The cat leapt onto a low hanging branch then climbed to a higher one, his long, sharp claws digging into the thick bark to give him purchase. Now high above the house and yard, he scanned the area, looking for any signs of the missing boy.
Below, he could see the sheriff and deputies fanning out to start the search. The coming darkness and a light snowfall would impede their progress. Not so for the cat. Swiveling his ears, he listened for any sound that might reveal the boy’s whereabouts even as he searched the ground around him for any signs of his passage.
His sharp eyes saw the rapidly disappearing evidence someone had left the yard, going into the surrounding trees not more than a few hundred feet from where the cat was perched. Leaping to a limb on the next tree and then onward in the same fashion, the cat followed the dim trail. It ended suddenly at the edge of a small stream.
Jumping to the ground, the cat listened as he peered along both edges the stream, searching for anything that would tell him where the boy had gone. He saw faint impressions in the muddy bank along the far side and with one swift leap, he was across the water.
Now tracking the boy became easier. What the searchers might miss, the cat had no problem seeing. The trail went on for several yards before turning into the trees again. The cat wondered if the boy had a destination in mind or if he was just traveling without thinking.
He found out several minutes later when his sharp hearing picked up the faint sounds of sniffling. Moving quickly but silently toward it, he came to a small clearing. The boy sat huddled against a fallen tree trunk, his face buried in his hands.
Inch by inch, the cat moved closer, mewing to let the boy know he was there, as he dropped down on his stomach to appear less threatening.
The boy looked up, his eyes widening in surprise, a trace of fear mixed with interest on his face. “Wow, you’re big,” he whispered, his voice trembling.
The cat mewed again.
Tentatively, the boy reached out one hand to touch the cat’s forehead. “What are you? A snow cat?” He sniffled again, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m Ralphie, and I’m lost,” he whimpered.
The cat stood slowly, gently taking hold of the jacket’s other sleeve with his teeth and tugging.
For a moment Ralphie resisted, pulling back fearfully. The cat mewed softly again and the boy stood. “Can you…? I want to go home.”
Still holding the boy’s sleeve, the cat began to walk at a snail’s pace out of the clearing into the trees and the boy followed without resistance. Soon the cat released the sleeve, sensing Ralphie would come with him on his own. The boy hesitated again when they came to the stream, but when the cat took hold of his sleeve again, Ralphie carefully walked across it with him.
Finally they were close to Ralphie’s home. The cat and the boy heard the searchers as they called Ralphie’s name. The boy hesitated then wrapped his arms around the cat’s thick neck, hugging tightly as he whispered “Thank you.” Seconds later he was racing through the trees to the nearest voice, shouting “Here I am.”
The cat started to leave, paused, then climbed up the nearest tree to a high limb so he could watch the happy reunion as Ralphie’s mother dashed through the yard to pick him up in a tight embrace. Then, leaping down, the cat sped into the trees, his white fur melding in with the snow-covered ground as he vanished from sight, heading back toward the stream.
* * * *
Mick and the rest of the deputies joined Ralphie and Mrs. Peters, all of them smiling at the joyful reunion. She thanked them profusely for their help, still holding Ralphie tightly until he told her she was squeezing the air out of him. After putting him down, but taking a firm hold of his hand, she offered coffee to everyone. The deputies declined, saying they had to get back to work. Mick accepted as he wanted to talk to the boy.
Once inside, Mrs. Peters hurried to the kitchen to make the coffee while Mick and Ralphie sat on the sofa in the living room.
“Are you mad at me, Sheriff Greene?” the boy asked a bit fearfully when Mick frowned at him.
“I’m not happy you ran away and made everyone worry about you,” Mick replied. “You know it was a very stupid thing to do. You could have gotten really lost and frozen to death out there.”
Ralphie nodded, looking chastised. “I suppose…but I didn’t. The snow cat found me and brought me home.”
“The what?”
“The snow cat. He was real big, about this tall—” Ralphie held his hand about three feet above the floor, “—and as long as…as the sofa…and he was all white with real pretty eyes…and he sorta meowed, but not really…and he liked me…and he showed me how to get home.”
“Okay, slow down. Are you sure you didn’t imagine this?”
“Nope. He was real. Honest. I was in a clearing and I was scared ‘cause I was lost. He came and he pulled my sleeve and made me follow him.”
“Ralphie,” Mrs. Peters said as she came into the room carrying two cups of coffee, “don’t you be telling the sheriff stories.”
“I’m not, Mom, honest. It really happened!”
“I suppose,” Mick said pensively, “it could have been an albino mountain lion. Though why it helped him is the question.”
“‘Cause I needed help,” Ralphie said, as if that was a given. “And he wasn’t albino ‘cause his eyes were blue. We studied that in school and albinos have pink eyes.”
Mick chuckled. “If you say so. So where is this cat now?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe gone home?”
Mick nodded, setting his coffee down on the side table. “I’m going out back and see if I can find any trace of it,” he told them, buttoning up his coat and taking out his flashlight.
Ralphie started to get up and follow, pouting when his mother told him he wasn’t going anywhere now except up to bed after Mick came back to tell them what he’d found, if anything. Mick chuckled, promising Ralphie he would let him know what he discovered then left the house.
Crossing the yard and going into the trees to where Ralphie had shown up, Mick followed his footprints away from there. A few hundred feet later, he stopped when he saw animal prints along with the boy’s. Kneeling, he studied them. They were large, too large to be a cougar’s and definitely too big for a lynx or any other cat he could think of that prowled the forest. Standing again, he searched for where the cat might have gone after Ralphie had left it. Prints led to a tall tree, ending abruptly. Looking up, Mick saw a heavy branch that wasn’t covered with snow like the others.
Damn, it must have been one hell of a big cat to have jumped that high.
It took him only a moment to realize the cat hadn’t jumped. It had climbed up, leaving deep claw marks in the tree’s trunk. Circling the tree, he saw where the cat had jumped down again and he followed the prints until they disappeared at the edge of a stream.
Now what kind of cat will willingly walk in the water? And what kind of cat is smart enough to know that he can’t be followed if he does?
He remained long enough at the Peters’ house to tell Ralphie and his mother he’d found some pawprints. “Probably a female cougar that herded him home because she sensed he was scared then went on her way. I’ve heard stories about that happening before.” Ralphie didn’t look convinced but when his mother agreed with Mick, he didn’t argue, which was fine as far as Mick was concerned. He had the feeling the big cat had moved on and he didn’t want Mrs. Peters worrying it wasn’t safe to go outside.
Then, after profuse thanks from Mrs. Peters, he returned to town. As he drove, he pondered the question of what sort of cat it was that had rescued the boy, vowing to do some research the first moment he had some spare time.