by Boo Riley
“You ready, boys?” came a yell from the finish line.
I raised a hand and yelled back, “Yes, sir!”
The gun popped, I jerked the rope, and the dogs came out of the boxes like a shot.
Cameron almost didn’t get started fast enough, but managed to keep the coon just out of their reach all the way across.
Cheers rose as the first dog emerged from the pond, put his paws against the tree, bowed his back, and cut loose with a bay at the cage swinging above him.
Cameron could have been one of them big plastic dolls with a grin painted on its face, all his teeth showing. “Who won, Ty? Did you see?”
“A Black and Tan,” I said.
“Well, duh. They were all Blacks.”
We laughed.
Their owners scrambled to leash their dogs before one of them started a fight.
The next group consisted of a Beagle, a Redbone, and two Walkers. Beagles don’t have much for legs and I wouldn’t have given two hoots for this one’s chances, but he nearly won. He came out of the water right on the heels of one of the Walkers.
A beautiful female Redbone won the third race. She out-swam two Walkers and a Beagle by five paces.
Cameron cranked the cage back. “I wish I had a dollar.”
“What for?”
“I’d bet on that little Redbone to win. She swims like a fish.”
“A dollar to bet? I’d just like to have a dollar. That would buy two little cheeseburgers. I’d bet, but not for money.”
“That don’t make sense. Bet just to bet?”
“Yeah, it does. You’re either right or wrong, but don’t lose nothing.”
Cameron waved me off. “Here they come with the winners. I bet you the Redbone wins.”
I opened the back of the boxes, so they could load the dogs. “I bet she wins too.”
Cameron’s Scrooge look appeared. “I picked her first. You got to pick another one.”
“All right. I’ll take the Black and Tan. That Walker’s too skinny. He floats like I do. He’ll be lucky if he makes it across a second time.”
The gun popped and I pulled the rope. All three dogs swam neck and neck. It would be close.
A hat flew in the air, then glasses, and someone yelled. Out of the bleachers hopped a white-haired man with a cigar in his mouth. Then he dove in the pond, clothes, cigar and all. “Cameron, look. A man’s gone crazy. Jumped in the pond like he don’t got no sense. Ha! There goes three more in after him.”
Cameron watched and pedaled at the same time, shaking his head at the sight.
About the time the Redbone came out of the water to win the contest, the old man who had jumped in crawled out, dragging the Walker.
“I told you, Cameron. I knew that Walker wasn’t going to make it. Like to drowned. The old feller had to jump in and save his dog.”
Cameron pulled the coon back. We slapped hands again. What a hoot.
Ed trotted toward us. “Good job, men. Let’s get out of here. You hungry?”
Me and Cameron hopped down and joined him.
Cameron indicated his charge. “What about the coon?”
“One of the guys will take care of him. They’ll feed and water him. He’s well taken care of.”
Just over Ed’s shoulder I caught a glimpse of a blue pickup that looked too familiar. My heart bounced off the roof of my mouth.
33
The bare bulb above the barn door cast just enough light to enhance shadows and make them darker. Every nook and cranny looked like a bottomless pit that could hold an untold number of spiders and mice.
Cameron sat on a sack of chicken feed. I’d turned over an old wooden box. Jake sat next to me watching my hand as it moved back and forth from my mouth to the box of French fries. I slipped him a bite of meat. He swallowed and licked his chops.
“Cameron, look at Jake. He’s smiling.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Look at him. You ain’t looking. He is too. His teeth are showing.”
“He licked his mouth and his lips got caught in his teeth. That ain’t a smile.”
Cameron reached for his drink and took a big noisy sip. “You scared me to death when you said you saw Dad. That pickup sure looked like his—beat up, rusted and all. The man driving wasn’t fat enough. I knew it wasn’t Dad right off.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Did too.” He shook out another French fry and crunched it. “And you’re still a moron.” He leaned toward me, like I wasn’t paying attention. “And dogs can’t smile.”
Cameron leaned back, stretched out his legs and crossed one foot over the other. “I will say this. Mr. Jordan sure made ole Cowboy eat crow. I’ll never forget the look on his face.”
