Zucchini Out West Page 7

  “The trip,” said Mr. Reynolds. He was pacing back and forth across the room in his undershorts, brushing his teeth. He always brushed his teeth that way. Billy figured he must get restless standing at the sink. “We have to make time today,” Mr. Reynolds continued. “I want to get to Rapid City by tonight.”

  “Rapid City, South Dakota?” said Billy, pulling his T-shirt over his head.

  “Right,” said Mr. Reynolds. “We have to cross the state.”

  Billy’s heart raced with excitement. Crossing the state meant the West! Western South Dakota! That’s where Tim Clark had spotted his first black-footed ferret. He pulled on his jeans and fastened his belt. “Can we stop at the prairie?” he asked.

  “Sure,” his father answered.

  Zucchini was curled up inside his sweatshirt sleeve when he heard the word prairie. He pulled himself out of the sleeve and stood, peering at Billy through the narrow bars of his cage. He began pacing back and forth as Billy opened the cage, reached in, and picked him up. “We’ll see the prairie today,” Billy said.

  Today? thought Zucchini. Let’s go!

  The trip through South Dakota seemed endless. Mr. Reynolds was getting tired of driving, Emma was getting tired of not finding Buck E. Benson, and Billy and Zucchini were impatient to get to the prairie.

  In the afternoon they moved into the western part of the state. The land was changing now. There were fewer stores and signs, fewer farms and fences. Billy’s heart beat loudly. Zucchini could feel that Billy was as excited as he was.

  “We’re here!” said Billy.

  Mr. Reynolds stopped the car at the side of the road. “There’s your prairie,” he said.

  Zucchini stared in wonder.

  How beautiful! he thought.

  There was not a house to be seen, not a sign, not a mall. No trees, no hills, just open country for as far as the eye could see.

  “It’s too big,” said Emma.

  “You’re crazy,” said Billy.

  “It’s not cozy, ‘cause it doesn’t have sides.”

  Billy turned to his father. “Can I take Zucchini out?” he asked.

  Yes! thought Zucchini.

  “Go ahead,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  Zucchini’s heart was racing. He jumped down onto Billy’s lap as Billy opened the door.

  “I’m staying in the car,” said Emma.

  “I’ll stay with you,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  Billy stepped down from the high seat of the Pathfinder. Holding Zucchini close, he turned to shut the door. Then he set Zucchini down. With Zucchini’s leash in one hand, he faced the sun. Together they walked away from the car and out onto the prairie. Zucchini felt the earth beneath his paws, its dry pebbly firmness, its gentle grass. The air was fresh and clear.

  I’m really here! he thought as he walked, a tiny spot in the vastness of space. It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined.

  The afternoon sun was low. All was bathed in a gold-and-rose-colored light. They crossed the prairie earth and tender grass, the sage in gentle clumps. On they walked, breathing deeply, listening to the stillness.

  After some time Billy stopped. He bent down to Zucchini. “I’ll let you off the leash,” he said, “but you have to come back.”

  Zucchini looked across the open land.

  I never want to leave this place, he thought.

  Billy unsnapped Zucchini’s leash. “Run,” he said.

  Zucchini ran. He ran as he had never run before. He ran free, a part of all the world, of all the sky, of everything that ever was or ever would be. Billy stood and watched his pet, and when he called him back, Zucchini came.

  Cody

  On the northeastern edge of the Bighorn Mountains, they picked up Route 14.

  They were in Wyoming now. Zucchini sat tall on Billy’s lap, his front paws on the ledge of the window. The mountains rose high into the bright-blue sky. There was not a cloud to be seen. The pines were tall. Zucchini could smell their rich pine odor through the opening at the top of the window. It made him think of Oppermans Pond. The smell was just the same.

  Soon they would be in Cody, where they would be spending the night. Billy could hardly believe it. Tomorrow they would see Meeteetse, the place where the black-footed ferrets had been found. Billy knew the story well. A dog named Shep found a ferret by his food bowl. His owner called the authorities, and soon the biologists came to look for more. Tim Clark did his research in Meeteetse. Dr. Thorne worked there and Tom Campbell and all the rest. From that very land they gathered the last six black-footed ferrets in all the world and took them into captivity to try and save the species.

