets he gave them on the palm of his hand.
“Can I go in the pen with them?” Danny asked.
“Sure,” Wendy said, and watched as the boy moved in among the llamas, stroking them as they nuzzled him. It’s like he’s one of their herd, Wendy thought. They totally trust each other.
When Danny reached Pumpkin, he knelt beside her and buried his face in the soft russet-coloured fur. Wendy’s heart ached with shame, knowing that her accusation had driven the boy away from these animals whom he loved and who loved him.
Danny stayed in the pen with the llamas for twenty minutes. When he came out and they were walking toward Velvet’s enclosure, Wendy said, “Danny, I’m sorry about what I accused you of. Really, really sorry.”
Danny didn’t say anything, just took a handful of alfalfa pellets from the bag, and turned away to feed the fawn. As he stood with his back to Wendy, she wondered what he was thinking. Should she try to explain to him what had happened to her that day? Could she explain it to him? Or even to herself?
Danny turned to get another handful of pellets from the bag Wendy held. “Sometimes I feel like that,” he said in a low voice.
“Like what?”
“Like everybody’s out to get me. When really, it’s not everybody.”
“I guess that’s what happened,” Wendy said. “But I should have known better. You’re the most trustworthy person I know. You would never give my phone number to anybody.”
“’Course not.” Then, in almost a whisper, he added, “But I know who did.”
Wendy could have asked him who, but she already knew. Why make him admit such a shameful thing about his mother? Instead, she asked, “How did you find out?”
“I heard them fighting about it.”
“If only I had asked you, instead of throwing such a fit!”
“I didn’t know then, that last time I saw you. I’d been at Red River Ranch all weekend, remember? As soon as I got home I came out here so I didn’t know what was going on. It was later I found out, after you got another unlisted number. My dad told her to get it, too. Because there was this guy who was going to give him five hundred dollars for it. She didn’t want to do it. That’s what they were fighting about.”
“I guess she was afraid she’d get in trouble at work.”
“Real scared. She said she almost got caught the first time. She kept saying no, not again, and I thought she wouldn’t. But I guess she was more scared of him.”
Wendy put her arms around Danny and hugged him. He didn’t hug back, just stood there with his arms hanging at his side, clutching a handful of alfalfa pellets. Then, for just a second, he put his face down on her shoulder, burying his nose in her hair the way Radar did.
That was when Wendy knew that whatever bad things were going on in her life and Danny’s, at least they had their friendship back.
35
THE ANIMALS, CHRISTMAS
When they came in from the cold, the kitchen was warm and full of good food smells. Kyle’s mom had sent them home with lots of leftovers — turkey, ham, candied yams, cranberry sauce, pecan pie, and about a dozen other things. It was all on the kitchen table, not in elegant serving bowls like the ones used at Kyle’s parents’ Christmas dinner, but in foil wrappers that Kyle had heated and opened up so they could help themselves. It looked fabulous to Wendy, and from the way Danny’s eyes widened at the feast, it must have looked even better to him.
Kyle stood at the stove, stirring a pot of hot spiced cider. Cinnamon and cloves, Wendy thought. The very smell of Christmas.
Kyle said, “Wendy, bring Radar’s present, will you? Something to keep him busy while we eat.”
“What did you get him?” Danny asked, as they slid into their chairs at the table.
“This.” Wendy held up a small stuffed leopard. “Listen.” She squeezed the paw of the toy and it began to sing the chorus from the song “Wild Thing.”
Radar leaped up onto the fourth chair as if there were a place set for him (which there wasn’t), and turned his big ears toward the toy. Then, as quick as Lucky had grabbed her rabbit out of the air, Radar took a flying leap and grabbed the stuffed animal from Wendy’s hand. Cat and toy tumbled onto the floor. Radar rolled over and over, pawing and gnawing on it. Then he began throwing it into the air and pouncing on it the way Namu had done with his rabbit.
Kyle dipped up three mugs of hot spiced cider and passed them around. “My specialty,” he told Danny.
Just then the musical toy wound down. Radar stared at it, puzzled. He growled and bit the toy, but still no song. Then, clenching it in his teeth, he jumped up onto the empty chair at the table. “Maaa,” he whined, with a look that anybody could have understood. Wendy squeezed the paw of the toy leopard to reactivate the song.
Kyle held his cup up in a toast. “Here’s to —”
“Wild Thing!” the stuffed leopard sang out. Radar snatched it from Wendy and tossed it into the air. It landed on the table, sending several biscuits tumbling to the floor. Radar grabbed it from among the biscuits, accidentally stepping in the cranberry sauce. He leaped off the chair and ran around the kitchen with the toy in his mouth, leaving a trail of red cranberry tracks on the linoleum.
“Right,” Kyle said, as the others picked up their mugs of hot spiced cider. “A toast to wild things.”
36
DANNY,S CHRISTMAS
By the time they’d finished eating, Radar had brought the toy leopard back to get its paw squeezed about ten times.
“I don’t think I can stand that song one more time,” Kyle groaned. “Come on, let’s go in the living room. I have a present for Radar, too. One that doesn’t sing.”
