When Brian said that about me going to put on my boots to hunt for Warrior, I hugged him so tightly that he
groaned. "Thanks, Bri!" I said, squeezing him.
"If we're goin', then let's get going," Brian said, loosening my arms from around his waist.
I ran back inside to pull on my boots, left by the front door, and when I came back to the kitchen, Brian was there,
pulling another lantern down from the top of the china buffet. I heard Hannah worrying, and Adam saying,
"It's alright to tell her no sometimes, Brian."
Well, I didn't really appreciate that! But I kept still, and Brian said, "We're just gonna take a little look-see. We won't be
gone long."
Evan came back into the kitchen, carrying Brian's rifle from the gun cabinet, and handed it to him. And we were off,
heading in the direction of the faint dog barking.
Before we'd walked long, we were in ankle deep, and then nearly knee deep, grass. It was sort of eirie walking
along that way, in the dark with only the lantern light leading the way. We could still hear the yapping, faint at first,
and then a bit louder.
We walked until we were near to the tree house, and then Brian paused, listening. The barking was louder here.
"You alright to walk a little further?" he asked me, sort of quietly. I heard something in his voice, and I
could sense that he wanted to continue. Whether from curiousity or something else, I wasn't sure.
"Yes," I told him. "I can walk further."
"Okay," he said, and we set off again.
After awhile, I had lost my certainty of where we were at exactly, and I was glad Brian knew where
he was going. Once he paused, and said, "Hear it now?"
I listened carefully, and heard the barking. "Yes. Do you?"
"Yeah. Getting closer."
I'd thought that the barking sounded further away, not closer. But I didn't argue. I figured Brian knew better, on something
like this, than I did.
"I think it's Warrior," I said.
"It might not be him," Brian told me, in warning. "Could be a neighbor's dog, or a stray. Don't get your hopes up."
"Alright," I said, but I couldn't help my feeling that it was Warrior.
I don't know how much longer it was that we walked. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, and then
there was the roaring of a truck's engine, and Brian stopped walking, holding out a hand to pause me.
"Turn off your lantern," he said, and I did, as he did the same with the one he carried. We were instantly
plunged into total darkness, but could still hear the roar of a truck's motor. It sounded like it was going up and down
hills, from the way the motor was being gunned.
"How close it that?" I asked Brian.
"Real close," he said. "Get down."
I went to my knees in the tall grass, and Brian crouched down, too, beside me.
"Is it on our property?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"What are they doing, do you think?" I asked, feeling my heart pounding.
"Something they shouldn't be doing," he said. "Stay down now."
So the two of us hunkered down, there in the grass, listening and then watching as the headlights of a vehicle shined
toward us, just for a moment, and then away again.
And then there was the sound of another type of engine, like a four-wheeler. And sure enough, as Brian and I knelt there
in that tall grass, the smell of the earth rising, several four-wheelers came closer, and then
wheeled the other way. Then the sound of the four-wheeler motors idling, and more dog barking.
Close enough that we could hear them shouting, "Where's that stupid dog!"
"Shoot the bastard!" another man's voice shouted.
"No," I said, alarmed, and Brian shushed me.
There was more cussing and then the sound of a dog yelping. "I kicked the shit outta him!" one of them said, sounding
triumphant, and then there was laughter.
Then a scream of pain. "Damn dog just bit me on the arm!"
And then, more yelping, and the sound of a gunshot. I swallowed the shout of fear that nearly came out, and felt
Brian's hand gripping the back of my pajama top tightly.
The four-wheelers roared off, and still we sat there. My heart felt as though it was going to thump right thru
my chest.
"They're gone," I said.
"Stay still," Brian told me. "I want to make sure of that."
Finally, after what seemed like an interminable time of just waiting, Brian stood up. I stood up beside him, and
very quietly, every few moments, you could hear the dog giving a whine of pain.
"Call to him," Brian said.
"You mean call his name?" I asked.
"Yeah. Just call him, see if we can tell if it's him," Brian said.
So I called Warrior's name. Once. And then again. And the yelp became a weak bark of recognition.
"It's him!" I said.
