Banjo

by Graham Salisbury

  36

  Less than a quarter mile from Dr. Clarke’s veterinary clinic, Danny and Tyrell walked into the service bays at Tyrell’s job, Danny carrying Ruby like a football.

  “Hey, Spike,” Danny said.

  Spike grinned. “Is that fur ball real or stuffed?”

  “Meet Ruby,” Danny said. “She’s mean, so keep your greasy fingers to yourself.”

  “That ain’t a dog,” Spike said, taking Ruby from him. “It’s a flea off of one.”

  Everett called out, “Is that a border collie?”

  Danny nodded. “Purebred.”

  The rest of the guys came over and took turns holding the pup, whispering to her, cooing, and Ruby licked their blackened fingers and smiling faces.

  “Here,” Danny said, taking Ruby back. “I want to show Ann.”

  Ann flew around the counter. “A puppy! What’s its name?”

  “Ruby.”

  “I love that name! You’re not going to make her stay in Tyrell’s truck, are you?”

  “Nope. I’ll show you.”

  Danny took the pup out to the service bay and turned a big truck tire on its side. He tossed in some paper and clean rags and set Ruby on top of them. “The Goodyear Hotel.”

  “She needs water,” Ann said.

  “I’ll get it,” Danny said. “Hey, listen. My dad and I are entered in the Madras rodeo this Saturday. How’d you like to come see us rope?”

  “I’d like that, Danny, really. But I’m not so much into—”

  “Come on, it’s gonna be great. You’ll like it.”

  She peeked around him toward the service bays. “Is Tyrell going?”

  “Yep.”

  “Does he compete, too?”

  “Nope. But he helps with the horses and checks out the girls.”

  “Figures.”

  “We’ll pick you up at seven. And wear a hat. It’ll be hot.”

  Ann smiled and hooked her arm under his. “Can’t wait, cowboy.”

  37

  The name Dr. Clarke got from the microchip database was Steven Diaz of Portland, Oregon. But when they called his number, it was disconnected.

  Dr. Clarke suggested that Meg place an ad in The Oregonian and call every Steven Diaz she could find in the Portland phone directory.

  “He should have called and updated his file,” she said. “Sometimes people forget the most important things.”

  Back home, Meg sat in the kitchen with her laptop, went online, and called the five “Steven Diaz” numbers she found.

  Zero.

  No one knew anything about a dog named Banjo.

  Then she called everyone with the last name of Diaz.

  Still nothing.

  She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head down.

  “What’s up, squirt?” Jacob grabbed a chair, turned it around, and straddled it. “Something about the dog?”

  Meg sat up and rubbed her face. “Now I know what ‘needle in a haystack’ means.” She told him about the vet, the chip, and all the people she’d called.

  Jacob smiled. “Back to Google. Let’s try Beaverton.”

  One Steven Diaz listing. Meg called it. Nothing.

  “Maybe he moved. Let’s go across the river and try Vancouver.”

  One popped up.

  Meg punched in the number. “Uh…is this Mr. Steven Diaz?”

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  “Um…my name is Meg Harris. I live in Sisters, in central Oregon.”

  “Ah, Sisters. Been through there a thousand times. What can I do for you?”

  “I think I found your dog…I mean he was lost, and hurt…I found him when I was out riding—”

  “Wait, wait, hold on. I don’t have a dog. You sure you got the right number?”

  “Well, I got the name Steven Diaz from a dog ID on a microchip. His name is Banjo.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah…Banjo…I found that dog out on the road.”

  Meg turned to Jacob and gave him a smile and a thumbs-up.

  Steven Diaz went on. “He wasn’t more than a pup. Got nicked by a car, so I took him home to heal, then gave him to another trucker who had a small ranch out near Redmond. But that was a while back. Where’s the dog now?”

  “Here with me. In Sisters. We just took him to the vet.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “He was. But he’ll be okay.”

  “What’d you say your name was?”

  “Meg Harris.”

  “Hang on, Meg. I’ll be right back.” The phone clanked down. Meg could hear drawers opening and closing.

  “I must have lost the guy’s number when we moved,” he said, picking up the phone. “The dog was for his son. Nice kid. I met him with his dad once, over in Bend.”

  “He lives in Redmond?”

  “Near Redmond. I wonder how he lost the dog.”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Banjo’s the sweetest, gentlest animal in the history of four-legged creatures.”

  “I like his name,” Meg said.

  Steven Diaz chuckled. “I named him in honor of Earl Scruggs, the best banjo player of his time. So listen, Meg. Give me your number, and I’ll call you if I find that boy’s information.”

  She gave him her number. “What’s the boy’s name, Mr. Diaz?”

  “His dad’s name is Ray. Don’t know the boy’s. Can’t recall the last name, either. But it’ll come to me.”

  After she hung up she looked at Jacob. “Banjo belongs to a boy in Redmond. His dad’s name is Ray. That’s all I got.”

  “Good enough to start asking questions.”

  38

  WEDNESDAY

  The next morning Meg and Jacob made a lost-dog sign and twenty copies. They drove east and nailed them up, beginning over in Redmond and ending up back in Sisters. Maybe the mystery boy would see one.

