by Leisha Kelly
It started to snow, gentle at first, as I was headed back to the main road. Past Donnellson it picked up and started getting slick. I stopped and put on the tire chains. The next town on my memorized route would be Hillsboro, but I wasn’t sure exactly how far I had to go to get there. So I coaxed the truck along slow for a while, not wanting to just sit by the roadside and wait. That was the only time I considered that driving so far alone might not a’ been the best idea, but the notion didn’t stick in me long. Would’ve been ignorant to stay home just because it might snow, or some other such worry. I pulled into the next café I saw for a cup of coffee and a chance to warm up awhile.
The place smelled like bacon even though it was the middle of the day. With checkered tablecloths and a radio playing “Don’t Fence Me In,” the café seemed ready for a crowd, but it was almost empty. The waitress reminded me a little of Sarah Jean, with her long brown hair pulled back. She brought me my coffee and sat at the end of a long counter. There wasn’t but one other customer in the place, an elderly fellow bent over a newspaper. What might today’s paper be saying? More about the reconstruction in Europe? Or the Communist threat, or studies of the new drug called penicillin?
Sometimes it annoyed me awful that I couldn’t read about such things for myself. And with that trouble plus my limp and folks otherwise thinkin’ me peculiar, nobody seemed to believe I could manage on my own. Everybody expected me to settle as close as I could to Mr. Wortham and work with him like I’d been doin’ since I was a kid, so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face someplace else.
I downed my coffee in a hurry, trying to clear my head a’ thoughts like that. The radio started playing “Accentuate the Positive,” and I decided to move on. No use waiting on the weather. The snow wasn’t deep yet, and roads were passable, even with the drifts. Gettin’ to the next town’d be relief because I’d have more than half the trip behind me.
I went through Pawnee and straight north. Not another soul was on that road. Barren snow-covered fields run along both sides of the road, and in some places it was hard to tell where road stopped and field started.
Six miles like that, and I seen a dark shape off in the ditch. A four-door coupe up against the fence line. I slowed down, knowing the road must be slick. The car’d hit a fence post. A big fellow was in the driver seat. I couldn’t see nobody else, and I hoped the man wasn’t hurt ’cause I didn’t know where nothin’ was up here to get help. Maybe all he’d need was a ride to the next town. I pulled up close and stopped. And then I heard crying. A child. And someone else was moving now in the front seat, their head bowed and bloody. This wasn’t gonna be so simple as I’d hoped. Lord, have mercy.
3
Sarah
Our house seemed strangely empty now. Mom and Katie and I were cleaning up after Sam’s wild and messy bunch. Dad had taken them to the train on his way to work, and I tried not to let it bother me that the sky had gradually filled with clouds. About mid-morning, we heard a ruckus. Something had our chickens frantic. Mom and I grabbed our coats and ran outside to see what the matter was, expecting to scare off a fox. But it was no fox this time. Something big had bent down part of the fence and broken one of the chicken-house windows. One hen was gone and one was wounded.
Whatever it was left a flurry of feathers and a mottle of blood behind. Strange for something to be out hunting in the broad daylight like this. I propped the fence as best I could without Dad there to fix it, and fetched a board to nail over the window. Katie came from the house to find out what was keeping us and see if she could help.
“We’ll have to be watchful for the chickens after dark,” Mom said. “Whatever did this is liable to come back.”
“What do you think it was?” Katie asked.
“Stray dog. Too big to get through the chickens’ door. It was desperate to try breaking through the window. If you see it, keep your distance, all right?”
Mom was calm when she said it, but we took her seriously. We were used to foxes coming around so that wasn’t much cause for alarm. But this dog was a lot bigger than a fox. We found evidence of that before we went inside. One huge paw print in what was left of last week’s snow. I set my gloved hand down beside the track, and my hand was only a little bigger. That was one big dog.
