Say No More (4 page)

“Now why in blazes would you take the roll-over bar off the old John Deere, Dad?”

“Wouldn’t fit in the shed if I didn’t. Doorway’s too low. Nearly ripped the gutter off trying and decided that was the easiest way to fix the problem.”

“Why not just store it in the big barn?”

“That’s where the good combine goes — you know that, Cameron. ‘Sides, this ol’ rust bucket don’t got many years left. No sense babying it.”

Cam shook his head, opened his mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut. Some arguments were better not had.

—o00o—

He’d forgotten about me. That’s the only explanation there was. Said he’d ‘be right back’. And yet there I sat, tied to that post. Growing hungrier, thirstier, hotter. An eternity.

Or at least it seemed like it.

Really, it had been a matter of minutes. Well, less than an hour. I was never sure about time. But the sun hadn’t slipped any lower. Instead, it just hung there up there in the sky, blazing down on me. Singeing my fur. Making my tongue dry out and stick to the roof of my mouth.

I’d spent the day trailing along behind Cam as he cleaned out troughs and refilled them, letting me bite at the spray of the hose before he lowered it in. After that, we made a trip to the feed store and loaded up the bed of the truck. Hunter didn’t go with us. He was busy ‘making macaroons’ with his grandmother, whatever those were. Back at the farm, Cam toted the big floppy sacks on his shoulders, two at a time, and piled them in a corner of the hog barn. He scraped manure from pens and stall floors with a broad shovel and tossed it into a wheelbarrow, then dumped it all in a pile outside the barn door. When he pushed the wheelbarrow back into the barn, I dashed over to the pile and helped myself to a treat.

He peeked around the door’s edge. “Get out of there!”

I froze with the tasty, dried out patty in my mouth. Then I crunched down on it, gulping the little bits down as fast I could, because I knew what was going to happen next.

Two seconds later he had his fingers in my mouth, prying the manure out of it. That was when he’d clipped the leash back on me and tied me to this post. Then he left me here while he tromped out into the hayfield with Ray and Slick to round up a bull that had gotten out of his pasture. Unfortunately, a tall water tank stood between me and the view of them doing their work. That alone was cause for protest.

I lowered my chin between my paws and whimpered pathetically for dramatic purpose. But Cam was too far away to notice. Much longer and I’d have to start barking. Which never went over well.

The leash that tethered me to the fence post was thin, yet strong, made of three braided strips. I sniffed it, let the molecules stir my memory. Ah, leather. Now this I could do something about. When I was younger, I found one of Lise’s leather sandals under the bed. Since it was on the floor, I figured it was fair game. So I eased my aching gums on it. Lise had been very unhappy when she discovered me beneath the bed, the straps worked loose from the sole, which I’d chewed in two. I learned then not to eat things that had Lise’s scent on them. Or Cam’s. Although Hunter didn’t seem to care if I ate his plastic toys or shredded his coloring papers. My situation, however, was getting desperate now ... I really shouldn’t ... I should wait ...

But this was an exception.

Sneaking a look around to make sure Cam or Ray hadn’t reappeared, I sank my teeth into the stiff leather and worked it back and forth between my jaws, until what little saliva I had softened it.

Off in the distance, the bull snorted and bellowed. Ray and Cam clapped their hands as they shouted back and forth. Slick barked once, twice. Why didn’t
he
get in trouble for barking, huh?

Almost at once, two of the braids on the leash separated. I pinched and sawed at the remaining strip as fast as I could.

“Dad, Dad!” Cam’s voice rose sharply. “Get back!”

Leaping to my feet, I bolted to the end of the leash. Ray and Cam were now in the corner of the pasture.

Then, I saw it. The bull rushing at Ray.

Ray swiped his cane sideways, then back, trying to fend off the raging beast. But it kept coming. Hooves slapped at the ground, flicked up chunks of earth. A great black mass hurtled toward an old, brittle-boned man.

The bull lowered his head, the gleaming tips of his horns pointed squarely at Ray’s chest.

Desperate, Ray flung the cane in the bull’s direction, but it fell harmlessly, lost in a sea of grass. He sucked his torso backward, dodged to the side. But his feet were unsteady, the movement too quick. Ray went down, covered his head. Fifty feet away still, Cam shouted.

