The Ghost of Cutler Creek

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The Ghost of Cutler Creek Page 5

by Cynthia DeFelice


  Hoover sniffed once, but to Allie’s amazement, paid no further attention. She sat as far away as the leash would allow, looking back toward Dundee Road and making pathetic noises.

  Allie and Dub looked at each other in consternation. “What the heck is going on?” Dub asked.

  “I don’t know,” Allie answered. “But, Dub, the whole time we were at that house, my ghost was there. I couldn’t exactly concentrate on it with everything else that was going on. I think Hoover felt it, too.”

  “I think she still does,” Dub said, watching Hoover straining at her leash.

  Allie nodded. “It got stronger when L.J.’s father came out of the barn. Did you notice how Hoover acted?”

  “She got even more agitated when those other dogs started barking,” Dub said thoughtfully. “But they were no ghosts—they were real.”

  “Yeah. So it’s hard to tell if it was the ghost that was bothering her, or if she just wanted to go check out the other dogs.”

  “It sure sounded like a lot of other dogs, didn’t it?”

  Allie nodded.

  “What about the ghost? Do you sense it now?” Dub asked.

  Allie sat very still for a moment to make sure. “No.”

  “Then maybe it’s something back there that’s bugging Hoover,” Dub said, gesturing toward the Cutler place. “Hoover”—he pretended to beg—“talk to us, girl. Tell us what’s going on.”

  Hoover raised her muzzle and howled, for all the world as if she were trying to do as Dub had asked. Allie couldn’t help laughing nervously, even though it upset her to see Hoover so distressed.

  She took a slug of lemonade from the thermos she’d packed, and handed it to Dub. When he’d had a drink, she stood up, saying, “Let’s get going. Maybe if we get farther away from here, Hoover will think about something else.”

  The tactic seemed to work. Before long, Hoover was trotting happily beside Allie, sniffing each object they passed, pouncing on insects, chasing every leaf and stray bit of trash that blew in the wind.

  Allie relaxed a bit on seeing Hoover acting normal again. “It was my fault L.J. messed up the cut he was making,” she said.

  “You started to say it, too. But I didn’t think that was too smart right then, with old man Cutler so ticked off. And what was he so mad about, anyway? One little gouge in the wood, big deal.”

  “I think it was us being there that really made him mad,” Allie replied. “He acted like L.J.’s not allowed to have anybody over.”

  Dub nodded in agreement. “And when the dogs in the barn barked, that set him off, too.”

  “Then there was that stuff about how L.J. is just like his mother. It sure didn’t sound like a compliment. I wonder where she was?”

  “I don’t know, but I feel sorry for her, being married to a guy like that,” said Dub. He added, “And for L.J., having him for a father.”

  “Me, too,” said Allie. Then she added with frustration, “But it’s hard to feel sorry for very long, you know? I mean, why did he have to be so rotten to us? Calling me Little Miss Fix-it—I hate that.”

  Dub nodded in sympathy.

  They were passing the bean packing plant again. The breeze carried the smell of dampness and decay, and lifted that same loose sheet of metal roofing. The sharp clang made Allie jump and quicken her steps. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to be back in the more populated area of town.

  As they passed Luv’n’ Pets, Allie stopped to look at the puppies. She was surprised to see that only three little furballs lay curled together in the far corner of the display window. Dub peered through the glass and said, “Hey, James is in there. Let’s tell him about our business idea.”

  “Okay,” Allie said. “Do you think it’s all right to take Hoover in? She’s on a leash.”

  “Al, it’s a pet store.”

  James was alone in the store, cleaning out the cage belonging to a bird Allie recognized as a cockatiel. Allie knew James from seeing him outside when she’d been over at Dub’s house.

  James smiled at them. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Allie held tight to the leash as Hoover strained to get closer to the bird. Hoover’s nose was going a mile a minute and her tail wagged furiously. The bird fluttered nervously around its cage.

  “Sit, Hoover,” Allie commanded. To her surprise, Hoover obeyed, and sat as if mesmerized, her eyes fixed on the cockatiel.

