Chapter One

A Good Night For Stories








“The way my bones are aching, I sure think it’s going to come a snowstorm.”

In the dark corner by the door a tabby cat licked one delicate white paw clean, “Oh good grief. It’s hardly past harvest. It’s not going to snow this early in the year.”

The big yellow dog ignored her. He knew what he knew. His bones knew. He hobbled over to the knotty rug by the fireplace. Turning in three slow circles, he positioned himself just so, then folded into a heap with a groan. “It’s going to be a long night.”

She gave her paw one last lick and set it softly to the floor, staring past the glass into the night. The fire gobbled up the end of a log and sent a flare of sparks across the hearth. The cat jumped, but Buddy just blinked his watery eyes against the glow. He settled a little deeper into the rug and watched until the last of the sparks fizzled down and died.

“Reminds me of my first winter here.”

“Oh no,” she said. “Don’t you start with your stories. I know them all by heart.”

Buddy nestled his nose onto his paws and snuffled. “Everyone has a story to tell Miss Kitty. Even you.”

She huffed and ran her paw over her whiskers. “Well you have more than anyone I know. Stories, stories, stories. It’s all you do anymore. Tell stories about the old days.”

“Did someone say stories?”

They both looked up as the Big Boss entered the room. He angled across to the spot by the door where Miss Kitty was currently seated. She grudgingly moved to the side, making room for the massive shephard. No one messed with Big Boss. Not even Miss Kitty. He sat very erect, his back straight, long ears pointed toward Buddy. “Well,” he said. “It’s a night for stories. Make it a good one.”

“I was just remembering the first winter I spent here on the CR.”

“Crooked River,” Miss Kitty chided. “It’s called Crooked River.”

“Crooked River Ranch,” Boss corrected. “If you want to get scrappy about it, Kit.”

She looked like she did want to get scrappy but she bit her tongue instead. Big Boss was in charge when Cowboy was gone.  She might hate it, but that was the rule and everyone knew it. The cows and horses and even the coyotes knew better than to cross the shepherd.

“Oh,” Buddy sighed. “It was so long ago, I hardly know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning,” Boss said. “From the looks of it, we have plenty of time. There’s a noreaster moving in. It’s going to snow.”

On que, a fat snowflake landed on the window behind him. And then another. And another. Miss Kitty pretended not to notice.

“Well…I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a snowy afternoon. I was outside playing in the yard with my brother. We were playing Tug a Stick.”

One corner of Boss’s mouth lifted. “Tug a Stick. I used to love that game.”

Buddy nodded in eager agreement. “I did too! Buster – that was my brother – he was good at tug a stick. I was just the runt of the litter but I was strong. And I was fast. Really fast. Almost as fast as my sister, and she was the fastest pup my mom had ever seen - or that’s what she said anyway.”

“Of course she did,” Kitty murmured.

Boss thumped his tail unnecessarily in her direction, sending a plume of horse hair and dust into the air that settled gently atop her fur. She cringed, her whiskers twitching in disgust. One ear flickered. Then the other. She cast a dark look at Boss and set about cleaning herself all over again.

The other corner of his mouth lifted. “Go on, Buddy," he prompted. "Tug a Stick.”

Buddy was staring at an empty spot on the sofa now, his face soft and young again. “I was going to win that round, I just knew it. Buster was getting tired. Then all of the sudden these big hands reached over the fence and swooped me up in the air. I was so surprised I almost  - well, I almost peed on myself.”

Kitty looked disgusted. Buddy didn't even notice.

“I didn’t, but I almost did. It was cold and he tucked me under his coat. It was that old brown coat, Boss. The one with the fleece lining. You remember?”

“I liked that coat. It smelled good.”

“That’s the first thing I noticed, too!” Buddy exclaimed. “It smelled like animals and food and smoke all mixed together with....”

“Bacon,” Boss finished the sentence for him.

“Bacon,” Buddy agreed and they both sighed. Even Miss Kitty stopped cleaning herself. She lifted her nose in the air, sniffing reverently.

“Bacon is good,” she said.

For a short moment the three fell silent, lost in dreams of bacon until the fire blazed again, bringing them back to the present with a loud snapping noise.

Buddy settled his nose back into the crack between his paws. “I didn’t know what bacon was then. I just knew he smelled good. And The Cowboy felt warm. Everything seemed perfect to me. But what did I know. I was just a pup then. A whippersnapper. I had no idea what was in store for me.”

Boss looked into the glass where the flakes had gathered into flurries. “We hardly ever do, Buddy. Hardly ever.”