Wild Spirits. Rosa Jordan

it ready right now.”

      5

      THE HOLDUP

      They walked out into the blazing afternoon, the sun so hot it was causing heat waves to rise from the blacktop. Wendy saw Danny squatting in a strip of shade at the side of the building. She turned to smile at him, then snapped her head around as she heard the sound of a car turning into the parking lot. It wasn’t the fact that it was turning in, but that it was moving much too fast. And coming straight at her!

      “Oh God!” Ellen cried, in a voice that sounded like a prayer.

      Before Wendy could open her mouth to scream, the car was next to them, and a gun with a barrel big enough to stick her thumb into was inches from her nose.

      “The money, Blondie! Now!” snarled the man with the gun.

      She couldn’t see his face because it was covered with a black ski mask. But his eyes were cold and crazy. Wendy knew without even thinking about it — because she had thought about it before — that she was not going to die trying to protect money that the bank’s insurance covered, anyway. She shoved the canvas bag of money at the man and ran, Ellen pounding along beside her.

       Once safely back inside, of course the police were called. Wendy and Ellen had to explain what happened over and over, first at the bank, then several more times down at the police station.

      “No,” Wendy repeated for the fifth time, “I didn’t see what they looked like. I don’t even know what race they were. Just that they were men wearing ski masks.”

      And, “Yes, I am certain it was a .40 calibre handgun. It was the same as my boyfriend’s police-issue weapon.”

      And, “No, I didn’t see what kind of car it was. As soon as I saw the gun, I shoved the money bag at him and ran.”

      And, “Why didn’t I get the license number? I told you! I was running away! If I had looked back and they saw me getting the license number, they might have shot me!”

      Wendy paused and looked accusingly at the two policemen who kept asking the same questions over and over. “You all carry .40 calibre handguns. You know what damage they can do to a human body. Would I be sitting here now if they’d shot me at such close range?”

      • • •

      It was nearly dark when one of the policemen, Sergeant Taggart, was assigned to take Wendy and Ellen home. After dropping Ellen off, Wendy told him she could drive herself home if he would take her back to the bank to pick up her car. She wished Kyle were around and could come over this evening, but of course he wasn’t. He was off somewhere on that stupid stakeout. Wendy did ask Sergeant Taggart to stay with her until she was in her car, because she didn’t feel like being in the bank parking lot alone.

      The first thing she saw when they pulled into the parking lot was Danny Ryan, sitting on the ground near her car, with the box next to him. He didn’t say a word, just stared up at her with big brown eyes

      “Oh, Danny!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry! I forgot!”

      Wendy wanted nothing more than to go home, get inside her apartment, make sure every door and window was locked, then lock herself in the bathroom and climb into a warm bath. But the way the boy looked at her reminded her of the hopeless look she had seen in the eyes of some injured animals. “Have you been here waiting all this time?” she asked guiltily.

      Danny shook his head. “I went home and asked my mom.”

      “Asked your mom?” Wendy tried to remember what she might have told him to ask his mother, but drew a complete blank. “Asked her what?”

      “If I could go to your house, so you could show me what to do.”

      “Oh. Right.”

      “Look, sonny,” said Officer Taggart, “this lady’s had a pretty tough day. Why don’t you run on home, and go visit her some other time?”

      Danny did not move. He didn’t even seem to hear the policeman. He just sat there, looking up at Wendy.

      “No, that’s okay, Sergeant Taggart,” she said to the policeman who had tried to help by getting rid of the boy. “I, that is, Danny and I have a date. Something important we need to do together.”

      6

      DANNY,S RACCOONS

      In a way, Wendy was glad to have Danny with her. Naturally, she would rather have had Kyle there — now that would have made her feel safe — but a boy was better than nobody. And fixing up a place for the animals was a welcome distraction.

      She peered in at the two young raccoons, wondering what to do with them. She had a small pen in the backyard, but it had some half-grown rabbits in it that were not quite old enough to set free. The only other place she could put them was in a pet carrier. It was too small for them to live in, but it would do for the night and be more secure than Danny’s cardboard box.

      Wendy had Danny carry the box into the bathroom where, if one of the raccoons got loose when she was trying to move them from box to carrier, it would be easier to catch them. Then she put on a pair of heavy leather gloves that she used for handling wild animals. “When I lift the first one out, you quickly close the lid so the other one doesn’t get out till I’m ready to take it.”

      In less than a minute, they had both raccoons secure in the pet carrier. “Good! Wendy said, pulling off her gloves. “I’ll go out to the kitchen and see what I can find for them to eat. Us, too,” she added, smiling at the boy, who did not smile back.

      Danny stayed in the bathroom a long time. Wendy guessed he was doing what she had done many times herself; just watching the animals. Raccoons were pretty common in the area, but he had probably never been able to observe them close up.

      “Danny!” she called. He came out at once. Wendy pointed to three tuna sandwiches lined up on the table. “That one’s yours, this one’s mine, and this one,” she picked up the two halves of the third sandwich, “is for our furry friends. After we eat, we’ll put their cage out on the back porch and feed them there.”

      Later, as he and Wendy sat on the back porch watching the young raccoons tear into the tuna sandwich, Danny said, “I’d like to keep them for pets, but I don’t think I’d be allowed. Maybe if they lived here …” He looked at her hopefully.

      Wendy shook her head. “Wild animals don’t make good pets. They belong in the wild.”

      “But if I tamed them —” Danny began.

      “The problem,” Wendy explained, “is that even if you tame one, it still thinks like a wild animal. I tried to make a pet of a raccoon once, when I was about your age. Bandit, I called him, because of the black mask markings. He would ride on my shoulder and everything. You can’t imagine how much trouble he caused.”

      “What kind of trouble?”

      Wendy laughed ruefully. “You see those little paws? Just like hands. Not only can they pull lids off garbage cans, they can also open cupboard doors. My raccoon used to get into all the cupboards. He would dump boxes of cereal on the floor and spill the flour and rip open loaves of bread. Also, raccoons like their food wet. Bandit always took his food to the sink and turned on the water to make it wet. Can you imagine the mess?”

      Danny laughed. “Really? They can turn on a water tap?”

      Wendy nodded. “Living with humans, I guess they learn how to turn on faucets. But here’s another thing: they never learn to turn them off. My mother was constantly yelling at me to turn off the faucet in the kitchen or bathroom. It got so bad that she threatened to shoot my raccoon. And my mother doesn’t even like guns!”

      “But why can’t they be trained?” Danny insisted stubbornly.

      “I told you. Because even if you tame one, it still thinks and acts like a wild animal. Besides, there’s another, worse problem.”

      “What?”