  Dub told James about their plan to sell dog biscuits at the store. James listened, nodding from time to time as he worked.

  “So what do you think?” Dub asked when he’d finished.

  “Healthy treats sound like a good idea,” James answered carefully.

  Allie didn’t think this response was very enthusiastic, but Dub seemed satisfied. “Hey, James,” she said, “I see three more puppies got sold. Did the same person buy all of them?”

  A shadow passed over James’s face. After a moment he said brusquely, “No.”

  Allie waited for James to say more. Instead, he picked up a rag and began wiping the bottom of the cockatiel’s cage. His movements were jerky and seemed to Allie to be covering a strong emotion. She looked at Dub, who apparently was as puzzled as she.

  “When we were here yesterday, there were six,” Dub said. “Enid must have had a busy day.”

  James didn’t comment, but after a few seconds he straightened up, threw the rag to the floor, and said, “Sometimes I really hate working here!”

  Allie was taken aback by the vehemence in his voice. She was pretty sure James wasn’t referring to cleaning birdcages, but she had no idea what he was talking about.

  They all stood quietly for a moment, James clenching and unclenching his hands and looking miserable. He appeared to be struggling with himself. Finally, he shook his head and said with a sigh, “Listen, I really need this job. Forget what I just said, okay?”

  “Okay,” Allie answered, feeling bewildered.

  “Because if Enid thinks I told you guys anything,” James went on, “I’m history.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dub said quickly.

  “If you want to go into business with her, that’s up to you,” James said. “Just keep me out of it.”

  “No problem,” Dub said. He looked at Allie and added, “Well, I guess we’d better get going.”

  She nodded. Then she said softly, “See you, James.”

  “Yeah,” he answered tiredly. “Later.”

  “Come on, Hoovey,” Allie said, giving the leash a gentle tug and heading for the door.

  When they reached the sidewalk, Dub turned to Allie and said flatly, “That was weird.”

  “Very.” She was about to say more when Dub stopped dead in his tracks. Following his gaze, she saw that he was looking toward the other side of the street, where a gray pick up truck was maneuvering into a parking spot.

  L.J.’s father opened the door of the truck and started across to their side of the street. Allie immediately turned her face away, wanting no chance of another encounter with the man. Dub must have had the same thought, for he looked in the opposite direction, as well.

  But they couldn’t do anything to hide Hoover. The big dog’s appearance was so distinctive that Mr. Cutler probably would notice her, and therefore Dub and Allie, no matter what. Hoover, however, seemed determined not to leave it up to chance. She stood stiffly, totally focused on the figure approaching from the opposite side of the street. When Mr. Cutler stepped onto the curb about twenty feet from Allie and Dub, Hoover lunged toward him so forcefully that she yanked the leash right out of Allie’s hand. Then, to Allie’s horror, Hoover raced right up to Mr. Cutler, barking frantically.

  Not sure what to do, Allie and Dub watched as Hoover danced in circles around L.J.’s father. She feinted forward one moment, teeth bared, then reared back the next, never getting any closer than two feet from the man. All the while, she was making such a racket that other people on the street were stopping to see what was going on.

  “Hoover!” Allie shouted. “Com
e!”

  Hoover ignored her. But Mr. Cutler didn’t. He raised his head and stared right at her. The menace in his eyes made her shudder. Then she and Dub both sprang into action, running to grab Hoover’s leash. Together, they were able to drag her away, although she never stopped her frantic barking.

  “You should learn to control that dog,” Mr. Cutler said. As he turned to leave, he added, “Or somebody’s gonna do it for you.”

  Allie and Dub leaned down to soothe Hoover, who was watching Mr. Cutler, and was panting and whining now instead of barking. They watched, too, as Mr. Cutler opened the door of Luv’n’ Pets and disappeared inside.

  Nine

  It had been, in many ways, an upsetting and exhausting morning. After Allie left Dub and took Hoover back to Mr. Henry’s house, she went home and fell asleep on the couch in the family room. But her nap was disturbed by dreams.