  “Don’t hope for too much from this, Meg,” Jacob said.

  “Why not?”

  “If this kid lost his dog, wouldn’t he be the one putting up the flyers?”

  39

  Danny called the animal shelter and checked the paper.

  Nothing new.

  Banjo just vanished.

  He found Tyrell in his room, getting ready to go to Bend on his day off. “You have to drive me back to Camp Sherman, just one last time.”

  Tyrell shook his head. “It’s been five days. He’s long gone. You got to let this go.”

  “I can’t. I have to know if someone found him.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “This is nuts.”

  But Tyrell took him to Camp Sherman anyway. One last time.

  If anyone knew anything, it would be at the store.

  Zero. Zip. No found dogs.

  They drove back through Sisters slowly, looking for signs tacked to telephone poles. They checked Ray’s Grocery at the far end of town, then worked their way east.

  They read every sign they came across.

  Nothing about a dog.

  They stopped at stores and asked. Came up empty.

  Maybe Banjo was dead. Maybe coyotes got him. Or he hooked up with a pack of feral dogs.

  “Got to get you home,” Tyrell said.

  But just outside of Sisters, they saw a girl tacking a piece of paper to a fence post. Then she jumped into a Jeep that took off toward town.

  The guy at the wheel glanced at them as he passed.

  “He look familiar?” Tyrell said.

  “No, but pull over. Let’s see what they put up.”

  Danny jumped out and read it.

  Medium sized black and white dog found near Camp Sherman.

  Tag says “Banjo.”

  There was a na
me, Meg Harris.

  And a phone number.

  Danny’s heart slammed in his chest. Banjo was alive! He wanted to race after the Jeep, catch up and tell them, That’s my dog! Where is he? Can I see him? Can I take him home?

  He ripped the sign off the post and jammed it into his pocket.

  40

  When Meg and Jacob got home from tacking up the lost-dog signs, they found a note taped to the fridge in the kitchen.

  Meg—there’s a message for you on the answering machine.

  Meg hit the play button.

  “Meg, this is Steven Diaz in Vancouver. It finally came to me. The kid’s name is Danny Mack. I hope that helps. Let me know how this plays out, will you? You have my number. Thanks.”

  “I know that name,” Jacob said. “Danny Mack.”

  “You know him?”

  Jacob squinted, thinking. “If it’s the same guy…there’s this rodeo kid named Danny Mack, kind of a genius roper I read about in the paper. I think he’s about thirteen, fourteen. Something like that.”

  “The one I’m looking for lives near Redmond.”

  Jacob shrugged. “Call him. Or better, there’s an open rodeo over in Madras this weekend. I’d bet nags to purebreds he’ll be in it. He’s kind of a crowd-pleaser, because he’s a kid and so good. You can ask him face to face.”

  Meg’s stomach turned, as if she were too close to finding something she didn’t want to find. She realized how attached she’d become to Banjo.

  And what if this kid really had abandoned him? Would he get angry at her for bringing Banjo back? Would he deny the dog was his? Or would he fake how glad he was to have found Banjo, then take him away and do it all over again?

  Meg jumped when the phone rang.

  Jacob picked it up. “Hey, Dex, what’s up?”

  Meg started to leave.

  Jacob grabbed her arm. “Dex wants to talk to you.”

  She grabbed the phone. “What?” she said.

  “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

  “Friend? You shot at my cat.”

  “Yeah, well, I wanted to apologize for that.”

  “Who is this? Not the Dex I know, that’s for sure.”

  Dex laughed. “You’re right. But the other Dex is truly sorry and promises he won’t do it again.”

  “Good.” Meg hung up.

  41

  When Danny got home he gave Ruby some water, let her out, and pulled the lost-dog sign from his pocket. What do I do?

  “Be back later,” Tyrell said. He nodded to the lost-dog sign. “Good luck with that.”

  “Hey…thanks for taking me today.”

  “Where should I send the bill?”

  Danny grunted. “Send it to Billy Brodie.”

  He picked up the phone to call Meg Harris.

  Then put it down.

  What would he say? And did he want to take such a risk? If he got Banjo back, then what? Wouldn’t it be better to just let it be?

  The phone rang.

  Danny stared at it. What if it was Mr. Brodie? What if he’d been up to Sisters and had seen one of the girl’s signs?

  What if, what if, what if?

  He let it go to voice mail.

  Then listened to it.

  “Ray, it’s Harmon. Would you give me a call when you get in? I’d appreciate it.”

  Danny’s gut felt like a volcano. What did he want?

  Maybe it wasn’t about Banjo.

  And maybe it was.

  He had to take those signs down. Today!

  Ruby started yapping outside.

  Danny jammed the sign into his pocket and looked out the window. No Ruby.

  He went out. Sounded like she was somewhere behind the barn. When he spotted her, he shouted, “Ruby! Get away from there!”

  She’d raised a rattlesnake.

  “Ruby! Come here!”

  Danny ran up, then slowed, not wanting to trigger the snake. Ruby backed off, still yapping.

  The rattler was standing tall in the weeds, ready to strike.

