Cats Aloft

by Lisa Martin

  Anton stiffened, his ears pricked forward. “What’s that?” he cried. “Who’s in there?”

  “Well,” said Ruby, pawing at the latch, “I’m hoping it’s the someone we can rescue.” The latch held, just as the one on Cecil’s basket had, and she snorted in frustration. “You see, it occurred to me that if those men are the dognappers, and they didn’t know that Cecil was inside that basket, they must have assumed they were taking a puppy with them in the balloon.”

  Anton’s eyes opened wide. “You think they picked up the wrong basket?”

  “That’s what I think. And that means . . .”

  “They left a dog behind,” finished Anton, circling around the basket on the ground.

  Ruby nodded. “You’ve got it. But there’s only one way to be sure. We have to get a human to open this for us. And there’s only one that I trust.” She grasped the long leather strap with her teeth and stretched it out along the grass. “Can you hold this up for me?”

  Anton stepped to the strap and clenched it in his jaws, lifting his chin to raise it as high as he could. Ruby slid her head underneath and then stood up, hoisting the basket so it hung across her shoulders like a bulky necklace.

  “You look like a fisher-dog,” said Anton, impressed with Ruby’s strength.

  “Let’s see if we can make it to Mr. Morgan’s house without arousing suspicion.” Another groggy moan came from the basket. “Shhh, little one,” Ruby said, looking down. “We’ll get you out of there. Just hold tight.”

  Voices from the field carried over as humans wandered near the shed. Anton and Ruby exchanged a nod, and Anton turned and led the way toward Morgan’s street. Ruby followed, as stealthy as a big dog with a burden could be.

  It took quite a while for the pair to navigate the crowds. They slipped behind buildings when they could, and Ruby moved slowly to avoid bouncing the basket too much against her legs. The humans who did catch sight of them stopped and pointed, as if the spectacle of Anton and Ruby marching along were just another curious part of the Fair. It was well after midday as they rounded the corner of the street where Morgan lived, and right away they noticed activity out front.

  Two ladies dressed in long, frilly frocks and elaborate hats, one with yellow hair and sharp blue eyes and the other gray and stooped, sat on the porch with Morgan. The younger lady spoke rapidly in a shrill voice, gesturing widely with her arms, while the older lady clasped her hands together and shook her head slowly, her face mournful. Mr. Morgan leaned toward them in his chair, nodding and writing on a pad of paper in his lap. Anton and Ruby stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and gazed up at the group. Ruby sat down, resting the basket’s weight on the ground in front of her paws.

  “And now we don’t know where to turn, you understand, Mr. Morgan?” the younger lady exclaimed. “Alexandrine is a very valuable dog, a purebred Italian spitz, and my goodness, who could have done such a thing?” She began to weep pitifully, and Morgan reached out and offered her a handkerchief from his pocket.

  The older lady clutched a length of rope in her hand, and Anton saw that it was a leash, cut straight across on one end. Another victim, Anton thought, and he glanced up at Ruby with wide eyes. Ruby must have noticed the same thing, as she gave a soft woof to get Morgan’s attention. He looked over at Ruby in surprise.

  “Not now, LeNez,” he said, waving his hand and frowning slightly. “I’m busy here.”

  The younger lady accepted the handkerchief and blew her nose loudly, while the older lady gazed down at the bloodhound.

  “What a beautiful dog you have, Mr. Morgan,” she said.

  “Thank you,” said Morgan, “though she’s a bit rude today. I do apologize.”

  Ruby stood up and took a step forward. Woof, woof, she tried again.

  “I do believe she’s trying to tell you something,” the older lady observed.

  “Always a distinct possibility with LeNez. Excuse me for a moment, would you?” Morgan set his pen and pad down and stepped off the porch.

  Ruby bent her head forward and slipped out of the strap across her shoulders, then stood waiting by the basket.

  “Now what is it, LeNez?” asked Morgan, stopping in front of the big dog. “Where did you find this fishing basket?”

  “I wish he’d just open it, for goodness’ sake,” she murmured to Anton.

