Whippoorwill Read online

  We were still working with him when Dad popped around the stockade fence.

  “Hey, there are the dog trainers,” he said. “Or should I say, the dog whisperers?”

  “Hi, Mr. Taylor,” Danny said.

  Dad came over and stood, watching. I felt blood come into my face. I had to open my mouth to get enough air. I couldn’t believe my dad would simply show up. It was so obvious what he was doing that it made me flush and go quiet.

  “Show me what you guys have been doing,” Dad said, too cheerful. “This dog looks a million times better.”

  “Clair gave me the book by Father Jasper,” Danny said. “Written by him, I mean. He lays it all out, pretty much. It’s not that hard once you start looking at the world from a dog’s point of view.”

  “I guess not,” my dad said. “So put him through his paces. I’d like to see.”

  Dad didn’t meet my eyes. He didn’t seem to want to embarrass me, but he felt he needed to be there, to check things out, or something. Maybe he simply wanted to send a message to Danny. Either way, he watched attentively while Danny put Wally through sit, sit-stay, heel. Wally performed well and Dad walked up and petted him afterward, saying, “Goodboy, goodboy, nicedog.”

  “Wow, that’s some progress,” Dad said. “Nice job, Clair Bear.”

  I cringed. But Danny didn’t seem to notice.

  “We did mostly sit stuff today,” Danny said. “Tomorrow we’re going to move on to down-stay and recalls. Recalls are the toughest, because once you let this dog off a leash, he will vanish.”

  “How do you do it?” Dad asked, squatting, still petting Wally.

  “You use a long training lead. I got one today. And we’ll take him over to the tennis court . . . You know, the one down in Wentworth?”

  “Sure.”

  “Clair and I figured we might go there one of these days and work on his recall. In a tennis court, he can’t run too far.”

  “Well, that’s great.”

  “If you don’t mind, that is. I mean, is it okay if Clair goes with me?”

  My dad looked up at him. I wanted to sink into the center of the earth.

  “Nice of you to ask, Danny. I think it’s okay if you promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that, Mr. Taylor?”

  “You’ll drive carefully. Don’t say yes and don’t say no. Just think about it, okay? Kids can get a little crazy in cars.”

  “I understand.”

  “You, too, Clair. If Danny doesn’t drive properly, will you give me your word that you’ll get out of the car and call me?”

  “Dad . . .”

  “That’s my one rule. Do you both promise me?”

  I felt like a piece of livestock these men had decided to discuss, but I nodded. So did Danny. It was all exceedingly strange.

  “Okay, Clair,” Dad said, “I’m going to start dinner soon. Don’t be too long, okay? Good job with the dog, you two.”

  He left. Weird did not begin to cover it.

  Holly called me while I was setting the table to tell me about the pair of awesome sandals she bought. They were on sale, too. I held the phone between my ear and shoulder while I set out plates, folded paper napkins under the knives and forks. We left the back door open so we could get the kitchen aired out. Dad made BLTs, his favorite Friday night meal. Later, I knew, he planned to take a sunset ride with the Devil’s Tongue guys and stop off and have a few beers at the Cattle Call.

  “So what are you doing tonight?” Holly asked when she finished describing the sandals in painful detail. “I want to go see a movie or something. You up for anything?”

  “I don’t have any way to get around. Dad’s going out.”

  “I could probably talk my big brother into carting us over to Lincoln if we pay for gas.”

  “I’m broke,” I said, mostly because I didn’t want to go to the movies with Holly and her brother. “I think I’m going to hang and watch some TV and go to bed early. I feel tired for some reason.”

  “My mom says it’s the season change. She says whenever the season changes people get sleepy.”

  “Maybe that’s it.”

  “Guess I’ll see you, then. What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “I’m actually helping my neighbor train his dog.”

  “His dog?”

  “Danny Stewart,” I said, my voice a little lower so Dad wouldn’t hear it over the bacon frying. “He’s got a crazy dog that lives next door and we’re trying to train him.”

  “I don’t know him. Does he go to our school?”

  “No, he goes to the vo-tech.”

  “Grease monkey? I can get into that.”

  “He’s just a guy.”

  “You’re full of secrets. The mysterious Clair.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Are you dating him?”

  “No. Not even close.”

  “Sounds to me like you are. If you train a dog together, I mean . . .”

  “I’ve got to go, Holly. Dad wants to plate dinner.”

  “Okay, toodles. Or should I say, poodles?”

  I groaned and hung up. Dad started taking off the bacon. He wore his Devil’s Tongue vest, its leather old and faded from the sun. As soon as the bacon left the pan, the noise was cut in about half. I realized it had made me jumpy. Now that it was gone, I heard the wind outside and the late-afternoon birds calling.

  “Grab the mayo, would you?” Dad asked when he slid our plates onto the table. He hadn’t seen that I had put out plates, so he lifted the empty ones off and set them on the counter beside the stove.

  “And a beer,” he said.

  “Bikers and beer.”

  “You know it, Harley chick.”

  I brought the mayonnaise and beer over to the table. He opened the beer with his key chain.

