Chapter Eighteen

After dinner Jessie practiced for two hours. It was the only thing she could think of to do in order to take her mind off the baby.

Outside, a storm raged. The wind sounded fierce and she could see snow blowing past the windows. I hope that little dog, Buster, got home. By the time she rose from the piano bench the Beethoven sounded like real music.

She went to the kitchen. “I’m going to bed, Mrs. Winter.”

“Well goodnight, Jessie. Phillip had a bath and is already asleep.” The babysitter finished wiping down the counters. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Oh, by the way,” said Jessie. “Bryce Peterson is stopping by in the morning around ten o’clock. We’re going to take a walk through the snow.”

“Is that alright with your mother?” asked Mrs. Winter.

“Oh sure. She won’t mind. Goodnight,” Jessie said.

In her bedroom, Jessie sat at her desk and listed all the reasons why she thought the kidnapped baby might live at the same house as Buster the dog.

1. Buster had the identity bracelet with NOVAK spelled on it.

2. Buster lived at the house on the county road. (Where else could he have gotten it? Answer: anywhere else.)

3. Buster’s owners are older and seem to have no children according to Dr. Carter, the veterinarian. (could have left children at home)

4. Buster’s owners—The Colsons—were new in town (Renting or owning the house?)

5. Bryce and I will try to go by the Colson house. I guess we’ll have to walk.

6. Should I call police yet? (wait until you go by the Colson house and check it out)

She looked at the list and thought it was pretty thin, evidence-wise.

All night, Jessie tossed and turned. Every time she woke, she heard the storm roaring outside. Finally at seven o’clock, she could stand it no more. She got up, made her bed and quietly washed her face and brushed her teeth.

Dressed in fleece-lined pants and a thick turtleneck pullover, she took a heavy quilted jacket, warm scarf, stocking cap and wooly mittens from her closet. Carrying her snow boots, she tiptoed down the stairs and set the boots and coat by the front door.

In the kitchen, she fixed toast and cereal then sat at the table and ate.

She thought ten o’clock would never come. Watching the clock seemed to make the time crawl. At five of ten, she put on her boots over thick wool socks, zipped up her coat, pulled the knit hat down almost to her eyes and tucked her braid inside it. She could hear Phillip upstairs talking to Mrs. Winter. Jessie pulled on her mittens, carefully opened the door and slipped out onto the porch. I hear bells. But those aren’t church bells.

A prancing horse pulled a beautiful sleigh from Bryce’s driveway. It was red and big with a row of seats facing one another. Bells were attached to it and rang as the sleigh moved.

Looking at this fancy rig, Jessie could hardly believe her eyes. Bryce sat on the upper seat next to Mr. Sanderson, the museum caretaker, who was driving the horse.

The sleigh stopped in front of her house and Jessie ran to the curb. “Where did this come from?” she said. “It looks like something in the movies!”

Bryce hopped down laughing, helped her into the sleigh and sat down beside her. “Isn’t it great?” Mr. Sanderson found it in the storage building with old museum stuff. He’s been restoring it. Be sure to fasten your seat belt.” Bryce covered their laps with a thick wool blanket.

Jessie hooked her seat belt buckle. “Did they have seat belts on sleds in the old days?”

Bryce laughed. “My dad had them installed.”

Mr. Sanderson turned to them and said, “You kids ready?”

“We’re ready, Mr. Sanderson,” said Jessie. “It’s a beautiful sleigh.”

“Whose horse is it?” Jessie asked Bryce.

“It’s his. Her name is Dolly. I guess he had a horse and sleigh in Sweden when he was young.”

“Does he know what we’re doing?” Jessie asked.

“Yes,” said Bryce. “We have it all planned. I couldn’t figure out why the dog would be in Mrs. Livingston’s neighborhood if he lived in the country.” He pulled on thick wool gloves. “So I looked at the street map in Dad’s car and the Colson house is only about six blocks from the Livingston house. It’s right over the city line and on an unpaved road.”

“What’s the plan?” Jessie asked.

“Mr. Sanderson will take us for a little ride and come at the Colson house from a different direction,” said Bryce. “Then, when we get close to the house, you will feel sick. I’m sure you can slump over and act sick, Jessie. Then I’ll run up to the door and knock loud. I’ll ask to use their phone to call your mom.”

“Do you think that’s dangerous?” asked Jessie.

“What are they going to do? Shoot me?” Bryce laughed.

“Maybe. Don’t laugh. Daddy says people who steal a baby are real criminals.”

“What I’m trying to do is knock so loud that it will wake up a baby,” said Bryce.

“It’s good,” Jessie said. “If you hear a baby crying, we’re going right to the police station and show them the bracelet. We’ll tell them what we know,” Jessie said.

“Right. I told Mr. Sanderson that too.”

The storm was over, the sun was out and the deep snow sparkled on the streets and lawns. Dolly, the horse, stepped high and threw her head about. She was almost smiling in the chill air. Bryce took Jessie’s mittened hand under the lap rug. For a few minutes, Jessie leaned her head back and enjoyed the ride. This must be what Heaven is like, she thought.

Too soon the sleigh turned onto the unpaved road. The farm fields were covered with snow as far as one could see. It was like a magic land: The blue cloudless sky, the red barns and white farmhouses surrounded by groves of evergreens. Is there anything prettier in the world than the countryside? thought Jessie.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move. It was an animal racing beside the sleigh. “Wait. Stop, Mr. Sanderson!” Jessie shouted.

“Whoa, Dolly.” The driver pulled back on the reins and the sleigh came to a halt.

“Look, Bryce. It’s Buster!”

Bryce threw back the blanket, unbuckled his seat belt and jumped from the sleigh. “Here, Buster,” he called.

The dog slowed down and looked at Bryce. He was so small the snow almost buried him. Warily he came toward Bryce. “Good dog. Want a ride?”

Buster wagged his tail and edged closer. Gently, Bryce picked him up and got back into the sled. “This is perfect. I’ll carry Buster to the front door and ask the Colsons if they know where he lives.” He looked at Jessie. “So just look away. You don’t have to pretend you’re ill.”

Jessie tucked Buster under the rug and rubbed his fur to warm him.

“Ready?” asked Mr. Sanderson.

“Let’s go,” said Bryce.

“Over there,” Mr. Sanderson pointed. “That’s the house you’re looking for.”

Jessie covered most of her face with her scarf and turned her face away from the house in case someone was looking out the window and might recognize her.

When the sleigh came to a stop, Bryce jumped to the road with the dog under his arm. He plowed through the deep snow to the front gate of a small yellow farmhouse. On the porch, he pounded on the door. No one answered. Bryce pounded again and yelled, “Anyone home?”

Bryce turned to the sled and shouted, “No one’s here, I guess. It’s probably not their dog.” He ran down the steps and back to the sled clutching Buster. In almost a whisper he said, “There’s a baby crying in there.”

Jessie leaned forward. “Please take us to the police station, Mr. Sanderson.”