she hadn’t had a dog, not really. There had been dogs on the farm when she was growing up, but that wasn’t the same as a pet like Beau. She knew Sully was right, she should just mind her own business.
He knows not his own strength who hath not met adversity.
—Samuel Johnson
SIERRA BID SULLY good-night at about eight but she remained on the porch with a hot cup of tea. She took a great amount of comfort in routine—she usually got into bed with her water at her bedside and her book in her lap and read until she slept. But tonight her routine was screwed because she could hear Molly whimpering and her heart was breaking.
She wandered over to the Petersen campsite and saw that Molly was stuffed into her kennel outside while the family was inside. The dog cried and let out the occasional yelp. The bluish flickering that indicated a TV in the camper could be seen in the windows, which meant they probably could not hear Molly.
She was going to kidnap the dog.
No, Sully wouldn’t like that. And she was Sully’s guest. So...she would stay up until the dog finally went silent, and then she would sleep. In the morning she would report this abuse to someone, she’d figure out who. She would suggest to Mr. Petersen that he give her the dog to take to a no-kill shelter where she would surely find a wonderful forever home. Maybe she would stroke his ego and tell him he was a good man to take on the dog but it was okay if it didn’t work out with a pet, just do no harm. That’s what she’d do. One way or another she’d separate Molly from the Petersens before they left the campground.
She went to her cabin to get a blanket and pillow and she made herself comfortable in the hammock, just a couple of spaces away from the Petersens’ camper and a still very lonely and unhappy Molly.
Despite the sound of the whimpering dog, Sierra drifted off. She was wrapped up like a burrito in her blanket, snug as could be with the breeze rocking her when she heard a yelp. She jerked awake.
“Just shut the hell up!” Chad loudly demanded. There was another yelp. “I said, quiet!” The yelping grew louder.
Sierra bolted off the hammock and ran to the campsite where her worst fears were realized. Petersen held the dog by the chain collar and smacked her on the head again and again.
“Stop!” Sierra screamed. “Stop that!”
“Mind your own goddamn business,” he said, hitting the dog again.
It took a second to comprehend that he’d behave so, yell so, when he was literally living outside among a large group of campers. “Stop! I swear to God if you strike that animal again...”
He hit her again. Molly cowered and whimpered.
Sierra lost it. She threw herself at the man’s back, launched on him with her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. “You’re the animal!”
“What the hell...?”
“Treating a defenseless animal so cruelly, how do you like it?” she said, tightening her arms around his neck.
The man shook her violently, but she hung on. He tried prying her arms from around his neck, but there was no give in her. “Beast,” she muttered. “Animal!”
“Sierra! Let loose of that man!”
At Sully’s command, Sierra let go and fell clumsily to the ground, landing on her ass. The fall jolted her for a moment, and then she regained her wits and saw that Anne and her daughter stood in the open door of the camper while Sully stood a few feet away, one hand leaning on a baseball bat.
Petersen huffed a bit to catch his breath. “Good thing you warned her,” he said. “I was close to forgetting she was a girl and give her what for.”
Sully hefted his bat. “You forget that was a defenseless animal, too?”
“It’s my animal!”
“More’s the pity. We got some pretty strict cruelty laws in this county and that was plumb cruel. I called the police.”
“Well, good for you,” he grumbled.
“If you don’t want that dog, I got a home for her,” Sully said.
“Bugger off, old man.”
“Police chief might take her. He’s got four goldens already but he’s mighty fond of ’em and might fancy another. They sleep with him.”
“Take her,” Petersen said. “It’ll save me the trouble of drowning her.”
Sierra got to her feet slowly, brushing off her rear end. The very first thing she noticed was Molly sitting docilely beside her miniature kennel, her head cocked to one side with what looked like a satisfied expression on her face. Sierra quickly went to the dog, took her collar in hand and led her out of the campsite.
Petersen went into his camper, out of sight.
“Come along,” Sully said, heading off for his house, not the store, leaving Sierra and Molly to follow. “I bet you were a lot of trouble to raise.”
“I was hardly noticeable,” Sierra replied.
“There’s a lot of bullshit if I ever heard any,” he said.
He didn’t go inside, but rather to the front porch of his house. He took a seat in one of the rocking chairs, resting the bat on the ground beside him.
“What are we doing?” she asked, standing there.
“Have a seat,” he said. “Just keep a hand on the dog till she decides it’s okay to lay down and relax.”
“Where’s Beau?” she asked, because Beau was usually close to Sully.
“I penned him in the bedroom for now. Molly doesn’t need the distraction.”
Sierra sat down next to Sully. They rocked in the dark and she kept a hand on Molly, gently stroking her. When she’d stop, Molly put her head on Sierra’s lap. She was docile as a lamb. “Why are we sitting here?” she finally asked.
“I’m awake,” Sully said. “Might as well sit up awhile longer and see if there’s anything to see.”
“See? See what?”
He sighed. “Just give it a few minutes. Patience, Sierra.”
After a few minutes, she quietly asked, “Do you think the police chief will take the dog?”
“I doubt it,” he said.
“But you said—”
“Girl, I say a lot of things.”
Sierra
