Amanda's Beau (25 page)
Authors: Shirley Raye Redmond
"Maybe Bonita was trained to be a hunting dog," Gil suggested. "If so, Rex could train her not to kill the chickens. She seems smart enough." He dreaded to think of the grief Rex would experience if he lost his pet. First his father and then his dog? It wasn't fair. The world was a hard place sometimes, and he didn't want to make it any tougher than it already was for young Rex Stewart.
Amanda placed a cup of coffee in front of her sister too. "Can you do some kind of test to see if Bonita is a trained hunting dog?" she asked, turning hopeful eyes upon him.
Ella eagerly pursued the point. "Yes, Mr. Gladney, can you do something? Perhaps you could take her out among the hens to see if she lunges after them? See if she'll obey your command to stay."
There was a pause. Gil asked, "What happens if she fails the test?"
Amanda and Ella exchanged glances. With a ragged sigh, Ella said, "I guess you'll have to shoot the dog. There's no cure for blood lust, and I can't afford to have her kill any more hens. Rex will just have to understand. Maybe we could find him a puppy somewhere." Her eyes appeared haunted with doubt.
"This is terrible!" Amanda said drearily. "I wish there was something else we could do."
Gil sipped his coffee and thought about Rex. The boy had been sorely disappointed earlier in the morning when he learned Nate would soon be leaving town with most of the artifacts. Rex admired Nate and had enjoyed working at the site. The archeologist's departure would be another disappointment to cope with.
Ella rose and left the kitchen. She returned with a shotgun, thrusting it toward him with bitter resignation.
"If I have to shoot her, Rex is not going to be happy with me, with any of us," he said, taking the gun reluctantly.
"Maybe we could tell him she ran away?" Ella proposed. Her eyes blazed briefly with a mixture of hope and despair.
Amanda shook her head. "No, I think we should tell him the truth. Don't you?"
"I do," Gil agreed. "It won't be pleasant or easy. But we can't lie to the boy. If I shoot his dog, I'm going to be man enough to admit it."
"All right, Mr. Gladney," Ella said, in a tired, small voice. "Do what you have to do."
"I just hope we're doing the right thing, becauseâ¦" Gil shrugged and let the sentence hang. He shifted his gaze to Amanda's face. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Setting his empty cup on the table, Gil opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the porch. "Bonita, good dog. C'mon, girl."
The dog wagged her stiff broken tail as if it were a baton and followed him outside. Gil had a bad feeling about this. He'd never shot a dog before. Squirrels, rabbits, and a deer once, but never a dog â someone's beloved pet. It cut him to the quick just thinking about it. Of course, he could understand why Amanda and her sister didn't want to ask Rex to do it. What an unbearable task for any boy, let alone one as emotionally vulnerable as Rex. He paused briefly to see if the gun was loaded. Glancing at Bonita, he acknowledged she was no beauty, but Rex loved her. That's what mattered.
Watching the shaggy red dog as she trotted along beside him, Gil felt deep in his bones Bonita was fine, that she didn't have blood lust. She had none of the usual signs. She didn't snarl or bark without cause. She didn't seem easily agitated. Still, one couldn't be sure. He'd heard sad tales about animals with blood lust attacking their owners. It happened. A while back, he'd heard about a sheep dog killing a flock of merinos for no apparent reason. Once, when he was a kid in Indiana, a neighbor's German shepherd had snatched a toddler at a family picnic and run off into the woods with her. The animal had been put down on the spot. Thankfully, the child had been more frightened than hurt â her frilly layers of clothing having provided some protection against the animal's sharp teeth.
Gil shuddered just thinking about something awful happening to little Minnie. The trash heap where he and Rex had burned the hens killed in the hailstorm yesterday still smoldered. He could smell the pungent odor of burned poultry and feathers. The hens within the fenced yard clucked nosily. He was trying to decide the best way to test the dog, as Amanda had suggested, when Bonita stopped, becoming rigid and alert. She growled, low and deep at the back of her throat. Gil's heart raced. Was she growling at the fussy hens? Or was there something sneaking along the fence? Hunched low, the dog darted around the corner of the fenced chicken yard.
His curiosity aroused, Gil followed quickly. "Where are you going, girl?" Bonita barked an alarm and broke into a run. It was obvious now the dog was in pursuit of something. Gil tightened his grip on the shotgun and ran after her. Despite the chill in the air, he could feel sweat beading across his forehead and along his upper lip. His hands became moist and clammy.
"Get it, Bonita! Go get it, girl!" he commanded.