  “I like the sideburns,” he said when I sat down. “Danny, I mean. He looks like a young Johnny Cash.”

  “You’re ridiculous, Dad.”

  “I’m just saying. I hadn’t seen him in a while. He looks good. I liked that he talked to me about taking you out.”

  “Like I’m some horrible weight one of you has to support and care for.”

  Dad grinned. He buttered his bread with mayo. He grinned wider.

  “You sounded just like your mother then.”

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “Want to say grace?”

  “Nah,” I said.

  “Don’t tell anyone I didn’t give you religious instruction, then. See, I just offered it.”

  “Your biker group is called the Devil’s Tongue, Dad. No one is going to mistake you for a religious scoutmaster.”

  “Amen to that.”

  He took a big bite. I took one too. His BLTs were always out of this world, mostly because he knew a guy who slaughtered a couple pigs every year and that’s where we got our bacon. We ate for a while without talking. It was nice having the back door open, fresh air spilling inside. He drank his beer. His tattoo—he had a sailing ship on his right forearm—looked blue and yellow in the afternoon light. Whenever I saw his tattoo, I promised myself that I would have one someday. Then in the next minute I decided never to have one no matter what. I didn’t know what I thought about tattoos.

  “So, do you like him?” Dad asked after a while.

  “Da. . . .”

  “I’m not trying to pry. Honestly, I’m not. I thought maybe we could learn to talk a little more frankly or something. We don’t have to be adversarial, you know. There’s not some rule about it for dads and daughters.”

  “I know.”

  “So, do you?”

  I picked at a piece of bacon that had fallen on my plate.

  “I don’t know. That’s the truth. It’s crazy because I’ve known him a long time, and now he suddenly seems halfway decent. I don’t know.”

  “He was always a pretty nice kid from what I could tell.”

  “He was a jerk a lot.”

  “He was cocky, I remember t
hat. Kind of a braggart.”

  “Sure he was. He still might be for all I know.”

  “He didn’t have an easy childhood. Still doesn’t, probably. I’d like your word that you won’t go in the house with Elwood. Just stay clear of it.”

  “Is Elwood that bad?”

  “He’s pretty bad. Pretty violent. Lot of fights as a young man, lot of crazy behavior.”

  “Where did Danny’s mom go?”

  “Left. Cleared out. I don’t know what happened exactly. I’m not sure anyone does. She’s probably been gone around five years or so. She tried to be a decent mom to Danny, from what I could tell sitting over here, but it wouldn’t be easy in that house. Elwood breathes a lot of air. Does Danny hear from her?”

  “I didn’t ask him.”

  “I’d be curious to know. She deserved better. But I suppose it wasn’t easy for him to have his mom walk away.”

  He realized what he was saying—how it was a quick jump to think about my mom, his wife, and how she had walked out too, but in a different way—and he flushed on his cheeks. He took another bite of his sandwich and let things settle. Then he sipped at his beer and looked out the back door.

  “She was quite a pretty little thing in her day, Danny’s mom. I remember her around and I remember wondering how Elwood ended up with her. A lot of people wondered that.”

  “What was her name?”

  “She was a Jefferson girl. Her family name. Her first name was Lucy. ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.’ She was bright and pretty; that’s why it was such a surprise to see her with Elwood. He darkened her right up. After a little while she had no light anymore, if you know what I mean. You could tell she had had it sucked right out of her, but it wasn’t like Elwood got any lighter. He’s a dark star.”

  “Sounds like you liked her.”

  “I did. Everyone did.”

  “I’ll ask Danny if I get a chance.”

  “You seeing him again?”

  “We’re supposed to train Wally tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”

  He had to get going. It was kind of cute watching him transform into big bad biker man, knowing what he was really like inside. He tied a bandanna around his head and put a fleece on under his leather coat. He checked himself in the downstairs bathroom mirror, then came out and told me he wouldn’t be late.

  “You take care of the dishes?” he asked.

  “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

  “Later, Clair Bear.”

  I kissed him on the cheek and he clumped off. A few minutes later I heard his Harley kick off, loud and throaty, its sound going off along the road a long way.

  As soon as he was gone, I regretted blowing off Holly for the movies. It was Friday night and I didn’t have a thing to do. I didn’t even have homework, because my school was lame, for one thing, and because I usually stayed up on assignments anyway. I turned on some music in my headphones and cleaned the dishes. It didn’t take long. Then I straightened up in the kitchen, making it nice for when Dad came home, and I was still doing that when Danny knocked on the screened door.

  “Someone is here to see you,” he said through the screen, because he had Wally on a leash next to him.

  I don’t know what it was, but that was the first time I had a funny feeling about Danny. It seemed calculated that he showed up the minute my dad had left. He knew my dad was gone. Anyone within a block or two would have known that from the sound of the Harley. As I looked through the screened door, light coming in behind him, I saw Wally and Danny as a pair suddenly, both of them needy, both of them wanting companionship, and I didn’t know what I thought about that. Not about Danny, anyway.