  Anton circled the basket, mewing and dragging his tail along the latch to highlight the point. From the basket came a small whine. Morgan froze, his eyebrows arched. On the porch, the younger woman straightened and turned sharply in her chair.

  Morgan knelt and unhooked the cord from the latch. Slowly he raised the lid and peeked inside.

  “Oh, good heavens, LeNez,” he exclaimed softly. “What have you brought to us?” He reached in and gently lifted out a shivering white dog. As he turned toward the porch, cradling the puppy in his arms, the two ladies rose from their chairs, staring. All three humans stood for a moment with their mouths agape.

  “Alexandrine!” said the younger woman, her voice quavering. “Our puppy! You found her!”

  The humans turned in unison to stare at Ruby in awe and wonder.

  Ruby winked at Anton and wagged her tail.

  “Perhaps now we’ll finally get some help on this case,” said Ruby late in the afternoon as her partner and the other detectives carefully searched the grassy field for clues. After the reunion of the puppy with the overjoyed owners, Ruby had led her intrigued partner back to the balloon field. Morgan had snooped around the empty field and the shed, and had called in other detectives from the Fair to help.

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Anton glumly. He sat with his tail curled around his front paws, his eyes fixed on the sky, where the green balloon that had taken Cecil away was notably absent. “They’re gone, Ruby. Who knows where?”

  In addition to feeling helpless and worried sick, Anton was furious with himself. He watched miserably, thinking over and over about the way Cecil had been separated from him, and he chastised himself for not preventing it. “I should never have let him get in that basket,” said Anton fiercely as the detectives crisscrossed the field like scurrying mice.

  Ruby gazed down at the small gray cat. “I doubt you could have stopped him, Anton, even if you knew what was going to happen. Keep your chin up, my friend. All we need is one small clue now. I’m positive that something will present itself very shortly. We just need to stay alert!”

  Anton nodded and the two of them began their own search of the field. Ruby trailed after Morgan and the other detectives in case they found anything useful in places she couldn’t see or reach. Anton sniffed the trampled grass where the gondolas had rested, traced the trail of footprints leading to and from the area, and scoured the interior of the ramshackle shed—at least until a policeman chased him out. But though Anton remained as alert as he could, he found no hint as to Cecil’s whereabouts, and his heart drummed heavily in his chest. The terrible thought of life without his brother began to creep into his mind, and he quickly shoved it away.

  When the sun had dipped below the horizon and the work of the investigators had stalled, Ruby and Anton rested under a nearby tent awning and compared notes. Ruby had sniffed out a dog collar in the weeds of the field, which she had presented to Morgan. Inside the shed, Anton dragged a musty piece of fabric from under a box in the corner, remembering Cecil’s comment about some strange-smelling “damp cloth.” This cloth was dry, but crinkly like it had been wet once, and after some exertions Anton was able to get the detectives to take notice of it on the floor. They sniffed the cloth and nodded to each other.

  “Chloroform,” one said, tucking it away in a bag. “Somebody’s up to no good.”

  “How’s about the two of us go and find something to eat?” Ruby suggested when they had found no more clues for some time. “Then we’ll come back and make another pass.”

  Anton hesitated. “What if Cecil comes back, and we’re not here?”

  “He’s smart enough to t
hink of going to Mr. Morgan’s house, where we’d find him soon enough,” said Ruby.

  “You’re right, he is,” said Anton. “But let’s make it quick, anyway.”

  Just as the dog and cat were about to leave the field, Anton looked up to see a horse approaching, pulling a cart with a young man sitting in the driver’s seat up top.

  “Ruby!” cried Anton, craning his neck to track the man on the cart. “The driver!”

  Ruby whirled and squinted, following Anton’s gaze. “Ah! It may be our lucky break. That’s one of the men who flew off in the balloons, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes! Do you see Cecil?” Anton dashed from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse into the cart from where they stood.

  “No, not from here,” said Ruby. “But the cart is filled with things, so he may very well be tucked in there somewhere.”

  As soon as the detectives noticed the cart, the scene turned chaotic. Morgan and the others hustled over and everyone began talking at once. The detectives gestured toward the field and the shed, speaking tersely. The balloonist, wearing a yellow scarf around his neck, stepped down from the cart shaking his head, his hands held out wide.

