Chasing the Dream

by Paige Lee Elliston

  Amy’s hand trembled as she took out her Coldwater directory and looked up Ben’s number. “He’s beautiful—he’s wonderful,” she babbled as soon as the phone at the other end was picked up. “I don’t know how to thank you. This is the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me—the most wondrous gift I’ve ever received. I... you’re... I just don’t know what to say. I’m just flabbergasted, Ben, I can’t begin to—”

  There was a chuckle. “This here’s Hollis Callan, ma’am—Ben’s pa. He’s just pullin’ in the driveway. Want me to fetch him to the phone?” He laughed again. “I guess you like the puppy?”

  Amy was too enthralled to be embarrassed. “That’s an understatement, Mr. Callan. And I would like to speak to Ben, thank you.”

  The telephone clattered against a hard surface, and Amy heard footsteps going away from it. In a moment, she heard more steps coming toward it.

  “My dad’s of the opinion that you like the pup,” Ben said.

  “Like him? Ben, he’s perfect. I love him to pieces. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “A country lady needs a good ol’ dog.” Ben chuckled. “I felt almost guilty driving away with Zack yesterday, taking him away from you. So, I knew that there was only the one pup left, and, well, I knew where his home was.” He paused. “What are you going to name him?”

  “Oh, I... I haven’t given that a thought. Any ideas?”

  “Seems to me the best way to come up with a name is to watch a new animal, see how he acts, how he plays, what he’s afraid of. I think that pup will name himself.” He laughed. “I just hope you don’t have to call him Puddles.”

  “He’s bright,” Amy said. “He’ll be easy to housebreak.” Ben laughed again.

  “What?” Amy asked.

  “You’ve owned the dog for fifteen minutes and you already know how smart he is?”

  “Well, I could be a little prejudiced in his favor,” she admitted.

  “You’re supposed to be.”

  She hesitated a moment. “Hey, I’ve got to go to town and pick up some puppy chow at the grocery store. I can pick up a couple of steaks too. Can you come for dinner tonight?”

  “I’d love to, Amy. What can I bring?”

  “Not a thing—you already brought something wonderful today.”

  Amy unboxed the new Weber grill she’d bought in Coldwater and placed it behind her garage. The pup had ridden in her Jeep on the passenger seat fearfully, hesitantly, for the first few minutes. Then, when he discovered he could stick his muzzle out the partially lowered window, he began to enjoy the trip.

  The rectangular cedar picnic table that hadn’t yet made it out of the garage was awkward to handle, but Amy was able to muscle it out to the backyard, near the grill. She put a lawn chair on either side of the table and settled in one to watch her puppy play in the grass. He was fascinated with the grasshoppers and the other insects that lived in the lawn; he chased them, pounced on them, and ate them. She called to the dog when he’d wandered a bit too far from where she sat, and he ran back to her in the slightly clumsy gallop of a puppy. She praised him lavishly for obeying her call. The pup sat at her feet looking up at her, his eyes showing that he was almost impossibly happy that he had pleased his new mistress.

  The collie’s face triggered a memory, and Amy struggled to recover it from her childhood. Slowly it became clear: the cover of a hardcover book, a gift for her tenth birthday. It was a novel about a collie by Albert Payson Terhune, and the dog’s name was Bobby, respectfully named after the Scottish poet Robert Burns. Something clicked into place in Amy’s heart. She’d loved the novel, and it had led her to the exploration of Burns’s poetry. “Bobby,” she whispered to the puppy. And, from that moment forward, his name was Bobby.

  One of the toys Amy had bought for Bobby in the Coldwater grocery store was a rawhide knot the size of a baseball. The pup fell in love with the toy immediately. Amy tossed it around the yard for Bobby to fetch, and both of them relished the simple game. Later in the afternoon she watched the pup as he slept in his basket, tired from his day of play. Nutsy approached Bobby cautiously, watched for a while, and then climbed into the basket, pressing himself against Bobby’s side for his own late-day doze. The pup’s sleep was deep, and every so often his feet twitched, as if he were running in a dream. Probably chasing his rawhide knot, Amy thought.