  They arrived in Cody just before nightfall. The first thing Billy did was to call his mother to see if she had heard from Miss Pickett. Mrs. Ferguson was happy to hear from Billy. She said she missed him, but had heard nothing from the ASPCA. Billy’s questions remained unanswered.

  Zucchini stayed in the room with One-Day Service while Billy and Emma and Mr. Reynolds went out. He sat in his cage on the windowsill of the room at the Holiday Inn and stared out at yet another parking lot, at yet another sign. This one said:

  THE MAGIC FINGERS OF

  LUTHER CUTHBURT IN THE LOUNGE

  One-Day Service was busy on her wheel. Squeak, squeak, rattle, rattle, bang, bang.

  I can’t stand it, thought Zucchini. Now that I’ve been on the prairie, it’s worse. It’s so beautiful out there and quiet, so noisy in here and cramped. I wish I could stay on the prairie forever! But if I stay on the prairie, I have to leave Billy. I could never do that!

  Billy and Emma and Mr. Reynolds walked together down the wide street in the center of town, looking into the cafés and restaurants and shops. Emma wore her kangaroo suit and carried her shiny red purse. “It’s very loose,” she said as they walked.

  “What is?” her father asked. He was looking at some cowboy boots in a store window.

  “My tooth,” said Emma. “I’m pushing it with my tongue, so I know.”

  “Nice boots,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  “There’s one problem,” said Emma.

  “What’s that?”

  “Does the Tooth Fairy know the way to the Holiday Inn?”

  “Absolutely. I have to go in here for a minute.” Mr. Reynolds had been wanting a certain kind of waterproof windbreaker jacket and had spotted one in the window of a camping store. Billy and Emma followed him inside.

  The store was big with high ceilings and brick walls and old-fashioned wooden counters. Mr. Reynolds bought the jacket. He picked one out for Billy in a smaller size and bought Emma a pair of hiking boots.

  “What time is it when the elephant sits on the fence?” Emma asked the young woman in the flowered blouse behind the register.

  “I don’t know,” said the woman. She was folding the jackets with a pleasant attention to detail.

  “Time to get a new elephant,” said Emma.

  “That’s funny,” said the woman.

  “It’s a joke,” said Emma. “How come you didn’t mention I’m a kangaroo?”

  “Give her time,” said Mr. Reynolds.

  “I thought that’s what you were,” said the woman. “Are you in town for a visit?”

  “That’s right,” said Emma.

  “We’re on a family adventure,” Mr. Reynolds explained. He told Billy to tell the woman where they were going, but Billy didn’t want to. He didn’t think the woman would care.

  “Tell her,” his father insisted.

  “I’m studying ferrets,” said Billy.

  “I guess you’re seeing Jack Turnell at Pitchfork,” said the woman.

  “Maybe,” said Billy. He had read about Jack Turnell. He was the manager of the Pitchfork Ranch, where the ferrets had been found.

  “He’s real nice,” said the woman. “Have a good time over there.”

  “Thank you,” said Billy.

  At dinner Mr. Reynolds suggested that Billy call Mr. Turnell and see if he could get an interview.

  I c
an’t, thought Billy. I don’t know him. He won’t want to talk to me.

  “We came all the way out here to meet these people,” Mr. Reynolds continued. “You should give it a try.”

  He’s right, Billy thought. I want to help the animals. I want to help the earth. I have to ask questions, or I’ll never learn how.

  Before dinner arrived, Billy went to the phone outside the kitchen. His heart pounded as he called information, got the number, and made his call. No one answered.

  Meeteetse

  Billy tried his call again in the morning. This time a man answered. “Hello,” said the man.

  Billy’s heart skipped a beat. “Jack Turnell please,” said Billy.

  “This is he.”

  Billy’s throat felt like it was closing up. “My name is Billy Reynolds,” he said as best he could. “I live in New York and I’m studying ferrets for school.”

  “Good for you,” said Mr. Turnell.

  Billy cleared his throat. “Some magazines said they found ferrets on your ranch, so I wanted to see it.”