Kyle brought a nylon bag to the middle of the living-room floor, and took out a small, brightly coloured pop-up tent, the kind barely big enough for a toddler. The instant it was set up, Radar crawled inside. Finding nothing terribly interesting there, he explored the outside. Then he climbed onto the sofa and jumped on top of the tent, causing it to collapse under him. Radar tumbled off and looked back in surprise as it popped up again. Back on the couch he went to jump on it again. And again and again and again.
Danny laughed so hard his sides hurt. “He’s going to have that tent wrecked by tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Kyle grinned. “But at least the same song won’t play over and over while he’s wrecking it.”
“There’s a present for you, too, Danny.” Wendy handed him the package. “It’s from my mom.”
“Your mom?” Danny looked at her in astonishment. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. Open it and see.”
Wendy would have ripped the paper off in a frenzy to get at a surprise gift, but not Danny. He undid the tape and folded the wrapping paper back carefully, as if he wanted the suspense to last as long as possible. Or maybe because he’d had so many disappointments in his life and he was afraid this might be another one.
&nbs
p; When he finally got the box open, his face broke into a huge grin. “Saddlebags for my bike!” he yelled. “Just what I wanted!” He looked at Wendy. “How did she know?”
Wendy shook her head in amazement. “I have no idea. I guess it’s just the sort of thing a mother would figure out.”
Kyle shot her a warning look and Wendy realized, too late, that she’d said the wrong thing. Most mothers might know what a child wanted, but probably not Danny’s. It occurred to Wendy to suddenly wonder to herself where Danny’s mother was.
As if she had spoken the question out loud, Danny said, “My mom went to Las Vegas with Butch. Or else …” He stopped talking and got busy examining different compartments in the panniers.
“Or else — what?” Kyle asked.
Danny shrugged. “Nothing.”
Wendy was stunned. Bad enough that they had left Danny alone on Christmas, but Las Vegas was a two- or three-day drive. That meant they’d be gone at least a week! What was he doing home alone over the Christmas holidays?
Again, Danny answered the question that no one had asked. “I wanted to stay at Red River Ranch and help over the holidays. But my mom phoned Mrs. McDermont and said I had to come home and go with them. I told the McDermonts I didn’t want to go, but they said I had to do what my parents said.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Wendy asked.
Danny shrugged. “They just wanted me to come because they thought I’d bring my savings. Butch had some money, some he got from … somebody. But he wanted more.”
“So you told them you didn’t want to go?” Kyle asked.
Danny shook his head. “I said I was going to the bank. But I didn’t. I went to Mrs. Armstrong’s house and stayed there till they left. Then I went home.”
“So you and Mrs. Armstrong are still good friends?” Wendy asked.
“I do chores for her.” Danny didn’t look up, but continued to examine the panniers, zipping and unzipping each compartment. “Sometimes, when Butch and my mom get into it, I go there at night, too. Mrs. Armstrong doesn’t care because she stays up watching the late movie. If she’s already gone to bed, I stay in the henhouse. She said not to do that — that I should just knock on the door and she’ll let me in. But I don’t.”
Kyle slid to the edge of the sofa and leaned forward. “Danny,” he said. “I don’t know if Wendy ever told you this, but I want you to know, from me and from her: if you ever want a place to come to, you can always come here.”
“Thanks.” Danny ran his fingers along the reflector tape of the new panniers. “These saddlebags will be great for collecting cans.”
37
EMAIL SOS
By ten o’clock they were all yawning. Danny picked up his panniers and, with a shy “thank you” to Wendy and Kyle, headed for the guest bedroom. Kyle and Wendy headed for their bedroom, too. Wendy stepped into her office, saying over her shoulder to Kyle, “I’ll be along in a jiffy. I just want to check my email.”
She sat down at her desk, totally happy. She was tired, but this would only take five minutes. With eyes half-closed, she clicked to bring up her mail. It wasn’t a long list; all names she knew with a subject line that said “Happy Ho-Ho-Ho,” or something else that told her the message would probably be a holiday e-card. But one subject line, all caps, jumped out at her like a shout: “HELP HELP HELP!”
Wendy immediately recognized the name. Although she had met the person only once, it was not a name you’d forget: Diamond Fontaine.
Lady Diamond, as the woman called herself, was a well-known country singer who, back when Wendy was working at Red River Ranch, had come to one of her classes on how to care for exotic animals in captivity. The woman showed up in designer jeans, high-heeled boots, and diamonds just about any place you could put a diamond. She looked so out of place at the ranch that Wendy wanted to laugh. But when Lady Diamond stayed after the lecture to ask more questions, Wendy learned that she was smart and serious — serious, that is, about buying some kind of exotic cat.
Lady Diamond showed Wendy photos of an enclosure she had built on her estate for an exotic cat she didn’t even own yet. Wendy looked at the pictures and felt jealous. The huge enclosure was beautifully landscaped with tropical foliage. For any exotic animal faced with a lifetime in captivity, this was as good as it got.
