Tiger Trap (2 page)

“Not really,” the woman said.

“I have one,” the daughter said.

I looked at her. “Go ahead.”

“Do you think I could work here?”

I smiled. “Go up to the farmhouse and talk to Mr. McCurdy. Tell him I sent you.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“Hello!” I yelled out as I entered the farmhouse. I didn’t really need to knock before entering because Mr. McCurdy was almost like a grandfather to us, but I still always felt I should announce my entrance.

“Is anybody here?” I called.

“Go away, ugly girl!”

For a split second I was taken aback but, of course, I knew who it was.

“
You
go away!” I answered. I wanted to say more, but there was no point in arguing … with a parrot.

I walked into the kitchen. Mr. McCurdy was sitting in the corner, his ear glued to the telephone. He gave me a nod and a wave. Mr. McCurdy spent a lot of time on that phone, which was strange considering he didn’t even have one — and claimed he didn’t even
want
one — until my mother made him do it. She finally convinced him he couldn’t run a business without having a phone. He’d argued he wasn’t running a business; he was running a farm. But as more and more people wandered down the lane each day to see the animals, it became obvious who was right, and he agreed.

Polly, the parrot, sat in the far corner on top of the kitchen cupboards. She had her head turned, one huge eye staring right at me. Polly didn’t seem to like me very much. Actually, Polly didn’t like
anybody
very much.

“Stupid, ugly girl,” Polly muttered. “You
stink
. Take a bath!”

I fought the urge to say something back, but knew if I did get into an argument with a parrot I’d really be a stupid girl. Instead I reached over and opened one of the cupboards. There it was, what I was looking for, a box of crackers.

Polly straightened as she saw me grab the box. I opened it and slowly, deliberately, took out a cracker. Holding up the cracker, I turned it in my hand, looking at it from all angles, letting Polly have a good view of it. If she had been a dog instead of a parrot, she would have been drooling.

I glanced up at the bird. “Polly want a cracker?”

She twisted her head to peer at me with her other eye.

I held out my other arm, offering the parrot a perch. “Come on, Polly.”

The bird opened her wings, and a rainbow of red, yellow, green and blue feathers floated down. I tensed the muscles in my arm as she landed. She wasn’t heavy, but I could feel the tips of her claws right through my jacket and shirt. I knew those claws were sharp enough to pierce my clothing and even the flesh of my arm.

“Polly want a cracker?” I asked again.

The parrot opened and closed her beak with a loud click. From what I’d been told that beak was powerful enough to snap a finger in two … and I was taunting her with a cracker. Not such a wise move, but it was what I had to do — what we all had to do — if Polly was going to learn some manners.

I took a deep breath and felt Polly tighten her grip on my arm. “What do you have to say if you want the cracker?”

Polly fluffed out her feathers. It looked as if she had also taken a deep breath. “Please,” she said.

“Good girl!”

I held out the cracker, and like lightning, she reached out and snatched it from my fingers — thank goodness, just grabbing the snack and leaving my fingers behind. Polly spun the cracker around in her mouth, snapped it into pieces and swallowed it.

“What do you say now?” I asked.

“Thank you … ugly girl.”

Polly jumped off my arm and flew back to her perch atop the cupboards. I glanced down at my arm. There was a large white stain — bird crap!

“Oh, that’s awful!”

Rushing over to the sink, I ripped off a piece of paper towel and wiped at the splotch. The only good thing was that my brother hadn’t been here to witness Polly’s accident. Although, to be honest, I didn’t think it was an accident. That bird seemed to be pretty precise in just where and when she did that.

I walked back over, picked up the box of crackers and took out two more. Waving them in the air to make sure Polly could see them, I popped them into my mouth. They were old and stale, but I didn’t care. I smiled as I chewed and swallowed them.

“Greedy girl,” Polly sputtered.

“Stupid, ugly bird,” I replied. So much for teaching the bird manners.

I put the box of crackers back into the cupboard and closed the door tightly. If it was even slightly ajar, Polly could get in — she’d done it more than once. Despite what I’d said, that parrot was far from stupid.

Looking across the room, I spotted Laura. She was rolled up in a ball, her long tail wrapped around her like a thin blanket. Laura’s chest moved as she breathed, and I could hear her snoring ever so softly. I was so grateful for both the sight and the sound. Laura was almost fifteen years old — that was really, really old for a cheetah — and I knew she didn’t have a long time left.

