Luke wrote a last entry in his ledger and regarded the figures with satisfaction. "Well, son, it looks like we have a lot to be thankful for this year."
Mark came over to look at the book. "Pa, is that right? A clear profit of five hundred dollars?"
"That's right." The big man smiled. "We can finally afford a new saddle and bridle for Blue Boy."
"I'd like that." The boy hesitated. "There's something else I'd like even more."
"What's that?"
"Well, you know Mr Bullock invited us to have Thanksgiving with him and Percy."
Luke looked narrowly at his son. "We always have Thanksgiving here at our own home."
"Pa, just because we've always done something a certain way doesn't mean it always has to be that way!" Mark tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "It's their first Thanksgiving in North Fork. Heck, it's their first Thanksgiving in the United States! Don't you think they should have some friends to share it with?"
"Yes, I do, and it's a fine idea to want to visit them but we're going to have our Thanksgiving dinner here."
"Oh, Pa…" Mark fumed and his father tapped his hat.
"We have more important things to think about than Thanksgiving. It's still two weeks away but that fence by the road needs to be mended now. Get the buckboard."
Mark was still sulking as he drove to the fence. Luke was silent as well, unwilling to try talking when the boy was in a bad mood. The silence between them continued as they unloaded the wire and started stringing it.
They were almost finished when a big dog, black and shaggy, hurtled down the road and plowed into Luke. He went down and Mark ran for the rifle, trying to get a clear shot. The dog ran off as abruptly as it had appeared, yelping in pain as the shot Mark took at it went home.
The boy tossed the rifle in the buckboard and knelt next to his father. "Pa, are you all right?"
"No." Luke's voice was unsteady and his face was white. His arm was torn, and mixed with the blood was white foam. "That dog had rabies."