Although Wendy didn’t want to encourage anyone to keep exotic cats in captivity, she did respect people who did their homework and were prepared to give their animals the right kind of care. Lady Diamond had driven all the way from Nashville to learn what she could at Red River Ranch, so all Wendy said was, “You know, it’s not like adopting a child, because a child will grow up. Any animal you get will require love and attention for as long as it lives. Maintaining an exotic cat is hugely expensive.”
Lady Diamond had looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Honey, I’ve already been through three husbands, and I am not going to be famous forever. When I’m over the hill, I want a beautiful animal who thinks I’m still beautiful, whether I am or not.”
That one meeting with Lady Diamond was two years ago. Wendy hadn’t heard from her since. Now out of the blue there was this email shouting, “Help Help Help!” She read the message. The gist of it was that Lady Diamond had got a pair of ocelots.
“Ocelots!” Wendy exclaimed out loud. “They’re an endangered species! It’s illegal for a private person to buy one!”
That, she learned as she read on, was the problem. Lady Diamond had bought them, at a cost of $10,000 each. The dealer claimed he had a special permit that allowed him to breed and sell ocelots, and could get a permit for Lady Diamond, too. But it was a scam. Only zoos and wildlife sanctuaries could get permits to keep ocelots. The wildlife authorities trying to stop illegal traffic in exotic species had caught the dealer. Now they were going after people who had bought ocelots from him — including Lady Diamond.
The email ended with Lady Diamond’s phone number, and a plea for Wendy to call her as soon as possible. Wendy glanced at the clock. It was after ten, but the message did say, “Call me collect, day or night.” Wendy picked up the phone.
It was an hour before the conversation ended, Lady Diamond having done most of the talking. When Wendy slipped into bed next to Kyle, he murmured sleepily, “Who were you on the phone with so long?”
“Go back to sleep,” Wendy whispered. “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”
• • •
Wendy woke to strains of “Wild Thing.” Radar, apparently having found someone to squeeze the paw of his musical leopard, was sitting on her stomach with the toy in his mouth. Wendy shoved him off, went to the bathroom, and got dressed. Then she went downstairs, Radar pattering along behind, carrying the stuffed animal.
In the kitchen she found Kyle teaching Danny how to make pancakes. Or rather, he was teaching Danny how to flip pancakes in the air and catch them coming down. From the mess on the stove top it looked like more practice was needed. But quite a few, Wendy saw, had made it from pan to plate, and lay there waiting for melted butter and maple syrup.
“So?” Kyle said as he and Danny slid into their seats at the table. “Who was the mystery caller and what did she want?”
“Lady Diamond Fontaine. And no, she’s not a British Royal, although I gather she is married to a Lord somebody, which is where the ‘Lady’ comes from. She lives in Nashville and recently got nailed for the illegal purchase of two ocelots.” Wendy poured syrup over her pancakes and continued, “She said she thought she was getting them legally, and I’m pretty sure that’s true. Lady Diamond took the dealer’s word that the sale was legal but it wasn’t, and the U.S. Wildlife Department has come after her.”
“She’s going to jail?” Danny asked, wide-eyed. “For buying ocelots?”
“Not this time. Since it’s her first offence, she’s being let of
f with a twenty-thousand-dollar fine. But there is a catch.”
Kyle cut his eyes in Danny’s direction. “The catch, Danny, will be that the cats have to come live here, and Wendy will have to look after them, at her own expense, for the rest of their natural lives.”
“Close,” Wendy said. “But it’s actually a better deal than that.”
“You’re going to get ocelots?” Danny exclaimed. “Real ocelots?”
“If we’re going to get them, I hope they’re real,” Kyle quipped. “And don’t play the same song over and over.”
“Not them, him.” Wendy explained. “Lady Diamond is being allowed to keep the pair she bought illegally, mainly because she is taking excellent care of them and the enclosure she had built for them is enormous and landscaped like a tropical rainforest. There’s no place the authorities could put them that would be half as nice. The catch is that the pair has had a kitten and she is not being allowed to keep it. Not only is it illegal to own ocelots without a permit which is very hard to get, it’s illegal to breed them without a permit, which is even harder to get. But the kitten has already been born, so what to do? They won’t let her keep it and she is not allowed to sell it. She is being required to donate it to somebody with a licensed facility who is doing conservation work. Since I’m a licensed wildlife rehabber, I qualify.”
“Couldn’t it go to a zoo?” Kyle asked.
“Lady Diamond doesn’t think zoo facilities aren’t nice enough. When I gave that class at Red River, I made a big deal about how anybody who keeps an exotic in captivity should at the very least not keep it in a cage, but in a large landscaped enclosure where it can live comfortably and have plenty of privacy. And that’s exactly what Lady Fontaine wants for her little Santiago.”
“That’s its name?” Danny asked. “Santiago?”
“Santiago, yes. And it looks like he’s coming here to live.”
“When’s she bringing him?” Kyle asked.
“I have to go get him up,” Wendy said, forking another pancake onto her plate.