  Bobby has already added so much to my life. For Ben to realize how happy a puppy would make me and then to put everything in motion was so kind, so sweet. I hope that one day I can do something for someone else that means as much to them as Bobby means to me.

  Amy was in the backyard when Ben’s truck pulled into her driveway and stopped behind her Jeep. She cut through the garage and rushed up to the man, wrapping him in a quick embrace. Ben was startled by the hug—and Amy was a little bit as well.

  “I’m so thankful to you for Bobby.”

  Ben’s arm tightened slightly, comfortably, around Amy’s shoulders for a brief moment before she stepped back. He smelled of Ivory soap, she noticed, and his hair of shampoo. “Bobby?” he asked.

  “After the poet, Robert Burns,” Amy explained. “He’s Scottish, and so are collies, so...”

  “Wee sleekit timrous cowerin’ mousie,” Ben recited.

  “You know Burns’s poetry?” Amy laughed delightedly. The line from one of her favorites sounded strange when articulated with a Western drawl rather than a Scottish burr.

  “No, not really, but I had a grammar school teacher, Mrs. MacPherson, who was obsessed with him. She read to us from his collected poems daily.” Ben reached into his truck and brought out a quart of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. “I brought some dessert,” he said. He handed it to Amy.

  “You go out back, and I’ll put the ice cream away and bring us a drink. Would you like iced tea? Diet Pepsi? Coffee?”

  “Iced tea sounds good.” He sniffed the air. “I see you’ve got the fire going already.”

  “I wanted it to be perfect for the steaks,” Amy answered. She started to the house, stopped in midstride, and turned back to Ben. “Hey, where’s Zack?”

  “With my dad. He loves Zack as much as I do. I couldn’t say no to him.”

  “Well, I’m sure Zack’s heart is more than big enough to share with the both of you. I was looking forward to seeing him, though. It would have been fun watching the two pups play together.”

  “Next time,” Ben said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “For sure,” Amy said. She turned back to the kitchen, Bobby at her heels. “Go on and sit down, Ben. I’ll be out in a minute.” Next time? That kind of answers the question if we’ll get together again, doesn’t it? The thought brought a smile to her face.

  The steaks—prime sirloins Amy had overspent on because of the occasion—were excellent. The conversation moved from Bobby to the food to the weather to other topics and then back to Bobby.

  “I don’t even know if there are leash laws in this area,” Amy admitted.

  “There aren’t,” Ben told her, “but Bobby needs to have a yearly rabies inoculation. Doc Pulver can take care of that for you.” He added, “I’m assuming you’re going to use Danny as your vet.”

  “Yep, I am. No doubt about that. I wouldn’t be able to face Julie again if I took Bobby anywhere else.”

  “And, there’s the point that Danny’s the best vet within a hundred miles of us.”

  After their meal they sipped their coffee and watched the colors in the western sky as the sun began its downward swing. They were comfortable together, at ease, learning things about one another. Amy liked the way all that felt.

  “How long have you been in business for yourself, Ben?” she asked.

  “Going on a dozen years now. It was Callan & Son from the time I got out of the army until then. I was working with my dad. He had a stroke. It was a mild enough stroke—or so the doctors said—but it ended his carpentry days. I took over the business from him.”

  “He sounded pretty good when
I spoke with him this morning. Happy enough, anyway.”

  “Oh, he’s in pretty decent shape. And as feisty as an ol’ rooster. He doesn’t have too much use of the left side of his body, but he uses a walker and gets around OK. He’s always after me to leave the handyman stuff behind and go into furniture and cabinetmaking. Some day, I’ll do just that, but right now, well, the bills need to be paid.”

  “Do you do any furniture making now? I was in a couple of shops in Massachusetts a few years ago and was fascinated by what those guys could do. It’s a real art form, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It is when it’s done right. I take a contract every so often to build a hutch or a table or whatever. I really love it, and if I thought I could support my dad and me on what I’d make doing it, I’d hang out a shingle tomorrow morning.” He drank some coffee. “What about you, Amy? I know you’re a writer. From what I’ve read, that’s a hard way to go—all kinds of competition, hard to find a publisher, all that.”