  Danny grabbed Ruby and stumbled back, hands trembling. Snakes didn’t scare him, but the thought of losing Ruby did. He tossed a rock at the rattler to chase it away before it slithered into the barn.

  Danny put Ruby in the house and shut the door tight. He grabbed his bike and raced out to the road. If Mr. Brodie came over, he didn’t want to be there.

  He headed to Sisters.

  He’d take the signs down. All of them.

  It was a long ride. He pumped until his thighs burned and still kept going.

  “Ahhh!” he shouted into the stillness of the country road. If he didn’t get his life back soon, his performance at the rodeo would be a disaster. And he’d take Dad down with him.

  He was beat when he finally got to Sisters. He bought a cold bottle of water, then scoured the town, trying not to look sneaky. He took down every “Banjo” sign he could find.

  They were all over the place.

  He rode up and down the two main streets, searching until he’d gotten them all.

  Maybe.

  42

  The sky was turning purple black by the time he got home.

  Tyrell was still gone. And Dad.

  He took Ruby and headed out toward a high knoll where he could see the road coming up to the house. Along the way, he angled over to the ridge that looked down onto the Brodie place. What happened that night? Why would Banjo dig under the fence to chase sheep? What would cause him to do that when he never had before? Was there really a pack of wild dogs?

  It didn’t make sense.

  Danny was about to head back over to the knoll when he kicked something in the grass. He bent to pick it up.

  An empty beer bottle.

  He raised it to his nose. It hadn’t been out there long.

  Beer? Who drank beer?

  He looked around for more but didn’t find any. He took the bottle back to the barn so one of the steers or horses wouldn’t kick it and cut up its feet.

  When he came back out, he saw Ruby running down to the trees where the horses were. He whistled for her to come back, but she kept on going. She’d be safe over there.

  He strode over to the knoll, thinking he had to call Meg Harris. If he didn’t, she’d probably keep putting up signs, and sooner or later Mr. Brodie was bound to see one.

  Danny looked back when he heard the growl of a truck.

  Headlights coming up the drive.

  Dad.

  Danny whistled and waved, got a horn tap back.

  The time had come. Something needed to change. He had to tell the truth about Banjo. If he didn’t, and Dad found out from someone else, the whole mess would explode into something worse than it already was.

  The lies end here.

  Dad got out of the truck, reached in, got a paper bag, and headed to the knoll.

  He scrambled up the rock and sat next to Danny.

  In the west, a long thin layer of red cut under dark clouds on the horizon. The mountains silhouetted below looked like the edge of a saw.

  Danny stalled, wanting a few more minutes of feeling good before blowing his dad’s trust to shreds. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Take a look. It’s for you.”

  Danny peeked in. “Yes!” He threw the bag aside and cradled the new Bushnell riflescope. It was heavy and smooth. “Perfect. Thanks!”

  “Thought you should have one for the Winchester.”

  Danny pulled off the lens protectors and put the scope to his eye. “Wow,” he said. “You can make out the lettering on the mailbox, even in this light.”

  “With that you’ll see the hair on an elk’s ear.”

  “Great, Dad, just great.”

  Dad nodded toward the gully. �
�I see she’s getting the lay of the land.”

  Danny whistled, and Ruby looked up. “Come here, girl.”

  She bounded toward them, and Danny lifted her into his lap. “She almost shook hands with a rattler today, out behind the barn.”

  “You shoot it?”

  “Chased it away.”

  He had to remember to check and see if the snake had come back, and if it had, chase it away again. Or else capture it and take it way out into the rocks. Shooting it would solve the problem, but Danny didn’t want to kill it. They ate rodents and diggers.

  Dad reached over and let Ruby lick his fingers. “Mr. Brodie’s a stand-up guy, bringing you this pup.”

  Danny nodded.

  “You out here thinking about Banjo again?”

  Danny stroked Ruby’s head. “It’s like a nightmare I can’t wake from.”

  “You’ve got to get over it, Danny. Things like this happen in the country.”

  Danny nodded.

  They got up and walked toward the house. Dad put his arm around Danny’s shoulder and tugged him close. “That all that’s bothering you, son?”

  Tell him.

  “Dad I…I…just tired, is all.”

  “Turn in early. We’ve got a big weekend coming up. We need you rested with a clear mind. I hope you haven’t let up on your practice.”

  He’d let up way more than he should have. But he had two days left to make up for it. “I’ve tossed a rope some, but I need to spend more time with Pete.”

  “I’m here most of the day tomorrow and Friday morning. We’ll run some drills.”

  “Tyrell’s got work, but maybe I can get Ricky to come over.”

  “If he can’t, we’ll make do.”

  Dad looked up at the night sky, now starting to speckle with stars. “What an evening.”

  The phone rang inside the house.

  “I’ll get it.” Danny ran in.

  “Hello? This is Danny.”

  “Your dad home? I’d like to talk with him.”

  Mr. Brodie.

  43

  THURSDAY

  It got hot early the next day.

  By nine o’clock, Danny and Tyrell had worked up a sweat out in the pasture working on the stump. Dad had to make a run to town, but was always ready with something they could do around the place. “We’re never going to get that stump out if we don’t keep digging at it,” he’d said.