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SHADOW WHINED AND SHIFTED on the floor between his boy’s feet. He didn’t like the stranger-danger smells in the big car, or the jerky motion when it moved. And his tummy told him dinnertime had come and gone.
He nudged Steven with his nose and whined again. But his boy didn’t move. Steven stared out the window at the scenery, silent as when they’d entered.
The old man across the aisle stared. It made Shadow so nervous he yawned, licked his nose and turned away. Even then the man didn’t have the good-dog manners to do the same. He reeked of scary-smoke scent, and he whistled when he breathed.
Not like Steven, who breathed quietly and smelled like soap and dog treats and boy-smell.
“Where you headed?” The old man sounded kind even if he did smell like smoke. “I like your dog. Used to have a German shepherd a long time ago. What’s his name? My name’s Teddy.”
Shadow’s head jerked up and he stared at the man. But despite the words, he didn’t see anything that resembled his teddy bear toy. He yawned again, and averted his eyes in deference to the human, like a polite puppy should.
“Can’t you tell me your dog’s name? Or your name? I told you mine.” The old man plucked some paper from his pocket, folded it, and wiped his nose. “Good dog you got there.”
Shadow stopped listening. The stranger hadn’t said “treat” or “food” or “play ball” or any other important words that signaled fun stuff. Steven ignored the man, too, and just stared out the window like he always did.
The grown-up’s gap-toothed grin showed stained teeth and his breath smelled like onions when he spoke. “Good for you, son. Your momma taught you not to talk to strangers, right? That’s good, real good.” Teddy scratched the gray stubble peppering his jaw, and it made a gritty noise like a potato chip bag made. Shadow loved salty chips. His tummy growled.
“You’re awful young to be on your own out in a snowstorm, even with a great guard dog. Right, pooch? Or are you a service dog? Where’s your vest? You’re just a pup yourself.” His crooning tone reminded Shadow of treat-lady.
Unable to help himself, Shadow offered a tentative wag, signaling an uneasy truce, especially if Teddy offered chips or treats. It wouldn’t be polite to refuse treats. Shadow licked his lips.
The big car stopped with a jerk. Shadow scrambled to keep his balance.
The old man sighed and stood up. Shadow’s ears twitched at the pop noise in Teddy’s knees when he shuffled down the aisle toward the front of the big car. The old man stopped by the tall door to chat with the driver.
Shadow’s mouth relaxed into a gentle pant once Teddy moved away. Four other passengers sat near the front of the bus. He and Steven huddled in the last seat. His boy didn’t like to be close to other people even if he knew them.
Shadow had never met any of these strangers. They stared, too, but from a distance, so his fur wasn’t all prickly.
He watched the people exit one by one down the steps and out the car’s funny doorway. Shadow liked that just fine. Car rides should be for dogs and their boys to relax with people they knew. Not for strangers to stare.
Shadow cocked his head when the odd-smelling man didn’t get off with the others. Maybe his clicky knees made it hard for him to climb down steps? Their regular car, driven by Steven’s mother, only had two seats. Shadow always sat in the back seat behind Steven’s mom, and his boy rode next to him. Sometimes treat-lady sat next to Steven’s mom in the front, too. All of them just hopped in or out, they didn’t have to climb. Shadow watched the old man and the woman driver. Maybe if his own family had as many people in it as hers did, they’d drive a funny big car with steps, too.
“Freda, do you know the boy with the dog?” Teddy’s glance brushed them, and Shadow thumped his tail again.
She shrugged. Shadow watched with interest when she pulled a fuzzy hat out of one pocket and tugged it over her short hair. He wondered what else might be in the pockets. Maybe a ball? Or treats?
She turned in her seat, and Shadow heard the cushions squeak. She looked at him.
He stared back for a moment. Fur rose on his back but smoothed down again when she looked away. The door whooshed open, and the old man’s knees popped when he got off.
Always before at stops, people got off and new ones got on. Shadow’s mouth closed with expectation. He knew they got off at Steven’s house. That’s how car rides always ended. Shadow’s bowl should be filled with food by now. He wished they’d get there soon. His toes ached from the cold.
But this time the lady closed the front door before any new people appeared. Shadow stood up when she waddled down the aisle, turning sideways to fit. She stopped in front of them. “Kid, you’ve been riding the bus for—” She looked at her wrist. “Close to two hours now. Did you miss your stop or what?”