"Turn your lantern back on," Brian told me, and after we'd both done that, we began walking towards the
area that the four-wheelers had been in just a few minutes before.
In the lantern light, I could make out the shape of a medium-sized dog. A mutt, by definition, but not to me.
I began to rush past Brian to get to Warrior.
"Easy now," Brian said, stopping me with another one of those grabs of the back of my pajama top.
"But it's him!" I protested.
"Alright. But you don't go rushing up to a dog that's hurt and in pain. Even knowing you, he's likely to bite," Brian warned.
"He wouldn't bite me," I said, but I obeyed, waiting until Brian set his lantern on the ground a few feet away
from where the dog lay.
And then he said, "Keep talking to him," as he walked closer.
So I did. I told Warrior that would be fine, that he was a brave, brave dog, that Fat Clarence was waiting
for him at home. All sorts of silly things like that, that only another dog-lover would understand.
Approaching him slowly, Brian crouched down, reaching his hand out. I saw Warrior give his hand a
lick.
"Bring your lantern over," Brian said. "Keep talking to him."
So I knelt there in the dirt, beside my dog, and I talked to him some more, as Brian peered over him in the
lantern light.
"Where was he shot?" I asked. "Do you see it?"
"I'm not seeing it. But it's hard to tell in this light. There's some blood around his neck. Let's see if he
can stand," Brian said.
Brian half-lifted Warrior, and I supported him with my arm under his belly. I could feel the stickiness of
blood there. Whether from another injury there, or blood that had run from his neck down, I wasn't sure.
Either too weak, or in too much pain to stand unassisted, Warrior sank to his haunches when we'd let go. Still whining
in a pitiful way.
"I'll have to carry him," Brian said. "Grab both the lanterns. And you'll have to carry the rifle."
As I did that, he hoisted Warrior up to carry him. It was a long, slow walk back. I tried to keep the light
shining directly in Brian's walking path, so he wouldn't stumble and fall. A couple of times he stopped,
and when I asked him if he was alright, he said, "Yeah. Just resting a minute. Dog's heavier than he looks."
Finally, we were in sight of the house. Still a good distance away. All lit up in welcome.
Brian paused then. "Alright, peach," he said. "Run on up and get the Jeep. I think the keys are still in it. We'll
drive him the rest of the way up. Be easier on him and on me." He lowered Warrior to the ground.
"I'll stay here with him, Bri. Can I, please?" I asked pleadingly.
"Alright. Keep your lantern where I can see, so I don't run over you and the dog in the dark," he told me.
He took the other lantern from me, and then the rifle.
"I'm gonna fire a shot in the air when I get a little closer to the house," he told me. "Let the family know we're back,
so they can get a spot ready to look at him, get some supplies out and such. So don't be scared when you hear it."
"Okay," I said, kneeling beside Warrior.
Brian took off then, and I kept petting Warrior gently, talking to him about all sorts of things. Things that would sound
silly to anyone else who might have overheard. Warrior had quit whimpering. He was quiet. Which was scarier to me than
the noise he'd been making. I laid down in the grass beside him, my hand resting on his thigh.
A shot rang out, and from where I lay at, I could hear yelling from the house, though I couldn't make out what
they were saying. Eventually I heard the motor of the old Jeep start up, and a few minutes later it was coming closer.
"Hang on, buddy," I said. "Help's coming for you."
And then I stood up, picking up the lantern and waving it back and forth so we'd be easier to find.
7
When the Jeep pulled up close, I stood in front of Warrior, so he wouldn't be accidently ran over. Instead of
Brian, Crane was driving, and Ford was with him.
"We think he was shot," I said, even though I figured Brian had already told them.
I knelt and began to try to lift Warrior, but Crane stepped in. "I'll get him," he told me, and lifted the dog.
"Sit in the front," he told me. "Think you can hold him?"
"Yeah," I said, and hurriedly scrambled into the passenger seat.
Crane laid Warrior across my legs, and I folded my arms under him. Ford got in behind, and Crane got back
in the driver's seat, and put the Jeep in gear.
We were at the house within a matter of minutes, and nobody had said anything.