  This time, Allie felt that her ghost was leading her to something it wanted her to see. Somehow, she was able to keep up with the ghost dog’s rapid, four-legged pace, so that it was almost as if she were flying over the ground. She was Allie, but she was experiencing the world as a dog!

  It was exhilarating to feel so strong and free and fast. She found that she was perceiving the shapes of objects more than their colors, and everything seemed to be lit with the dim haze of sunset. Her sense of hearing was unusually acute, and her sense of smell was incredible. She was moving so quickly that everything was going by in a blur of vivid, intriguing odors, but there was no opportunity to stop and explore them. It was frustrating to ignore the pull of her thrilling canine impulses. All she really wanted to do was race about and follow her nose. But this wasn’t a pleasure trip. Allie could feel the sense of urgency from the other dog, leading her onward.

  She was being taken through territory that was vaguely familiar, and soon she realized they were following the route that she and Dub had traveled earlier in the day. At one point she recognized the decaying smell that emanated from the abandoned bean packing plant, but it was quickly replaced by other smells, of gravel and grass and dampness and mud and the creatures that lived there. This she recognized, too, as the essence of the swampy area near L.J.’s house.

  Then Allie felt that she was back in her other, original dream, running through the maze of walls in the middle of which, somewhere, a dog whimpered. But this time she reached it, with her ghost guide leading her.

  Suddenly Allie glimpsed a terrible scene. A dog lay in a small area partitioned off by plywood. A bit of straw was scattered on the bare cement floor, but it was filthy and wet, and the odor Michael had described as “poopy” was unbearable. The dog looked up, its brown eyes dull and almost lifeless.

  Nailed to the plywood was a board with a name on it. Each letter was written with a different color crayon in childish block print. The sign read: BELLE.

  Slowly surfacing to consciousness, Allie felt burdened by the sadness of this new vision. She lay on the couch contemplating it. Was Belle the ghost dog, showing Allie where she had died? Or was Belle another dog that was still alive and needed help? How frustrating to be lying about safely in her home, when she should be doing something. If only she knew what it was!

  Her mother walked into the family room, took one look at Allie, and said, “Honey, do you feel all right?”

  “I’m a little tired,” Allie said, which was the truth, if not the entire truth. She got up and went to look at herself in the mirror. One side of her face was red and wrinkled from where it had been scrunched against the arm of the couch. That would go away in a few minutes. But there were dark shadows under her eyes, and worry lines creased her forehead. Being a ghost magnet was taking its toll.

  Not wanting her mother to become concerned about her health, Allie forced a smile. “What time are we having dinner?” she asked.

  “Your dad and Michael will be home shortly. We can eat as soon as they get here. Why, are you hungry?”

  “Sort of,” Allie said. “But the reason I asked is that I have to go back to Mr. Henry’s to feed Hoover. And Dub wants me to go to his house afterward.”

  This wasn’t the whole truth, either. The need for secrecy that went along with seeing ghosts seemed to be making Allie into a habitual liar. But she was going to call Dub right away to ask him if she could come over. She had to tell him about her dream.

  Also, Allie was hoping James would be home. She wanted to ask him what Mr. Cutler had been doing at the pet store.

  Ten

  Allie was glad to see that Michael showed no signs of allergies at dinner. Since he’d been happily fishing instead of sleeping during the time she’d been having her dream that afternoon, she didn’t have to worry about his sharing the disturbing vision she’d had of the dog named Belle.

  “It was this big, Allie,” he was saying, holding his hands way up over his head, about two feet apart. “But I let it go ’cause Dad said it was a mommy and it was full of eggs.”

  “That’s a mighty big perch,” Allie said. “The biggest one I ever saw was maybe this long.” She held her hands ten inches apart.

  “Well, this one was humongous, right, Dad?”

  “It sure was,” Mr. Nichols answered, winking at Allie. “And it’s been getting bigger all afternoon.”

  “The mark of a true fisherman,” Mrs. Nichols said with a laugh.

  “What is?” Michael asked, looking down at himself as if expecting to see some sort of mark on his chest.

  “Throwing back a mommy fish so she can hatch her eggs and make baby fish,” Allie answered quickly. “That was a good thing to do, Mike.”

