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  Blue looked weakly over at Merle Henry, but he didn’t bark, he just whined. Merle Henry raced toward the log. When he reached it, he walked slowly across until he got to Blue. Then he sat, his legs straddling the log, and tried to open the jaws of the trap.

  Blue snapped at him.

  Merle Henry pulled his hand away, then said, “It’s okay, boy. It’s okay.”

  Holding the chain, he gently raised Blue and the trap between the branches and placed him on the log. Blue’s leg was covered in blood.

  Merle Henry’s hand shook, but he dug for a piece of beef jerky in his pocket and offered it to Blue. Usually it disappeared, but today Blue just stared at it.

  “Come on, Blue. You like it. You know you do.”

  Blue licked the jerky, but he wouldn’t eat. Merle Henry slid off the log and stood waist deep in the icy cold water. He grabbed his hatchet. His hands shook as he tried to undo the staple that held the chain to the underside of the log. Finally the staple gave way and freed the chain.

  Merle Henry unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it off, and placed it flat on the log. Then he carefully lifted Blue, who was still attached to the trap. The trap’s jaw had torn Blue’s hair and flesh and probably part of the bone. Merle Henry couldn’t tell for sure because of the blood. He laid Blue on top of his shirt and slowly formed a sling.

  Blue made a low growling sound while Merle Henry found his way out of the woods and back to the road, walking slowly so he didn’t hurt Blue any more than he already had. The chain dangled, hitting Merle Henry’s leg with each step. Cold air hit his bare chest and soaked pants. But he didn’t care. A lump gathered in his throat. He tried not to think of Old Yeller. He would do everything he could to make this right and not end like that story.

  Luther’s truck was parked in front of the house. Gordie was in the yard, chopping wood. When Merle Henry made it to the path leading up to their house, Gordie dropped the ax and ran toward the porch.

  “Momma! Daddy!” Gordie called from the steps.

  By the time Merle Henry reached the truck, everyone was outside.

  “Can I take him to Doc Harrison’s?” Gordie asked.

  “We don’t have any money to pay the Doc,” Luther said. “We’re already going to owe for the baby.”

  “I’ll pay him, Daddy.” Merle Henry had some trapping money saved and now knew how to mop and paint.

  Luther tossed Gordie the keys. “I don’t think it’s any use, but go ahead.”

  Merle Henry looked down at the shirt that was covered in Blue’s blood and understood why Luther didn’t think there was any hope.

  Rose covered her mouth with one hand and rested the other on her belly.

  Gordie started the truck and their parents walked over to Merle Henry’s side.

  “Here, let me hold him while you get in,” Luther said, taking the sling with Blue from Merle Henry. After he gave him back, Rose reached inside and stroked Blue’s head. The pencil dropped from behind her ear, and she gasped, catching it before it hit Blue.

  The ride to Glenmora was only about five miles by way of Cut Off Road, but it seemed a hundred miles away today. For once, Merle Henry was thankful for his quiet brother because the last thing he wanted to do was answer questions about what had happened. As they cruised down the dirt road, the tall pine trees became a blur of brown and green. They reached Doc Harrison’s as he was locking his office door.

  Gordie jumped out of the truck first. “Doc, we have a hurt dog. Could you take a look?”

  The doctor looked at Merle Henry, who had stepped out of the truck, holding Blue in his bloody shirt. “Good God, boys. Did he get run over?”

  “No,” Merle Henry said. “He got caught in a trap. One of my traps.”

  Doc unlocked the door and held it open. “Come on. I’m not a veterinarian, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  A few minutes later, Doc gave Blue a shot and the hound grew sleepy enough for Doc to release the trap’s tight hold. With Blue stretched out on the examination table, Merle Henry could see the lower leg was barely attached to Blue’s body. “Gordie, take your brother and go on home. I’m not going to make any promises. This doesn’t look good.”

  Gordie touched Merle Henry’s arm. “Come on.”

  Merle Henry stayed put, not wanting to move. Not wanting to leave his best friend.

  Doc Harrison frowned. “There’s nothing you can do here. I’ll let you know something tomorrow.”

  “We’ll have to call you,” said Merle Henry. “We don’t have a phone.”

  While they rode in silence back to the house, Merle Henry held on to the dashboard, wishing he was like Gordie, satisfied reading instead of trapping.