Bonita didn't need encouragement. She let out a howl of pursuit and started running, her broken tail rigid with excitement. Gil soon saw what she was chasing: a gray fox â a big one. He recognized its grizzled coat, the long black stripe along its back, and the black tip on its bushy tail. It appeared much larger than the foxes back East. Although he quickened his pace, Gil realized there was no way he could catch up with the running dog. She was just too fast. As he darted after Bonita and her prey, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a solitary grave with a simple cross for a marker underneath the shade of a cottonwood tree to the left. Randall Stewart's grave, he guessed. Bonita's barking became fiercer as she chased the fox to a rocky outcrop and cornered it there. Gil came panting up behind her.
"Good girl," he praised her. The fox fixed them with its beady black eyes and snarled, revealing scissor-sharp teeth. Instinctively, Gil knew this animal had been the culprit all along, not Bonita. Ella Stewart's chickens wouldn't have had a chance against a fox like this one â quick, cunning and opportunistic. The creature had backed up on the ledge as far as it could go with no means of escape. Bonita lunged and growled. Gil swiped the back of his hand across his sweaty lip. Then he raised the gun and fired.
****
"Mandy, are we doing the right thing?" Ella choked out the words.
Amanda felt torn between staying with her fretful sister and running after Gil. Poor Gil. She'd seen the uncertainty and dread in his eyes as he walked out the door with the gun in his hands and Bonita at his heels. It didn't seem right to ask him to do this hard thing, this truly hard thing, without moral support.
Ella began to cry. Her frail body shook with sobs. Amanda placed a hand on her sister's shoulder. She could feel the sting of unshed tears in her own eyes. Poor Ella. Poor Rex. She didn't even want to think about how devastated the boy would be when he came home to discover his dog was dead.
"Stop now, Ella. Don't cry," Amanda pleaded. "Maybe Gil won't have to shoot the dog after all. Maybe⦠maybe she'll pass the test. Like he said, Bonita might be a trained hunting dog. If that's the case, she can be trained to leave chickens alone. Let's not give up hope."
Ella sniffed and nodded, fishing around in her apron pocket for a clean handkerchief.
"If Randall were alive, what would he do?" Amanda asked. "Would he shoot Bonita, not knowing any more than what we know?"
"I think so," Ella said, shrugging a shoulder uncertainly. "He wouldn't want to take chances â not with a baby in the house. But he'd have been extra watchful as soon as he noticed the dead hens. He probably would have set a trap for the predator." After a moment's reflection, she added, "I'm sure he would have done that â set a trap."
Amanda plopped down into the chair Gil had vacated. She glanced at his empty coffee cup and toyed with the idea of pouring one for herself. She wasn't sure she'd be able to swallow a single sip. The lump in her throat was too big and tight. "It's my fault," she admitted with dreary resignation. "I should have been more diligent. As soon as Rex told me about the dead hens, I should have done something."
Ella cried out, "No, Mandy! It's not your fault. I don't want you to think that for a minute! You've been shouldering more than your share of responsibility around here. You mustn't blame yourself."
Before Amanda could respond, she heard the clatter of heavy boots on the steps outside. The door was flung open and Rex announced, "I'm home, and guess what? Mr. Phillips brought me here in Atalanta. He's in the old shed packing up stuff to take with him on the train. He's heading back East, but he's going to pay the rent on the shed all winter, Mama. How about that? Whose horse is tied to the post? Looks like Mr. Gladney's. Is it? Is Mr. Gladney here too?"
Rex paused to catch his breath. When he noticed his mother's tear-stained face, he frowned. He shifted his gaze from Ella's face to Amanda's. "What's the matter?" he demanded.
Feeling suddenly queasy, Amanda placed a hand on her churning stomach.
"Mama, what's wrong?" he repeated.
Ella rose from her chair at the table and held out a hand to him. "Rex, son, why don't you sit down." Rex didn't move a muscle.
"Is it Minnie?" His eyes widened. His voice sounded small and frightened.
"No, Minnie is fine. She's sound asleep in the other room," Amanda hastened to reassure him.
"Then what is it?"
"There's been⦠some trouble," Ella began. "We should have mentioned it sooner," she glanced at Amanda, "but it's my fault because I didn't want to tell you."
"Does it have something to do with Mr. Gladney?" Rex asked, the frown knitted more tightly across his brow.
"Not exactly," Amanda said. She rose from her chair and urged Rex to take it. She reached for his hand and tugged him forward.
The boy glanced at the chair and then glanced up, alarmed, as though a sudden, unpleasant thought had come to mind. "Where's Bonita?"
The blast of a shotgun sounded in the distance. Amanda felt Rex jerk beneath her casual grip. "What was that?" he exclaimed.
Ella clutched at him. "Rex, stay here," she pleaded.
