and her eyes were dulling over.
Kit wondered if she could even see him.
He touched the wood to the fox’s lips.
She snapped wildly, clamped her teeth hard around the branch, tried to break it in two.
Would the damn branch hold? Kit slowly, slowly, eased the fox up, up… and finally over the edge of the embankment.
“Stick her, now,” he gasped.
Frannie was right there. She jabbed the needle into the animal’s hind leg. Pushed the plunger. The fox kicked, then collapsed
as the drug took effect.
Kit caught the animal as it dropped like a furry, stuffed animal into his arms.
“Well done,” said Frannie. “God, we did it.”
She took the fox from him and gently laid it down on the ground. Kit yanked open the trap’s trigger mechanism and Frannie
carefully released the animal’s leg.
“Very well done. Wow. Thank you. Thank you. You’re a great paramedic partner.”
“You’re welcome. It was nice working with you. What a team. Glad we could help Foxie Lady.”
And wonder of wonders—Frannie O’Neill finally gave him a smile.
It was almost worth the wait.
Chapter 33
Y AHOO, MOUNTAIN DEW!”
Max was flying again. She couldn’t resist the fluffy clouds, the high-pitched whistle of the wind, the perfect, deep blue
skies over the Rockies.
Who could?
She drifted calmly, effortlessly, as she surveyed a lake below, the wooded slopes of surrounding ridges.
The slate-black surface of the lake drew her closer. She could see thermal inversions rising off the water. Her teacher, her
friend, Mrs. Beattie, had told her about wind currents, and how hot and cold affected flight. Max still retained all the information;
that was one of her gifts.
Her wingspan cast an elongated shadow on the dark treetops below. Max watched the shadow, raced with it. She reached out,
then ahead, then back, as if she were rowing. She flew faster and faster over the curved rim of the earth.
Mrs. Beattie,
she thought.
The School, her old home.
She could remember it vividly, only mostly she didn’t want to. She couldn’t help remembering, though—especially the worst
things, and there were so many of them to choose from.
Early one morning, Mrs. Beattie had come to the small dormitory where she and Matthew slept. Mrs. Beattie had been their teacher
for three years. Before Mrs. Beattie, there had been nannies, and other tutors; but they had changed all the time. None of
them had showed very much love or caring. It wasn’t allowed at the School. Just science, work, discipline, testing, testing,
testing.
“Max… Matthew,” Mrs. Beattie had whispered. Max was awake instantly, even before her teacher was at her bedside.
“We’re awake,” Matthew squawked. “We heard you coming.”
“Of course you did, dear. Now listen to me. Don’t speak until I’ve finished.”
It was something bad
—Max could tell it was. Neither she nor Matthew said a word.
“Sometimes bad things happen to good people,” Mrs. Beattie whispered. Besides being a teacher, she was a doctor. She administered
exams, especially the ones to test intelligence—Stanford-Binet, WPPSI-R, WISC III, the Beery Tests, Act III, all the rest.
“They’re going to put us to sleep, kill us, right? We’ve been expecting it.” Matthew couldn’t keep quiet for too long.
“No, dear. You’re both very special. You’re miracle children. You don’t have to worry. But darlings, little Adam was put to
sleep last night. I’m so sorry to have to tell you.”
“Oh, no, not Adam! Not Adam!” Matthew moaned.
He and Max hugged Mrs. Beattie tightly and they couldn’t stop weeping, couldn’t stop shivering. Adam was only a little baby.
He had the most beautiful blue eyes, and he was so smart.
“I have to leave now, dear. I didn’t want you to hear this from Mr. Thomas. I love you, Max. Love you, Matthew.” She hugged
them close to her. “Don’t think badly of me.”
Soon after that, Mrs. Beattie was gone, too. One day, she just never
Kit wondered if she could even see him.
He touched the wood to the fox’s lips.
She snapped wildly, clamped her teeth hard around the branch, tried to break it in two.
Would the damn branch hold? Kit slowly, slowly, eased the fox up, up… and finally over the edge of the embankment.
“Stick her, now,” he gasped.
Frannie was right there. She jabbed the needle into the animal’s hind leg. Pushed the plunger. The fox kicked, then collapsed
as the drug took effect.
Kit caught the animal as it dropped like a furry, stuffed animal into his arms.
“Well done,” said Frannie. “God, we did it.”
She took the fox from him and gently laid it down on the ground. Kit yanked open the trap’s trigger mechanism and Frannie
carefully released the animal’s leg.
“Very well done. Wow. Thank you. Thank you. You’re a great paramedic partner.”
“You’re welcome. It was nice working with you. What a team. Glad we could help Foxie Lady.”
And wonder of wonders—Frannie O’Neill finally gave him a smile.
It was almost worth the wait.
Chapter 33
Y AHOO, MOUNTAIN DEW!”
Max was flying again. She couldn’t resist the fluffy clouds, the high-pitched whistle of the wind, the perfect, deep blue
skies over the Rockies.
Who could?
She drifted calmly, effortlessly, as she surveyed a lake below, the wooded slopes of surrounding ridges.
The slate-black surface of the lake drew her closer. She could see thermal inversions rising off the water. Her teacher, her
friend, Mrs. Beattie, had told her about wind currents, and how hot and cold affected flight. Max still retained all the information;
that was one of her gifts.
Her wingspan cast an elongated shadow on the dark treetops below. Max watched the shadow, raced with it. She reached out,
then ahead, then back, as if she were rowing. She flew faster and faster over the curved rim of the earth.
Mrs. Beattie,
she thought.
The School, her old home.
She could remember it vividly, only mostly she didn’t want to. She couldn’t help remembering, though—especially the worst
things, and there were so many of them to choose from.
Early one morning, Mrs. Beattie had come to the small dormitory where she and Matthew slept. Mrs. Beattie had been their teacher
for three years. Before Mrs. Beattie, there had been nannies, and other tutors; but they had changed all the time. None of
them had showed very much love or caring. It wasn’t allowed at the School. Just science, work, discipline, testing, testing,
testing.
“Max… Matthew,” Mrs. Beattie had whispered. Max was awake instantly, even before her teacher was at her bedside.
“We’re awake,” Matthew squawked. “We heard you coming.”
“Of course you did, dear. Now listen to me. Don’t speak until I’ve finished.”
It was something bad
—Max could tell it was. Neither she nor Matthew said a word.
“Sometimes bad things happen to good people,” Mrs. Beattie whispered. Besides being a teacher, she was a doctor. She administered
exams, especially the ones to test intelligence—Stanford-Binet, WPPSI-R, WISC III, the Beery Tests, Act III, all the rest.
“They’re going to put us to sleep, kill us, right? We’ve been expecting it.” Matthew couldn’t keep quiet for too long.
“No, dear. You’re both very special. You’re miracle children. You don’t have to worry. But darlings, little Adam was put to
sleep last night. I’m so sorry to have to tell you.”
“Oh, no, not Adam! Not Adam!” Matthew moaned.
He and Max hugged Mrs. Beattie tightly and they couldn’t stop weeping, couldn’t stop shivering. Adam was only a little baby.
He had the most beautiful blue eyes, and he was so smart.
“I have to leave now, dear. I didn’t want you to hear this from Mr. Thomas. I love you, Max. Love you, Matthew.” She hugged
them close to her. “Don’t think badly of me.”
Soon after that, Mrs. Beattie was gone, too. One day, she just never
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