Chapter 3
As the truck came to a halt, Harley could hear the loud, harsh baying of other dogs, excited by their master's return. He heard Travis slam the door shut and then bellow, "Shut up, you mutts!" He came around and opened the cage door, then yanked on the rope around Harley's neck. The hound mix obediently jumped out of the flatbed onto the dusty ground, and Travis led him around to the back of his house. His home was nothing but a tiny wooden shack, covered in peeling white paint. The tin roof was bent inwards, and rusty nails stuck out everywhere.
Travis was leading Harley to the gate of a chain link fence that surrounded the back of the house. The thunderous barking and howling grew louder, and Harley tucked his tail between his legs.
"Come on, dog!" Travis jerked Harley's rope, unlatched the gate, and led him into the yard. It was a small area, about ten feet by five, choked with weeds. A wire kennel stood against the fence, and four dogs were chained to the back wall of the house. They howled and lunged at the ends of the chains, welcoming their master back.
"SHUT UP!" Travis screamed over the noise. He stepped forward and loomed over the dogs threateningly, and they fell silent. The biggest one, a massive black and brown dog, whined softly and wagged his tail.
"Hey, Bugler." Travis reached out and scratched his ears. "How's my boy today?"
Bugler, obviously Travis's favorite, licked his master's hand.
"Alright, we've got someone joinin' us today, who will take Bones's place." Travis announced to his dogs. "This here's Harley. I know he's kind of sorry-looking, but he's the cheapest dog I could get around here. Bugler, I'll be expectin' you to show him who's boss!" He led Harley to a fifth chain hanging from the wall of the house, which he clipped to Harley's collar. Then, he stood up and disappeared inside through the back door.
Harley craned his neck to observe the other dogs. The one right next to him was a muscular Plott hound with a dark brindled coat. Then there was Bugler, who was even more muscular, and had a wrinkled face and huge jowls. To his right was a slim tan and white foxhound, and at the very opposite end of the wall was another tan and white dog, only much smaller. He had a skinny body and folded back, whippet-like ears. He hunkered down in the grass, seeming nervous.
"Hey! You!" came a bellowing, rough voice, with a thick country accent. Harley looked back to Bugler, who was glowering right at him.
"Hey new dog! My name's Bugler, and I'm the lead dog of this pack! You better do what the master and I say, or you're in for it!"
The Plott hound and the foxhound burst into harsh laughter.
"You don't look very promising!" Bugler called to Harley. "Tell me, can you hunt at all!?"
Harley felt a growl rising in his throat, but contained himself. Bugler did not look like someone to mess with.
"I…I caught a badger once," he replied.
"That's it?" Bugler's eyes glittered with amusement, and he and his friends roared with laughter. "You've got a lot to learn, mutt! And trust me, I will make sure you become worthy to this pack, even if I have to beat it into you! Are we clear?"
"Y…yes sir, we're clear," said Harley.
"Good. Now let me introduce you to the rest of the gang." Bugler pointed his nose at the Plott hound. "This here's Hustler." He turned to the foxhound. "This is Jet, and that little wimp over there is Thistle."
Thistle looked at the ground as the others continued to laugh. Harley slumped down in the grass, suddenly wanting to go home.
The back door then swung open, and Travis came out carrying a bag of dog food. Harley noticed that he and the other dogs had a metal bowl within reach of them. Travis walked along the line of dogs, tossing a handful of kernels into each bowl. The others began to wolf the food down while Harley cautiously sniffed it. It smelled greasy and stale.
"Stop that whinin'!" Harley turned to see Travis glaring at Thistle. "You don't get any food cuz you didn't catch that rabbit I set you after yesterday. If you want to eat, work harder!"
Thistle miserably lay down with his chin on his paws as Travis went back inside.
"Don't you be feeling sorry for him," Bugler growled at Harley. "Here, you have to earn your food. Ain't that right, small fry?"
Harley assumed Bugler was talking to Thistle, but the little dog didn't reply. Jet, the foxhound, cuffed the side of his head with a paw. "Answer him!" he barked. Thistle yelped. "Y—yes sir," he stammered.
Harley turned back to his food and reluctantly ate. He felt guilty for eating when Thistle had no food, and the food had the consistency and flavor of sawdust, but it seemed he'd have to keep his strength up in a place like this. Dusk had approached, and the sky was a blazing red with streaks of gold. Bugler licked crumbs of dog food off his jowls.
"Blood red sky tonight…I'd say that's a sign we're gonna have some good kills tomorrow." He grinned, baring huge yellow fangs.
"We're going hunting tomorrow?" Harley asked as politely as he could.
"That's right, mutt," Bugler growled "We're gettin' up bright and early to go kill us some varmints. Then you'll see that we're the best damn hunting pack around. We brought down a bear once. Try not to piss yourself if you see one!" He, Hustler, and Jet all burst out laughing again.
Harley lay down and curled up into a miserable ball. How could Amos have sold him to a man like Travis? He thought the master had liked him.
Mom, Dad…I miss you. Images of Copper and Belle's smiling, proud faces came into mind, and he ached to be with them.
You two wouldn't put up with being treated like this, would you? But I'm not like you…these dogs will beat me to a pulp if I try to stand up for myself.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and entered a shallow, disturbed sleep.