  Ruby put her big front paws up in the cart, sniffing for Cecil, but a detective shooed her away. She and Anton circled the cart, calling Cecil’s name.

  “He could be still sleeping,” suggested Anton hopefully.

  “Maybe,” said Ruby, “but I’m not smelling him here, I’m afraid.”

  They looked back at the man in the center of the group of detectives. Morgan held up the cut leash and pointed at him, but he shrugged and said nothing.

  “That’s the one from the other balloon,” said Anton. “But I’ll bet he knows where my brother is. If only I could make him tell me!” Before he could stop himself, Anton darted between the detectives right up to the man and stood on his back legs. He clutched the man’s trousers with his claws, staring into his eyes. “Where is Cecil?” he hissed.

  The man yelped and shook his leg to dislodge Anton. One of the detectives stepped forward and grasped Anton by the back of his neck, pulling him off and holding him up in the air. The yellow scarf man stared at the gray cat, wide-eyed, then turned away as the detective tossed Anton down in the grass near Ruby.

  “We’re not going to get anything out of this fellow,” said Ruby grimly. “Though if I know Mr. Morgan, he’ll keep trying for quite a while.”

  “Don’t they know that this is one of the criminals?” Anton said with a huff. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Ruby sighed. “Perhaps they can’t be sure—not if there are no puppies in evidence.”

  Anton turned to Ruby, scowling. “We can’t wait for these humans to talk all day! Why isn’t Cecil here?” He gazed up to the empty sky again. When he turned back to Ruby, she wasn’t there. “Ruby?”

  “Over here,” Ruby called softly from near the horse-cart. As Anton approached, Ruby stepped directly in front of the blinkered horse. “Hello, there,” she called up.

  “Whoa, there, dog!” whinnied the horse, shifting on his hooves. “Don’t stand so close!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ruby. “But I wondered if I might ask you a question.”

  “A question? Well. All right, I suppose, but I’m quite busy, as you can see.” The horse drew himself up and shook his bridle but continued to stand on the packed dirt of the Midway, doing not much of anything.

  Ruby exchanged glances with Anton and nodded. “Yes, of course, I’ll get right to the point. Can you tell us where you have come from, just now?”

  “Tell us?” said the horse, blinking. “Who is us?”

  “My name is Ruby, and this is Anton,” said Ruby, tilting her head toward the gray cat.

  The horse turned his head so the narrow view of his blinkers suddenly included Anton. “Oh my! A cat! First a dog, and now a cat, too. This is really too much.” He licked his lips nervously.

  “Are you all right?” Ruby inquired.

  “Well I think I will be, if there aren’t any more of you,” said the horse.

  “No, there are just the two of us.”

  “Good,” said the horse. “I’m Sedgwick. I’m a Thoroughbred, you know. A race horse. Retired now, but still in top form. And I don’t usually chat with strangers.”

  “Of course you don’t,” said Ruby. “We’ll be gone in a twinkling. Now, to my question, if you would be so kind. Where have you just come from?”

  The horse sighed and commenced thinking, his eyes rolling around in between the confines of the blinkers. “Before coming here, I was at the circus,” he announced.

  “The circus!” exclaimed Ruby. “Ah ha, we’re making progress. And can you tell me how I would get there? Or rather, how you got here from there?”

  The horse looked dubiously down his long nose at Ruby. “Well that’s another question, isn’t it? Two more, really.”

  “It is. Can you tell me?”

  “It’s really important!” cried Anton, unable to contain his impatience. The horse shied away from the little cat.

  “All right, all right!” said the horse. “No need to yell. Let me think.” He thought again, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. Finally he shook his head. “No. I can’t tell you.”

  Ruby opened her mouth but Anton jumped in. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Tell us!”

  “I mean, I have no idea how I got here!” neighed the horse, his nostrils puffing. “Furthermore, I simply don’t care. The driver pulls the reins, I turn the way he pulls, and I watch the road as we go. It’s the same on a racetrack. I don’t look about at landmarks, you understand? My job is speed and efficiency, not directions.”

  Anton glared at the horse. “But, surely . . .”