A gray blur exploded around the side of the bull. Slick slammed his paws into the ground, no more than a few feet from the bull. He went in low, teeth flashing and clicking. Grabbed onto the bull’s nose. Let go. Snapped again.

The bull threw his head back, nostrils flaring wide. Great sprays of snot flew from his nose. He lifted a hoof, stomped it. Lowered his head once more in challenge.

While Slick was having a standoff with an angry monster ten times his size, Ray had crawled further away. Cam snatched up the cane and rushed toward his father.

Slick needed no direction from Ray or Cam. He
knew
what to do. Like some foreknowledge that had been ingrained into his brain before birth. A genetic map waiting to instantly unfold when duty called for it. Millennia of instinct, shaped by selection, to a distinct purpose.

To protect. To control. To command.

Awed, I watched as Slick ducked low, timed his bites to perfection, burst beyond reach, went in again. In snatches, it looked like a stalemate — the bull’s mass and might versus Slick’s blinding speed and deadly accuracy. Gradually, though, Slick was edging the bull back, turning the beast’s line of view away from Ray.

As the feud raged, Cam helped Ray to his feet. It seemed like hours that it took them to cross to the nearest gate, Ray’s arm slung over Cam’s taller shoulder.

His chest heaving, Ray grabbed onto the gate post and steadied himself. “Slick, that’ll do!”

Instantly, Slick froze in his spot. He pulled his lips back, growled fiercely once more, and barked three times. The bull shook his shoulders, stepped back, stilled. Blood dripped from his nose. The battle had been decided.

Being the obedient cowdog he was, Slick turned to go to Ray.

The war, however, was not over.

The bull was right behind him. He came at Slick like a lead ball shot from a cannon.

“Slick!” Ray shouted. “Look back!”

At the sound of his name, Slick hesitated, unaware of the danger bearing down on him. It took just the tiniest of moments for the implication to register in Slick’s keen mind. He flipped to his left, spinning with deft speed.

It was a moment too late. And in the wrong direction.

Because he had turned directly into the bull’s path.

A black, muddied hoof smashed down on Slick’s front leg, pulling him beneath the raging beast. Slick’s curdling yelp was cut short as his body crumpled, rolled, disappeared beneath the shadow of the bull.

The bull circled around, bucking madly, his curved horns twisting through the air. The dappled mess of fur that was Slick lay trampled and defeated in his wake. The murderous beast pawed at the ground, bellowed his intent.

My heart seized. If there was still life left in old Slick, it wasn’t much. Maybe just enough to yet pump blood through his veins, to draw a final breath. His chest was stone-still, his limbs unmoving.

I was sure he was dead.

“Goddamn you, Slick, you old buzzard!” Ray shouted through cupped hands, his voice cracking as he choked back a sob. “Get your lame ass up off the ground and back that sonofabitch steer down like you were taught to!”

And then ... Slick popped up. Well, not ‘up’ exactly. He was listing to one side, his left front leg dangling low from his shoulder. Ever so slightly, he swayed. Then steadied. Gingerly, he put his paw down. Limped a step. Then another. Until finally, he was trotting. Right at the bull.

I think the bull was just as shocked as the rest of us were. He stepped back, visibly fazed by Slick’s miraculous resurrection. His tail swished at his rump as he dipped his head briefly. Sort of like a nod. Then he turned his bulk to one side, presenting his massive flank to Slick, and began back toward the barn.

Which was roughly in my direction.

It took a moment to sink in. The gate that stood between him and me was shut, but not latched. It was a sticky latch and had been a problem before, until Cam fixed it. But rain and rust had taken their toll. When Ray walked through the gate earlier, he had pushed the gate shut behind him like always, trusting that the latch would snap down on its own. Except it hadn’t.

A gap, no more than a few inches wide, beckoned the bull onward. I may have mentioned that cattle are not always the smartest creatures. But one thing they are good at is finding a way out of wherever they are. Even if by accident. Like now.

See, I don’t know that the bull looked around and saw the gate was partly open, but Slick had turned him that way and the gate was where he was used to going. What I figure Cam and Ray had meant to do was have Slick direct him to the far gate that led into a series of chutes, where they either loaded the stock into trailers or vaccinated them.