Crane pulled the Jeep around the back of the house, very near to the back door. Ford got out first, and leaned down,
lifting Warrior from my lap. Crane went to hold the door open, and Ford went in first, then me, and Crane followed.
The kitchen was astir with McFaddens, rallying around with individual jobs. The kitchen table had been shoved over against the far wall,
and one of the long folding tables had been set up, and covered with sheets.
There was hot water on the stove, the steam rising from it. There were towels lying on the table.
"Put him down there, Crane," Hannah said, pointing to the table.
After Crane had laid Warrior down, I went to stand next to his head, where Brian was leaning down, pushing
back the fur around his neck.
Between Brian, Hannah and I, we searched for a bullet wound.
"I'm not seeing it," Hannah said.
"Well, where did all the blood come from, then?" I asked in frustration.
A couple more moments, and then Brian said, "Here."
I leaned to look, and he said, "Somebody hold his mouth."
"He won't bite," I protested. "He's too weak."
Ford stepped around, and took Warrior's jaws in both hands, holding them shut to prevent him from biting.
I pushed back fur, matted with blood, as Brian kept probing at a spot on Warrior's side.
"Bullet just grazed him," he said. "No entry."
"How'd that happen?" Ford asked, from his spot at Warrior's head.
"Probably because the fools were too drunk to shoot straight," Brian said.
"Well, thank the Lord for that," Hannah said, and between us, we got Warrior's wound cleaned and doctored up, and lifted him so that
bandages could be wrapped around his belly.
"That's why there was blood on his stomach," I said. "But what about the blood on his neck, Bri?"
"Hold on and we'll look," Brian said.
I heard boots scraping on the floor behind us, and Adam said, "How's it going?"
"We're getting him fixed up," Hannah said, sounding positive.
"You can let him go, Ford," Brian said. "He's worn out."
Ford released his hold, and straightened up.
I pushed aside fur on Warrior's neck, searching for the cause of the bleeding there.
"Look, Brian," I said. "Is that another bullet graze?"
Brian looked, and said, "I don't think so, honey. Looks like just an abrasion to me."
"From the kicking?" I asked, horrified.
"Maybe so."
"What's this?" Adam asked.
"They were kicking him," I said. "Over and over. We heard them say so. The guy's boots must have
cut his skin."
Crane wrapped his arms around me from behind.
"He was trying to protect us," I said. "From whatever those guys were doing. He was trying to keep us safe."
"I'll call the vet," Adam said. "You think, Brian?"
"Yeah," Brian said in agreement. "Best to be sure."
I could hear Adam in the other room, talking on the phone.
"Did you call the sheriff already?" Hannah asked, gathering up the bloody towels.
"Yeah, when I came in," Brian told her.
"Harlie, go and get a shower," Hannah told me.
I shook my head. "Not yet."
"You'll feel better," she told me. "You can take a hot bath in our bathroom if you want to."
"No. I want to wait for Ivy," I said, and when Crane loosened his hold, I pulled a chair from the table and sat down
as close as I could to Warrior.
I sat there, petting Warrior and talking to him, not really paying much attention to what was going on around me. I knew
there was a lot of discussion about the men on our property, and about the sheriff, and all of that. But I just
focused on my dog, mostly.
When Ivy did arrive, she was quick, and confident in her examination and treatment of Warrior.
She gave him a shot of antibiotics and said, "It looks like you all did a good job. He's pretty worn out. It sounds
like he put up quite a fight."
"What about where they kicked him?" I asked. "Do you think he might have some internal injuries?"
"It doesn't seem as though he does," Ivy said. "He's tired, but his breathing isn't shallow."
"What can we do for him now?" Adam asked.
"You could fix up a soft bed for him. Try to get him to eat, and drink. Drinking is really important. And rest," Ivy told him. "That's about all you
can do."
"Carrying him the way I did, probably did him more harm, huh?" Brian asked.
"You didn't have much choice about that," Ivy said kindly.
"He bit one of the men," I told her.
"Good for him," Ivy said, with spirit, and for the first time all evening, I smiled.
"Yeah," I agreed.
7