“Yeah, we’ll see what kind of looks he gives me Monday on the bus.”
The last bite of burger sat on a dozen fries. My apple pie tucked away in my shirt pocket would taste good just before bedtime.
It wasn’t like I planned to make Cameron covet the last of my dinner, but I knew it wouldn’t be but a minute and he’d have his eyes glued in my direction. Saving some, forcing myself to wait, had a measure of satisfaction he’d never understand.
Cameron cleared his throat and sucked at his straw. “I sure enjoyed the dog swimming contest. Who thinks of stuff like that?”
“I don’t know, but you’re right. It was fun to watch.”
“Dad and Momma Ray sure been spending a lot of time on the town or wherever they go. Kind of peaceful lately.”
“Yep, sure is, ain’t it? Ed sure is a hoot to work with. Got all them sayings and stuff. He’s a worker too.” I picked up the bite of cheeseburger and bit it in half.
“Yeah, and he don’t yell—him or Mr. Jordan either one.” Cameron let out a good puff of air. “Would you just eat that already? You nibble at your food like a girl.”
“I don’t either.”
“Yes, you do. Just like Momma Ray even. Like you only got a couple of teeth and they’re top and bottom, but not across from each other. I’m going to quit sitting with you. It’s enough to drive me crazy, watching you pick at your food. I bet ants carried off a French fry and you didn’t even know it, you eat so slow. Might as well give it to me.”
OK, maybe I did take my sweet time to razz him. He sure could run on about it.
Light crossed the doorway. The rattle of Dad’s pickup pulling into the yard followed it. We scrambled to hide the bags and wrappers. Jake took his leave out the back.
One pickup door slammed, then the other. Gravel crunched under heavy, rapid feet. The doorway filled with Dad’s frame. “What are you boys doing in here? Got your chores done?”
Cameron moved a step away from me, his gaze focused to my left. I gave the top of the workbench a quick glance. Dear, Lord, I’d left my drink there.
“No, sir,” I said. “We haven’t done our chores yet. We, we just got home. Ed brought us. Randy Jordan’s sick and Mr. Jordan couldn’t.”
“You didn’t just get home. Don’t lie to me. It’s a mile to the county road, and we ain’t passed a car for five miles.”
“Well, we were talking, that’s all,” Cameron added.
“Where’s my money?”
Cameron laughed.
Dad didn’t even react to it. Just kind of turned his head Cameron’s direction, worked the chaw in his mouth, and stuck out his chest. “You think something’s funny?” He spit. The slime landed at Cameron’s feet.
Cameron looked like he grew an inch taller just before he spoke. “We did all the work. How is it your money?”
Oh, he shouldn’t ought to have said that. The color in Dad’s face rose to a boiling point.
I broke in. “We didn’t get paid. Ed said Mr. Jordan would take care of it Sunday afternoon, after work.”
Dad’s stare moved back to me. His eyes met mine and moved down to my shirt pocket. I remembered the apple pie.
“Where’d you get that?”
I knew what he was talking about, no need to pretend or
play dumb. “Ed bought it for me.”
Then he saw my drink and howled like a coon caught in a trap.
Cameron stepped between me and Dad just as his big right hand left his side, aiming for my head. Cameron took the blow on the shoulder, but he stood his ground.
Then, from out of nowhere it seemed, Dad produced the broken shovel handle I’d used to hold off his old sow. I must have leaned it next to the door. It struck Cameron on the head with a big crack and dropped him like he’d been shot.
Blood splattered, and Cameron fell limp as a dead rabbit. Something screamed at me to run, but I couldn’t. Dad had his eye on me, and still I stood there. Dad didn’t give Cameron so much as a glance, just stepped over him like he would a run-over squirrel on a dirt road.
A scream escaped my lungs without me telling it to, and I sprang for the door. Dad moved quicker than a fat man should, but missed me with his big right hand.
After being in the light of the barn, I couldn’t see a thing. The old yellow washing machine stood right in front of me, the boards for the hen house and the house frame just beyond that. I veered left then cut back right, headed for the woods like the boogieman was on my tail. His breath came in gasps, labored and loud, right on my heels.
