Wild Hearts

by Sharon Sala

  The knot that had filled her belly since she’d heard about her dad eased. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Is everything all right out there otherwise?”

  “Yes, except something tried to get at the chickens last night.”

  “What was it...coyote? Or a fox?”

  “Neither. Way bigger and more aggressive. I think it might be someone’s dog. I shot at it when it lunged at me. Of course I missed, but it did run off.”

  “It attacked you?” The tenderness in Trey’s voice was gone.

  “It tried.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “A year or so ago the sheriff broke up a dogfighting ring somewhere up the mountain. They were tipped off that he was coming and were in the process of disbanding when the authorities rolled up. They’d already let a lot of the dogs loose, and some of the men had already escaped. I’ve heard people complaining about feral dogs, but I never thought to warn you. Please don’t go out in the dark alone again. I’ll come up and see if I can find his trail. We both know animals that were tame and have gone feral are far more dangerous than the wild ones, because they aren’t afraid of us.”

  Dallas sighed. “I will be careful. That’s all I can promise, because I’m not going to go into hiding. This is still my home, and the animals that are mine have every right to expect food and protection. I’ll see you later.”

  She disconnected before he could comment, knowing he wasn’t through arguing his case. Still, she decided to carry the shotgun and her phone when she went out to do chores.

  The morning was chilly, the grass heavy with dew. The cows her dad had been feeding were standing in the back of the lot waiting; their calves at their sides were either nursing or lying down nearby.

  Before she went into the chicken house, she circled the enclosed yard and coop looking for tracks, and when she saw them in the bright light of day, the skin crawled on the back of her neck. The paw prints were huge. She started to take a couple of pictures of one to show Trey and then stopped, looking for something to put beside it for size comparison, but she didn’t have anything with her but the gun and the phone. So she put her foot down beside it and snapped the pictures, then dropped the phone in her pocket and got to work.

  She put scattered feed and scratch out in the yard and then opened the coop, grinning when the hens came running. Once they were out, she went inside to refill their water, then began gathering eggs. A couple of old hens had gone broody and were sitting on the nests, reluctant to give up their eggs. Dallas hated to break the news, but without a rooster in the pen, there was no way those eggs were hatching. She slipped her hand beneath the warm feathers of the first hen, took the egg, put it in the bucket and moved on down the row. The second old hen wasn’t as amiable. She pecked Dallas’s hand as she slipped it under her feathered breast.

  “Ouch, dang it,” Dallas grumbled as she grabbed the egg. She finished gathering, then headed to the barn.

  Just as she was about to step into the egg room, she heard a car coming up the drive and frowned. It was barely 7:00 a.m. But when she saw who it was, she relaxed.

  Larry Sherman was their—her—neighbor about five miles over, and she could pretty much guess why he was making an early call. The man and his wife had six kids, and her dad used to say they came by for eggs so often that the kids must be going through them like a plague of grasshoppers.

  She stepped out into the breezeway and waved. He honked when he saw her and headed down to the barn instead. The tall, skinny redhead who emerged from the truck didn’t look like the forty-something man she knew he was.

  “Dallas! I’m glad I caught you. I expect you know why I’m here.”

  “You need eggs for breakfast.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do,” Larry said. “And the wife and I want to tell you how sorry we are for your daddy’s passing. We are sure gonna miss him.”

  “Thank you, Larry, so will I. How many eggs do you want?”

  “Do you have six dozen to spare?”

  “Yes, and as long as I’m here at the farm, the eggs will be, too, okay? So don’t hesitate to come again when you need them.”

  He smiled. “That’s real good to know. This place just wouldn’t be the same without a Phillips on the land.”

  Dallas hurried into the cooler to get the eggs, then waved as he drove away, but long after he was gone, she kept thinking about what he’d said about having a Phillips on the land. She hated the position she was in. She didn’t want to be the person who abandoned what her ancestors had fought so hard to keep.

  After going back to the house, she finished off the piece of cake from last night and called it breakfast, chasing it with a cup of coffee and two aspirin because her head was throbbing. By the time she was dressed, the pain had dulled enough to cope, and she was putting tablecloths on the kitchen and dining room tables when she heard more cars. That would be Trey and Betsy, she thought, and she was right.

  Trey headed for the house carrying three bags of ice. She opened the door for him and then ran to the back room to open the deep freeze, as well.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, as he dumped the ice and then kissed her on the forehead. “I have more. Be right back.”

  She stood by the freezer, waiting to lift the lid again and thinking about that throwaway kiss. As she waited, she watched Betsy taking charge. Their presence was all she needed to get through this day.

  Trey came back with four more bags. “That’s it. If it’s not enough, they can drink cold tap water.”

  Then he paused, frowned and cupped her cheeks.

  “Oooh, your cold hands feel good,” Dallas said.

  “Are you sick?” he asked.

  “No, just a bad headache. I took something. It’s getting better.”

  “Did you eat?” he asked.

  “Cake.”

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes.