Dad was supposed to be back by supper, and Mom said we should wait on evening chores until he got home. I usually pitched in, or even did the evening chores myself on days Dad was working in town. Kate’d help too, when she wasn’t working at the five-and-dime. But it’d be dark by chore time, and Mom didn’t seem to want us out after dark. We didn’t argue. We just went back inside to our work, and the house seemed even more empty than it had before.
Once we’d gotten things out of disarray and Mom had settled by the fire in the sitting room with the mending, Katie went back out to check the mail. She always did in the middle of the day when she was home. Her boyfriend wrote a lot of letters, and she was often rewarded for the jaunt down the lane and back.
I had just finished mopping the kitchen floor and she’d taken the bucket outside with her to dump for me. In a little while, I was measuring flour for muffins, but she still wasn’t back. She wouldn’t have to wait down by the road for the mailman. He’d have gone by a long time ago. So what could be keeping her?
I looked out the window by the cupboard but didn’t see anything. So I was on my way to check the window closest to the door when I thought I heard her voice.
“Sarah—”
I yanked open the door and looked out. She was by the well, but she wasn’t alone. The biggest, blackest dog I’d ever seen stood between her and the house with its head lowered and its neck hairs standing up all scruffy. It looked almost like a black bear, and it wasn’t one mite friendly. I knew without even seeing from the front that he was baring his teeth at her, and that got my blood racing. I stepped out into the frosty air, and Katie saw me.
“Sarah—”
“Back up slow to the barn,” I told her. “I’ll run him off.”
She took a step back, but the dog matched with a step in her direction. I yelled, but it ignored me. I tried throwing a stick at it and yelling some more, but I missed, and it ignored me again. So I ran to get the hunting rifle my brother Robert had left for us. I didn’t know what else to do. Surely one shot into the air would be enough to startle this creature and make it turn tail and run.
It didn’t take me long to grab and load that rifle. Katie hadn’t made it to the barn yet. She didn’t dare move fast because the dog was keeping pace with her, and a sudden move might’ve set him off to jumping at her. I could hear him growling, low and fearsome. She was pale. Scared. What in the world was the matter with this dog that he’d act like this? He ought to be friendly finding a person outside like this. Or nervous enough to run off if he wasn’t used to people.
I stepped out to the porch and fired a shot into the air. The big dog turned his head and looked at me with its fierce eyes. It did look like a bear standing there. A big, black, shaggy bear. But even a bear ought to run off. This dog didn’t. It just turned its head back to Katie and growled again.
I went closer and fired another shot. Something was wrong with this dog. This time when it turned and looked at me, it looked a little longer. Katie took the chance to run for the barn door. It lunged at her, but she got the door shut between them just in time. So the dog turned on me.
Lord, help. Its shining eyes showed a fury I didn’t think I’d ever seen in anything and I hoped to never see again. That dog was mad. It came running at me, and I fumbled with Robert’s rifle. I’d never been really good with it. I could hear Mom behind me now on the porch, but I knew there was nothing she could do in time. I fired. But the fool beast didn’t fall. Shaking, scared, trying to back up, I fired again, aiming right between those devil eyes, and finally it stopped in its tracks, teetered a little, and fell. I was so shook that I fell too.
Mom came running up. Kate peeked out of the barn and then came out toward us. That big bl
ack furry shape lay in a heap less than two yards from me. I heaved a giant breath, trying to slow my racing heart. Oh, Lord, thank you. I could have been bit. Me or Katie, either one could have been mauled by that mad thing. Thank you, thank you for your help.
My hands were still shaking. Mom tried to help me up, concern and relief mingled together in her expression. A single white snowflake flittered down between us as she took my hand. And then more snowflakes. Bushels. Like my firing at the sky had opened up holes for them to pour through.
With my nerves still a-jitter, I assured Mom I was fine. I gave Katie a big hug, and we all went back toward the house as the snowflakes dusted that big black body with white. It was freezing cold out, even worse than it had been when Frank left, and I realized for the first time that I hadn’t taken time to grab my coat.