I made my way over and took up a spot on the couch beside her. Reaching down, I gave her a little rub behind the ears where I knew she loved to be stroked. Laura opened one eye and peered up at me. She pressed her head harder against my hand, closed her eyes again and made that little growling sound that I knew was her way of purring. I kept rubbing her head.

“That’s awful!” Mr. McCurdy said loudly into the phone.

I turned away from Laura. What was awful?

“People like that should be put in cages!” he thundered. “No, a cage is too good for ’em! They should be shot!”

Without hearing or knowing anything else, I knew this outburst had something to do with animals. That didn’t take a genius to figure out because most of Mr. McCurdy’s conversations involved animals.

“So how long are we talking about?” he asked. There was an answer I couldn’t hear. “That’s not long, but if that’s the way it is, that’s the way it is. I’ll be there tomorrow, and thanks for calling.” He hung up the phone.

“Morning, Sarah,” he said. “Do you know who I was just talking to?”

I shook my head. I knew what he was talking about, but not who he was talking to.

“That was the head of the Humane Society up near Woodstock. They were answering a complaint about a man with exotic animals.”

I now also knew where this conversation was going.

“And they discovered that the animals were being badly treated, so they had to seize them and —”

“And they were wondering if you could take them and you said yes,” I finished, cutting him off.

“Yeah … how did you know that?”

“It wasn’t hard. What sort of animals are we talking about?”

“A lion, a leopard, a couple of half-wolf, half-dogs and a pair of baby —”

“That’s going to cost a lot of money,” I objected.

“It won’t cost us anything, Sarah. We’re getting them for
free
.”

“Maybe we’re getting them free, but that doesn’t mean keeping them will be free. First we have to build enclosures.”

“We still have lots of materials left around, and Vladimir’s a whiz when it comes to building.”

“And then we have to feed them,” I said. “It costs money to feed these animals.”

“It’s only a couple of more mouths to feed,” Mr. McCurdy argued.

“Big mouths leading to big bellies.”

“We’re making good money with all these visitors and the things they buy at the concession stand and the donations. We’re doing just fine.”

“We’re not doing that fine.”

“Sarah, you worry too much.”

“Somebody has to worry.” I knew exactly how much money came in and how much was going out for expenses. Maybe nobody else cared to keep track of those things, but somebody had to. Perhaps people thought I was older than fifteen because I always had to act as if I were older. I understood my little brother acting like a kid because he was, but sometimes I thought Mr. McCurdy was ten instead of in his seventies.

“I’ll take care of everything, so don’t you worry,” he said.

“It’s just that we can’t be taking in every animal that nobody wants.”

“What choice do we have? If we don’t take these animals, they’re going to be put down.”

“Put down?”

He nodded. “That’s what the guy on the phone said. If we can’t give ’em a home, they have no choice but to put them to sleep. So I don’t have any choice.”

It seemed as if everybody within hundreds of kilometres of here had heard about Tiger Town. That meant we weren’t just getting visits but all sorts of calls asking us to take animals that nobody else wanted.

“Trust me, Sarah,” Mr. McCurdy said. “It’ll be okay.”

I did trust him. I just didn’t trust him to think with his head instead of his heart. There was only so much anybody could do, only so much money or space to care for all these animals.

“Now I have to ask you a favour,” he said.

“What sort of favour?”

“I have to leave right after we close up tonight and I have to take Vladimir with me and —”

“And you want to know if I can stay here overnight and watch the place,” I said, completing his sentence.

“Yep. Nick can stay with you, and I’ll leave Calvin to help out.”

“Calvin’s always a bundle of help,” I said, referring to Mr. McCurdy’s semi-trained chimpanzee.

“I can take him with me if you want,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“Actually, it would probably be easier if you took Nick and left the ape.”

Mr. McCurdy exploded in a burst of raspy laughter. “Then you’ll stay?”

I nodded. “Of course I’ll stay.”

“That’s my girl! We’ll just close down the place tomorrow so there won’t be any visitors.”

“We can’t do that. Sunday’s our busiest day — the day we make the most money.”

“I could maybe wait a day,” he said.

“But then I couldn’t help you. I have to be in school.”