  But that thought only stayed a second. Mostly it felt good to have something to do on a Friday night. I crossed the kitchen and opened the door. Wally tried to jump on me, but Danny kept him tight on the leash, and both of them squeezed into the kitchen, like two wild things coming into a place they had only dreamed about.

  Nine

  “I ALWAYS WONDERED what this place was like inside,” Danny said. “Nice. Is that your dad’s stuff?”

  He nodded his chin toward the motorcycle parts on the counter. They rested on a piece of newspaper. He moved over to where my dad had been sitting, and got Wally into a down-stay. Wally looked around, his big snuffle cheeks going in and out, trying to scent the bacon. A string of drool dripped off his lower lip. It was strange seeing him inside, but good, too.

  “Yep,” I said. “Motorcycle parts.”

  “I saw him go out. He’s going on a ride?”

  “First of the season.”

  “Decent. So, I figured there was no real reason to wait until tomorrow to go to the tennis court. They have lights on it. You feel like working with him now?”

  Whatever I sensed before passed away, and I leaned back on the counter, trying to figure out what I felt about Danny. It was complicated. He was good with Wally; clearly, he liked the dog now that he saw what he could be as a friend. Danny appeared expectant and hopeful, that was the thing, but underneath that was a dark line that said he didn’t really expect things to work out. A tragic note.

  “I guess so,” I said, answering his question. “Not late, though.”

  “Cool. I put a blanket on the back seat so Wally wouldn’t mess things up. He’s never been in a car.”

  “He must have been when you brought him home.”

  “I guess so. Then he was. But not since.”

  “You have the training lead?”

  He nodded.

  “Give me a second then,” I said. “I’ve got to change. I’ll meet you at the car.”

  From upstairs, I watched him cross back to his yard, Wally bounding beside him. He looked happy and so did Wally. I was happy too, I decided, but I wasn’t sure I trusted it.

  It was fairly cold at the tennis court, but nice, too, because whatever kids usually hung out there were gone. Someone had torn down the net from the right post in the center of the court, and someone else had repaired it with duct tape. People didn’t use the court much. Kids sometimes played on the basketball court next to it, but usually they cranked around on skateboards.

  Danny had Father Jasper’s book with him, so when we let Wally out, we kept him close until we had a chance to read it. We sat on a picnic table and I read parts aloud. Father Jasper explained that recall, getting a dog to come to you, is probably the most important obedience skill you can teach. It could save a dog’s life, he said, because if a dog took off for the road, the only thing that would save him or her was a working recall. Besides, he said, letting a dog off a leash, walking in the woods with a dog, is one of the best reasons to have a dog in the first place. It does wonders for a dog’s sense of confidence and gives both the animal and the owner a necessary break and a sense of teamwork.

  “You can’t just make him come back, then hook him up and be done,” I finished. “You have to call him to you, reward him, then let him go. If he thinks every time he comes to you that the play period is over, he won’t want to come to you. It’s called intermittent reward. He comes because he’s not sure what the result will be. It’s like gambling. That’s why gambling is so addictive.”

  “Gambling,” Danny said, patting Wally’s ribs. “You a gambler, Wally boy? You a gambler?”

  “If you lost every time, you wouldn’t play, right? If you won every time, that would be boring too.”

  “Not if I made a pile of cash,” Danny said. “Believe me.”

  “I mean in theory. It would get boring if you won every time. It’s the same for a dog. The point, is you have to change it up. Let him come to you, then let him go sometimes. Other times, you can call it quits.”

  I felt like I was overexplaining, being prissy about getting the rules straight. Danny listened, but only out of politeness. I started to find him a little annoying. He wasn’t concentrating, and his mind seemed somewhere else.

  “Do you want to do this?” I asked.

  �
��Sure, sure, sure.”

  “Because we don’t have to. We don’t have to do this right now.”

  “No, I want to. Sorry. I guess I was distracted. I don’t know.”

  I snapped the training lead onto Wally. It was maybe twenty feet long, made of webbing, and the trick was to reel it in when you called the dog. No option to not obey. He had to come at the first call, no questions. Sometimes you gave him a treat, sometimes you didn’t. Sometimes you hooked him closer and did some sit-stays, sometimes you let him go away and play. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew it was all good, all worth investigating, and that was why he came to his owner.

  Wally took off as soon as we released him in the tennis court. We closed the gate behind us.

  “Give him a few minutes to sniff,” I said.

  “I never knew you could do this stuff with a dog,” Danny said, watching Wally zoom around the chainlink walls. “It all makes sense once you slow down and think about it.”

  “Everything is reward or avoidance.”

  “He’s digging this.”

  “Give him a minute more, then we’ll call him, give him a treat, and release him.”

  When his time was up, we called Wally. He didn’t pay any attention at all, but Danny grabbed one end of the long lead and reeled him in. Wally fought a little at first, then he ran toward us. I waved my hand across my waist. Wally ignored it. I told Danny to lift the lead and I pushed Wally’s butt down. He sat, squirmy, ready to go somewhere else.

  I gave him a biscuit.

  “Free,” I said, releasing him.

  He took off.

  “Do that a thousand times and we’ll have him trained,” Danny said.

  “Pretty much.”