by Hillary Avis
“You have children?” he asked.
She nodded, biting back her answer—yes, with you, you big idiot! But before she could fib again, Myra swept over and dangled the truck keys in front of Allison. “Almost forgot to give you these.”
Allison took them hesitantly. “What excuse should I give Crystal when I show up there looking for the dog you took to work?”
Myra shrugged with her whole body, chuckling. “Beats me. That’s your problem now. Mr. Paul, it’s about time for lunch. Why don’t I walk you over to your spot?”
“All you do is feed us,” Paul said, rising, his complaint softened by his cheeky grin. He was so cute when he turned on the charm.
Her shift over, Allison left them reluctantly and drove out toward the filbert farm. Flashing lights in the school parking lot caught her eye. A cluster of law enforcement vehicles, including Kara’s cruiser, county sheriff SUVs, and state police cars filled half the small lot. The other half swarmed with people, some with orange arm bands and eager dogs leashed at their sides.
Apparently, Taylor still wasn’t home. Leroy must have finally agreed to a real search effort. Allison suppressed the impulse to stop and join the search party. She had her own search and rescue effort underway, and she didn’t have a team of trained professionals at her disposal. Once she found Willow and brought her home, she’d come back and help out.
She picked up speed as she left town, slowing only to turn from Highway 19 onto Route 247. On the west side of the road, hay fields and pasture stretched toward Salem. On the east, spiky trees in the Timber Falls wilderness slipped by the passenger window like heartbeats on a monitor, blipping a stripe of sky as the trees parted momentarily when the highway crossed over Timber Creek. Abruptly, she hit the brakes and pulled over to the shoulder.
The culvert. Timber Creek passed under Route 247 in a big culvert. Julio had said something about his brother being stuck in one when they were kids. Maybe Taylor didn’t cross Timber Creek where she’d found his bike. Maybe he’d followed the creek all the way up to the culvert.
She made a U-turn and backtracked a hundred yards before parking at the end of the guard rail over the creek and slithering down a grassy bank to the rocky area around the culvert. The dark opening under the highway was at least three feet across—maybe too big for anyone but the largest adult to get stuck, although a few stray branches crossed the opening where this year’s new blackberry canes and willow shoots had encroached on the concrete pipe.
Water flowed briskly through it, so rather than getting her shoes wet, she crouched on one side and leaned to see into the pipe. The light shone like a full moon from the other side, unbroken except by the slice of water at the bottom. She breathed a sigh of relief—though she couldn’t make out many details inside the pipe, it didn’t house an eleven-year-old. Hopefully, Taylor had made his way home from whatever friends’ house where he’d slept over. That boy was going to be in trouble when his grandmother got her hands on him.
She grinned to herself as she climbed back up the road and got in the truck, imaging how he’d sulk at being grounded and spend the next week up in the branches of the oak tree, snarling at Michelle when she called him in for meals. She made yet another U-turn on the empty highway and headed for Crystal’s. Maybe Willow had already shown up, too.
When she pulled up to the house, she saw Crystal’s puzzled face in the kitchen window. No dog on the porch, though.
The storm door creaked open and Crystal stuck her head out. “Mama’s at work. But I guess you knew that since you have her truck?” It was a question that Allison wasn’t sure how to answer. She decided on honesty.
“Willow got out this morning. I just came to look for her.”
“But Mama said—you know what? I don’t want to know.” Crystal fished something from beside the door and then stepped out onto the porch, closing the storm door quickly behind her. Two pairs of toddler hands pressed against the glass and Nia and Jaden’s cute round faces appeared soon after as they stared at Allison where she stood in the driveway. Crystal cleared her throat impatiently and Allison realized she was holding out a leash.
She took it, sheepish. “Sorry. I got distracted by the babies.”