“I keep forgetting about that. I guess because when I was your age I’d already dropped out of school. I just wish we had another hired hand around here.”

“So do I. But there’s not enough money for that. You just go. I’ll ask my mother and Martin to come over and help.” Martin was my mother’s boyfriend — did that ever sound strange — as well as the chief of police.

“You think they’d be willing to pitch in?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“I’m sure they will. Plus we have the other volunteers.” Lots of local people came and offered to clean cages or prepare food for the animals or even sell treats at the concession stand. “We’ll do fine.”

Mr. McCurdy smiled. “With you in charge I know everything will be okay. I have complete confidence in you, Sarah.”

I smiled back. I was glad he felt that way. I just wish I felt the same thing about myself.

I heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the lane. Didn’t these people know how to read signs? We’d been closed for almost an hour, and I wasn’t letting anybody come in now no matter how much they begged or what excuse they made. The day had gone okay — stressful but okay. Even though my mother and Martin had been around, it still was me who was in charge. They were here to help, but I was the one responsible for keeping everything going.

The engine noise got louder, and then the vehicle appeared over the rise in the lane — it was Mr. McCurdy and Vladimir! They were back, and that meant I wasn’t in charge anymore. I felt as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

The air brakes puffed and the gears ground together as the truck slowed down and came to a stop right in front of me. Vladimir practically jumped out of the cab and leaped to the ground.

“How is big girl Sarah doing?” Vladimir asked in his heavy Russian accent.

He rushed over, picked me up off the ground and planted a big kiss on one cheek and then the other. I’d almost gotten used to his Russian greetings, but even if I hadn’t, what was I going to do? Vladimir was one colossal mountain of a man who towered over my head. Actually, he soared over the heads of most people. Combine his size with his long, out-of-control hair and big, bushy black beard and he looked more like a wild animal than a wild-animal expert. But he was just as gentle as he was large. If I asked him not to greet me that way, he would have stopped. But I knew it would have hurt his feelings and I didn’t want to do that. I also had to admit it was kind of neat. There was nobody else I knew who could spin me around like that. It reminded me of the way my father used to do that when I was little. That was a long time ago — a very long time ago.

I glanced over at the truck and watched as Mr. McCurdy started to climb down from the cab. Without a word or a look both Vladimir and I rushed around to his side of the truck. We took up positions beneath Mr. McCurdy — close enough to catch him if he fell but far away enough not to insult or hurt his pride if he didn’t fall.

Carefully, he got down. He seemed so small against the massive machine. So little and so old. He was still pretty spry for somebody his age, but I’d noticed there were times when he moved a little slower or his hand shook or he fumbled for words. Mostly that was when he was tired.

“Did he sleep at all?” I whispered to Vladimir.

“Little, maybe a few minutes,” he answered quietly.

Finally, Mr. McCurdy reached the ground. “So how’s my girl?” he asked, giving my hand a squeeze.

“I’m good. Everything’s good.”

“That’s what I figured. I knew you could take care of everything. You always do me proud.”

That made me feel good. I liked making Mr. McCurdy happy. I’d only known him a little longer than a year, but in that time he’d become so important to my family and I knew we were important to him. He was like a grandfather to me and Nick. Sometimes he was grouchy and grumbled about things, but I figured real grandfathers were like that some of the time, too.

“So there were no problems?” he asked.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” There had been a little boy tossing rocks at the deer, and I’d had to toss him out. The little boy should have been grateful that it was me that made him leave instead of Vladimir. Vladimir, as gentle as he was, got scary when somebody was mean to an animal. He wouldn’t have just tossed the kid off the farm; he would have thrown him
through the air
and off the farm.

“So where’s Nick?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“My mother took him home an hour or so ago. He had homework to do.”

“And you didn’t have any homework?”

“I did all mine Friday night.”

“Where’s Calvin?”

“Inside, watching TV.”

Mr. McCurdy shook his head. “Worst mistake I ever made was letting you talk me into getting a television,” he said to Vladimir.

“I like television,” Vladimir said.

“So does that blasted ape!” Mr. McCurdy snapped. “He just sits there all day in front of that set, drinking Coke, holding that remote, flipping through the channels searching for a nature show.”

I laughed.

“Glad you think it’s funny! It’s not so funny in the middle of the night when he’s got the television on and the volume up. I think that ape is going deaf! Didn’t he keep you awake last night?” Mr. McCurdy asked me.

