by Ellen Miles
It was empty.
“Dad!” he called, jumping to his feet. “Steve! Wake up! Fluffy and Freckles are missing.”
Steve scrambled down the ladder. Dad leapt off the couch. “What? Where?” Dad said, rubbing his eyes. “How?”
Steve was already pulling his boots and jacket on. “I woke up in the middle of the night and went out to check on the snow. Maybe they slipped out behind me?”
Charles slid out of the sleeping bag and ran for his own jacket and boots. A moment later, he and Dad and Steve were all outside, yelling for Freckles and Fluffy.
The snow was still coming down, swirling out of the dim early-morning sky. Charles followed Steve from the back door to the sugaring shed. The heavy, wet snow came up above his knees. It was tough going, slogging through the drifts.
“Where’d they go?” Steve asked, waving his arms. His face was red and his eyes were wide.
“We’ll find them,” Charles said. “We have to find them.” He had never seen Steve look upset before. He pictured the little puppy and the soft, baby lamb floundering through the snow and his heart sank. This was exactly the kind of thing Dad had meant about why Steve didn’t want pets. Too much responsibility.
“They’re not around back,” Dad said, coming from the other side of the cabin. “I didn’t see any tracks at all.”
“Okay,” said Steve. He took a few deep breaths, as if to calm himself. “We’ll have to search farther from the house. We’ll need snowshoes.” He headed for the cabin, then stopped short when he came close to the door. “Oh, no,” he said, stooping over to look more closely. “The poor little guy.”
“What is it?” Charles asked. He and his dad joined Steve by the door.
“Someone tried to get our attention,” Steve said, pointing to the bottom of the door. At one corner the blue paint was scratched all the way down to bare wood.
Charles felt his heart skip a beat. “That must have been Freckles, scratching to be let in,” he said.
“Exactly,” said Steve. “They got out, but then they couldn’t get back inside.”
“And I bet Fluffy was bleating, too,” said Dad. “How could we have slept through that?”
Steve grunted and stood up. “We were really tired,” he said. “And the sound of the wind must have been louder. Anyway, we didn’t hear them. Now we have to find them.” He grabbed snowshoes from their hooks inside the mudroom and handed them around.
“But how do we know where to look? There aren’t any tracks to follow,” Dad said. “The storm wiped them out.”
“And we wiped them out,” said Charles, suddenly realizing what had happened. “We can’t see any tracks right around here because we ran around and messed everything up. Maybe if we just go a little bit farther we’ll see something.”
“Just what I was thinking,” said Steve as he buckled on his snowshoes. “Let’s go.” He plunged off into the snow. A moment later, Dad and Charles followed.
It was not easy, slogging through the deep snow. Charles’s snowshoes punched through the heavy, wet drifts no matter how carefully he tried to walk. He felt like he was tripping over his own feet. He had to lift his knees high for each step, as if he was marching. The snow melted around the tops of his boots, and his wet socks squelched as he walked. It was exhausting.
“Take it easy, sport,” said Dad from behind him. Dad was breathing hard, too. “Don’t try to rush; that only makes it harder.”
But Charles felt like he had to rush. If he felt cold and wet and tired and frustrated, think how those two baby animals must feel, out there on their own!
“I think I see tracks,” Steve shouted. Charles saw him stoop over, then kneel down in the snow. “Yes!”
Charles and Dad caught up to him, and Steve showed them the indentations in the snow. “They’re blurry because the snow is still falling. But I’m almost sure these are recent.”
“I don’t get it,” Dad said. “Why would they wander even farther away from the house? I mean, here they are, out in a howling snowstorm. Wouldn’t you think they would try to find shelter?”
Charles stared at Dad. “That’s it!” he said.
Steve looked confused for a moment, then his face lit up and he nodded at Charles. “You’re right!” He stood up. “Let’s go.”
Dad didn’t get it yet. “Go where?” he asked.
To Charles it was so obvious. If the animals needed shelter, Freckles knew where to find it. That’s where he would have gone. That’s where he would have taken his friend. “To the cave, to the place where we first found Freckles,” Charles said, following Steve up the trail.
