Danger at Snow Hill

Sliding Hill Trouble Snow fell all day in Pembrook. It fell as the village children boarded the yellow school bus in the morning. It fell on the railroad bridge and frosted its rails white. It fell on the big lake and its thin covering of new ice. It fell on the post office, Erickson's Very Fine Grocery Store, Rainy Day Books, the antique shop, and the restaurant. It fell quietly on sidewalks, covering up fresh prints. All through the day snow fell, tucking the tiny village under a deep white quilt. And when the school bus returned that late afternoon, the neighbor girls, Emmaline and Zoey, raced home. Front paws on the window ledge, Kito and Chester watched the girls, and then ran to the back door and whined. In her snowflake slippers and paint-splattered shirt, Mrs. Hollinghorst left her easel. "If it's snowing like this in mid-December, we'll certainly have lots of snow by Christmas. Do you two want to go play in it?" She opened the door and they bolted out. Since the Tweet family had moved in last fall, everything across the street had changed. The abandoned church had sprouted a swing set outside, curtains inside, and a pinecone wreath on its front door. In moments, the red-headed sisters bounded out in jackets, snow pants, mittens, and hats. A polka-dot hat tamed half of Emmaline's squirrel-nest hair. Beneath a tossled hat, Zoey's braids hung straight as curtains drawn. "Kito, Chester! C'mon!" They grabbed their sleds from the side of the building, then hurried down Pine Street. The dogs jumped and twirled and trotted with them. Kito couldn't have been happier. He loved the neighbor girls. As he walked, his worries lifted as surely as snowflakes fell. Life with the Hollinghorsts -- Mr. and Mrs. H -- couldn't be better, and now that it was winter, he didn't have to worry about strangers travel ing through and setting his fur on edge. Tourists often didn't understand how village dogs were allowed to run free. But for now, all was well in Pembrook and would stay that way, he hoped, for a good long time. They crossed Main Street, rounded the corner at the giant spruce, and neared the ice rinks. Beyond the first rink, the wooded hill looked out over village rooftops. Dotted with people and dogs, the sliding hill curved toward them like a white river. From the smaller rink, where tiny children and parents usually skated, Howie called, "Hi, hi, hi!" The girls waved back. Chester and Kito wagged their tails. "Good!" Howie called. "Fwends here!" Then, square as an icebox, steady as a plow, Howie went on shoveling, leaving dark ribbons in his wake. The smaller rink was bordered by snowbanks and benches. Beyond it, the larger rink waited to be cleared for hockey skaters to whack pucks into nets and boards. "Race you to the top!" Emmaline shouted. As the girls climbed the hill, a boy threw snowballs at them. "Stop that!" Zoey squealed, and threw snowballs in return. The sliding hill buzzed. Kids and parents speckled the hill with their saucers and sleds, toboggans and cardboard. Village dogs chased and tumbled. Lucky, a reliable golden retriever, dashed down the hill despite missing one back leg. Schmitty, though he'd forever be the runt of a black Lab litter, outraced the girls to the top. Good old Schmitty. A smile no matter the day, no matter the weather. Three dogs played chase-the-stick: Tundra, their Dog Watch leader and alpha dog -- a white German shepherd who was never without her red bandanna; Gunnar, the only basset hound; and Muffin, a fluffy ball with a pink ribbon at her collar. While the other dogs played, Kito studied the sign posted at the base of the hill: KEEP YOUR SLED UNDER CONTROL AT ALL TIMES.CLIMB ON THE SIDE OF THE SLIDING HILL.NO SNOWBALL THROWING.... He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one caught him reading. Too many ruleCasanova, Mary is the author of 'Danger at Snow Hill ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780689868122 and ISBN 068986812X.