“I’d best separate the wounded hen and do away with it,” Mom said somberly. “I don’t know if sickness can spread to chickens, but we don’t want to take the chance. We’ll have to dispose of that big carcass too, but I suppose that can wait till your father gets home.”
Frank should be here, I couldn’t help thinking. If he were, he’d have been the one to shoot that dog. He could kill the chicken for Mom, fix the chicken house window, and dispose of the carcass too. He could look at me with his casual grin and serious eyes and tell me that this was no big deal, and then maybe quote a Scripture or two.
Suddenly I burst into tears. It was absolute foolishness, I knew that plain enough, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Sarah, are you all right?” Mom asked, taking the rifle to hold for me.
“Yes,” I tried my best to answer her. “Just . . . just shaken a little, I guess.”
I couldn’t tell her any more. The snow pouring down made me think of Frank, miles and miles away on the open road. Was it snowing where he was too? It wasn’t supposed to snow today. It was supposed to be clear, that was what the radio forecast had said. But the weatherman was just plain wrong. Dad was in town, and Frank was way off who knows where by now. All alone.
“How about some tea?” Mom asked me. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
I nodded my head, but I couldn’t turn my mind from Frank. Maybe I was making mountains out of molehills right then because I was still a bundle of nerves over that dog, but I felt scared for him. He should be here with us where he belonged, working in the woodshop, or doing any of so many other things he was always applying his hands to around the farm. He could sure help us right now, and then come inside and sit in front of the fireplace with his leg propped up, sipping a cup of coffee to get warm again.
He shouldn’t have gone. Surely there were plenty of strong young men in Camp Point that Sam and Thelma could have gotten to help them move. This happening today, with that mad dog, that was plenty of evidence, more than I’d ever need, that he ought to be home. With Dad working so much and Robert overseas, we needed him. We’d always needed him. Right here.
I tried to put all that from my mind without much success. And we were done with tea and back to our work before Katie remembered the mail. She’d had it tucked in her coat pocket. Just one letter. For me. I slid my batch of cinnamon muffins into the oven, wiped my hands, and sat on a kitchen chair, ready to give the letter my attention. The envelope was handwritten, with no return address. Postmarked right in Dearing, the nearest town. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Certainly not what I found. A neatly printed flyer, advertising a winter carnival and dance sponsored by the Lion’s Auxiliary Club. And at the bottom, the only personal message on the page:
“Won’t you join me for a fun evening? I can pick you up or meet you in town. Thinking of you, Donald Mueller.”
Incensed, I crumpled the page and threw it into the kindling box. Donald Mueller, who knew I was engaged! How dare he invite me to a dance? Had someone told him Frank was going away?
I threw the envelope into the kindling box along with the flyer and then started setting the table.
“Advertisement?” Katie asked.
I nodded, unwilling to disclose the reality of the matter. Donald was stupid. Why would he try inviting me to a dance? The idea was crazy. He’d probably omitted his return address because I’d have thrown the letter away unopened if I’d seen his name. How could he possibly think that getting me to open the envelope would make any difference?
Mom came back to the kitchen and stirred the pot of beans she’d left on to simmer. We’d have bean soup tonight, which always hit the spot for me when it was cold. I didn’t tell her about the letter, and I was glad Katie didn’t say anything more. I guess it was just too embarrassing to mention that I’d been asked out on a date. We were planning a wedding, for goodness sake. I prayed Donald would have the good sense to never try such a stunt again.
“Everything all right, Sarah?” Mom asked cheerfully as she started peeling an onion to go in the beans.
“Yes,” I answered quietly, trying to think of another chore to keep me distracted.
“Don’t worry about Franky, honey,” Mom said suddenly. “He’ll manage fine.”
I knew the words were meant as comfort, but they seemed like nothing but a jabbing reminder. How would I manage for two weeks without Frank here? What if he decided to stay even longer?
Mom was chopping onion, quickly and rhythmically. She didn’t seem bothered by the snow, or the big dog I’d shot, or Frank’s absence. Sometimes I wished I could be more like her. Peaceful about everything. At least, that’s the way she appeared.
