Part of Me (6 page)

Blue stood between them, panting. Merle Henry slipped his hand in his pocket and gave Blue another piece of beef jerky. He was the best trapping dog, staying with Merle Henry until the entire job was finished.

“Make sure you clean up afterwards,” Rose said. “That means you and the mess. Last time, that dog of yours got into it.”

Anytime Blue did something that made his mother mad she called him “that dog of yours.” But he knew she liked Blue. He saw her feed him scraps from her dinner plate, and he'd seen her pet Blue's head like it was a kitten.

Merle Henry picked up his knife and Rose went inside the house.

*   *   *

Maybe it was the possums that made Merle Henry feel brave enough to imitate Coach Burns in P.E. He knew he shouldn't, but Merle Henry thought Coach was mean the way he called the folks who lived in the backwoods “woodsies.” He said it like they were ignorant without a lick of sense. The only difference between them and the folks who lived in town was that their houses were closer to the general store and the gas station.

So when Coach Burns hadn't made it to class, Merle Henry started prancing around, his head held high like a peacock's. “Now listen here, you little woodsies, I don't care if your daddy thinks he can beat me up. I'm sure he thinks he can if he's drunk enough. But I'm from N'awlins and we are dignified there. We wait until Friday night to get good and drunk.”

At first, the boys laughed hard and Merle Henry loved being in the spotlight. He kept circling the gym. Then the laughing stopped cold. A second later, Coach Burns lunged toward Merle Henry and seized hold of his earlobe and led him halfway around the basketball court.

The other boys averted their eyes. Merle Henry's face burned. As if the humiliation wasn't enough, Coach Burns ordered him to arrive at the gym at 5:30 the next morning.

“I'll keep you busy until school starts,” Coach Burns said. “That is, if you live to see sunrise.”

Merle Henry's ear throbbed and he decided missing out on running his trap line the next morning would be the least of his problems. He'd never been in any real trouble in school and the thought of having to tell his daddy hurt more than his ear.

That night Merle Henry went to bed early without telling his parents what had happened. He wondered if Gordie knew. If he did, he hadn't said anything about it to him. Chances were he did know. Their school was small and news traveled quickly from class to class.

In bed, Merle Henry read the rest of
Old Yeller.
He was thankful that the story let him escape from what had happened that day for a little while. He thought the ending was sad. A knot formed in Merle Henry's throat and he wondered if he would have read the book if he'd known the dog was going to die. He decided he would have, though he couldn't quite figure out why. Maybe it was because most of the book hadn't been sad. Or maybe it was because Old Yeller reminded Merle Henry of Blue.

When Gordie came into their bedroom, Merle Henry flipped over and quickly wiped his eyes with the sheet. He could hear Gordie undo his belt and slip out of his pants. Without looking, Merle Henry knew his brother would fold them up and place them on the chair at the foot of the bed. His own clothes were in a pile on the floor.

Gordie turned off the lamp on the nightstand and for a while the sounds of crickets filled the quiet between them. A moment later, Gordie asked, “How's that ear?”

*   *   *

An hour before dawn, Merle Henry decided he wouldn't have to tell his parents why he was leaving the house. Like most mornings, they'd assume he was running his trap line. “If nothing is in the traps, I'm going straight to school,” he told them. “Coach Burns said he could use some help in the gym this morning.”

It was almost the truth. He'd be going to the gym and he was certain Coach Burns would put him to work. Only the part about checking the traps had been a lie.

He hadn't counted on Blue following him. And when they got to where they entered the woods, Blue stopped and Merle Henry walked on. He turned and discovered Blue still sitting there, waiting.

“Go home, Blue. Go on home.”

Blue tilted his head, looking confused. Merle Henry decided not to look back again. Blue would return home when he figured it out. Merle Henry took a few more steps. Then Blue barked. He knew Blue was trying to tell him to come on, let's go check the traps. And Merle Henry wanted to. Lord how he wanted to.

Thirty minutes later he was Coach Burns's prisoner, mopping the gym, touching up the paint in the girls' locker room. By the time the first bell rang, the gym floor sparkled and the girls' locker room walls were spotless. Every inch of Merle Henry's body ached.