  “You came a long way,” said Mr. Turnell.

  “I know,” said Billy.

  “Come on by,” said Mr. Turnell.

  “O.K.,” said Billy. “Thank you.”

  He was so excited, he could hardly write down the directions.

  They picked up Route 290 at Meeteetse. A small river ran along its winding way on the right side of the gravel road. Zucchini watched from his perch on Billy’s shoulder as they drove. Deer raced on the right among the soft trees. Ahead in the distance were the beautiful snow-capped mountains.

  What a spot! thought Zucchini.

  A deer jumped over some low bushes, then disappeared behind the thicker trees.

  “Look!” said Billy. It was a thrill to see animals in the wild. Normally he didn’t have the chance. He took out his notebook and his ballpoint pen with the clip and began taking notes for his report. “Pitchfork Ranch, Meeteetse,” he wrote. “River. Mountains. Deer.”

  Soon they saw signs for the Pitchfork Ranch. The prairie opened up suddenly on the right. Antelope raced across the prairie grass. Mr. Reynolds stopped the car so Billy could take a picture.

  Let’s get out! thought Zucchini. This is the most beautiful place in the world!

  They pulled up in front of the wooden ranch office, and Billy opened the car door.

  Here we go! thought Zucchini.

  Billy lifted Zucchini off his shoulder, stepped down, and carried him around to the back of the Pathfinder. He opened the hatch and put him into his cage. “You have to stay here,” Billy said.

  Why? thought Zucchini. We’re at the prairie. I have to come with you! You promised!

  Billy shut Zucchini’s cage. He wanted to take him, but he couldn’t. He was afraid to show him to Mr. Turnell until he had heard from Miss Pickett.

  I have to be sure he isn’t a black-footed ferret, Billy thought. If he is, and Mr. Turnell sees him, I’ll have to give him up.

  Billy wanted to explain this to Zucchini, but he didn’t want to worry him. All he could say was “You have to stay here.”

  Why can’t I come? Zucchini thought.

  Billy shut the hatch.

  Mr. Turnell greeted them warmly as he came out of his office. He wore a red vest and a black cowboy hat.

  “Thanks for inviting us over,” said Mr. Reynolds as they climbed the two wooden steps to the porch.

  “Happy to do it,” said Mr. Turnell. He shook hands with Mr. Reynolds.

  “My tooth is loose,” said Emma.

  “Well now,” said Mr. Turnell.

  “Did you ever see a kangaroo with a loose tooth?” asked Emma.

  “Can’t say that I have,” said Mr. Turnell.

  “You can now,” said Emma.

  They followed Mr. Turnell into the office. A map of Wyoming hung on the wall behind a large desk. “Have a seat,” said Mr. Turnell. He motioned to the leather couch by the window, where they sat. Mr. Turnell sat behind his desk. There was a moment of quiet.

  I have to say something, thought Billy, but nothing came out.

  “So you want to know about ferrets,” said Mr. Turnell.

  “Yes,” said Billy.

  “He has one,” said Emma.

  Billy’s heart skipped a beat.

  “What kind of ferret do you have?” asked Mr. Turnell.

  “Domestic, I guess,” said Billy.

  “Where did you get him?”

  “New York,” said Billy. His heart was beating fast.

  “He’s in the car,” said Emma.

  Oh, no! thought Billy. Why did she say that?

  “You brought him along?” asked Mr. Turnell.

  “Yes,” said Billy.

  Mr. Turnell shifted in his chair. “So,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  Thank God! Billy thought. He didn’t ask to see him!

  He was filled with a sense of relief, then quickly realized he should say something. He stared at his sneakers, but no thoughts came.

  Luckily, Mr. Turnell continued. “There’s a lot of points of view on ferrets,” he said. “Everybody’s got their opinions—the ranchers, the conservation people, the oil people, the government—but I’ll tell you, we can all work together.”

  “I know,” said Billy.

  “Would you like to see where they found the ferrets?”

  “Sure,” said Billy.

