Karen Hood-Caddy - Leatherback Blues

The Wild Place Adventure series

Howl

The Truth About Brave

Saving Crazy

Copyright Karen Hood-Caddy, 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purpose of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover Images: istockphoto.com/yoyoyai; shutterstock.com/Maquiladora;

123rf.com/ioannaalexa

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Hood-Caddy, Karen, 1948-, author

Leatherback blues / Karen Hood-Caddy.

(The wild place adventure series)

Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-1-4597-4017-4 (softcover).--ISBN 978-1-4597-4018-1 (PDF).-

ISBN 978-1-4597-4019-8 (EPUB)

I. Title. II. Series: Hood-Caddy, Karen, 1948- . Wild place

adventure series.

PS8565.O6514L43 2018 jC813.54 C2017-905726-X

C2017-905727-8

We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, which last year invested $153 million to bring the artsto Canadians throughout the country, and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation, and the Government of Canada.

Nous remercions le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien. Lan dernier, le Conseil a investi 153 millions de dollarspour mettre de lart dans la vie des Canadiennes et des Canadiens de tout le pays.

Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

J. Kirk Howard, President

The publisher is not responsible for websites or their content unless they are owned by the publisher.

To Maggie Monteith,

a kindred spirit

Behold the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out.

James Bryant Conant

The men chased her. Dark figures in the dark night. She dug her toes into the gritty sand to get traction, but her feet sank into the beachscement-likewetness. Afraid, violently afraid, she hurled herself forward, staggering to get her balance. Run. RUN!

Feet thudded behind her. She heard thesee-sawsound ofgrabbed-forbreath. Close. Then closer. She pumped her legs up and down and up and down, over and over. A hand clenched her arm.

Fiercely, she yanked herself free, but the force of the movement pitched her forward. She buckled, then smashed down hard on the sand. Blood burst from her lower lip. She scrambled up, but the men had her now. Gripping her arms, they hauled her into the air, kicking legs and all, and carried her to a van in the bushes. They threw her inside, gagged her, and bound her hands and feet.

Frantic with fear, she lay in a tight ball, her heart pounding like a fist against a brick wall.

THREE MONTHS EARLIER

The phone rang and rang. Robin wiped the last bit of grunge from the metal cage, dragged one soapy hand along her jeans, and reached for the phone.

The Wild Place Animal Shelter. She felt excited. This was the first call of the season.

You take raccoons? a man growled. Baby ones? I got three. Half-dead.

Robins stomach clenched. Half-dead? Why? Where was the mother?

Can you bring them in to the shelter?

Dont drive.

Robin turned to her grandmother, who was cleaning cages beside her.

Griff, can we do a pickup? Three baby raccoons. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. Half-dead, the guy said.

Griff nodded and started to untie the apron she always wore in the barn, the one with a huge owl on the front. We better get a move on then. She pushed her long braid of silvery-white hair over her shoulder.

Be there as soon as we can. Robin scribbled down directions and hung up.

Zo-Zo, her best friend, walked across the barn carrying a stack of cages.

Half-deads better than three-quarters dead, Zo-Zo said. She set the cages down and pushed her thick glasses that were as big as swim goggles farther up her nose. Remember that loon last year? He looked as dead as a doornail when he came in. But he lived.

Yeah. Robin smiled. Shed thought he was a goner too. She winced, remembering. Some kid had hit him with his boat. The loon had bruises on every part of his body. Shed had to work her heart out, but she had saved him. Her reward had come a few months later, when theyd been able to release him and shed watched him fly off into the wild blue sky. If only all rescues could end so well.

Zo-Zo tightened the laces on her flame-red sneakers. How many baby raccoons are we picking up?

Three.

What happened to the mom?

Robin shrugged. She should have asked. What was the matter with her?

She yanked off her barn shirt. It was one of her dads old plaid ones, big enough to go over her regular clothes. Every time she wore it, she felt as if she was being hugged by him.

Meet you in the van.

She walked quickly to the farmhouse and went into the kitchen. It smelled of the toast theyd had there a little while ago. Zo-Zo had stayed over and theyd made French toast, thick and fluffy, then slathered chunky bits of butter on top and a ton of maple syrup. Her brother, Squirm, had eaten five pieces.

She checked the coat rack. Her dads coat was gone. He must have already left for the vet clinic. But Aris over-the-knee leather boots were there. They were tall and elegant. Like something out of a fashion magazine.

Robin yelled up the stairwell.

Ari!

Silence yawned into the space. Robin dashed up the stairs and burst into their shared bedroom. Her sister was sitting on the bed, painting her toenails. She looked up at Robin with a pained expression and pulled one side of her headphones slightly away from her ear. There was the sound of pounding music.