“I'm not too funny now, am I, boy?” Coach Burns's furry eyebrows moved up and down like caterpillars doing push-ups.

“No, sir.”

“Remember that the next time your backwoods ass wants to make fun of Marcus Burns, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You're darn right.”

*   *   *

Merle Henry couldn't wait for the day to end. On the bus, he slept with his cheek pressed against the window. He awoke when Gordie lightly shook his shoulder. “We're home.”

Blue didn't meet the bus like usual, and it wasn't until Merle Henry reached the house that he remembered the last time he saw him that morning. His mother was stirring something on the stove that smelled like onions and roux. “Gumbo tomorrow night,” she said. “It always tastes better the second day.”

“Have you seen Blue?”

She wiped her hands on her apron. “Haven't seen hide nor hair of him all day. I was afraid he'd followed you to school.”

Merle Henry dropped his books on the couch and grabbed his hatchet before taking off for the woods. He needed to check his traps anyway. Maybe Blue was still out there, waiting for him. He ran to the spot on the road where Blue had been that morning, then quickly tore into the woods. He passed the first trap. It was empty. He felt dizzy and his breathing became shallow. Then he passed the second one even though there was a possum between the trap's jaws. Today it could have been a mink and he would have still left it behind, because now he was in the woods for one reason only.

As he approached the trap by the foot log he heard a whining sound. Merle Henry froze when he saw the familiar blue-gray hair. A sour taste filled his mouth, and he heard his father's warning playing over in his head.
Better move those traps off the foot logs. Better move those traps. Better move those traps.

Blue's left hind leg was trapped and his upper body was caught between two narrow limbs branching off the thick log. He was grateful for those limbs. They kept Blue from drowning.

Blue looked weakly over at Merle Henry, but he didn't bark, he just whined. Merle Henry raced toward the log. When he reached it, he walked slowly across until he got to Blue. Then he sat, his legs straddling the log, and tried to open the jaws of the trap.

Blue snapped at him.

Merle Henry pulled his hand away, then said, “It's okay, boy. It's okay.”

Holding the chain, he gently raised Blue and the trap between the branches and placed him on the log. Blue's leg was covered in blood.

Merle Henry's hand shook, but he dug for a piece of beef jerky in his pocket and offered it to Blue. Usually it disappeared, but today Blue just stared at it.

“Come on, Blue. You like it. You know you do.”

Blue licked the jerky, but he wouldn't eat. Merle Henry slid off the log and stood waist deep in the icy cold water. He grabbed his hatchet. His hands shook as he tried to undo the staple that held the chain to the underside of the log. Finally the staple gave way and freed the chain.

Merle Henry unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it off, and placed it flat on the log. Then he carefully lifted Blue, who was still attached to the trap. The trap's jaw had torn Blue's hair and flesh and probably part of the bone. Merle Henry couldn't tell for sure because of the blood. He laid Blue on top of his shirt and slowly formed a sling.

Blue made a low growling sound while Merle Henry found his way out of the woods and back to the road, walking slowly so he didn't hurt Blue any more than he already had. The chain dangled, hitting Merle Henry's leg with each step. Cold air hit his bare chest and soaked pants. But he didn't care. A lump gathered in his throat. He tried not to think of
Old Yeller.
He would do everything he could to make this right and not end like that story.

Luther's truck was parked in front of the house. Gordie was in the yard, chopping wood. When Merle Henry made it to the path leading up to their house, Gordie dropped the ax and ran toward the porch.

“Momma! Daddy!” Gordie called from the steps.

By the time Merle Henry reached the truck, everyone was outside.

“Can I take him to Doc Harrison's?” Gordie asked.

“We don't have any money to pay the Doc,” Luther said. “We're already going to owe for the baby.”

“I'll pay him, Daddy.” Merle Henry had some trapping money saved and now knew how to mop and paint.

Luther tossed Gordie the keys. “I don't think it's any use, but go ahead.”