  When they parked in front of the house, Merle Henry’s throat closed up. Then he swallowed and asked, “Do you think Doc will have to shoot him?”

  Gordie shook his head. “No. Doctors have medicine that can put animals to sleep.”

  “Forever?”

  “Forever.”

  Somehow Merle Henry knew Gordie wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he wanted to believe that if Blue couldn’t be with him, he could have sweet dreams for eternity.

  Merle Henry’s legs felt heavy as he reached the porch steps. When Rose met him at the front door with her arms wide open, he fell into her embrace and cried. Over his momma’s shoulder, Merle Henry saw Luther turn and walk out of the room.

  “Daddy told me to move those traps, and I didn’t. I should have done it.”

  Rose patted his back and said, “I think that gumbo might be ready after all.”

  Merle Henry couldn’t eat, but guilt was eating him up inside. Finally he told his parents what he should have earlier. He told them what happened at school with Coach Burns and how he was caught imitating him, repeating comments he always made about the people that lived deep in the woods. Somehow it all seemed connected to what had happened to Blue. He wanted to blame Coach Burns, but he knew it was his own fault.

  As he listened, Luther’s temples pulsed and his jaw tensed. Merle Henry wondered if his rear end was about to meet the belt.

  “Burns said what?” Luther roared.

  “He called us woodsies. He said the men get drunk at the Wig Wam every night.”

  “Calm down, Luther,” Rose said. “You know how he thinks he’s something because he’s from New Orleans. Only I know he’s not. His people are from Chalmette, and that is not New Orleans.”

  Her words didn’t seem to work on Luther, who looked like he could spit nails.

  For a minute, Merle Henry was relieved to see his daddy get all worked up about Coach Burns. But then his thoughts returned to Blue and he knew nothing on this earth could replace the pain of losing him.

  “Merle Henry, I’ll fix you a bath,” Rose said, “after everyone is out of the kitchen.”

  Luther pulled away from the table and stood. “I’m going out for a while.”

  A second later, the front door slammed and Merle Henry heard Rose say, “Oh, mercy.”

  Later that evening, lying in bed, Merle Henry was wishing they had a telephone. Finally he realized it wouldn’t matter if they did. Doctors probably never made late-night calls about dogs.

  * * *

  Merle Henry didn’t want to go to school the next day, but his mother made him. “Can’t we walk to Faye’s and call Doc Harrison first?”

  “It’s too early to call. His office isn’t open yet.”

  Merle Henry noticed that his daddy wasn’t at the kitchen table and when he saw the truck parked out front he asked, “Where’s Daddy?”

  Then he heard the loud snoring from his parents’ bedroom.

  Rose frowned. “He has one of his headaches. You better tell Gordie it’s time to go out and wait for the bus.”

  Merle Henry started for the bedroom.

  “Just a second, son.”

  He turned.

  Rose sighed. “There comes a time in life where you have to pay for the choices you make. I think you learned that yesterday.” />
  Merle Henry lowered his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  By P.E. class Merle Henry knew that Coach Burns wouldn’t be there. He’d learned that the coach had lost a fight at the Wig Wam with some man from the backwoods. Merle Henry remembered how his daddy had left the house last night. Normally the thought of his daddy beating up Coach Burns would have made him puff up with pride. Today he couldn’t think of anything but Blue.

  When school let out, he headed to the bus like usual. Then he heard someone call, “Merle Henry!” Rose stood in front of the truck. She was too far away from him to tell whether she appeared sad or not. All he could see was her brown hair blowing in the breeze and a flower apron covering her big bump. He moved slowly toward her, fearing the reason she was there, already knowing. It was just like the time she met him after school to tell him about Uncle Possum. Today, though, Merle Henry didn’t feel much like eating a vanilla swirl cone. He didn’t care if he ever trapped a mink, possum, or squirrel. He’d never go into the woods again.

  He reached his mother and stared down at her worn shoes, afraid to look at her face.

  Lifting his chin with her hand, she smiled softly at him. She smelled like Camay soap. “Come here.”

  Rose wrapped her arm around his shoulders and even though Merle Henry was thirteen he let her guide him to the passenger side of the truck. He didn’t care if anyone saw them. When she opened the door he stared at a cardboard box on the seat.

