his own lonely feelings. Tom had helped a male to a life of better interest. And apparently Queenie hadn’t minded at all.
Then Tom wondered who in the world had named that female dog...Queenie? When the two dogs met just what real name had she’d given as hers to the male and what real name had the male supplied as his?
For some reason, Tom turned his horse away from the direction of the ranch and toward the stream. There he allowed his horse to drink rather slowly and quite a bit. He encouraged it as he went upstream and also drank water. The man and his horse were oddly silent and watchful.
The horse kept looking up and to a certain spot. He blew his lips as he watched and lifted his head higher.
Tom glanced around the area and was aware they were very alone. Then he noticed the attention of the horse, and he looked out and away. He saw nothing to cause the horse to give such attention.
Then Tom saw a dot in the distance that was a dog. With a deep breath and using his fingers in his mouth, he whistled the ranch double whistle for dogs at that distance, and the dog came his way. Tom noticed it had come from some distance, and that it was not one of the ranch dogs. It was the human whistle that caught the dog’s attention. It walked oddly.
Tom told the horse, “Steady.”
Although it wasn’t yet summer, the dog could have rabies. Sick dogs generally left home. Or he could be lost. And he could be a calf killer. The approaching creature could be just about anything.
The man and the horse looked other places, to keep track of the area, but they were for the most part concentrated on the approaching dog.
Because of the waterless area beyond, Tom didn’t go to meet the dog. If it had come across that stretch of barren land, it would be thirsty, and there was water close to where Tom was standing.
The dog could smell it. He was urgent to turn back, but the water lured him on. And Tom remembered that he and the horse had drunk especially—for a reason. Was there a person out there on the flat, alone? In danger? Harmed? Where would he be? She?
With more intentness, Tom watched the approaching dog. So did the horse. The dog was coming from a bleak area. The land was used to graze cattle—on occasion—depending on how the weather had been, which year. If it’d been wet, there’d be enough growth for a herd, if it had been dry, other places were used. Beyond, the land was fragile.
When the dog came to the water, it was still some distance from where Tom stood. It walked into the water and lapped carefully.
To gulp water immediately could flounder a creature. The dog was dehydrated. The dog looked at Tom but did not attempt to approach him. It was mostly trying to adjust to the water. And it began to shiver.
The water was too cool for the dog.
Concerned, Tom carefully went toward the dog. It didn’t try to get away. It watched, shivering. But it wouldn’t get out of the water. It lapped some and shivered.
It tried to bark, to communicate, but its throat was raw from the lack of water and a long journey.
Tom took out his cellular phone and called in to the house. “This is Tom.”
“It’s Joe,” came the answer. “What’s up?”
“An exhausted, dehydrated dog just came in off the upper flats. He’s in the stream but he isn’t yet drinking much.”
“Is anybody following him?”
Tom looked around again out to the edge of forever. “Not that I can see.”
“I’ll bring some of the boys out and a couple of tracers,” Joe suggested. “If he’s available, it might help if Rip goes up in the plane and looks around. We’ll have him land out by you so he can find the dog’s tracks. Keep in touch. If the dog should leave, go along but let us know.”
“Right.”
“We’ll be along as soon as possible.” That had a meaning of immediate commitment.
And quite sure there was need, Tom said, “Thank you.”
The answering reply was a serious, “Yeah.”
Slowly, Tom began to move toward where the dog was. If the dog stayed put, he was probably used to people. But Tom knew he’d never get the dog to stay close. It wasn’t looking for a place but for help.
How strange that Tom felt that so clearly.
He watched the dog and told it, “You need to get out of that water and shake yourself dry so’s you won’t chill.”
The dog shivered.
Tom unsaddled his horse and took the blanket off. “Come here, boy. I’ll help you. You chill, you’ll get really sick. Who’ve you left out there? Where are they?”
The dog lapped several times. Then he went to the edge of the water ın the shallows and shook himself hard, sending water flying everywhere. It was as if he’d understood Tom’s words.
Tom said, “Let me just put this blanket on you.”
The dog became careful. He watched but he was not at all sure the man should come closer.
Tom backed away and put the blanket aside.
Tom took note of the slight indentations of the dog’s arriving paw marks. How far across the plain could the prints be followed? How far had that dog come?
Would the dog have come to the stream directly? Or would he have circled, looking for a habitation? Looking for people.
Tom listened for the plane.
A plane would cover the area much quicker. If the dog was that dehydrated, so would be whoever the dog had left out there, on the tableland.
One
Rip Morris landed the range plane near Tom Keeper with casual finesse. He was a casual man, lazy-eyed and aloof. He was also one hell of a pilot. He had eyes like a hawk. He could spot anything...even if it couldn’t move.
As Tom went over to the two-seater, exposed-cockpit plane, Rip was throttling it down. He pushed up his goggles and lifted the flaps on his helmet. He needed a shave. That wasn’t unusual.
Tom tersely said, “I think there’s a person out there that this dog is worried about. How about you taking the dog up and go slow enough that the dog just might know where you are and where he’s been?”
And Rip regarded the medium-sized dog, who was mostly black with some white, with a measured look. Get the damned dog aloft, Rip thought, and it would probably throw up, or see something and jump out. No sweat. It was the dog’s funeral.
So with some effort and no help from Rip at all, Tom got the dog in the front cockpit. Tom suggested, “You might just go along low and slow and see how the dog reacts.”
Rip nodded once as he said, “Wait here.” He revved the engine and took off.