Crystal turned to look back at the house, where Nia and Jaden had their noses smushed against the door. Her scowl transformed—no one could resist that level of cute, not even a beleaguered, nine-months-pregnant mom. But when she turned back to Allison, the smile slipped away. “I hate to say this, but I think—”
“I know.” Allison’s heart sank. “It’s too much. When I find her, I’ll take her back.”
“Sorry for the trouble—”
“No trouble.” Allison held up a hand to Crystal’s apology. “I haven’t even done the paperwork. Myra sprung this on you; I should have waited to check with you before I dropped a giant dog in your lap.”
“She was good with the babies. You were right about that.” Crystal glanced back over her shoulder at the front door, where the faces of her two children had vanished. “Uh oh”—she sighed—"I’d better go. They’re probably getting into something.”
Allison held up the leash. “You get yours, I’ll get mine.” Willow was probably getting into something, too, off wherever she was.
Chapter 12
Allison walked the perimeter of Crystal’s property first, wishing she’d changed into rubber boots instead of wearing her work shoes, as the grass was still wet from the last rain. She hoped to find Willow in the back pasture with the goats, but was disappointed to see the nanny and wether cavorting on their own, Chauncy having retreated to the barn for a snooze with Jenny and her pups.
She wound her way up and down the rows in the filbert orchard next. The grass was tall enough between the shrubby trees that Willow would easily be hidden if she, like the other dogs, had decided to take a midday nap. Allison cupped her hands and called Willow’s name and then paused, listening for the crash of a huge fluffy dog through the foliage.
Nothing.
She resumed the search, row by row, flicking away the burrs that clung to her pant legs when she brushed against the weeds that grew along the fence line between the filberts and the highway. Her foot twinged, and she stooped to shake a rock loose from her shoe, cursing Willow under her breath.
It’s not like she had anything better to do—no missing child to worry about, no library to guard from burglars, no evil future in-laws to obstruct by puzzling out what was in those boxes, no husband with decades of his life missing who needed her help and support to recover. No, looking for a darn dog was the top of her list today.
Tears pricked her eyes and she gave up on the filberts. She stormed down the road away from the house, half blind, choking on her own bitter sobs. “Willow! Come! Willow!”
Each time she called more angrily until she was practically snarling the dog’s name. The harsh sound of her own voice stopped her, finally, as she straddled the yellow center line of the highway a few hundred yards north of Crystal’s house.
Dog training 101, she reminded herself. Willow would never answer to an angry voice. Especially not after her years tied to a tree, where she was neglected and shouted at on a daily basis. Allison took a few deep breaths and used the hem of her peasant blouse to dry her cheeks and tried again.
“Willow!” she called, injecting as much fun and interest into her voice as she could and jangling the leash. “Come on, girl! Let’s go for a walk!”
Faintly, the sound of a jubilant bark drifted from the woods. Or maybe she had imagined it. She squinted into the dark trees on the other side of the ditch. A tuft of white fur fluttered from a blackberry bramble on the fringe of the forest. It could belong to a deer or a rancher’s errant sheep. Or it could belong to—
“Willow?” she called again. This time the sound came more clearly, two sharp barks, closer this time. She cussed her footwear again as she braced herself and plunged through the brush into the trees. Blackberry thorns tore painfully at her arms and ankles, bu
t once she was past the vine maples and other shrubby trees on the periphery, the forest opened up. Carpets of moss and ferns stretched between the tall Doug fir and pine trees, growing over fallen logs in every state of decay like blankets over sleeping giants.
The forest floor slanted steeply upward to the east, but Allison could hear Willow’s deep woof ring through the trees ahead, so she huffed and puffed her way up the slope. At the top of the first rise, she reached a small flat area where a dirt road wound around the hill—overgrown, with tall plants down the center of the two tracks. No one had driven on it for a while. Maybe an old logging road or an access road for rangers that had been blocked by falling trees in a storm and never cleared out for whatever reason.