Shadow wagged and dropped his ears. She smelled good, like French fries and flowers. No smoky smell, and her voice wasn’t rough. She didn’t sound mad, but you could never be too careful with strangers, so he wriggled his butt. She smiled at him and cut her eyes away. He relaxed at once.
Maybe she’d pet him and call him “good-dog.” Right now he’d like that. A good-dog was brave no matter what, so he stood between his boy and the stranger and pretended to be brave just like with the smoky man. When she leaned toward his boy, he woof-whined concern and wagged faster and higher.
She sighed, backed away and sat in a more distant seat. Shadow relaxed, but watched carefully. “I’m not supposed to let dogs on the bus. But I couldn’t leave you both out in the cold.” She smiled again. “Besides, I like dogs better than most people.”
Shadow thumped his tail—she’d said “dog” so she must be speaking about him. Steven stared out the window.
“My shift’s over. I wouldn’t even be out in this mess, except I started the route before it got bad. I figured you knew where you was going, but maybe not, huh? Teddy’s worried.”
His head whipped toward her. But she didn’t have his bear toy, either.
She waited. Steven didn’t answer. “Just tell me where you live, son. Or a phone number so I can call your folks.” She’d pulled a palm-sized object out of her pocket and waited expectantly.
Shadow stretched forward and sniffed her pant leg. She had at least two dogs of her own. He wondered if she ever called them good-dogs and rubbed their tummies. Or maybe fed them French fries?
“Steven Childress, thirty-three Bois D’Arc, Heartland Texas 903-555-6824.” His boy sing-songed the words so quickly, the woman gasped with surprise.
“Well now, Steven, is it?” She smiled, and stood up. “Thanks for telling me, son. I’ll call the number, okay?”
Shadow cocked his head when her body stiffened. Caution colored her words. Big-humans often changed the way they treated his boy after being with him. He wondered why.
***
“AM I SPEAKING TO MRS. Childress?”
“You’ve dialed April Childress’s cell phone. Who’s this, please?”
“Freda Tybalt. I’m a bus driver for HART-Line services, and well, I’ve got your son and dog with me. Steven’s been riding for the last couple hours.”
“Thank God. We’ve looked everywhere for that little dickens. He’s autistic, you know, wandered away in the storm. Where are you?”
“Here’s the deal, Mrs. Childress. I’m at the Star Mall, my shift is over, and the next driver takes the bus on from here. But I’m late because of the ice. Dispatch says they’re shutting down the runs for the rest of the day.”
“I’ll come to you. Be there in two shakes. Could you wait in your car if the bus has to leave? I’ll pay you for your trouble, Ms. Tybalt—er, Freda.”
“Naw, don’t need no reward. I should have realized he was joy-riding earlier. But I had my hands full with the roads today, if you get my drift. Pun intended.” She chuckled.
“Don’t want to put you out, but I’d sure be obliged.”
“It’s no trouble to wait. I get something for dinner or snack before I head home. But my VW won’t accommodate the dog, boy and big ol’ me.” She paused. “Probably some of the stores are closed but they’d keep the mall open. My friend Teddy is inside.”
“You tell me. I’ll meet you wherever.”
“Okay, meet us at the mall. We’ll wait at the north entrance, in the food court. I’ll even treat the boy and his dog to French fries. How’s that?”
“Perfect. Thanks again, Freda. I’ll be there quick as I can. Sending my, uh, the boy’s father. We’ll insist on rewarding you appropriately.”
Lizzie sat back in the car and hung up April’s cell phone. She dimpled with relief. Outside the car, April plodded through the snow to knock on the front door of the next house. They’d already covered two blocks up from Gentry Park.
But April didn’t need to know just yet that Steven had been found. The continued search kept April occupied until they could retrieve Steven and get him the treatment he deserved. She’d threatened to withhold the medication, sure—that’s the way the game was played. But Steven was an innocent, and she couldn’t punish him for the stupidity of his mother. Or his aunt. No matter what, the children’s well-being came first. That was her mission, her life’s calling. Nothing would stop that mission of mercy.
But Gerald was at April’s Body Works to get her laptop. She needed to send someone trustworthy to collect Steven.
Who to send? Someone who wouldn’t question. Someone who needed money—no, better than money. A parent who couldn’t otherwise afford a miracle for a child. The answer came immediately, she knew just who to call. Lizzie smiled, and dialed the phone number.