Sure enough, the blurry tracks turned off the main trail toward the pine forest, just as they had on that first day. Steve was charging through the snow now, and Charles and Dad struggled to keep up.
The snow wasn’t as deep once they were in the woods, where the long boughs of the pine trees had caught the falling flakes. As Steve pushed through, drifts of snow fell from the branches, slipping down Charles’s neck and making him shiver. He didn’t care. They were getting closer.
“Freckles!” he called. “We’re coming!”
When they entered the small clearing near the rocky ledge, Charles tried to dash ahead. He couldn’t wait to see Freckles’s face sticking out from the little cave opening.
“Wait,” said Steve, grabbing Charles’s jacket. “Don’t scare them.”
Charles slowed down. He knew Steve was right. Even though Freckles and Fluffy had gotten used to people—and even liked being around them—they were probably very frightened right now.
Dad came up behind them, and Charles put a finger to his lips. Dad nodded. All three of them crept quietly forward until they were close to the rocky ledge. Charles held his breath. There! There, in the dark little cave opening, Charles saw a flash of white, a spot of brown.
Steve motioned for them to stop. He knelt down, and so did Charles and Dad. “Hey, friends,” Steve said softly. “It’s us. We’re here to help.”
Charles saw Freckles poke his whole head out of the cave. And, just behind him, he saw Fluffy’s adorable face, with its sticking-out ears! “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Don’t be scared.”
That was when Fluffy pushed right past Freckles and bounded into the clearing, bleating happily. Or maybe hungrily. Or probably both.
Charles picked the lamb up and held him close. “There you are,” he said. “You’re safe with us.”
Now Freckles ran out, too—straight for Steve.
I thought you’d never find us!
Steve laughed as he scooped the little dog into his arms and hugged him. “You rascal,” he said. “Running off like that. You had us worried.”
“But he was smart to come here,” said Charles. “He knew just what to do to take care of himself and his friend.”
“Let’s get both of these friends home,” said Dad. “I bet they’re hungry and cold and tired.” He helped Charles zip Fluffy inside his jacket, where the lamb would be cozy, and then all three of them trudged back to the cabin, carrying their precious cargo.
When they got inside, Charles rubbed Fluffy down with one of the towels while Steve dried Freckles. Dad brought over a bottle, and Charles sat right down by the woodstove to feed the bleating lamb. “That’s right,” he said as Fluffy sucked at the bottle. “You’re safe now.” Freckles curled up next to them, gazing lovingly at his woolly friend.
Steve got up to pour out some kibble for Freckles. “Come on, pup,” he called. “You must be hungry, too.”
Freckles glanced over at his dish and thumped his tail, but he didn’t budge.
I’m good for now. Just want to make sure my friend is okay.
Charles felt the lamb relax in his arms. The bottle was nearly empty, and Fluffy’s eyelids were drooping. Soon it would be nap time again. Charles sighed and let himself relax, too. He was so glad that both animals were safe and sound in the cabin.
“Look,” said Steve. He pointed out the window, and Charles sa
w a patch of blue. “The snow has finally stopped. The wind has died down, too. I think the sun might even come out.” He grinned at Dad and Charles. “You know what that means? The trees will start running again. More sap to gather.”
The rest of that day passed much like the day before: Steve and Dad gathered sap and boiled it while Charles looked after the animals. He made sandwiches again at lunchtime and brought them out to the sugar shed. By late afternoon, it was obvious that Charles and Dad would be spending one more night at the cabin; Steve really needed their help.
The next morning, Charles was giving Fluffy a bottle when he heard a groan from the kitchen. “Oh, no!” said Steve. He smacked his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“What happened?” Charles asked.
“I just checked the calendar, that’s what,” said Steve. “We’ve been so busy, I spaced it out. But this is Maple Open House Weekend. That means today’s the day of the Spring Fling Wing-Ding!”
Charles remembered that the Spring Fling was the annual party dad had told him about on the way up. “What’s Maple Open House Weekend?” he asked.
“Sugarhouses all over the state invite visitors to stop by one weekend in March,” Steve said. “I just like to add to the fun by having a big party for my friends, as well.”
