Sable (5 page)

“Get back in the car, Tate,” Mr. Cobb called.

“No, sir!” I cried.

I opened the gate and slipped through, calling for Sable.

Sable didn't come. Maybe Doc Winston had her in the house.

I rang the bell. Doc Winston opened his front door and motioned me inside.

Standing in his front hall, I dripped onto the pale patterned rug.

It took a while for me to explain who I was and what I was doing there.

“You've come looking for the dog?” Doc Winston asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Sable.”

“Why, she's been gone for weeks,” Doc Winston said. “I'm so sorry you didn't call before coming all this way.”

“She's gone?” I asked.

Doc Winston nodded. “She just took off one day and never came back.”

“Why didn't you tell us?”

“I thought it would just upset you,” Doc Winston said. “Besides, your knowing wouldn't have brought her back.”

“You lost her!” I cried. “You lost Sable.”

“Come into the kitchen, honey,” Doc Winston said. “Let me give you something warm to drink.”

“No!” I cried. “I mean, no. Thank you, sir. Mr. Cobb's waiting for me out in the car. I have to go.”

I looked back at Doc Winston before stepping out into the rain. “If you see her you'll call, won't you?”

Doc Winston nodded.

I stumbled back to Mr. Cobb's car. The water streamed down my neck and my back and filled my shoes. My feet squished as I walked. I couldn't have been wetter if I'd laid down fully dressed in a tub of water.

Mr. Cobb kept the heater running while he took care of his business in Concord.

We had to stop a lot on the way home because of branches down in the road. Mr. Cobb would put on the brake and I'd get out and drag the fallen limbs to the side so we could pass. Some of those branches weighed more than I did, but getting in and out of the car was hard on Mr. Cobb, so I took care of it.

I still hadn't said a word about Sable when our driveway came into view, but I guess Mr. Cobb knew pretty much how things had gone.

“Sorry the day didn't turn out better for you, Tate,” Mr. Cobb said.

I just stared at my hands.

10 / Cleaning Up

It looked like a tornado had cut across our property. Mam's willow lay in a mess of branches across the front yard. The shed behind Pap's shop sprawled on its side. Mam's clothesline was down. So was one of the power lines.

I ran toward the house, afraid something might have happened to Mam and Pap.

They flew out the kitchen door at the same time, onto the back porch, stopping when they saw me. They kind of leaned into each other at the top of the steps.

Mr. Cobb waited till I reached the porch. Then he tooted his horn once and waved good-bye.

“Glad you're back,” Pap said.

I told Mam and Pap about the tree limbs down in the road. I told them about the yellow sky and the silence before the storm broke.

“Did you see Sable?” Pap asked.

“No, sir,” I said.

Mam and Pap looked at me, questioning.

“I'd rather not talk about it,” I said.

“Well,” Pap said, “I've got some cleaning up to do.”

“I do, too,” said Mam.

I looked across the yard. The fence I'd made for Sable still stood. All but one sticker. I'd built a good fence for Sable. Only there wasn't any Sable to put inside it.

I turned to Mam and Pap. “How can I help?” I asked.

Pap put his hand on my shoulder and steered me toward the clothesline. After we got that restrung, we lifted the shed back on its foundation using the pickup truck and a winch and pulley. Some of the shed's contents had blown around the yard. I gathered up everything still in one piece.

The box that once was Sable's bed sat in a gully, against a rock. The cardboard had collapsed into a soggy mess. There was no saving it.

I started cleaning up willow branches, but Pap made me stay clear of them until the power company fixed the line.

As we walked across the backyard for the last time that day, Pap stooped and picked up the one fence post that had let go.

“You built a good fence, Tate Marshall,” Pap said.

“Yes, sir.”

“I didn't know you could.” Pap looked up toward the mountains.

“No, sir,” I said. “I don't believe you did.”

“Putting a fence in like that takes a lot of planning, a lot of hard work.”

“I did it for Sable, Pap.”

“I know, Tate.”

Pap handed me the broken fence post. I wrapped my arms around it like it was a baby.

11 / The Arrival Again

Then one day, in early summer, with the mountains deepening to a thick green, I listened as Pap's saw hummed steadily across the yard. I was rinsing breakfast dishes for Mam, thinking about the project waiting for me over in the shop.

Pap had started teaching me his trade. He kept right on top of me when I used his machines, but he let me try more and more all the time.

Between the dishes and the saw, I didn't hear the chug of a motor until the car had nearly reached the top of our driveway. Dust hovered in the thick air.