Rex didn't wait for an answer. With a twist and a yank, he broke loose, dashing out the door.
"No, Rex! Don't go!" Ella called after him as she hurried out the door.
"It's too late," Amanda said, joining her on the porch. With her heart pounding, she slipped an arm around her sister's waist, waiting for the deluge of tears she feared would come. But Ella didn't cry. She merely stared off in the direction the shot came from. The slight quaking of Ella's body was the only indication of the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.
Glancing over at the shed, Amanda noted the bright red automobile and wondered if Nate Phillips would soon come striding over to inquire about the shotgun blast. She hoped not. She was in no mood to listen to his glib conversation or wrangle words with him.
Ella grabbed her hand.
"Mandy, listen! Did you hear that?" Her voice was low and tense.
"Hear what?" Amanda asked.
"Listen."
Amanda listened. She felt the increased pressure as Ella squeezed her hand more tightly. She thought she heard⦠no, surely she imagined it. Could it be?
"Ella! It's a dog barking!"
"Bonita!" Ella cried out with a rush of breathlessness.
Before Amanda could release herself from her sister's grip, she heard another sound â this time the distinctive wailing of a baby. "Minnie's awake," she announced. "You take care of the baby. I'm going to find Gil and see what on earth has happened."
She lifted her skirts, scampering down the steps as fast as her wobbly legs could carry her. She'd heard the shotgun blast earlier and now the barking of a dog. If Gil hadn't shot Bonita, what had he been shooting at? She raced past the sprawling chicken house, ignoring the stink and cackle of noisy hens. Her pulse raced, seeming to keep the same rhythm as her pounding feet.
Rex hurried to meet her, his face aglow. Bonita's long tongue trailed from her mouth. She wriggled and panted with excitement at his heels. Gil followed behind them both. In one hand, he carried the shotgun. In the other, he grasped a large dead fox by the tail.
"He got it, Aunt Mandy! He got it!" Rex declared.
"I can see," she replied, clasping her hands together with joyous relief. She felt rather fluttery, both from running and emotional fatigue. When Amanda fixed her gaze intently on Gil's triumphant face, he arched his brows.
"Bonita found your chicken killer," he announced. Amanda could hear the relief in his voice and see it reflected in his smiling eyes.
"Ain't it huge, Aunt Mandy?" Rex asked, wriggling almost as much as the excited dog.
"Isn't it huge?" Gil corrected him.
Rex beamed. "Isn't it? Isn't it the biggest fox you've ever seen?"
"It is indeed," Amanda agreed, laughing.
"Heavy rascal too," Gil added.
Holding out her hands, Amanda said, "I'll take the gun, Gil, and put it back where it belongs over the fireplace mantle. You can take your prize to the porch. I know Ella will be delighted to see it."
"Bonita's prize," Gil amended. Rex shot him a glowing look of gratitude. "She chased it down to the rocky outcrop past the cottonwood tree. After she cornered the creature, I shot it."
"I'll bet this old fox has been killing our chickens all along," Rex put in.
Amanda and Gil exchanged a glance. "You know, as big as this fellow is, he'd have to eat every day. It was easy pickings here â so many chickens in one place," Gil pointed out.
"Until Rex nailed a couple of boards over the opening underneath the chicken wire," Amanda put in. "Soon Mr. Fox had to find another way to get at the hens."
Ella stood waiting for them on the porch with Minnie, cocooned in blankets, cradled in her arms. "My, what a fine looking fox, Mr. Gladney," she observed with a broad smile. "Is that our chicken killer?"
"Most certainly it is, Mrs. Stewart," Gil said. "I don't think you need trouble yourself any more about the matter. Bonita took care of it." He placed the carcass on the porch, stretching it out to its full length.
"Could I trouble you, Mr. Gladney, to skin it? I could use the fur to trim the collar and cuffs of my old black wool coat," Ella explained. Turning to Rex, she added, "Unless you wanted it for something, son."
Rex shook his head. "No, Mama, you can have it. Bonita agrees, don't you, girl?" He crinkled the dog's ears between his fingers.
After carrying the gun into the house, Amanda came back out on the porch and said, "You know, I've been saving a ham bone for soup, but I think Bonita deserves a special reward, don't you?" When Rex nodded vigorously, she added, "Come in and get it. You can give it to her."
Rex followed Amanda into the kitchen. When she handed him the bone, he asked, "So what were you and Mama so grim-faced about when I came in a while ago?"
Wiping her hands on her apron, Amanda replied thoughtfully, "We knew Mr. Gladney and Bonita had gone⦠hunting."
"So?" Rex tilted his head to one side, puzzled.
