Cats Aloft

by Lisa Martin

  Anton glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

  Suddenly the door to the carriage burst open and a young man with a blue cap stepped out onto the platform. He gripped the rails and surveyed the landscape for a few moments, then turned and put one boot on the bottom rung of a metal ladder that led up to the roof of the train. He began to whistle a tune but stopped when he caught sight of the cats, huddled against the carriage wall and staring bleakly at him. This is it, thought Anton miserably. He’s going to throw us right off.

  The man paused, his fingers tapping the ladder railing, and then smiled and continued to climb. The brothers exchanged a glance, and Anton sighed with relief. A lucky break.

  Shortly after that, it began to rain.

  The train rumbled in a straight line across the vast prairie, sweeping past stations and barreling on through rain showers and gusts of wind. The man with the blue cap returned and set a large bowl of milk on the jouncing platform. The cats lapped it up in short order, but the man did not invite them inside the carriage, and Anton and Cecil were left huddling against the chill as the miles rolled past.

  By late afternoon the sun had returned and the cats’ fur dried and warmed a bit. Houses began to appear on either side of the tracks, some with fenced areas penning horses or cows. Soon humans appeared, walking or riding in horse-carts, and larger buildings loomed behind them.

  “We must be coming into a town,” said Cecil. He crept stiffly to the side railing and stuck his head through, peering ahead toward the engine.

  “A big one, from the looks of it,” said Anton.

  “Very big,” agreed Cecil.

  The train slowed to a crawl, and stationary carriages appeared on other sets of tracks alongside the one the cats traveled on. After a long curve, the train chugged slower still, and then a shadow passed overhead as the engine glided into a massive covered station. There was a loud clanking from the front, then a sharp hiss, and the train jerked to a stop. Anton and Cecil scrambled down the steps and looked around the station.

  “Well, that’s the end of that,” said Anton, lifting his chin toward the solid back wall, against which all of the engines were nosed in and silent as if napping.

  “So what now?” asked Cecil. “Where are we?”

  They trotted to the giant open end of the station and gazed out. Before them lay a maze of tracks, twisting away in all directions, and beyond the tracks was an immense body of water, glimmering in the afternoon sun.

  “I don’t know,” said Anton. “That’s not the ocean, I don’t think. It doesn’t smell right. We must have slept through this station on the way out. I can’t see where to go from here.”

  Cecil turned toward a long boardwalk where humans traversed in a throng. “Where there are people there should be animals,” he said. “Let’s go talk to somebody.”

  Chapter 2

  Ruby

  The thing I notice,” Cecil said, as he and Anton made their way through the crowd at the enormous station, “is that when we came out this way from home, the mouse network was nowhere in sight, and now every time we stop, they’re all over us with advice we don’t need.”

  Anton chuckled. “There you go, brother,” he said. He pointed to a trio of mice, straightening their whiskers and puffing out their tiny chests, who were waving to them from under a luggage cart.

  Cecil groaned. “It just takes the fun right out of it for me.”

  “They mean well,” Anton reminded him. “And this station looks pretty confusing.”

  Cecil dodged a passing boy who was tugging a suitcase as large as he was. “It’s big all right,” he agreed.

  A tall lady pulling a struggling puppy pushed between the two cats. “I just want to go home,” the puppy whined. “Why can’t I go home?”

  Anton watched as the lady and her pet moved on through the crowd. Across the platform he saw another dog, a big female, not young, leaning against an iron rail with her nose pressed to the ground. She appeared to be on her own. That’s unusual, Anton thought, but his brother distracted him.

  “Those mice are going to wave their arms off,” said Cecil.

  Indeed, the three mice were still waving vigorously and the biggest one squeaked, “Mr. Anton! Mr. Cecil!”

  “At least they get our names right now,” Cecil observed.

  “Let’s go see what they have to say,” Anton said.

  Cecil led the way and the mice pressed together, whispering into one another’s ears. The heaviest mouse, who had a bold, confident manner, stepped forward and began his address.