From my right, Jake growled and the biggest ruckus I ever heard erupted behind me. Dad went down hard. Air exploded from his lungs. Jake snarled and his teeth snapped. Dad yelped. Jake must have taken a bite. A dull thud sounded, then Jake yelped. Dad got him one with the shovel handle for sure.
Somewhere I found a second wind and hit the timber on the run. Jake passed me on my left and took the lead. My eyes adjusted enough for me to see tree trunks and avoid them, but limbs and leaves slapped and grabbed at my face and clothes. A scream behind made me run harder, the blood rushing in my ears like radio static pulsing to the beat of my churning legs.
We slowed and my wind came back. The land rolled up and down. Rocky slopes, hardwoods, and brush-choked hollers passed as Jake led me on.
The holler where Jake lost his eye lay off to my left, but that wouldn’t do because Dad knew about the old shack back there. And if Cameron had been right about the motorcycle guy, he might be hiding in it.
Oh, Cameron. He had to be dead. My knees burned, scraped from falling. Jake leaned against me. I cried on his neck. My tears like hot coals rolling down my cheeks. My chest squeezed the air from my lungs, so I had no breath to make sound.
The flood ran dry and we sat, Jake to my right, looking at me. “Oh, Jake, I should have killed Dad when I had the chance. Just dumped him out of the boat and drowned him. It would have been easy. But I didn’t, too worried about my own feelings and what God would think. Now, I’ve killed my brother and friend. It’s my fault.”
Jake rose and walked several feet. He looked back at me and took another step. If dogs could talk he would have said, “Follow me, Ty Ray.”
My legs felt heavy as my heart.
Jake took me deeper into the woods, into the dark of night at an easy pace, but before long, sweat washed the tears from my cheeks.
After a time, the smell of mildew drifted across my nose and the air cooled. The damp smell reminded me of our clothes after we washed them in the sink and hung them in our room to dry. The sound of water gurgling came from just in front of me. I caught the shimmer of light off the water.
“Thanks, Jake. You are an angel.”
After drinking our fill, Jake padded over to a big oak tree—its old leaves noisy under his feet—turned a couple of circles, and plopped down.
I sat next to him and he put his head on my lap. My teeth chattered as if something had control of them and set them off without telling me. Cold crept up my back.
Jake didn’t care when I curled up next to him.
My eyes opened, my mind alert. Jake stood a few feet away, looking back the way we’d come.
I jumped and ran, didn’t even wait to see what he saw or smelled.
34
Jake caught me about the time my lungs screamed for air and brought me to a walk. A screech owl cut loose behind us. We both took a peek back.
Might have been a deer or a skunk, even a mountain lion, but taking a chance on Dad finding me would have been foolish. Jake’s boar hairs weren’t standing on end for nothing.
The woods turned a light gray as dawn crept through the trees, revealing hollers choked with brush. Before long the leaves would turn into a rainbow of colors. I made for the ridgeline to my right, topped out, and set a direction for the lighter part of the sky, due east.
Jake turned left.
“Jake, why do you want to go that way? Too hard to walk in a holler, the brush is thick. Stay out of there.” My voice sounded strange and loud. A quick look confirmed that besides bugs, birds and maybe a critter I couldn’t see, no one heard me talking to my dog.
Jake looked at me, and then walked another step north.
“Hey, this way. I don’t want to cross another holler. You’re not listening.” I pointed east.
He ambled down the hill like my opinion was of no value.
“Jake, Jake, wait!” On second thought, east didn’t mean a thing, though town was east, six, seven miles distant. Maybe sunlight drew me that direction.
Walking in the holler wasn’t bad. The slope was gradual, the ground was firm, and the brush was thin. Another little creek crossed our path. Jake would bail off in the water most times, but we followed it until we found a dead tree across a narrow part. The water might have been two feet deep at the most, but walking in soggy shoes had no appeal.
We drank together and moved on.
My new brown shirt had a big tear in the front. A red, sore streak crossed from my bellybutton to my right hipbone. Hadn’t even noticed when it happened or what might have caused it. No telling what I ran through escaping that maniac.