“Will people still come, even with all this snow?” Dad asked Steve.
Steve laughed. “By this time of year, Vermonters have what we call cabin fever from being stuck inside all winter. Everybody’s happy to get out and do something different. They’ll be here.” He pulled the fridge open. “I’m going to have to go shopping,” he said, looking inside. “There’s barely enough food left for us, much less twenty other people.”
“Doesn’t everybody bring food to the party?” Dad asked.
Steve nodded. “Sure. But I like to have plenty on hand, too. I was hoping you’d make your famous firehouse chili—I already bought the ingredients for that.”
“Perfect,” said Dad. “Now that Charles is becoming a great chef, he can help me cook while you’re shopping. We can tidy up the place, too.”
“Really?” Steve asked, looking relieved. “That would be excellent. As far as gathering sap and boiling, we can do that when everyone’s here. People love to help out. It’s part of the fun.”
The rest of the morning went by in a blur. Charles helped Dad chop onions, open cans of beans, and add spices. He put away the sleeping bag and the blankets Dad had been using, and shook out the towels that Fluffy and Freckles had been sleeping on. In between, he gave Fluffy a bottle every time he began to bleat, took Freckles outside when he asked to be let out, changed the lamb’s diaper, and tried to keep Fluffy from jumping onto the furniture he’d just dusted.
By the time Steve came back, the cabin was tidy and a big pot of chili was bubbling away. “Mmmm, it smells fantastic in here,” said Steve as he set bags of groceries on the counter. “And it looks terrific, too. I can’t thank you two enough.”
People started arriving at lunchtime, and Charles stayed busy passing out bowls of chili and helping to set out the rest of the food the guests had bought. Fluffy and Freckles greeted each guest happily, bouncing around like pinballs in a machine. As the afternoon went on and it began to warm up outside, the party moved to the sugar shack, where Steve had started to boil sap. The food was spread out on a picnic table, and people of all ages stood around to watch the sap boil while they caught up after the long winter. A couple of other dogs had arrived, too, and Charles was happy to see that Freckles gave each of them a friendly greeting.
Chloe arrived and Charles took her inside to see Fluffy. “Wow, you’ve been doing a great job with this one,” she said. “He is really thriving.”
Charles smiled. “He’s a good eater,” he told her. “We’re already almost out of formula.”
“No problem,” said Chloe. “My last ewe had her lamb yesterday and all the babies are doing well. I’ll be able to bring him home with me today, now that I can take care of him. He needs to be back with the flock, anyway. It’s time he remembered that he’s actually a sheep, not a puppy.”
Charles gulped. He’d known all along that Fluffy would be going back to the farm, but still. He was going to miss the little lamb, and Freckles was going to miss his friend even more. But Chloe was right. Fluffy belonged with the other sheep.
“Speaking of puppies,” said Charles as he ladled out a bowl of chili for Chloe. “We’re looking for a home for Freckles. He’s really smart, and great with lambs. Maybe you could use him on the farm?” Charles had decided that Chloe’s farm would be a perfect home for Freckles, and he’d been planning this speech all morning. “That way, he and Fluffy would always be together,” he finished.
Chloe ruffled Freckles’s ears. “Oh, I really wish I could. He’s a real cutie, and he’d be welcome to visit with us anytime. But I already have Sky and Galena, my two sheepdogs. Between them and the sheep and the goats and the geese and ducks and chickens and my milk cow, I think my farm is just about full up.”
“I didn’t know you had all those animals,” said Charles. “I only saw the sheep the day we came to get Fluffy.”
“Come visit before you leave,” Chloe said. “You can meet them all. Meanwhile, maybe Adelaide would be interested in the pup. After all, she fed him all winter while he lived in her barn.” She and Charles walked outside, and Chloe pointed out a pretty white-haired woman with glasses.
Charles took a plate of cheese and crackers and started to walk around, offering it to people. When he got to Adelaide, he smiled up at her. “What do you think of Freckles?” he asked. “I know he was staying in your barn for a while. He looks good, doesn’t he?”
