Ma tells him to hush, but Dad moves for the house. “I’ll call Arthur,” he says. “Could be he’s just burning rubbish.”
Dad goes inside to make the call while we wait and watch that far flickering light.
The sudden awful feeling in my stomach tells me something ain’t right at all. Something about that far light has got me spooked.
“Who burns rubbish on the Fourth of July?” Will is asking. “Nobody, that’s who. That’s one of Caleb’s fires for sure.”
“But why’d anybody light a fire on purpose?” Anna May asks.
“Because he’s a firebug. He likes fire. He likes watching things burn.”
Anna May tells Will that what he’s saying is hearsay. Will tells her it ain’t, and the two of them go back and forth about what hearsay is and what it isn’t.
But me, I don’t take my eyes off that little light on the hill. It holds me hypnotized. And that awful feeling in my stomach gets worse and worse. And then it hits me: a fire at Madliner House could easily spread to the trees. Or the meadow. And somewhere in those trees or that meadow, running scared, is my dog.
“Butch!” I say suddenly. “Butch’s out there!”
Anna May and Will stop their arguing. Everyone looks at me.
“He got scared from all those fireworks and took off running. If there’s a forest fire, he’ll be out in it. We’ve got to find him!”
Ma pushes out her lower lip. “John Thomas, there is not going to be a forest fire. And our family is not going looking for Butch.” She turns to Will and starts in on him about how his fire talk has got me upset.
Right then and there I decide. Maybe my family isn’t going looking for Butch. But I am.
Dad comes out of the house. His face is grim.
“No answer. I called the fire department. Chief Coop’s sending a truck.” Dad walks toward where our Ford is parked in the drive. “I’m going to have a look.”
Pete follows him. “Not alone you’re not.”
“Now wait a minute, Gene,” says Ma, sounding alarmed for the first time. “Arthur could have been outside. He might not have heard the phone.”
Dad turns back to her. They start arguing. Will joins in. It’s my chance. I simply turn and walk away. That’s something good about being the youngest: you get overlooked occasionally. I aim for the barn, but then I circle right back around to the truck and come up with it between me and my family. Silent as a shadow and half as quick, I’m up into the bed. I lie down flat as a board on those rivets and wait for what I know will happen: Pete and Dad will drive over to check on Madliner House. And they’ll be taking me along for the ride. And while we’re there, I’ll look for Butch.
I’m in that truck bed a full minute before I hear the gravel crunch on the other side of the fender.
Frankie’s voice comes in a whisper. “You can’t sneak off easy as that, Jack.”
“Fooled everybody else,” I whisper back.
“Yeah, well, not me. Come on down from there.”
“Nothing doing, Frankie. Butch’s out there and I’m going to find him.”
From the direction of our porch I hear Dad telling Ma to keep near the phone. Their discussion is over. He and Pete start this way.
“Get back, Frankie, or they’ll see!” I whisper urgently.
“You shouldn’t be up there, Jack. Let your dad and Pete go and check on the Madliners. If Butch’s there, they’ll bring him back.”
What he says makes sense. But it’s too late now. Dad and Pete are no more than a stone’s throw away.
“See you in a bit, Frankie.”
He goes quiet as Dad and Pete climb into the cab.
The Ford’s engine roars to life and I feel the bed tremble under me. Soon we’re rolling, and I chance a glance over the lip of the truck as we turn out of our drive. Twin headlight beams slice through the dark. But beyond them that little light across the valley burns fierce. Could be just my imagination, but that light seems bigger than it did a few minutes ago.
Dad turns onto Hopkins Road and gives the engine some gas, and now the three of us are racing through a night that is warm and getting warmer and not so dark as it used to be.
We’re just past Sam’s trailer on Hopkins Road when I smell an oily smoke on warm wind. When Dad turns us onto the dirt drive that leads up to Madliner House, that smell gets stronger.
I brace myself against the truck side and keep close to the cab so he and Pete can’t see me in the rearview. It should be dark enough, but there’s an orange glow in the sky now, an eerie second twilight that lets me see twisted tree trunks rushing by along either side. We hit a big old hole and I lose my grip and slide down to the back of the pickup. I’m out in the open now, and all Pete or Dad would need to do is glance in the mirror and they’d see me splayed out plain as day. But they don’t.