“Mam,” I called, recognizing the car through the screen door. “Looks like Mr. Cobb's here for you.” With me taking over some of Mam's chores around the house, Mam had started balancing Mr. Cobb's books, the way she balanced Pap's.

Mr. Cobb got out slowly and opened the back door of his car. He bent his scrawny legs and lifted something off the car seat.

Standing at the sink, looking over my shoulder, I felt my heart start slamming against my chest.

Eden slid off the porch and hid.

Mr. Cobb was talking real gentle as he set something down in front of him.

Moving a little to the side, he revealed a dog. A dark brown dog.

It can't be Sable, I thought.

The dog swayed for a moment, trying to keep its balance. It stared down at the ground, like its head weighed too much to hold up. But one step at a time it came, limping up the path toward the porch.

“Mam!”

My heart nailed at my throat like it meant to stick there.

“Mam! I think it's Sable.”

The screen door banged shut behind me as I flew outside.

I crouched down in front of the dog and held out my hand. The thin brown dog trembled. Her tail, tipped on the end with white, waved once like a tired arm.

“Sable?”

I spoke gently. The dog took a step forward. She lifted her head. But she didn't look straight at me. She had a braided twine collar, tied with a ratty square knot, hanging around her neck.

“Sable? It is you, isn't it, girl!”

She wagged her tail.

Sable looked closer to death than she had the first time she'd wandered into our lives. I could count the ribs in her brown chest and the bones along her spine. Dried blood caked her paws, and she limped pretty bad.

“Tate?” Pap called from the door of his shop. “Tate, what's going on?”

“Pap!” I called back. “Mr. Cobb found Sable!”

Pap's long legs carried him quickly across the yard.

He crouched beside me.

Sable limped between the two of us and rested her muzzle on my arm. Pap's fingers ran through her fur, watching for any sign of pain. Sable lifted her head, sniffing my hair.

“Sable,” I whispered.

She turned, and this time she looked straight at me. That same chocolate look, sweet and dark and shining.

“I was heading over the mountain just now when I saw her,” Mr. Cobb said. “It's a good thing I wasn't going too fast or I'd have hit her. Limping right down the center of the road, she was.”

Mr. Cobb's driving had made me crazy the day I'd gone with him to Concord. It didn't make me crazy anymore.

“Thank you, Elton,” Pap said. “I'm sure Tate's glad to see her again.”

“I thought she might be,” Mr. Cobb said.

It looked to me like Pap didn't mind seeing her again too much either.

And then the strangest thing happened.

Mam walked over, reached down her hand, and touched Sable.

Sable held so still, like she knew how hard it was, what Mam was doing.

Mam's fingers spread slowly over Sable's head, taking in the bones. Her tall back relaxed a little. She moved her fingertips down, inching toward Sable's ears. Mam smiled as she touched those ears.

“I'll just fetch the first-aid kit,” Pap said.

He turned as he went through the back door. “What do you think of that, Tate? Finding her way home, all the way from Concord.”

Home! Pap had said home!

I couldn't keep my hands off Sable. I never left her side. Never even waved good-bye to Mr. Cobb.

Doctoring Sable, Pap and I found some ugly sores. Pap cut part of her fur away to dress them.

Mam went in and fried up a mess of hamburg. “For lunch,” she said, although it wasn't nearly eleven. Then she didn't even serve any to me or Pap. She just put down a dish for Sable.

*   *   *

Sable had plenty chance to wander off after she came back. She never did.

“I guess you've finally had your fill of wandering, girl,” I said, stroking her dark head. “We never even needed that fence.”

Sable and I took the fence down. It took a lot less time knocking it apart than it took hammering it together.

Sable never knew I'd built that fence for her. But she sure enjoyed taking it apart. She'd steal a sticker and race around the property with it, then come back and trot beside me, carrying her sticker while I carted a load of my own, off to the woodshed for winter kindling.

Sable even started coming inside the house. You could tell where she'd been by the trail of sawdust she left. Pap and I had to clean up our tracks with the broom and dustpan. Mam cleaned up after Sable.

At night, Sable curled by the kitchen woodstove, thumping her tail whenever Mam walked by. And once, while Mam was fixing dinner, I swear she handed a good piece of meat down to that dog. And Sable took it from her easy, real easy.

“Mam!” I cried. “What are you doing?”

“It's just a bite, Tate,” Mam said.

As if Sable needed a reason for staying.

GOFISH

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