Dark Horse by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

call me Popeye,” he answers, “to avoid confusing me with my little brother.”
    “A matter of minutes,” his twin protests.
    “Wes dubbed me Popeye, and it’s stuck.”
    “Popeye it is, then,” I agree.
    “Let’s see. . . . I believe Hank’s gone into town to get a few supplies and to pick up more lumber. I don’t expect him back for quite a while.”
    “Good,” I mutter.
    “What was that, Winnie?” Popeye asks.
    Catman jumps to the rescue. “She said, ‘Good.’ Like, it’s groovy to see the barn getting rebuilt.”
    “Did Hank tell you the guys at the station house are all coming to help us raise the barn?” Popeye asks.
    “Far out!” Catman says. “A real barn raising?”
    Popeye pours himself and his brother another cup of coffee, then sits down again. “I am blessed with some great buddies in the department.”
    “My brother always did have a grand array of friends,” Catman’s dad observes.
    “Morning.” Kat breezes in so silently she could be a ghost. Or an angel. Her bright red wig doesn’t quite fit the angel image, but the rest of her does. She’s thin and graceful, almost breakable, with a kind of see-through skin that shows her veins. Her eyes are soft, like they’ve seen things the rest of us haven’t. Last night she took off her wig to go to bed, and she talked so openly about her cancer that she put me at ease.
    “Morning, Kat!” the Coolidge twins call in unison.
    Kat walks to the porch and lets her cats outside, then joins Catman and me in the kitchen. She wrinkles up her nose when she gets close. “Something smells funny.” When she sees the peanut butter, tomato, and cheese sandwich, her face goes even whiter. She swallows hard. “Catman?”
    “Yes I am.” Catman slides two sandwiches on small plates and delivers them to the Coolidge twins.
    “When can we start looking for Kitten?” Kat asks, as Catman flips a final sandwich onto his own plate.
    I catch a troubled look pass between the Coolidge twins. I have a feeling they both believe that cat’s gone for good, burned up in the fire.
    “Honey,” Kat’s dad begins, “Catman might not have time to—”
    “Solid,” Catman says. “I’m here for a cat hunt, as promised. But first I need to ask you some questions, Kat.” He moves to the dining table and plops down next to his uncle. He waits until Kat and I take seats across from him. Then he asks Kat, “Have you looked for Kitten in the usual digs? Checked her secret pads?”
    Kat nods. “I keep checking her favorite spots over and over. I climbed the oak tree out front. She loves that tree. I’ve checked the basement, my closet, the old shed where Dad parks the mower. We drove to the quarry because that’s where Dakota found her when she ran away last summer. I’ve looked everywhere. Everyplace except the barn.”
    We’re all quiet. I don’t know about the others, but I’m imagining Kat discovering her burned-up cat in the burned-out barn. I shake my head to get rid of the image.
    Catman swallows his last bite of sandwich and stares at Kat. “Okay then.”
    “Okay then?” Kat stares back at Catman.
    “We’ll have to find your cat from the inside out, not the outside in.” He pops up from the table and puts his empty plate into the sink.
    Kat follows him. “Inside out?”
    He turns the full power of those intense blue eyes on Kat. “I’ll need you to tell me everything about your cat. Can you do that?”
    “Yes!” Kat’s eyes are as big as Catman’s and filled with admiration.
    I get up from the table. “Sounds to me like you’re in good hands, Kat. I think I’ll go find Dakota and see how Nickers is getting along.”
    “Wait!” Popeye cries. “What’s the hardest part about learning to ride a horse?”
    “Learning to ride a horse?” I repeat, wondering if he’s hinting that he’d like to learn to ride.
    “What’s the hardest part about learning to ride a horse? The ground!” he cries, answering his own riddle. “Get