"Well, anything can happen you know," she pointed out. "What if the fox had attacked Bonita? What if the fox had had rabies?" In a whisper, she added, "Like the skunk at the ruins yesterday."
Rex opened his mouth to say something and shut it again. After a while he said, "Guess you were worried about Bonita and Mr. Gladney too."
Amanda nodded slowly. "Yes, we were worried."
"But it's all over now, Aunt Mandy," he said, his eyes glowing.
She hugged him. "You're right. Now give the ham bone to Bonita. She's a good, good dog."
"Don't I know it," he replied, grinning.
Rex hurried back out to the porch and teased the dog a bit with the meaty ham bone before leading her on a merry chase across the yard toward the shed.
"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Gladney," Ella said as soon as Rex was out of hearing distance. "I'm so relieved things turned out the way they did."
"So am I, ma'am. I didn't relish the idea of shooting the boy's dog," Gil confessed. "Now I need to take some measurements so I can get the pane replaced in the kitchen window. Later I'll skin the fox for you down at the shed."
"I feel like celebrating," Ella announced, looking down at the baby. "Open the door for me, would you, Mandy? Do we have any molasses left?"
Amanda opened the door and followed Ella inside. "Yes, we do. Why?" she asked.
"I think I'll make a shoofly pie."
"Now, Ella, I don't want you taxing your strength," Amanda told her with a cautious glance. "You've had a tiring day."
"Yes, but it's a special day too, isn't it?" she asked, her eyes aglow.
"Well⦠er⦠yes," Amanda agreed. "We survived yesterday's storm and the chicken thief is dead and Bonita is safe."
Ella eyed her curiously. "Anything else?" she asked.
Amanda blinked. "Like what?"
Shrugging, Ella laughed. "Okay, have it your way. I'm going to make the pie as soon as I give Minnie her bottle, and I want you to ask Mr. Gladney to stay for supper. You can ask Mr. Phillips too, if you want."
Blushing, Amanda made her escape before Ella could ask her any more awkward questions. She joined Gil out on the porch where he measured the window, making marks with a piece of charcoal on a length of twine. "When Rex got home, before he went running after you, he told us Mr. Phillips is packing up to leave town next week," she said. "Rather sudden, isn't it?"
"The storm forced him to change his plans," Gil replied. "He's got a real mess on his hands at the site. By the time he gets everything back to the way it was, winter weather will be setting in, and he'll have to call a halt to the excavation anyway. So, he's calling it quits for the year."
"What a shame," Amanda said. "I hope he isn't too disappointed."
"He is," Gil told her, "but he'll get over it. Besides, he's going to be too busy to mope. He's got to pack up the artifacts and supervise the men in securing the site."
"What do you mean?" Amanda asked, watching him tuck the twine and charcoal into his coat pocket.
"They have to put all the dirt back," Gil said, brushing off his hands.
"What?" Amanda asked, astonished. "Seems like such a waste of time and money."
Gil gave her a wry smile. "I know. But that's the way they do it. It's actually the best way to preserve the site until you can come back and do it thoroughly." He took a step closer. Her heart quickened its pace. "Will you⦠miss him?"
"Not particularly," she admitted. "I do wish he'd found some pictographs though." Gil chuckled, and Amanda felt her heart flutter. Shyly, she asked, "Will you take a short walk with me? I have something wonderful I want to tell you about."
"All right," he agreed, smiling tenderly. "But bring a shawl. It's getting chilly out here."
She rushed back into the kitchen and swiped a shawl off the back of the chair. "I'm going for a walk," she informed Ella, who was warming the baby's bottle on the stove.
"Alone?" Ella asked, her eyes dancing.
"With Gil," Amanda admitted, blushing. She hurried outside where Gil waited patiently. He stood watching Nate and Rex loading something into the back of the bright red automobile.
"Let's go this way," Amanda said, pointing in the opposite direction, away from the old storage shed. She didn't want to run into Rex or Nate Phillips now. She had something important to share with Gil and didn't want any interruptions. "Show me where you found the fox."
Gil took her hand. Together, they walked in companionable silence to the small rocky outcrop where Bonita had cornered the fox. "Is Randall Stewart buried there?" Gil asked as they passed the grave beneath the old cottonwood tree.
Amanda nodded.
"Have you told your sister about us yet?" he asked.
"No, but Ella already has her suspicions."
Gil chuckled again; his eyes alight with amusement. "She does?"
"Indeed, she does."
"Do you really want to see the spot where I shot the fox?" he asked.
"No," Amanda confessed. "I have some wonderful news to share with you, and I don't want anyone else to know about it yet."
Gil stopped. Amanda stopped too. "You're going to tell me you love me," he said softly, pulling her close.