  Michael nodded proudly. “I know.”

  “We missed you, Al,” said her father.

  “I was sorry I couldn’t go, Dad,” she said. “But Dub and I had to see this kid L.J., and we have to go back to his house tomorrow.”

  She had a plan, of sorts, for finding out what her dream had been trying to tell her. She and Dub would have to return to the Cutler place, though. She hoped Dub would be game.

  “That’s nice of you, Allie, but tomorrow is Sunday, remember?” said her mother.

  “Oh, right,” said Allie. School had just gotten out and she was already getting the days mixed up. Her parents tried to make Sunday a family day. They usually went to church and did something together.

  “How about we all go fishing?” Mr. Nichols suggested.

  “Okay,” said Allie.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Mrs. Nichols.

  “But it’s not fair,” Michael complained. “Mom and Allie always catch the most fish.”

  “If you’re good, I’ll tell you the secret of my success,” Allie told him.

  “Another secret! Yay!”

  Allie frowned at him and held her finger to her lips. Luckily, her parents didn’t seem to notice.

  “So how was your visit to this boy L.J. today?” asked Mr. Nichols.

  Her parents would have a fit if she told them what had happened at the Cutler house that afternoon. Allie would never be allowed to go there again. Not that she wanted to go. But the ghost dog had led her in that direction, and if she was going to find any answers, she had to follow every clue.

  “Oh, fine,” she answered vaguely.

  “So you and Dub liked L.J., after all?” asked Mrs. Nichols.

  “Well, he seems to need friends,” Allie said, silently congratulating herself on coming up with an answer that was, from what she’d seen, true. Not that he was ever likely to make any friends acting the way he did, and with his father making it plain that visitors were not welcome. She didn’t plan on being L.J.’s friend, but she did need to return to his house, at least one more time.

  “He has some dogs,” Allie went on. “So Dub and I were going to take over some of our homemade dog treats.”

  “That’s nice, sweetie,” said her mother. “Were L.J.’s parents home?”

  “His father was,” Allie answered carefully. “But we never saw his mother. Maybe she’ll be there next time.” Now t
hat she thought about it, she was curious to see what Mrs. Cutler was like. Probably as unpleasant as her son and husband, Allie told herself.

  “So is it okay if Dub and I make another batch of biscuits on Monday morning?”

  “Are there any ingredients left?” asked Mrs. Nichols.

  Allie nodded.

  “Sure. If you clean up after yourselves.”

  “We will.”

  “Can I help?” Michael asked.

  “There are going to be plenty of chances to help,” Allie told him. “Dub and I are going into business.”

  Her parents wanted to know more, so while Allie cleared the table she told them about the conversation with Enid at Luv’n’ Pets. “Dub thinks we’re going to make a ton of money,” she said, “but I’m not so sure.” Actually, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get involved with Enid at all, although she couldn’t exactly put her finger on the reason.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” said her dad. “Are you ready to turn the kitchen into corporate headquarters, Ann?”

  “For a cut of the profits, yes,” said Mrs. Nichols. With a smile at Allie, she added, “You and Dub will be hearing from my lawyer.”

  “Can we watch this now, Mom?” Michael asked eagerly, waving a videotape in the air. Allie caught the title: Charlotte’s Web.

  “In a little while,” answered Mrs. Nichols. “First, I want you to have a bath. When you’re in your pajamas, we’ll make some popcorn and we’ll all watch together.” To Allie she said, “Sweetie, why don’t you feed Hoover and come back and join us? You were with Dub all day.”

  “I’d like to, Mom, but I can’t. I promised.” Allie sighed inwardly. It would be nice to have a cozy evening at home with her family, instead of trying to find out more about the unfortunate Belle. She was determined to see this thing through, but she was beginning to dread what she might discover.

  Eleven

  As Allie approached Mr. Henry’s house, she admired the back-yard paradise he’d created for his canine buddy. There was a small door built into the large kitchen door, so Hoover could go out of the house whenever she wanted, into a large, fenced area filled with toys. When Allie showed up on her bike, Hoover was already in the yard, wagging her tail in greeting.

 

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