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  “What do you mean?”

  “Thank goodness my mom and dad came over and figured out what was going on. My mom took me aside and told me, just what I told you. It was hard, but in the end, we got over Max, and learned to love our little terrier just as much. Different dog other memories.”

  “Okay,” Rikki said straightening her back and lifting her shoulders, “I have to go tell my folks. They don’t know everything that’s happened either, I just told them there was some trouble up at the cabin. I’m not going to tell Harry about BG, not until I know for certain.”

  “Not too worried about Jack?” Carol smiled. She knew Rikki was going to say he was a grown man and could look after himself. But she knew how much the dog meant to him, too.

  Rikki went into the living room to retrieve her young son. He was still avidly watching TV as the ‘Road Runner’ ran off the cliff and fell to the bottom of the canyon. “He’ll be O.K. won’t he mommy?” said Harry, not sure if he should feel sorry for the squashed bird or laugh at him.

  “I think I’ll stop in and get some nice steaks,” she said to her grinning neighbor while they stood at the backdoor. “Maybe we’ll do them on the BBQ tonight; steak is one of Jack’s favourite meals you know.”

  “You’re just a big softy, Rikki McKinnon; don’t forget a real cold bottle of beer.”

  Chapter Four

  The grocery store’s boat with the two RCMP and Jack McKinnon, slowly circled in the cold water of Andover Lake, if there was anything strange floating around, they would find it.

  “I can’t watch! What if we find BG’s body today? I don’t think I could handle that right now.”

  “Take it easy, Jack, the body won’t float to the surface for at least two more days. He was a big dog, maybe seventy, eighty pounds. You know Freddy will get in touch with you when he’s found.”

  “Maybe I could bury him in the trees out back, Bill. Down on the coast I know you can’t bury pets on your property anymore, but if I don’t tell you, you won’t know,” he said to his friend. “What the hell, that dog was family.”

  “Should I make another sweep?” asked the young Constable as they were going into a big turn for the third time.

  “No, I think we better head back down lake. You’re sure you haven’t seen the cabin you slept in last night.”

  “I can’t understand it, it was right there on the beach when BG and I crawled out of the water. I don’t understand!”

  “We’ll go back and fuel up at Merriweather,” said Bill, “then we’ll look to see what’s further to the south. The Indians say there’s an old abandoned cabin on the west side by Scuff Peak. I think you were turned around Jack, and headed the wrong way. Anyway, we’ll check it out.”

  “This just doesn’t feel right to me,” Jack said, “it was still light out when I left the dock; I knew which way I was supposed to go. I should have had lots of time to get there before dark.”

  “You know,” he said, looking along the far horizon, “BG was antsy, he just couldn’t lay still, he kept pacing back and forth. A boat like ours is, was, too small for much pacing, and when it got dark sudden like, he stood up and put his paws on my shoulders and looked at me. I yelled at him and told him to lie down. My god, how could that be the last thing I said to him?” Jack’s eyes filled with unshed tears.

  It was a quiet trip back to Merriweather to fill the gas tank, no sense taking the chance of running out.

  Soon they were on their way to the southwest side of the big lake.

  “The Xaali’pp Indians called the land around this end of the lake, ‘N’quat’qua, never did find out what that means, but probably something to do with the mountains,” said Bill, as he gazed at the majestic snow topped display.

  Chapter Five

  The three men began circling in front of Scuff Peak at the southwest end of Andover Lake; it was one of the biggest mountains in the Bendor Range and the most visible. And... snow still covered it.

  “No, this doesn’t feel right,” said Jack, “I know I was headed up lake, I left Merriweather in the daylight around 4:00 pm, and no, I didn’t have anything to drink. Unless you count the coffee Freddy sells in the store. That stuff will take the surface off paint if you let it sit.”

  That was a very lame attempt at levity, the tension in the boat was intense.

  “Go a little closer to the shore over there,” said Jack, “I walked to Merriweather along some railway tracks.