All it took to set him off was the sight of a soda cup. A lit stick of dynamite was more predictable. Cameron’s comment about money hadn’t helped, but Dad always had something in his craw about what we ate and drank, like he was jealous. I remembered the apple pie then and felt my pocket, but it was gone. The ants would be having a feast when they found that this morning.
Thoughts of Cameron caused my heart to ache and tears to form again. I stumbled, stopped and wiped my eyes.
Good thing I had on my old shoes.
“Jake, wait. Where we going? We’re just walking. We need a plan. We got to find someone and tell them about Cameron.” I crawled over a log. “Don’t look back at me like I’m dumb and keep walking. Come.” I raised my voice. “Jake, come.”
He hesitated then walked to me and sat at my feet. “Sometimes you seem to forget I’m the boss. Why are we walking north? There ain’t a thing up that way. Only hills to climb and I’m tired. No hills, you hear me? Come to think on it, I’m hungry.”
Jake’s ears were up and he cocked his head left then right as I talked. “If folks heard me talking to you they’d think I fell off my rocker. They’d send me off to the duck farm.”
Looking around, I realized Jake was right again. We had to go somewhere other than the middle of nowhere. I tried to remember what lay to the north. Our hayfield was north and a little west, but nothing else came to mind.
“All right, let’s keep going, bound to be something ahead of us. But I’m telling you, I ain’t climbing no mountains.”
We walked until forever, it seemed. Looking back looked the same as looking forward, trees and brush and more trees. A doe and her fawn spooked and ran up the ridge, their tails like white flags waving goodbye. Brush and limbs cracked as they broke from cover, but after their first leap, they never made another sound.
Jake stopped and watched them for a second, then walked on. He seemed to know I followed him, since he kept clear of fallen trees and places hard to pass through.
I watched my feet and the ground in front of me. Jake’s rear end tracked left then right, like it wanted to go off on its own but couldn’t.
Jake stopped. Trees
thinned to our front. A big pasture, recently cut, with two long rows of square bales stacked three high to one side. No house in sight, so I stepped into the open and continued walking. The going was easy, the same as walking across a lawn.
Jake went by me like he did when a coon hopped from a tree branch and hit the ground running. A hundred paces away, a rabbit hopped for all he was worth. Jake probably had him in mind for breakfast. The pair disappeared over a rise. Jake gained ground with every stride. The rabbit’s ears were pinned back, and he was giving him a good run.
Jake trotted back minutes later, tongue hanging.
“So, he bested you. Don’t feel bad. He had a head start. You just ran out of pasture, didn’t you?” He got a good scruff on the head. “I wouldn’t help you eat a rabbit, Jake. It’s got to be cooked ’fore I’ll put it in my mouth, and I got no way to make a fire.”
We hit another patch of woods and then a smaller clearing where a trailer house stood. I watched for a minute, circled it to one side, staying back in the trees. No cars and no activity. White sheets and a mix of colors in bath towels hung on a line behind the house. Just beyond that stood a small, blue, plastic swimming pool and a rusty swing set with one seat hanging crooked.
My gaze went from the house to the garden behind it. I’d never been a thief, unless stealing tomatoes out of our own garden counted, but my belly was about to start eating its way out and go find its own food if I didn’t get something in there soon. They wouldn’t miss a few tomatoes or an ear of sweet corn.
“Jake, gardening season’s ’bout over, but maybe there’s something left. Let’s go look.”
Jake followed me this time.
There weren’t but four rows of corn, ten paces long each, and they’d been picked over already. I managed to find two small ears and tucked them in a pocket. Two tomatoes disappeared on the spot, and I took two more for later.
“Jake? Jake, where’d you go? Come.” Jake trotted around the corner of the house with a bone. “Where’d you find that?” His tail wagged twice and we made our way back into the woods.
I found a tree stump to sit on and shucked the corn. “How’s your bone, Jake? Worms been eating this corn I found. Wish I could boil it and put on some butter and salt. That would be the cat’s meow.”