  “And that is exactly what I would have prescribed. You’ll do, girl. I know how tough you are.”

  Betsy’s voice calling from the other room shifted their focus and the moment was gone. All too soon it was time for Dallas to leave, and she found herself struggling against an urge to cry. She was going to have to face everyone, including the distant family members, and she had no intention of explaining to a one of them what she and Trey already knew: that her dad had not killed himself. That would come with the coroner’s official report. This day wasn’t for dissent. It was for remembering the wonderful man he had been.

  She was standing in the living room, looking down the hall at her father’s bedroom and half expecting to see him come running out, yelling that they were all going to be late, when Trey came up behind her. Unaware that he was there, she jumped when he cupped her elbow.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you, but it’s time to go.”

  Dallas took a deep breath and turned around. “I’m ready.”

  Trey hated the sadness in her face. He wanted the right to kiss her, to be that person who put joy in her life, but that wasn’t likely to happen.

  Betsy came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

  “You look stunning, Dallas. That is a beautiful dress. Navy blue does wonders for your blue eyes. And I love the way it flares just above the knees. It has long sleeves, but will you need a jacket?”

  “Since we won’t be at the cemetery, I’ll be fine.”

  Betsy gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then patted her son’s arm.

  “Take good care of our girl. I’ll be here when you two get back.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Trey said, and escorted Dallas out to her car. As soon as she was buckled into the passenger seat, they drove off.

  Trey wanted to distract her, if only for the drive into Mystic, and brought up the subject of the wild dog.

  “So tell me again me about that dog. Could you see what color it was, or tell what breed it might have been?”

  “It was too da
rk. I saw a brief glimpse of it as I swung the flashlight around to shoot, but mostly all I can remember are glowing eyes and big teeth as it snarled.”

  “I sure don’t like knowing we’ve got something like that roaming the area. I need to talk to the locals and see if they’ve seen it, too.”

  “The other day I heard two gunshots somewhere on the back side of the pasture, like high up the mountain. I didn’t see or hear anything more, but maybe other people are having the same trouble I am and shooting at strays. I did take a picture of the paw print this morning. Want to see it?”

  “Yes,” Trey said, and when she pulled the picture up on her phone and handed it to him, he slowed down for a better look. “Is that your shoe?”

  She nodded.

  “Damn it, Dallas! That dog must be huge. Its paw is wider than your foot.”

  “I know. I wish my aim had been better.”

  Trey handed the phone back.

  “It might take a while, but an animal like that has to be taken out of circulation.”

  She put the phone on vibrate and dropped it in her purse.

  “Maybe because I shot at it, it won’t come back. Maybe it’s on another mountain by now.”

  Trey frowned. “I don’t trust maybes to keep you safe.”

  “I’ve been taking care of myself for years now,” she said.

  A muscle jerked at the side of his jaw, but he didn’t comment. It would only cause a fight, and today was not a day for discord.

  Dallas knew the moment she’d said it that it would hurt him, and yet she’d done it. Why? Was she so afraid of her own weakness where he was concerned that she wanted him to be mad at her, because he was easier to deal with that way?

  Coward. That’s what you are, Dallas Ann. You are a coward.

  She took a deep breath and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Trey shrugged. “You always say what you think. I expect no less. Besides, it’s not news how you feel.”

  Dallas felt sick, like she’d failed him all over again. God, would she ever get this right? Why were the choices in life so difficult?

  After that, the ride into Mystic was mostly silent. When they drove up to the church and she saw the number of cars already there, her stomach rolled. “That’s a lot of people.”

  “Your dad was born and raised here. He lived here all his life, and everyone loved him. I’m not surprised.”

  Dallas couldn’t help but think of what had passed her by while she’d been chasing dreams.

  Sunlight bounced off the hood and into her eyes as Trey parked. She turned away from the glare to unfasten her seat belt, and then Trey was at her door, helping her out. She stood for a moment to get her bearings, then slung the strap of her purse across her shoulder and instinctively reached for Trey’s hand.

  “You can do this,” he said softly.

  “Thank you for being here.”

  “I’m always here for you,” he said, and together they walked into the church.

  The pastor was watching for them. He expressed his condolences and then led them into a classroom that had been set aside for family to gather. As soon as they walked in, Dallas was surprised by the number of family members who’d come.

  Trey stepped aside as she began to greet them, although he knew who most of them were. By the time they started into the sanctuary, the church was packed, and there were more than twenty family members accompanying Dallas and Trey.

  As soon as she sat, Trey scooted close, just as she’d known he would, and put his arm across the back of the seat behind her. She would get through this with the comfort of his presence.

  When the pastor began to read the eulogy, Dallas zoned out. She couldn’t believe this was happening again. First her mom, now her dad, and all she could think was, why? Someone sang a song, and while the voice was familiar, she couldn’t remember who it was. She’d been gone too long.

  Then she heard the pastor announce that they were opening the floor up to the congregation and anyone who wanted to say a few words about Dick Phillips was welcome to do so.