The snow hadn’t gotten worse, but it still bothered me. For Dad’s sake, with his drive home from town, but mostly for Frank. I know he’s going to be all right, Lord. I know it. He’s in your hands.
I tried to sew, but it was hard to concentrate, so I prayed in my head for Frank and for our future together. Just as I thought I’d put other things out of my mind, thoughts of Donald’s invitation broke in again.
How dare he! Hopefully if I gave him no reply he’d get the message that he was barking up the wrong tree. I wouldn’t even consider going to that winter carnival, but I didn’t want to have to answer his letter to say so. I didn’t want to deal with him in any way at all.
Mom was almost done cutting the onion when we heard a dog barking in the south field. It didn’t sound like the Hammonds’ dog, and we didn’t usually hear any others out here. Feeling peculiar, I moved to the window and looked out, but that horrible black beast was still right where we’d left it. Dead and almost invisible now under a blanket of snow.
I was very glad when Dad pulled in. He hadn’t wanted to get stuck in town if the roads drifted shut, so he’d called Buck Norton to fill in for him at the service station and came home early.
“It might not be snowing north of here,” he tried to assure me.
But I didn’t feel any better about things. If it kept up, Dad wouldn’t be able to get to work tomorrow, and we’d miss our prearranged telephone call from Frank.
Dad closed the big dog’s carcass in a barn stall because the wind was too strong to do any burning and the ground was too frozen solid to dig. He said he’d take care of it in tomorrow’s light. When we told him the story, he hugged us all, relieved that everything had come out all right. And he said he was proud of me, taking care of things like that.
I don’t know why, but his words almost made me want to cry again. I was getting frustrated with myself. Things didn’t bother me so much most of the time. It was the situation with Frank that had started it all. Life would change immensely if he took a job somewhere else. Did he want things to be so different? What was wrong with the life we had here?
There was no sense thinking about it. I buttered one of my fresh-baked muffins as a quick snack for Dad. He ate it and headed back outside to start the milking early. I went to help him, hoping the work would keep my mind off things, but the wind was picking up terribly, and walking through the blowing snow just made me feel worse. This wasn’t going to be a fit night for anybody to be out.
Dad
had told me that Frank’s trip to Camp Point should take about ten hours, but I wasn’t sure how much that would change considering the snow. The whole thing just made me mad. At Sam. Why convince Frank to drive 230 miles when surely, after all the time they’d lived there, they could have found an acquaintance close by to help them?
But I knew it wasn’t really Sam’s fault even though the idea had been his. Frank had wanted to go, and he’d been glad to do it alone. I wished I understood, but I didn’t.
Snow was blowing in through cracks in the barn wall, and I prayed Frank was already in Camp Point or soon would be. Better for him to be with Sam than to be alone along the road someplace if this weather kept on. Just the thought made me shiver.
“I saw Donald Mueller in town today,” Dad remarked suddenly.
I looked up from my milking. The mention of that name made me feel strange inside, and I didn’t answer.
“He was asking about Frank, how long he’d be gone.”
“How did he even know he was leaving?” I had to ask, my heart suddenly hammering viciously.
“Apparently he saw Harry and Sam the other day and they mentioned the trip. He seemed very interested, I’m not sure why.”
“He’s a pig,” I said halfway under my breath.
But Dad heard me and gave me an odd look. “Everything all right, pumpkin?”
I sighed. “He was one of the boys that used to pick on Frank something terrible.”
I almost went on to say that Donald used to pester me too, but I didn’t tell that part. I didn’t want to think about it, because he was obviously up to his old tricks. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?
“Sam and Thelma’ll be happy closer to the deaf school,” Dad affirmed then. “I think it’s a good move for them.”
I just nodded. Of course that was right, and nobody could really argue. Sam had a good-paying new job. But even though it was still in Illinois, Jacksonville seemed like a world away. And Camp Point was farther still.