  The horse turned his head so he couldn’t see Anton. “My name is Sedgwick. Don’t call me Shirley. Now that’s quite enough questioning for one day.”

  “But—”

  “Anton, I have another idea,” Ruby interrupted, motioning him over to the big wheel on one side of the cart.

  “Do you know what’s this ‘circus’ he’s talking about?” asked Anton, following the bloodhound. “That could be where they left Cecil.”

  Ruby squinted. “I have a vague idea, only from talking to an animal or two that has escaped from it.” Anton’s eyes widened, but Ruby focused on the cart wheel, sniffing around the entire circumference.

  “How can that silly horse not know where he just came from?” said Anton with disgust.

  Ruby turned to him, her eyes bright. “That may not matter, my friend.”

  “Why not?” asked Anton.

  “I think I may be able to track this cart backwards to there from here. The wheels smell strongly of certain exotic animals, sawdust, and sweet, sticky food. Different enough from the Fair scents that I should be able to backtrack, at least for a while, depending on how far it is. It will be dark soon—we’d have to wait until morning to set out.” Ruby cocked her head at Anton. “What do you say? Shall we give it a try?”

  Anton stared at Ruby. The thought of leaving the Fair altogether made him dizzy with worry, but they had to follow this clue while they had it. He gazed across to the yellow scarf man, still surrounded by a cluster of detectives in the field. He was of no use now that Cecil was somewhere else.

  Anton drew himself up and nodded grimly. “I say, let’s get ourselves to the circus.”

  Chapter 10

  Under the Big Top

  Cecil meowed a quick thanks and goodbye to Kitty on the ferry before trotting down the gangplank in pursuit of the balloon man. The man had lost his green cap in the lake and had traded his sodden Fair clothes for the gray shirt and trousers the ferry crew wore, so he was difficult to pick out in the crowd. Cecil zigged and zagged behind the man, who strode rapidly past the other humans on the landing and made his way up a wide, tree-lined avenue.

  If I can just keep up with him, Cecil thought, he’ll lead me straight to the puppies. After that, the thorny problem of how to find his way back
to the Fair, and his brother and Ruby, would have to be solved.

  The sun hung in the sky above the avenue like the lantern of an oncoming train, and Cecil squinted into the glare, trying to hold the man in his sights. A sudden shout to one side caught his attention, and he slowed to watch a strange human with a woman’s voice, smiling and calling out to the people strolling by. The human had skin as pale as the snow on the Ice Railway, a wide, steeply curved red mouth, and mounds of red curls protruding from under a pointed hat. Her clothes shimmered and billowed, covered with small spots of many different colors, and she waved and chattered to all who passed her. Her feet were enclosed in huge black shoes, but most curious to Cecil was the bundle of thin cords she held in one hand, each attached to a bobbing balloon. The balloons were shaped like the one that had carried him here, but were only the size of a human’s head. The odd-looking lady was handing the miniature balloons on strings to the children in the crowd, and directing everyone up the avenue with a fat gloved finger.

  “Mommy, a clown, a clown!” cried one young girl, pointing eagerly.

  “A clown!” shouted another child, pulling his father’s hand. “Can we go see?”

  Cecil used Ruby’s trick to divine that this character was apparently named “Aclown,” and marveled for another moment before remembering the green cap man. With a jolt he peered forward again, but his heart was already sinking. Cat’s whiskers! He’d lost the man.

  Now what? Cecil turned in a slow circle. Kitty had said that the balloonists often landed near the circus, so the man might be headed that way. He looked again at Aclown, who continued to prattle and wave, gesturing up the avenue. Kitty had also said that humans went to the circus in crowds. Maybe Aclown was part of it, showing the way.

  Keeping close to the buildings on one side to avoid being trampled, Cecil hurried along until the road rose slightly. Cresting the rise, he blinked as the sun sank below the city skyline. Straight ahead, framed in the red-orange light, Cecil saw the pointed white spires of a huge tent. A small bit of hope flared in Cecil’s chest and he picked up his pace. He might still be able to catch up with the green cap man. Leave me to drown, but you can’t shake me, you thieving hoodlum. Cecil is on the case.