Something funny happened to me in the moment that I realized the bull was going to blast through that gate. And by ‘funny’ I mean odd, because even I didn’t expect it of myself. What happened is that I got mad. Like fuming, steam-coming-out-of-your-ears kind of mad. No way was I going to let that snot-nosed knucklehead run over me.

Our eyes locked. He was bearing straight down on me. Like he thought he’d just pound me into the dust on his way to freedom. Did he really think I’d let him?

So I lunged at the gate. Barked with all my might. A string of ferocious, authoritative barks. Even though my collar was crushing my windpipe.

The leash snapped. I lurched forward. Caught myself.

I bounded to the gate. Hackles raised. Up on my toes.

Time seems to change pace sometimes. So it took me a second to realize he was actually slowing. And turning. Away from the gate.

I stayed where I was. Barked a few more times, just to make my point.

By then, Cam had darted across the field and flung the gate to the chute wide open. The bull trotted over that way, as compliantly as a hog zeroing in on a feeding trough full of slop.

As soon as the bull was secured in the chute, Cam came to me, patted me on the head.

“Brave girl, Halo.” Pride beamed from his smile. “That was a
very
good dog.”

On the way home that day, we stopped at the corner ice cream cone stand. Cam got two cones. One for Hunter, one for me.

Somehow, I doubted that Ray ever bought Slick an ice cream cone. Too bad. He deserved one.

Instead, Slick got a cast on his front leg. Estelle did let him stay in the kitchen while he healed. She put a blanket down on the floor for him, too. If he was lucky, he might have gotten some of the scraps that accidentally fell on the floor. Knowing Estelle though, that probably never happened.

But sleeping on a blanket inside ... Old Slick probably thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

“O
n a Sunday?” Steam curled upward from the mug of coffee Lise cupped between her hands. She crossed the kitchen and slid onto the chair across from Cam.

It was barely light out. She was still in the old sweats she always wore to bed, her hair all rumpled and falling out of her lopsided ponytail. Cam was already dressed in his jeans, a clean white T-shirt, and a freshly washed hoodie.

After I crunched away on the last piece of kibble in my bowl, I trotted to the table and flopped down underneath it. Cam’s leg was stretched out there, so I rested my chin on his foot and closed one eye, keeping the other eye trained on the floor next to Hunter’s chair.

A wave of bile pushed up my throat. I swallowed it back. I’d eaten too fast — a habit developed from competing with my brother for food. Lise had learned to separate us because of it. Today was my turn inside. I reminded myself to take it more slowly the next time. Still, a heavy, sour feeling sucked at my gut, filling me with a strange unease. Maybe it was the way Lise was forcing her breath out through pinched nostrils or the fact that Cam seemed anxious to be on his way, but a cloud of dread hung suspended in the room.

Nauseous and drenched, my day had not started well. My fur was still damp from sitting out in the rain. An hour ago, Cam had taken me out of the crate where I slept at night and ushered me out the door to potty while he went to take his shower. By the time he finally came to get me, I had been soaked in a downpour. I didn’t mind being wet, but Lise had fussed about my muddy paws and rubbed me all over with a towel while Cam held me at arm’s length.

Hunter was seated next to his dad, with his feet tucked under him. In between spoonfuls of cereal, he hummed to himself. I was tempted to join in, but Hunter was the only one who liked my howling. He was also the only one who seemed to be in a good mood that morning.

“Hunter, you’re going to choke if you keep singing,” Lise said tersely. “Eat.”

“Oookay, Mommy,” Hunter replied. A moment later, he peeked under the table and grinned at me. He held his hand out. In his palm lay three glistening nuggets of sugary cereal. I snarfed them down as fast as I could. This was Hunter’s gift to me every morning: a few bits of cereal, a corner of toast, a piece of bacon fat. Sometimes when he had pancakes, he’d dip his fingers in the syrup, then dangle them beside his chair for me to lick clean.

“Hunter!” Lise scolded. Usually he was good about making sure she wasn’t watching, but sometimes, I think, he just plain forgot.

Hunter dropped the edge of the tablecloth. “Just saying hi to Halo.”

“Halo’s fine. You go get ready to go to Grandma’s. It’s supposed to stop raining soon, so she said she’s going to take you to the zoo today so Mommy can get some work done around here, okay? If you’re good, she might even let you pick out a stuffed animal.”