“Is that what you named the pup?” she asked, taking a cracker. “Great name. I love it. And yes, he looks great. Steve told me you’ve been taking really good care of him. I couldn’t even get close to him when he was staying in my barn. He was too shy.”
“He’s not so shy anymore,” said Charles. “Freckles even likes hugs and belly rubs now.”
“Sweet,” said Adelaide. “I’d love to pet him, but I’m so allergic that I’d be sneezing for the rest of the day.”
Charles sighed. He had just been about to ask Adelaide if she wanted to adopt Freckles, but now there was no point. “Freckles really needs a home,” said Charles.
“What about Steve?” asked Adelaide.
“Steve?” Charles was surprised. “I thought he didn’t want any pets.”
Adelaide laughed. “Oh, no, you’re absolutely right about that. I can’t imagine Steve with a dog. A very independent cat, maybe—but never a dog. No, I meant the other Steve. Dancing Steve. That one.” She pointed to a man with a big bushy beard and mustache.
“Dancing Steve?” Charles asked.
Adelaide laughed again. “That’s what we call him. He loves to go dancing and he does it whenever he can.”
“Okay.” Charles shrugged. “So maybe Dancing Steve wants a dog.” He went to pick up a platter of deviled eggs to carry through the crowd, weaving this way and that, until he was standing next to the man with the beard.
“You must be Paul’s son,” said Dancing Steve, sticking out his hand for a shake. “I hear you did a great job taking care of Chloe’s lamb.”
“Um, thanks,” said Charles. “Egg?” He held up the platter, and Dancing Steve helped himself. Charles decided to get right to the point. “Did you know that Freckles needs a home?” he asked, pointing to the happy pup. At the moment, Freckles was playing with a dog who had a thick brown-and-black coat. “Adelaide said you might be interested.”
Dancing Steve watched the dogs play. “Well, if I wanted to have two dogs, I might be,” he said. “He seems to get along well with June.” He nodded at the brown-and-black dog. “That’s my dog, June. But I’ve got a busy life, so I’m a one-dog man.” He smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” he said. “Keep trying! There are lots of dog lovers here.” He pointed Charles to a couple named Eric and Patty.
Er
ic and Patty pointed to Karl and Tracy. Tracy pointed to Jake. Jake pointed to Danny and Mary. Danny pointed to David. David pointed to Elsa.
Nobody wanted a dog.
By the time the party wound down and the last guests headed up the trail, Charles was tired and discouraged.
“You okay?” Steve asked as they carried dirty dishes into the cabin. “I know you’ll miss Fluffy.” Chloe had taken the lamb home with her, and Charles already did miss him. He missed watching him jump around, he missed giving him bottles—he even missed changing his diaper! He could tell that Freckles missed his friend, too. The white pup lay on the bed near the woodstove, his chin on his paws.
Charles shrugged. “I do miss Fluffy, but it’s not just that. I asked pretty much every one of the guests today whether they’d like to adopt Freckles, and I still haven’t found him a forever home,” he said.
Steve put down a pile of dishes and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “You didn’t ask me,” he said.
Charles stared at him. “Because you don’t want a dog,” he said. “I mean, that’s what everybody says, anyway.”
“Well, it’s true. I don’t want just any dog,” said Steve. “But sometimes the right dog just happens to come along. A smart dog. A loving dog. A helpful dog. A brave and independent dog … a good dog.”
When Freckles heard the words “good dog,” he jumped up and trotted over to Steve. He leaned against Steve’s leg and gazed up at him, wagging his tail.
That’s me! I’m a good dog.
Steve gazed back at Freckles and scratched the top of the puppy’s head. “That’s right,” he said. “You really are a good dog. So, how would you like to be my dog?”
Charles held his breath for a second. Then he let it all out in a burst. “Really?” he asked. “That would be—that would be—”
“It would be fantastic!” said Dad. “Are you sure you’re ready for the responsibility?”
Steve smiled. “This guy is no trouble at all. He and I are going to be best pals. It’s about time this hermit had some company.” He ruffled Freckles’s ears. “What do you say, friend?”