“He did for a while, but then I turned the TV off.”

“He let you do that?” Mr. McCurdy asked, surprised. “Didn’t he just turn it back on?”

“He tried. I pulled the plug out of the wall when he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t figure out why it wouldn’t turn back on. He just sat there, pushing the buttons on the remote. If it hadn’t been so funny, I would have felt sorry for him.”

“That’s good to know,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Maybe I can have a good sleep tonight. I could use one. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“I told Angus to sleep while I was driving back,” Vladimir said.

“I couldn’t sleep while
you
were driving,” Mr. McCurdy said. “I had to keep my eyes on the road.” He peered at Vladimir. “Who exactly taught you how to drive?”

“Nobody taught. I learn by myself.”

“That figures. I’m just surprised anybody ever gave you your licence.”

“Licence?”

“You know, a piece of paper that says you passed a driving test,” Mr. McCurdy explained.

“I have licence. Russian driving licence.”

“That figures. Didn’t think you had one from this country.”

“Why would I need it from this country? Vladimir is Russian, so I have a Russian licence. Besides, I paid good money for my licence. I gave my driving instructor lots of money, over five hundred rubles, to get licence.”

“You mean you bribed him?”

“Of course bribe. This is Russian way of life and Vladimir is Russian!” he almost shouted, pounding a fist against his chest.

Mr. McCurdy shook his head. “Enough of this. Let’s have a look at these animals.”

We circled around to the back of the big eighteen-wheeler. It belonged to a friend of Mr. McCurdy’s, who let him borrow it whenever he needed it. Vladimir unhooked the door and pushed it up with a loud crash.

“Try and be a little more delicate, will you?” Mr. McCurdy said. “We’re trying to keep the animals calm, not give ’em a heart attack.”

Vladimir helped Mr. McCurdy and me up into the back of the truck, then climbed up after us. Mr. McCurdy hit a switch, and the entire back of the truck lit up in a fluorescent glow.

“Come and have a look,” Mr. McCurdy said. “The lion’s a full-grown female. Isn’t she a beauty?”

The big tawny lion was in the first cage. She was long, but she looked thin, as if she hadn’t been fed enough.

“This is a good leopard,” Vladimir said, pointing to the spotted cat pacing around in the little cage across from the lion.

“What about the wolf-dogs?” I asked. I didn’t see them.

“Shucks, they weren’t wolves at all,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Looked to be some sort of husky-German shepherd cross. Not wolves at all. Left ’em with the Humane Society people.”

“Oh,” I said.

“You disappointed?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“A little, I guess,” I admitted. I should have been grateful. It meant fewer mouths to feed and less money needed to do the feeding.

“I thought you’d be happy about what we did bring,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“The lion’s okay … so is the leopard.”

“But what about the babies?” he asked.

“Babies? There are babies?”

Mr. McCurdy turned to me. “I told you there were babies.”

That was right. He had told me something — or tried to tell me something — about babies, but I’d cut him off.

“What sort of babies?” I asked. I certainly didn’t see any babies. I didn’t see any animals except the lion and the leopard. Maybe they were lion cubs and were tucked away under their mommy, nursing or sleeping. Little lions were so cute.

“Two joeys,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“You named them both Joey?” That sounded strange.

“I didn’t
name
them Joey. They
are
joeys. That’s what you call a baby kangaroo.”

“We have kangaroos — baby kangaroos!” I cried, searching anxiously around the truck. I didn’t see any kangaroos. The rest of the cages were empty — except for a large cardboard box sitting in the back corner of one of the cages. It was held in place with bungee cords attached to the bars. “Are they there?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Mr. McCurdy nodded.

“Are they okay?”

Mr. McCurdy and Vladimir exchanged a worried look, but neither answered. Vladimir slipped the bolt on the door and swung it open. He bent down to get through the door and enter the cage. Carefully, slowly, almost delicately, he reached into the box. When he stood back up, he had a brown bundle of fur in his hands. It looked like a gigantic mouse. Its back legs kicked ever so slightly. At least I knew it was alive.

“It’s okay … right?” I asked.

“This one is good. Here,” Vladimir said, handing me the little kangaroo.