  “It can be tough at times,” Amy said. “I guess I feel about fiction writing like you do about making furniture, though. I love it. It has its ups and downs, and you’re right, the competition is always intense. But I still love it.”

  “It’s good to see someone making a living doing something that’s really important to him.” After a half second, Ben added, “Or her.”

  Amy laughed. “That ‘making a living’ part is up for grabs, I’m afraid. I’m about halfway through a novel right now.”

  “Is it sold already? Is that how it works? Or when it’s finished, do you need to show it around to publishers?”

  “I’m on a contract to finish the book, and I’ve gotten an advance against the royalties we hope it’ll generate when it’s published.”

  “I see.” He thought for a moment. “It must feel good at the end of a day to see the pile of pages you’ve written.”

  Amy couldn’t help laughing. “Pile of pages? For most writers four or five good pages are a day’s work. That’s not much of a pile.”

  “Hmmm. It sounds like writing a book takes about as long as it takes to make and finish a really fine hutch or sideboard, then. In either case, it’s a labor of love, though. Maybe that’s what makes each of them worthwhile.”

  There’d been some silences between them as darkness closed in, but those times felt easy and natural; neither of them had scrambled to fill the quiet with chatter. It had been a good conversation. It was close to nine o’clock when Ben checked his watch.

  “I’ve really enjoyed this, Amy,” he said. “But I’ve got to get home. My dad’s due for a checkup, and his appointment’s early. It’s a five-hour drive, so...”

  “Please give him my best, Ben. Tell him any friend of Zack’s is a friend of mine.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  They walked through the garage to the driveway and stood next to Ben’s truck. “I know I’m sounding like a broken record, but thanks so much for Bobby. I’m still overwhelmed by your kindness.”

  “No need to be overwhelmed. The only thanks I need is for you and Bobby to become as close to one another as my old Zack was with me—and my new Zack will be.”

  The words touched Amy. Ben’s delivery of them was far from dramatic, but it was clear that he meant what he said.

  They faced one another, standing a foot apart next to Ben’s truck, before he finally opened the door. Amy backed up a couple of steps, and Bobby moved back with her. She watched the red glow of the truck’s taillights until they disappeared.

  Amy had just sat down on her couch when her telephone rang. She hurried to the kitchen.

  “Hi, Amy,” Jake said. “Enjoying the new pup?”

  “Wow.” Amy laughed. “News travels fast out here.”

  “It sure does. I saw Ben in town today, and he told me what he’d done. I’m looking forward to meeting my new neighbor. Has he settled in yet? Sometimes that takes a few days, you know.”

  “Bobby—that’s what I named him—seemed like he was at home the minute he got here. It’s amazing, really. He’s right here at my feet as if we’ve been together forever. He’s a wonderful puppy. You’ll love him.”

  “I’m sure I will. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop by before today, but I’ve been all over the place for the last few days. I have a rodeo coming up, and I’m getting ready for that.” He laughed. “You’d think after all these years I’d have all the details and all the minutia figured out—but I haven’t. Every rodeo, I run around like I’ve never done any of it before.”

  “I saw your big trucks come in last night,” Amy said. “How come you don’t keep them at your ranch? It seems like it’d save you some time.”

  “Wouldn’t make sense to do it that way,” Jake said. “I’ve got some acreage where I graze my bucking horses and where I keep the four bulls I own. I keep the trucks there, and all I need to do is load the horses—or the bulls, or both—and go on down the road to the rodeo. This time I brought the horses here to have Doc Pulver go over them before next weekend.”

  “You’ll go for the weekend, then?”

  “Yeah. I’ll leave early Friday morning and get there in time for the evening show. Then there are two shows on Saturday and two on Sunday. It’s a good rodeo—lots of talented cowboys.”

  “It must be exciting.”

  “It sure can be. I enjoy every minute of it, but the food... well, hot dogs and orange drink get old in a big hurry.”

  “I’m sure they do.” Amy laughed. “Why not bring food with you?”

  “No time to prepare it. I’m busy from the moment I hit the rodeo arena until the time I drive away a couple days later. Once I took stock to the Calgary Stampede in Canada, and I was there for eight solid days of nonstop rodeo. I felt like I needed a year in a rest home when I finished up.”