  “Welcome, welcome,” said the mouse. “News of your journey runs ahead of you, and we are all bound to assist you in any way we can, for the service you rendered our brave fellow Hieronymus, and especially for your fine work in discovering his whereabouts, and freeing him from captivity.”

  “Yes, right, of course,” said Cecil, gawking all around, his nose wriggling.

  Anton nodded to the mice. “This is the biggest station we’ve ever seen,” he said. “We know we have to change trains here but we’re not sure which one to take.”

  “And we could use a meal before we set off,” added Cecil. “That last ride was long and wet.”

  As Cecil spoke, Anton glanced past him and noticed the big dog again, loitering near a newspaper stand, this time sitting back on her haunches with her head raised in the air. What a face she had, as long and gloomy-looking as a rainy day, and her ears were huge heavy flaps that hung down well past her chin. Her eyes were closed, but as he watched, they opened and focused on him.

  “We’ll escort you to your track,” the officious mouse assured them. “You’re heading for the sea, correct? That would be the train with the red stripe down the side, if I’m not mistaken.”

  A thin, elderly mouse next to him cleared his throat. “I believe you are mistaken, Frank. The train to the sea is the one with the green stripe.”

  “I’m sure it’s red, George,” the heavyset mouse corrected, still smiling at the cats.

  The third mouse, quite young, shook her head. “The sea train is black, all black, and fearsome.”

  The mice fell to bickering about the train, and Cecil rolled his eyes. “You three work this out, will you?” he said. “We’ll find something to eat in the meantime.”

  The first mouse nodded, shushing the others. “There’s a good fish restaurant just down the block and they throw the heads in a bin at the back door—it’s a favorite place for the local cats, so of course, we’ll only take you to the corner.”

  “Sounds great to me,” said Cecil.

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chat with a local cat,” Anton agreed. He looked toward the staircase and there was the dog again, half-hidden by the curving rail and clearly staring at the cats.

  “If I’m going to meet city cats, I want to wash my face,” Cecil said, and he sat down, bringing his paw to his mouth and smoothing his whiskers and forehead.

  “A dog is watching us,” Anton said to Cecil, lifting his chin. Just as Cecil followed his gaze, the dog came out from behind the stairwell and strode directly toward them, her mouth open, drooling a little as dogs do to the everlasting disgust of all cats. But most notable was this dog’s nose, which was large and quivering. She hardly looked at the brothers as she made her way smoothly through the crowd—she was definitely following her nose. The mice bunched up, though they didn’t appear to be afraid.

  “Don’t worry about her,” said the young mouse, waving a paw. “She’s eccentric, but a friend to all creatures. She’s quite well-respected in the dog world, we hear.”

  When the dog was very close, she lifted her head and closed her mouth, working her loose lips as if tasting the air. Cecil cast Anton a skeptical look as the dog addressed them in a gravelly voice.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said. “I wonder if you would be so kind, that is, if I might have a word with you.”

  “We’re new here,” Cecil said coolly. “We can’t give you directions.”
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  The dog fluttered her eyes at this response and Anton thought she looked amused.

  “Oh, dear me, I know you’re new here,” said the dog. “You see, I would, wouldn’t I, because I am rather old here. I’m here a great deal. And I thought when I saw you that you are certainly new here, which got my attention, but what I especially noticed, and what struck me as really very odd, if you don’t mind my saying, was that although I felt certain that you’ve never been here before, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you were talking with a trio of our local mice. And that just struck me as so unusual, if you get my meaning. One so rarely sees travelers of your kind, actually on their own, as it were, as it appears you are, but even if one did, they are pretty unlikely ever to be having a conversation with mice.”

  The cats stared in wonder at the sheer number of words this huge dog had just strung together.

  Cecil nodded. “It’s a fair point. We’ve actually talked to plenty of mice lately. And now we’re talking to a dog, which we’ve done before as well. What kind of cats are we? I ask myself that every day.”