Merle Henry looked down at the shirt that was covered in Blue's blood and understood why Luther didn't think there was any hope.

Rose covered her mouth with one hand and rested the other on her belly.

Gordie started the truck and their parents walked over to Merle Henry's side.

“Here, let me hold him while you get in,” Luther said, taking the sling with Blue from Merle Henry. After he gave him back, Rose reached inside and stroked Blue's head. The pencil dropped from behind her ear, and she gasped, catching it before it hit Blue.

The ride to Glenmora was only about five miles by way of Cut Off Road, but it seemed a hundred miles away today. For once, Merle Henry was thankful for his quiet brother because the last thing he wanted to do was answer questions about what had happened. As they cruised down the dirt road, the tall pine trees became a blur of brown and green. They reached Doc Harrison's as he was locking his office door.

Gordie jumped out of the truck first. “Doc, we have a hurt dog. Could you take a look?”

The doctor looked at Merle Henry, who had stepped out of the truck, holding Blue in his bloody shirt. “Good God, boys. Did he get run over?”

“No,” Merle Henry said. “He got caught in a trap. One of my traps.”

Doc unlocked the door and held it open. “Come on. I'm not a veterinarian, but I'll see what I can do.”

A few minutes later, Doc gave Blue a shot and the hound grew sleepy enough for Doc to release the trap's tight hold. With Blue stretched out on the examination table, Merle Henry could see the lower leg was barely attached to Blue's body. “Gordie, take your brother and go on home. I'm not going to make any promises. This doesn't look good.”

Gordie touched Merle Henry's arm. “Come on.”

Merle Henry stayed put, not wanting to move. Not wanting to leave his best friend.

Doc Harrison frowned. “There's nothing you can do here. I'll let you know something tomorrow.”

“We'll have to call you,” said Merle Henry. “We don't have a phone.”

While they rode in silence back to the house, Merle Henry held on to the dashboard, wishing he was like Gordie, satisfied reading instead of trapping.

When they parked in front of the house, Merle Henry's throat closed up. Then he swallowed and asked, “Do you think Doc will have to shoot him?”

Gordie shook his head. “No. Doctors have medicine that can put animals to sleep.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Somehow Merle Henry knew Gordie wasn't telling the whole truth, but he wanted to believe that if Blue couldn't be with him, he could have sweet dreams for eternity.

Merle Henry's legs felt heavy as he reached the porch steps. When Rose met him at the front door with her arms wide open, he fell into her embrace and cried. Over his momma's shoulder, Merle Henry saw Luther turn and walk out of the room.

“Daddy told me to move those traps, and I didn't. I should have done it.”

Rose patted his back and said, “I think that gumbo might be ready after all.”

Merle Henry couldn't eat, but guilt was eating him up inside. Finally he told his parents what he should have earlier. He told them what happened at school with Coach Burns and how he was caught imitating him, repeating comments he always made about the people that lived deep in the woods. Somehow it all seemed connected to what had happened to Blue. He wanted to blame Coach Burns, but he knew it was his own fault.

As he listened, Luther's temples pulsed and his jaw tensed. Merle Henry wondered if his rear end was about to meet the belt.

“Burns said what?” Luther roared.

“He called us woodsies. He said the men get drunk at the Wig Wam every night.”

“Calm down, Luther,” Rose said. “You know how he thinks he's something because he's from New Orleans. Only I know he's not. His people are from Chalmette, and that is not New Orleans.”

Her words didn't seem to work on Luther, who looked like he could spit nails.

For a minute, Merle Henry was relieved to see his daddy get all worked up about Coach Burns. But then his thoughts returned to Blue and he knew nothing on this earth could replace the pain of losing him.

“Merle Henry, I'll fix you a bath,” Rose said, “after everyone is out of the kitchen.”

Luther pulled away from the table and stood. “I'm going out for a while.”

A second later, the front door slammed and Merle Henry heard Rose say, “Oh, mercy.”

Later that evening, lying in bed, Merle Henry was wishing they had a telephone. Finally he realized it wouldn't matter if they did. Doctors probably never made late-night calls about dogs.

*   *   *