  She was curious as to who would choose to speak, and was stunned when two entire rows of people got up and walked together to the front of the room.

  Marcus Silver was the first to speak, quickly explaining their presence.

  “We’re all members of the graduating class of 1980. We grew up with Dick, and we want you to know him as we did, so this is my first memory of him. In first grade, they lined us up alphabetically every time we left the room, which was fine, except I didn’t know my alphabet that well. I soon realized that if I could find where Dickie Phillips was standing, all I had to do was get in line two kids behind him and I would be in the right place. You know...P for Phillips, S for Silver. I told this to Dick once after we were grown, and he started laughing. I asked him what was funny, and he said that he hadn’t known his alphabet, either, and was just following the cute little blonde from the front row.”

  It wasn’t the story so much as the sound of laughter that made Dallas smile. Her dad would have loved this.

  One by one, the others told their own stories, which ranged from trapping a skunk to dissecting frogs in science class. One woman talked about how she’d been driving home during a heavy rain and had got a flat. She said the first person to come by was Dick, and he bailed out of his truck in the downpour and changed it for her. But, she said, no sooner had he finished than it became apparent the spare was also going flat, so even though he was soaking wet, he followed her home to make sure she wasn’t stranded again.

  One after another, classmates and friends stood to tell their stories, and by the time the service was over, there wasn’t a person in the church who wasn’t smiling, and few, if any, tears had been shed.

  Just when Dallas thought the last person had spoken, Trey suddenly gave her hand a quick squeeze, and then stood up and walked to the front. She didn’t know what he was going to say, but it wouldn’t matter. She was already crying.

  Trey took a deep breath. This was going to be hard, but he needed to get this said.

  “Dick Phillips was smart and funny, always ready to help a friend. I never heard him begrudge anything to anyone. But when I was eleven, he became my confidant. I was standing in line at the concession stand during a high school football game when I realized who was behind me. I turned around, introduced myself and told him I loved his daughter. He smiled, shook my hand and said he loved her, too.”

  Dallas heard the laughter behind her, but she was in shock. She had never heard this story.

  Trey was baring his heart and couldn’t look at Dallas for fear of the rejection he would see.

  “After that, every time he saw me, he’d ask if I was being good to his girl, and of course I always said yes, at which time he would thank me and we’d go our separate ways. The year we graduated high school, he stopped by the farm one day and asked me to take a ride with him, which I did. We didn’t go anywhere in particular. He just needed to talk. He said his girl was going away to college, and he was worried. He said he’d counted on me all those years to take care of her when he wasn’t around, but now she was going to be on her own, and he was scared for her.”

  Dallas was stunned. She’d been unaware that her father had been troubled by her leaving, and she was also in disbelief that he and Trey had shared such a close relationship and she’d never known.

  “Anyway, I listened to him talk as we drove up and down the mountain, and finally, as we headed home, he got real quiet. I didn’t really know what to say to make him feel better, except to tell him the truth. I told him that the truth about Dallas Ann was that she didn’t need anyone to take care of her, and that he shouldn’t worry when she left, because she would never forget the way home.”

  Dallas choked on a sob, and Trey heard it.

  “Dick Phillips was a good man and a good father, and I called him my friend. We are all better for having known him, and he is going to be missed.”

 
He sat back down beside Dallas and took her hand without looking at her. The preacher was talking, informing those in attendance that a meal would be served at the Phillips farm and that anyone who didn’t know where it was should just follow the line of cars heading out of town. But Trey was barely listening. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst. He’d bared his soul in front of the town in honor of a man who’d meant the world to him, even knowing full well Dallas would reject him again.

  When the preacher stepped down from the pulpit, he stopped at the first pew, waiting for Dallas and the family to get up and follow him out. Still holding her hand, Trey went with her.

  Dallas was silent as he escorted her to the car. As soon as he got in and started in the direction of her farm, he began talking—saying anything to keep from having that talk.

  “I think the idea to hold a memorial service was brilliant, honey. That will be what people remember when they think of him, and not how he died. It was amazing how his classmates joined together like that. It was a thumbnail sketch of his life from the age of six and all through their years together in school. What you need to remember is how people thought of him, what they thought of him. It was all good stuff.”

  Before Dallas could speak, Trey’s cell phone rang.

  “Damn it. It’s the police station. I told them not to call unless the place was on fire.”

  He was negotiating a particularly narrow part of the road and put the phone on speaker because he needed both hands to drive.

  “Hello?”

  The dispatcher’s voice was frantic, and both Trey and Dallas were immediately alarmed.

  Trey had to interrupt twice to get the man to calm down enough for them to understand what he was saying.

  “Now...say that again. Did you say someone broke into the jail?”

  “No, no,” the dispatcher said. “I said a skunk got into the jail. I think Dwight left the back door open while he was carrying out garbage yesterday evening. The skunk came in and spent the night. We just arrested Dooley again for public intoxication, and when they went to lock him up, the skunk objected.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Trey said. “Did he spray everything?”