  “I remember now; they’re on the west side of the lake. But my place is on the east side, I can’t believe how freaked out I feel.”

  The boat reduced speed and began a long slow curl to the right, it would bring them to the other shore and if they continued, to the far outskirts of Merriweather.

  Jack was watching for the railroad tracks. He knew if he saw them, he’d know where he was last night.

  But there were no train tracks to be found so close to the water.

  “Let’s try that again, Constable,” said Bill, “go a little slower and closer to shore, the cabin may not be right on the lake. I’ve never been at this spot before, but I think this must be the place. Look at all the snow on that big mountain.”

  “There,” said Dillon, the young Mountie who was driving, as he pointed with his free hand, “just to the left, I see a roof line.”

  “Where, oh, I see it now,” said Jack. “Wow, how could I have found that cabin in the dark. I can hardly see it now and its only noon.”

  The two Mounties strained to see what Jack was looking at; it looked like dense bush to them. There was no visible path and not much beach.

  “O.K. take us in, we’ll have a look. There hasn’t been anything on the water, not even a float cushion. Things don’t sink this fast. We should have seen the boat even if it was below the water line. They build those boats to float, so where is it?” said Bill to his friend.

  “Looks like it’s a little shallower here,” said the Sergeant, “pull up to the shore.”

  “I don’t know if I want to look for the cabin. What if it’s not there?”

  “Bigger problem, what if it is?”

  “Shit.”

  “He thinks there’s a path here,” muttered Dillon as he thrashed through the brush along the beach. His Sergeant told him to look for the path to the cabin. Well, they didn’t actually see a whole cabin, it was just the roof and maybe it wasn’t even a roof, just a branch that looked straight.

  “I don’t know,” Jack said, “I’m not sure this is the place. I’m not sure of anything anymore. Hell, right now I can’t even be sure of what I’m seeing. I’m going to look further along the beach, maybe something washed up.”

  As he walked the lakeshore, he saw where someone dragged a boat out of the water. You couldn’t tell what kind, but it must have been big; it made a deep groove, and crushed some of the underbrush.

  He followed the flattened scrub and called, “hey guys, I found a path. I bet it’ll lead up to that cabin.”

  Jack walked with his head down. His eyes glued to the ground, following the trail of bare footprints in the damp earth, big dog paw prints followed behind.

  Abruptly, he was standing in front of a small clearing, an old cabin stood on the side.

  A small shed in back was an outhouse or storage at one time. He could also see the left over trappings of life, long ago. A pair of old-fashioned snowshoes, one bent and broken still leaned against a tree, a rotted out wooden bucket half buried in the dirt by a small open woodshed spoke of older times. Some grey lodge poles lay in a heap by the outhouse. Small trees and forest underbrush vied for space in the clearing.

  Jack looked at the cabin door.

  What’s this!

  Above the door, a carved white bone hung by an old rawhide cord. The carved human heads on each end were looking down.

  Cautiously, he stepped up to the porch to look at the door and frame. They were pushed in, but he could see they were hanging by a nail.

  The damag
e was new, the wood splinters still fresh and sharp!

  “Where are you, Jack? I don’t see a path,” called the Sergeant, as he pushed through the brush still looking for the elusive trail.

  Jack McKinnon was standing on the porch, his face white as a ghost. Unable to resist, he turned sideways, and slowly, carefully, stepped around the broken door and went inside.

  Chapter Six

  Rikki McKinnon sat in her car in front of her parent’s home in Burnaby, BC and tried to calm herself. She knew she had to tell them that the boat sank and the dog drowned, no, probably drowned.

  The more she thought about it, the harder it was to hold back the tears.

  No sense getting Harry all worked up, she thought, dabbing fiercely at her eyes. I have to be strong I can do this!

  Getting out of the car, she took her son and slowly walked up the steps and in the front door. In the Living Room, her father was just starting to read the Harrisburg Sun newspaper; he looked up and smiled at his favorite and only daughter.