  “You’re the brave, canny, detective kind of cats,” the biggest mouse piped up. He turned to the dog. “They’ve traveled this land from sea to sea, following difficult clues and using their wits to free our comrade from a terrible fate. These two are the famous brothers Anton and Cecil, known to mice everywhere. If you’ve lost a friend, they can find him.”

  “Is that so?” said the dog. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, though I haven’t lost a friend. My name is Ruby, but my partner calls me LeNez. And as for detection, it is a particular strength of mine. In fact, I’m something of a professional, though I won’t blow my own horn. I’m in this station on a case, but I’ve determined that the culprit isn’t here.”

  Anton looked around at the endlessly moving mobs of humans. “How can you tell in this crowd?”

  “I caught his scent at the scene of the crime about a month ago, and it’s not here today.”

  Cecil took in a good sniff. “I don’t see how you can be sure.”

  “Of course you don’t, my dear. But my nose is far superior to most. I have ascertained, for example, that you”—Ruby turned to the smallest mouse—“had a bit of apple for your breakfast, and that you”—she turned to Anton—“have brushed against a rubber tire or perhaps a child’s ball, yes, I think that’s it, a rubber ball, sometime in the last half-day.”

  Anton and Cecil exchanged looks of frank amazement. They had skirted two children playing with a ball on a platform that very morning as they ran for the train, and Anton had slipped by just as the ball bounced, glancing against his side.

  “So,” said Cecil. “What did this culprit do?”

  “It was a bank heist. Stolen goods. A lot of that inked paper involved. It’s not hard to track the paper—acrid stuff, literally burns the nostrils, if you know what I mean. We’ve come close to catching him a couple of times now, really very close. But our man is a dandy and he keeps changing his shoes, which doesn’t make it any easier. He smokes a pipe, I’ve got that pipe down, and he smears a particular flowery scent on his skin. It all adds up.”

  The mice snuffled, pretending their noses could find anything but cheese, but Cecil stepped closer to Ruby. “So what are you doing here today?”

  “Well, my partner has decided that our best course of action is to stake out the station—that is, of course, to keep a watchful eye on it. The thinking, I believe, is that the culprit will likely leave town this way. My partner is counting on my picking up the scent, bless his heart.”

  “And who is your partner?” Anton asked.

  Ruby lifted her chin toward a short man in a tall hat with a walking stick, who was in conversation with a young woman next to a long counter where another man served cups of something hot. “That’s him. He’s charming that young lady. The ladies do fancy him so. They call him Morgan or sometimes Mister Morgan. We’ve been together since I was a pup. Neither of us is as young as we were, but he’s in his prime and has a great reputation, largely thanks to my efforts. Poor fellow, he can’t smell a thing, and he’s not too good with directions either. Keeps going through the wrong door, that sort of thing. But he’s smart. He always knows when I’m on the trail and gives me a free hand.”

  Suddenly there was a bustle of humans near the tall glass doors that opened to the street. Several travelers, both men and women, entered the big hall. Some appeared to be together, some carried cloth bags or leather cases. They all looked ahead, seeking their destinations, but they had not gone far when Ruby took in a sharp sniff, swerved around on her haunches, and let out a soft bark. Her partner turned from the young lady, spotted Ruby, and, setting his cup down quickly on the bar, headed toward her.

  “Our man is here,” Ruby informed the cats. “Gentlemen, you’re about to witness an apprehension.” She got to her feet and strode off toward the doors.

  Anton and Cecil looked at each other, and Anton cocked his head. “What do you think?” he said. The mice had retreated under their cart—Ruby’s bark, though soft, had alarmed them.

  “Sounds like fun to me,” Cecil said.

  Ruby was walking purposefully, her nose down, through the crowd. Her partner fell into step behind her.

  “We’ll catch up with you later,” the lead mouse called as Anton and Cecil, shoulder to shoulder, stepped out to follow the man and the dog through the unknowing crowd in the station.