She paused, bracing against a tree to catch her breath. Her hand came away tacky with pitch, but before she could scrape it off and apply a layer of dirt to take away the sticky feeling, Willow appeared ahead, picking her way down the hill between the fallen logs, her tail flying like a fluffy banner behind her, her mouth open in a wide doggy grin.
Such a goofball.
“There you are!” Allison started up the hill toward her. As soon as Willow noticed, she froze, then wheeled to gallop back up the way she came, looking back playfully over her shoulder every now and then to bark. Allison groaned. “Oh, so we’re playing this game.”
The keep-away, you-can’t-catch-me game. As long as she followed, Willow would keep running. Well, Allison knew the rules to this game, too. She pivoted, called for Willow, then ran pell-mell down the slope toward the highway for about twenty yards before she checked to see if Willow had followed.
She hadn’t.
She had, however, stopped to stare at Allison, looking concerned. Allison giggled self-consciously. “What? You’ve never seen me run before? I can run! You’re not the only one.”
Willow twitched her tail and made a rumbling growly sound, hopping a few times to entice Allison back into the game. Maybe she’d have to play along for a little bit to get close enough to clip the leash on Willow’s collar. She sprinted back up the hill as best she could in her slides, just a short burst before she feinted down again, hoping to draw the dog down to the dirt road.
She looked back to see if her plan had worked and saw Willow bounding through the trees toward her. Success. But just as she turned back, her shoe caught on the edge of a stump, sending her flying and flailing to the ground, where she slammed her head against the base of a tree.
SHE CAME TO WITH A splitting headache and an unpleasant smell in her nostrils. Light and shadow flickered across her closed eyelids. She touched the back of her head and her fingers came away sticky. More pitch? No, blood. Her eyes flicked from the red smears on her fingers to focus on Willow’s enormous muzzle panting in her face. The dog pawed her arm roughly and then abruptly stopped panting to sniff her up and down.
Allison sat up and pushed her away, trying to clear the ringing in her ears. “I’m OK,” she said, more to reassure herself than the dog. Willow sat down beside her and pawed her leg, apparently still worried.
As her dizziness subsided, Allison felt the clasp of the leash on the forest floor under her hand. In one swift motion, she hooked it on Willow’s collar before she could run away again. At least something good could come of the fall. Willow leaped to her feet, her mouth open in a doggy grin, ready for a walk. Allison chuckled and shook her head, then immediately regretted the motion as pain surged inside her skull.
“You’re in so much trouble,” she groaned. She used the tree that had inflicted the wound to brace herself while she stood, then gave a slight tug on the leash to let Willow know it was time to move. “Gently,” she added. “We’re going to take it slow.”
But instead of following her, Willow backed up, planting her hind legs firmly in the duff. Allison applied some pressure to the lead, but Willow shook her head back and forth wildly, yanking until her collar slipped over her ears and she was free. The collar swung back toward Allison, landing in the dirt at her feet.
She stared at it, dismayed. Five yards uphill, Willow danced and gave a sharp, joyful bark. Want to play?
“No, I don’t! I have a head injury!”
Tears pricked the inside of her eyelids. She didn’t know if it was the two sleepless nights, the worry over Taylor, or the bump on the head, but she was so, so tired. All she wanted was to go home and rest. But she couldn’t very well leave Willow in the dog-dang woods, could she? That was worse than leaving her with a neglectful owner. Plus, Willow was the property of Oregon Tails. If she killed livestock or bit someone while she was running around playing feral, it’d be on Rachael’s rescue. The whole operation could get shut down.
“Willow, come here!” Allison gave the sharp command and pointed to her side. Willow looked over her shoulder at the woods behind her and then back at Allison. Allison straightened her posture and said again firmly, “Here. Now.”
With a dramatic sigh, Willow tucked her tail and slunk toward her, stopping just out of reach. Then, making sure Allison’s attention was fixed on her, she walked back up the hill a few feet and huffed, pawing at the dirt. Then she raised her head up to stare at Allison again.
