A Dog's Way Home by Bobbie Pyron Read Free Book Online Page B

looked around for tracks, even whistled, but…” Her voice trailed off.
    None of us said a word when Mama finished her story. The only sound was the trees outside creaking and moaning in the wind.
    Mama took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry, Abby.”
    I just shook my head, over and over.
    â€œI’ll call your father. He and the band just finished a gig up in Virginia. If you want, he can run up there and get the crate and Tam’s collar. Do you want him to do that?”
    Pure hopelessness filled every cell, every pore of my body. There was the crate and the collar, but there was no Tam.
    I looked from Mama to Meemaw. Meemaw nodded just the tiniest bit.
    I sighed. “I reckon so, Mama.”
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    Two days later, Daddy pulled up in the driveway in his old VW van. In the back, surrounded by guitars and fiddles and banjos, sat Tam’s crate.
    Daddy and Mama stood off to the side and watched as I ran my hand over it. Mr. J. T. Fryar was right: It sure was beat-up. The sides were bashed in and claw marks made tracks in the floor of the crate. The wire door was twisted, like a giant hand had wrenched it to one side.
    I turned away. I couldn’t stand the thought of what it had been like for Tam.
    Daddy pulled something out of his coat pocket. “I thought you’d want this,” he said, handing me Tam’s purple collar.
    Mama slipped an arm around me and pulled me to her. “I’m sorry, Abby. I know how much you loved him.”
    I twisted away from her. “He might still be alive.”
    A look passed between Mama and Daddy.
    â€œHe could’ve gotten out of the crate,” I said. “Just because they didn’t find him, that doesn’t mean—”
    â€œNow, Abby,” Daddy said, “I think it’s best if you face the fact that Tam’s gone. He’s not coming back.”
    â€œNo!” I said. I glared at both of them standing there, tears wet on their faces. I gritted my teeth. I would not cry.
    â€œYou can give up on him,” I hollered. “But I won’t!”
    â€œAbby.” Daddy reached out for me.
    I had to get away from them and their tears and that awful, putrid crate. I tore off down the driveway, slipping and sliding on the snow and ice.
    The blood pounded in my ears, saying over and over, Tam’s gone, Tam’s gone. I ran as hard as I could away from those awful words.
    Finally I couldn’t run anymore. I bent over, gasping for air, hugging all the pieces of me threatening to fly away. Without the hope of Tam coming home, how would I stay together?
    â€œAbby?”
    I straightened up and blinked. There stood Olivia, a bundle of bright yellow coat, little black boots, and fuzzyhat on her head. She looked for all the world like one of our baby chicks.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked.
    â€œI was about to ask you the same question,” she said.
    For the first time, I realized I’d run to her house.
    I looked at her there, her eyes all filled up with worry and the world spinning around me a million miles an hour and my breath coming all ragged like a trapped bird trying to escape and I sat down right there in the middle of the road on the hard packed snow and said, “Tam.”
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    â€œLet me think on this a minute,” Olivia’s granddaddy said as he built up the fire in the fireplace. “They found your little dog’s crate and they found his collar. But they didn’t find the dog?”
    I nodded. “They said they didn’t see any sign of him.”
    Olivia stared into the fireplace and fished the little marshmallows out of her hot chocolate with her tongue. “And you say his collar was hung up in the crate door?”
    I nodded again.
    â€œHe must have slipped out of the collar, then,” she said.
    â€œThat’s the way I figure it too,” her granddaddy said.
    â€œSo he might still be alive?” I