  Moving smoothly, Ruby closed in on a tall, middle-aged man with a white silk cravat at his throat and shiny black shoes on his narrow feet. Between his teeth he held a curved black stick that looked to be aflame, and he gripped a large leather satchel in one hand as he moved through the station, his eyes darting from side to side. He tipped his hat toward a passing lady.

  “Is that him, you think?” Cecil murmured to Anton. “I notice he has no hair on his head.”

  “And one of his shoes squeaks,” said Anton, his ears swiveling. “Hey, we’re pretty good at this.”

  Ruby’s head snapped up as the tall man passed her, and she spun to follow him. Mr. Morgan, her partner, took the cue and gestured with two fingers to a pair of young men in matching blue uniforms who were leaning against a nearby turnstile. The men each gave a slight nod and began walking in his direction.

  Morgan stepped into the path of the bald man. “Excuse me, sir,” he said with a genial air. “Might I have a word?”

  The bald man removed the black stick from his mouth, pausing a moment while he took in the short man in front of him and the large dog, now alongside and sniffing the cuff of his trousers. His eyes narrowed and cut over to the two uniformed men advancing through the swarm of people.

  “So that’s the culprit?” Anton asked, craning his neck to watch the standoff. “He looks guilty.”

  “You can’t tell by how they look,” Cecil responded. “You have to see how they act.”

  At that moment the bald man blew a gust of smoke into Morgan’s face, whirled, and bolted away through the crowd. Morgan coughed and stumbled forward, catching Ruby’s eye and pointing, and the big dog turned and leaped after the bald man. Anton and Cecil jumped up to follow.

  “Now he looks guilty,” said Cecil, skirting around a cart loaded with trunks. The bald man burst through the double glass doors and out to the sidewalk, knocking other travelers out of his way. The cats caught up to Ruby just as she was buffeted back by the agitated crowd. She backed up, lowered her great head, and shoved through the doors with the two cats in her wake. Outside, the bald man was nowhere in sight.

  “Oh no, he’s gone,” said Anton, disappointed.

  “Not at all!” Ruby sniffed the ground and swung to the right. “This way!” she called, and the three creatures dashed down the street. Behind them, Morgan and the two men in blue tumbled out of the station door in pursuit. The sidewalk was busy with pedestrians, but most stepped to one side for the large dog as she hurried by, head down and nose working. Anton and Cecil jogged alongside, keeping a lookou
t for the bald man.

  Cecil slowed at a side street. “Hey, the thing he had in his mouth—it’s this way!” he called.

  “The pipe, yes,” Ruby agreed, veering quickly. The group sped up and then stopped short—the pipe lay on the sidewalk, ashes scattered. “He tossed it away to throw me off,” Ruby huffed. “Nice try, but it’ll take more than that to lose Ruby LeNez.” She lowered her head again and took in two great nosefuls of air, then set off at a rapid trot. “I’ll have to concentrate on his flowery smell. That and the trousers.”

  Anton looked back and saw Morgan and the others as they rounded the last corner, trying to keep the bloodhound in sight. Ruby scrambled down streets and alleys, pulling up short and doubling back, her nostrils flaring. The cats kept pace while trying to stay out of the way. As they passed through a quiet park, Anton thought he heard a familiar sound, faint and distant, but then he lost it again. They came upon the bald man’s hat tossed to the side of the road, and then his scarf, but still not a glimpse of the man himself.

  “He’s going to have no clothes left by the time we find him,” said Cecil, chuckling.

  Ruby and the two cats arrived at a busy intersection and began weaving between horses and cart wheels in their path. A loaded wagon careened down the street, nearly running them over, and they were jostled and bumped on all sides by humans rushing along. Halfway across, Ruby stopped next to a lamppost and lifted her head, swinging her abundant jowls from side to side.

  “All right, my friends,” she said to the cats. “There are many satchels and a great deal of the acrid paper here.”

  Anton gazed around and was surprised to see that the street was indeed full of men similar to the bald man in one way or another, bearing hats and bags and cravats and even pipes, walking in every direction. The cats pressed in close to Ruby.

  “Does that mean we’ve lost him?” asked Cecil.