I pulled it tightly against my chest, slipping a hand underneath to support its legs. It stopped kicking and snuggled against me. It was soft and warm.

“Second one is good, too,” Vladimir said. He had the other one in his arms. It was probably the same size but seemed smaller against him.

“They’re so tiny,” I said.

“Just babies,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Way too young to be away from their mama.”

“Then why are they away from her?” I asked.

“No choice.”

“You could have brought her along. We still have plenty of space. She could have lived right —” I stopped myself and got a sick feeling in my stomach. I already knew why she wasn’t here.

“Poor old girl,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Too old to have twins … wasn’t getting fed proper herself … no medical care … filthy pens.”

“Disgusting!” Vladimir said. “Disgusting how the animals lived!”

“You saw where they kept the animals?” I asked.

“Just pictures,” Mr. McCurdy said. “The pictures they took for evidence for the court proceedings against the owner.”

“Thank goodness they got there in time to save the rest of the animals,” I said.

Mr. McCurdy’s face darkened. “They saved the animals they could.” He paused. “So many of the animals were in such bad shape that there was nothing they could do. Better to put ’em down than let ’em suffer.”

“That’s so sad,” I said.

“I wish I can get my hands on the man who owned the animals. Vladimir would make sure he never hurt anything again!” His eyes flashed angrily.

“At least they caught him and he’ll get punished,” I said, trying to deflect some of his anger.

“They caught him, but that doesn’t mean he’ll get much punishment,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Probably get nothing more than a fine or a slap on the wrist.”

“I would give more than a slap on the wrist. Vladimir would break skull or snap spine like twig.”

I knew how gentle Vladimir was, but I could see him doing that to somebody who hurt an animal. “I guess we should just be grateful that these four animals are alive and well and survived.”

“I hope they’ll all survive, Sarah,” Mr. McCurdy said.

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“Don’t get me wrong, Sarah. We’re going to try our best, but I don’t know much about kangaroos.”

“Me, neither,” Vladimir said. “I have never cared for a kangaroo.”

“But what I do know,” Mr. McCurdy said, “is that these two are way too young to be away from their mother, and it’s going to be hard work to try to raise ’em.”

I glanced down at the little bundle pressed against my chest. At that same time it peered up at me with soft, gentle, liquid, expressive eyes. The joey seemed to be trying to tell me something. It opened its mouth, and a little pink tongue flicked up and touched my face. The tongue was rough and dry. I knew what it was trying to say now — it was hungry.

“I think the first thing we have to do is feed ’em,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“What do kangaroos eat?” I asked.

“Kangaroos are grazers, like cows or deer. But baby kangaroos eat the same as every other baby mammal — milk.”

“You mean we have to bottle-feed them?” I asked.

“Yes. Just like with the deer you helped raise,” Mr. McCurdy said.

I’d helped bring up two little baby deer whose mother had died giving birth to them. They’d become my little girls, and they treated me like their mommy. They now lived out in the pen with all the other deer, eating grass and hay. They didn’t need me anymore. Of course, that didn’t stop them from coming right up to me when I came to their pen. They always pushed their little faces against the fence and suckled on my fingers.

“You really did such a good job on those deer,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“Those little deer would have died without big girl Sarah,” Vladimir said. “Maybe Sarah will keep the baby roos alive, too.”

“I’ll do my best to help,” I said.

“Me and Vladimir were hoping you could help a lot,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Maybe starting tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“We’re both pretty beat, what with being up all night and the drive and everything, and they’re going to need two, maybe three feedings through the night.”

“But I have school tomorrow.”

“Shoot, that’s right!” Mr. McCurdy said. “I guess you can’t help, so that means I’ll have to do it.”

“No!” I cried. He couldn’t stay up another night. “I can do it.”

“But what about school?”

“I’ll go to sleep. I’ll get up a few times to feed them and I’ll sleep the rest of the night. It’ll be fine. Honest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I can do it. I’ll feed them and fall right back to sleep again. No problem.”

“That’s great, Sarah. We’ll make up a big batch of kangaroo formula.”

“You have a formula for kangaroos?” I asked.

“Vladimir has a recipe for all animals. I will fix a big batch and put it in bottles.”

“That would be great,” I said. “Then if you could just drive me and the kangaroos to my house.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to stay here?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“Maybe easier, but if I want to sleep, I’m better off in my room and in my bed.”