  “Hi mom,” she called, “can Harry have a cookie?”

  “Harry, do you want to eat your cookie outside on the swing?”

  “I’ll watch him, Rikki,” said her mother. Is everything all right?”

  “No.”

  Rikki went into the front room and sat down on the ottoman in front of her father and said, “I just heard from Jack, he told me the boat sank. Couldn’t be helped, but the good news is, he’s all right.”

  “What happened, did he say?” said her dad, Bert Greyson, as he dropped his newspaper on the rug.

  “He said he had an accident and the boat sank,” she said, reaching for her hanky again. She couldn’t stop crying and she didn’t want to tell them about the dog in case Harry was listening.

  Her mother, realizing more was going on then what was being said, came into the living room and told her husband Harry was on the swing, and he should go outside and play with him for a few moments.

  Turning to her daughter, she said, “alright now, what’s going on?”

  “Oh mom, BG went down with the boat. Jack couldn’t find him anywhere! He thinks he drowned! How am I going to tell Harry?”

  “Oh my, maybe you should leave him here for the night; this kind of news doesn’t have to be told right away. When is Jack coming home?”

  “He said he’d try to be back by supper time,” Rikki said, sniffling into her hanky again.

  “That’s it then. You tell Harry about BG tomorrow when you’ve had a good nights sleep and talked it over with Jack. Bad news is best served cold, that’s what my mother always said.”

  “Are you sure, really sure?” she said, smiling through her tears. “How is dad feeling, I don’t want him to get too tired.”

  “Are you kidding, grandpa will be overjoyed. You know how much he loves having that little boy here. And I don’t have to tell you how much I love him. He’ll be fine. Go home. Make supper. Welcome your husband. Talk.

  “You get going now, we’ll have some milk and cookies, he’ll never miss you. Those two will soon be playing trains, a little supper and then to bed. You know how he loves to stay over,” smiled her mom.

  * * * *

  Stopping at the Willibee Farmer’s Market before going home, Rikki knew her mother was right; she needed to show her husband that she was glad he was safe. And one of the best ways was by having his favorite dinner ready.

  Thinking of desert, she stopped at the bakery and bought six fresh buns and six little butter tarts, Jack’s favorite. Not everyone liked chocolate ice cream with their butter tarts, but Jack did.

  At home, she washed the new little potatoes, dried them and rolled them in garlic infused olive oil, ready for the BBQ. The ends of the green beans snapped easily and she put them in a dish, ready for the microwave. The little white onions soaking in melted herb butter were her own recipe; Jack would brown them with the steak and add them to the green beans just before she served them. The T-bone steak went into the fridge to keep cool until needed.

  The half case of Labatt’s Blue Ribbon beer went into the fridge too. She was glad she remembered which brand was Jack’s favorite.

  Setting the table in the kitchen was fine but she thought better of it. Taking the plates and cutlery into the den, she set them on the TV trays that normally stood behind the door. They used them when there was an important game scheduled.

  Usually she didn’t like the idea of eating in front of the TV, but tonight it would be okay, there was a hockey game on and it would take his mind off the accident.

  There was time enough tomorrow to get rid of the dog’s things. She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she let Harry help put the toys and the dog bed in the garbage, or should she just clear everything up and throw it all away while no one was there?

  Maybe out of sight, out of mind? Probably not.

  Turning on the TV she sat unseeing, remembering the big dog that rested with his head on her foot while they watched their favorite program. He liked to have body contact, and that was fine with everyone, especially Harry. The two would wrestle around and memories of the soft woofs and screams of pleasure from her son brought tears to her eyes again.

  “I have to stop this!” she said sternly to herself. “I have to be strong. Jack is okay, and we can always buy another boat. I think Carol’s right, we should think about another dog, not right way of course, but Jack will know when.”

  Everything was prepared, so she sat down to wait.