  Out in the car Zucchini was worried. He sat in his traveling cage, peering through the bars and out the rear window of the Pathfinder. The prairie stretched ahead for miles, all the way to the snow-capped mountains on the horizon. One-Day Service was treading her wheel. Nose high, eyes fixed on her water bottle, she ran. She seemed not to notice where they were, parked on the edge of paradise.

  Squeak, squeak, rattle, rattle, bang, bang.

  I have to get out of here, thought Zucchini. I have to get to the prairie!

  Just then Billy, Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Turnell, and Emma came out the door of the office.

  Here they come! Zucchini thought. Now he’ll take me!

  Billy came down the stairs with the others. They climbed into Mr. Turnell’s dark-blue truck and pulled off.

  Oh, no! thought Zucchini. They’re going to the prairie without me. Something’s wrong!

  Lucille’s Café

  “What kind of fencing is that?” asked Mr. Reynolds as they drove down the dirt road. A row of wooden crisscross fencing bordered the road on each side.

  “Buck ‘n’ pole,” said Mr. Turnell from under his cowboy hat.

  Billy was thinking of Zucchini.

  I shouldn’t have left him, he thought. I should have explained.

  The road ended suddenly. Mr. Turnell continued driving and they found themselves on the prairie. An enormous herd of antelope raced in the distance. “That’s where they found the ferrets,” said Mr. Turnell, pointing up ahead. Soon he stopped the truck. They got out and Billy took a picture as they walked. Mr. Turnell showed them the large mounds of dirt with the holes in the center. “Prairie-dog holes,” he said.

  Billy could hear the chip-chip ping and the cluck-clucking sounds of the prairie dogs warning each other of the presence of humans. Mr. Turnell pointed to a small furry creature, sitting on its hind legs, high on a mound of dirt, its nose twitching with concern. “Prairie dog,” he said.

  Billy had read so much about this very spot, and now he was here! He wished he could show it to Zucchini, but that would have to wait.

  Zucchini was upset.

  Why did he leave me? he thought as he waited for Billy’s return.

  Squeak, squeak, rattle, rattle, bang, bang. One-Day Service was on her wheel.

  “STOP!” said Zucchini in his loudest voice.

  The mouse stopped. She gripped the wheel in terror with her tiny toes. She stayed that way, frozen in panic, for several moments, then got off the wheel and sat in the middle of her cage, shivering and rounded in fear. “I don’t mean to bother you,” she said.

&nb
sp; “BUT YOU DO!”

  There was a pause as the mouse hunched more tightly, trembling, eyes bulging wide.

  “I’m sorry,” said Zucchini. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “Everything scares me,” said the mouse.

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m small.”

  “So am I,” said Zucchini.

  “You’re not small to me.”

  “I’m small to a turkey.”

  “That doesn’t help,” said the mouse.

  “Well, something has to,” said Zucchini. “I can’t stand the noise. Is that why you run all the time? Because you’re scared? Are you trying to escape?”

  “That’s part of it,” said the mouse.

  “What’s the other part?”

  “I don’t know,” said the mouse.

  “Who should I ask?”

  “Me! But I have no answer. Be a little patient. Try to understand.”

  “I’m trying,” said Zucchini.

  “Try harder,” said the mouse.

  Billy was quiet during lunch. He sat with his father and Emma at a small table in the back of Lucille’s Café on the main street of Meeteetse. The restaurant belonged to Lucille, the lady whose dog had found the ferret by his food bowl. Lucille had honored her dog’s discovery by putting pictures of ferrets up everywhere. The menu said FERRET DEN across the front.

  “I thought you’d like this place,” said Emma as they waited for the waitress to bring their food. “It’s all about ferrets, but you just sit like a grouchy thing and don’t even smile.”

  “Mind your own business,” said Billy.

  Mr. Reynolds turned to his son. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Billy had a lot on his mind. He couldn’t stop worrying that Zucchini might really be a black-footed ferret, that he might have to give him up. He also felt bad about going to the prairie without him. He wished he could have explained. And now there was another thing. He was upset with himself for being so shy with Mr. Turnell. He had been afraid to ask one single question.

  “What’s wrong?” repeated his father.

  “I’m stupid,” said Billy.