Allison held out her hands pleadingly. “What is it? I don’t know what you want.”
Willow took a few more steps up the hill and looked back. Follow me.
“No. We’re going home.” She crossed her arms.
Willow ignored her, stubbornly hiking uphill a few more steps. She paused and waited for Allison to join her, her posture relaxed and patient.
She knew, somehow, that Allison had no choice.
Chapter 13
They must have hiked a half-mile into the woods, but it seemed longer due to the steep grade and the throbbing lump developing on the back of her head. Once Willow realized Allison was going to follow, she dropped back and walked just a few steps ahead, close enough that sometimes Allison could wrap her fingers in the dog’s fur and use her for support when she climbed over logs or negotiated a steep section of the hill.
Willow kept a wary eye on the leash looped around Allison’s neck, but seemed pleased that things were going her way. She veered suddenly to the left, cutting across the slope.
“You better get us out of here when this is over,” Allison muttered as she followed, more than slightly out of breath. She had no idea where they were, and that made her nervous. This was what you learned not to do when you grew up around the woods—just head out into the trees with no compass or orienting landmarks. It was the recipe for getting lost.
Well, if Willow runs off, I can always just walk downhill, she comforted herself. Eventually she’d get to the highway again. How far down the highway, she had no idea, but walking on flat pavement was sounding like a picnic at this point.
To her relief, Willow paused in a small clearing. Allison took a minute to catch her breath, her hands braced on her hips. The dog laid down at the base of a tree, rolling so her back was pressed against the trunk as her tongue lolled out. Fir needles and moss clung to her coat like Velcro and Allison reached down to brush them off.
“You’re going to need a bath when this is over,” she admonished. “Wouldn’t you rather go home to your nice, soft, clean bed?”
“I don’t think she cares. She slept there all night,” a voice came from above, rippling across the soft silence of the forest.
Allison shrieked and jumped back, tripping over a stump behind her and landing on her rear end in the soft, benevolent moss.
Taylor clambered down the branches of the fir tree like a ladder and crouched down next to Willow, ruffling her fur. Willow wriggled to expose more of her belly and Taylor obliged, scratching her in wide, enthusiastic circles.
Allison opened and closed her mouth a few times, speechless. Of course, the kid was up a tree. She should have known. Finally she said, “Everyone’s been worried. They’re looking for you.”
“I know.” Taylor bit his lip, and for the first time, she noticed his eyes were swollen. He�
�d been crying. The poor kid must have been terrified, out here in the woods all night.
“Did you get lost?”
He shook his head but didn’t offer any explanation. His fingers curled in toward his palms—his hands were dirty, too, marked with dusty spots of pitch just like hers.
“What were you doing out here?
He bent over Willow, picking bits of forest detritus out of her fur, ignoring the question.
“I found your bike,” Allison offered, hoping it’d prompt him to say why he’d left it by the creek. “It’s at your grandma’s house now, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
He gave a quick nod and brushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes, leaving a smudge of dirt across his pale forehead. He had the same freckles as Michelle—and the same unwillingness to answer questions, it seemed.
“Do you think you could help me get Willow back to the truck? I don’t think she’s going to come out of the woods unless you come, too.”
He nodded once and looped his hand in Willow’s collar. She jumped up eagerly and walked beside him as he picked his way down the hill. It was as though they’d just gone for a pleasant daytime hike, not disappeared overnight and launched a full-scale search and rescue effort.
She shook her head disbelievingly as she struggled to her feet a few yards behind them. The zap of pain was worth it—it gave her a boost of energy to make it back down the hill. No pain, no gain, she reminded herself.
CRYSTAL MUST HAVE SPOTTED them as they were coming down the highway, because she met them out in the driveway, little Jaden on her hip. She had a phone to her ear, but by the time they reached the truck, she had slipped it in her pocket.
“I called Leroy,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t believe you found him—found them both!”