  Some time later, the phone rang while she was dozing in her chair. She hardly noticed, but it kept ringing, finally she got up and answered it.

  “Rikki, are you all right?” said her concerned mother. “Your dad and I were watching the news. It said there was an accident on Andover Lake yesterday and a boat belonging to one of the owners of a summer cabin turned over in a freak storm and sank. The owner of the boat made it to shore, and is fine. There’ll be more pictures tomorrow. Is that Jack?”

  “Probably. Which channel were you on, mom, I wasn’t looking at the TV. Was it CKHL News?”

  “Just a moment, I’ll ask your dad. Bert, Bert what channel were you on?”

  “Just turn on the TV,” said her dad, “it was on all the news stations, right after the election results. Gordon Wainwrite’s Liberals got in again.”

  “She’s not interested in who won the election,” said her mom over her shoulder to her husband.

  “The news is over for now,” she said into the phone, “they said there’ll be more about the accident on the Ten O’clock news.”

  “Thanks for letting me know, mom, I’ll make sure I have it on the right channel. How is Harry? Did he eat all his supper?”

  “He did just fine. He’s playing with some little cars right now; I’ll give him a bath and put him to bed in an hour or so. Let us know when Jack comes home.”

  “Yes, okay, I’ll call when he comes in,” said Rikki. “Thanks again for looking after Harry.”

  “No problem, take care.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jack McKinnon was finally on his way home to Langley.

  The night was dark, the hour late.

  He drove slowly, cautiously.

  Fragments of what happened at the old cabin he and the Mounties found churned in his head. He tried to make sense of what they saw, as he carefully drove the white line back to civilization.

  The memories were uneven.

  When they found the abandoned cabin at the foot of snow covered Scuff Peak and looked around, they realized it had been empty for a long, long time.

  A single nail held up the broken door and frame. It looked as though it was pushed aside so someone or something could get in.

  But it was the white bone with the human heads carved on either end that hung above the door that was giving Jack the most angst. And... he didn’t know why?

  Memory sat on Jack’s shoulder as he drove and watched with him as he saw himself staring at the stove, picking up the lid and putt
ing his hand on the ashes, they weren’t that cold...he had to admit...there really was a fire. He saw the remains of curtains that were ripped off the windows still hanging in ragged clumps.

  Now he was sweating!

  The Mounties were checking for footprints again, and they all trooped back to the water to see if they could find the original marks made the previous night. But there was only one set of bare feet going up to the cabin, but no doggy paw prints.

  Jack shifted in his seat, he knew he followed both man and dog prints up to the cabin today. Why couldn’t they find them!

  Not only no dog footprints, but they couldn’t find the railway tracks either. The two Mounties said they were going to search a wider area.

  He remembered getting really tired and said he didn’t want to go with them, he said he’d wait. He knew he wanted to stay by the cabin.

  The two Mounties searched and searched but there were no railway tracks. When they realized how far from the cabin they were, they said they called, but he didn’t remember hearing them.

  Jack, still concentrating, trying to remember everything and not understanding what was happening, hung on to reality.

  What he did remember clearly, was how calm and peaceful it was by the cabin. He still couldn’t explain it, but he felt so contented, like he knew that everything would always be perfect, if only he could just stay where he was.

  Then he thought about what Bill said when they found him sitting on the ground, his back was against a small tree, his eyes shut. When they tried to get him to stand up, he sprang up fists ready to fight. He didn’t remember that either. They said when he realized who they were he lowered his fists and went back to the tree and sat down.

  He remembered Bill Majors saying he didn’t know what was going on. But, he did know it was time to leave.

  But Jack didn’t want to go, he’d never experienced such calm, peaceful oblivion.

  He remembered again the anxiety and guilt that gnawed its way into his stomach as they walked down to the water, and he knew he shouldn’t leave.

  In the boat on the way back to Merriweather, the Mounties talked it over, and agreed. They needed someone from the Xaali’pp Indian band, a shaman or medicine man who understood this kind of thing.