  “Didn’t you have any help? Do you go alone?” Amy asked.

  “Most of the time. It’s pretty much a one-man operation, once the animals are unloaded. Sometimes Wes or one or more of my cowhands rides along with me, depending on the size of the rodeo. Actually, I kinda like getting away from the ranch once in a while.”

  Amy had run out of rodeo commentary. “Change every so often is good,” she said, immediately feeling foolish at the blandness of what she’d said.

  “Yeah. It is.” He paused for a moment. “Uh, I was thinking, Amy... why don’t you drive down to Porterville next Saturday and watch the rodeo with me? I can get you right up in the announcer’s booth, where you won’t miss a thing. Like I said, I’ll be pretty busy, but I won’t ignore you. And,” he added, and she could hear the smile in his voice, “I’ll even buy you a hot dog and an orange drink.”

  “Wow.” Amy chuckled. “That sounds good, Jake. How far is Porterville?”

  “It’s not far. It’s an easy drive. The town itself makes Coldwater look like Chicago, but they put on a heck of a rodeo every year.”

  “I wonder if I could...”

  Jake anticipated her question. “If you keep Bobby on a leash, sure—bring him along. He’ll be fine.”

  “That settles it, then. I’d love to come to your rodeo, Jake. I’ve never actually seen one. I’ve watched a couple of guys riding bucking broncos on TV sports shows, but that’s about the extent of my experience.”

  “You’ll like it,” Jake assured her. “It’s a good, clean, honest sport—no steroids or fancy million-dollar contracts or player lockouts. I’d bet you’ll come away after Porterville a rodeo fan.”

  “Could be. Anyway, I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Good. I’ll bring a pass and parking sticker when I come to see your pup later on in the week, OK?”

  “That’ll be fine. Thanks for calling and thanks for the invitation. I’ll see you during the week.”

  Amy hung up the telephone and walked back to the couch. She turned off the lamp before she sat down—the light from the kitchen provided enough illumination for sitting and thinking. Bobby watched her for a minute, determined that she wasn’t going to move ri
ght away, and stretched out on the rug.

  Isn’t this something? I have two great guys who appear to be interested in me. It’s funny—I never did date more than one person at a time, even in high school. Now... But how do I know what Ben or Jake think about me—if they think about me at all. Maybe Ben is exactly what he seems to be: a kindhearted collie lover who saw a woman who didn’t have a dog in her life and took things from there. Maybe, other than when he stops by to see Bobby on occasion, I’ll never see him again. She shook her head. I doubt that very much. I think we both felt a little something as we visited out in the backyard.

  Bobby was standing now, and he placed a tentative forepaw on the couch and began to heft his body onto the cushion. “No,” Amy said. The dog looked at her in the dusky light for a moment and then began to push himself up with his rear feet. “Bobby, no!” Amy said, louder and more sharply this time. The dog sighed audibly, backed away from the couch a bit, and settled himself on the carpet.

  I can admit, at least to myself, that I’m attracted to Jake Winter. I have been since day one, I guess. And he’s certainly shown interest in me. I’m sure it’s more than the guy being a good neighbor, and I’m glad that’s true. But with Mallory and her craziness, the things she said, what she seems to believe... But that’s her problem, not mine, and there’s nothing I can do about what she thinks or feels. Amy smiled to herself. The rodeo next weekend will be fun. Maybe after a full day with Jake, I’ll have a better feel for... what? What could happen between us?

  She stood and yawned. Images of both Jake and Ben flickered in her mind. Not a bad problem to have, she thought. Bobby and Nutsy followed her up the stairs to her room like creatures following Noah onto the ark.

  Amy set her first cup of morning coffee on the counter and rotated the dial on her little transistor radio. Reception wasn’t good, except for the Coldwater station. She tried that one for a few moments, gritting her teeth at the vivacious, smiley-voiced, morning host’s babbling. She switched to a larger station for music, but the static was louder than the guitars. She snapped off the set and looked down at Bobby. His bowl was already empty. He’d hit his kibble like a starving wolf. Just now he was licking at the two little welts across his nose inflicted by Nutsy when he’d decided to try some of the kitten’s food. Amy crouched in front of the dog.