  “Blue!” Merle Henry reached down to touch him.

  Blue licked his hand and his tail thumped against the side of the box. What was left of his injured leg had been bandaged with layers of white tape.

  Merle Henry looked up at his mother. Her smile was so big, he could see her teeth.

  “You’ll have to work for Doc a little while, Merle Henry. Maybe you can offer to keep his place clean or mow his lawn.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will.”

  “He said we didn’t owe him anything, but Harps pay their debts. All of them. Your daddy is having to pay for his right now.”

  He wanted to ask what she meant by that, but Gordie was walking toward them and Merle Henry was eager to see what his brother would say when he discovered Blue.

  Merle Henry slid over to the middle of the seat and carefully placed the box on his lap. Gordie opened the truck door and ducked his head inside, then froze. “Well, I’ll be,” he said, and for someone who didn’t say much, that was saying a lot.

  Rose started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot where the last of the kids were running toward the buses. The sun was shining mighty bright that afternoon, but even if it wasn’t, it would have felt that way to Merle Henry. Today anything was possible. He could fly to the stars, if he wanted. “Momma, can we get ice cream at the Whip Dip?”

  Rose smiled. “Merle Henry, that’s a good idea. Some days are meant for ice cream. I believe this is one of them.”

  Playing Hooky

  (1958)

  LILY BEA WAS the prettiest girl Merle Henry had ever seen. She had brown eyes that reminded him of the doe he’d shot last winter. And her hair was golden like the bales of hay in Mr. Cantry’s field up the road. He bet she smelled good, too, but he’d never been close enough to her to know for sure. He still couldn’t believe she was going to the Sweetheart Dance with him. He’d never dreamed she’d say yes. Tommy had asked for him because Merle Henry was scared Lily Bea might say no.

  Now he was scared because she’d said yes. If he didn’t do something quick, he’d be going to the Forest Hill School Sweetheart Dance with two left feet. This was the first year eighth-graders were allowed to go and he’d concentrated so hard on getting up the nerve to convince Tommy to ask Lily Bea for him that he’d forgotten he didn’t know how to dance.

  The dance was two days away and he still hadn’t cracked open The Tango and Other Up-to-Date Dances. He’d checked it out of the bookmobile a couple of weeks ago. He didn’t go with his family as he usually did on Tuesday nights. He waited until they returned, then he walked the two miles with Blue hobbling behind on his three legs. The almost full moon was big and low in the sky that night. Merle Henry was grateful for the light it provided since he left his flashlight at home. Except for the giant longleaf pines, it seemed like he and Blue were the only things out there.

  Arriving at the Hilltop Baptist Church parking lot, he waited until no one was in the bookmobile. Later when he handed Miss Erma the book, she’d said, “Your daddy sure could dance. Whoo-ee! You ought to ask Luther how to cut a rug.”

  His face warmed and he said, “It’s for a report I’m doing.”

  “We didn’t have any classes like that when I was in school with Luther. Say, isn’t that Sweetheart Dance coming up soon?” She winked at him like she knew exactly why he was checking out that book.

  He walked home with the book hidden under his jacket, wondering all the way back how Miss Erma knew Luther could dance so well. She was kind of pretty, but he didn’t like thinking of anyone dancing with his daddy except his momma. He looked down at his hound. “You’re lucky, Blue. No she-dog will ever expect you to cut a rug.”

  Blue did know how to twirl around in a circle, something he’d never done until he’d lost that hind leg.

  * * *

  Merle Henry’s aunt Pie would be visiting this afternoon from Alexandria. She was only five years younger than his momma, but she seemed a lot younger.

  “I’m a grass widow,” she was fond of saying when people asked her about her husband.

  “That’s another way of saying divorced,” his daddy explained to Merle Henry the first time he’d heard Aunt Pie say it. “They’re separated by miles and miles of grass. Pie is like a stray cat, always looking for a better fish.”

  Merle Henry thought Aunt Pie was pure-d fun. She’d taken him to the Louisiana State Fair last year in Shreveport. They rode every ride three times and gawked at all the sideshows. She even entered the watermelon-seed spitting contest and won. Aunt Pie had a round face and a little rump that twisted side to side when she walked. And when she laughed, her whole face laughed, including her eyes, which grew tiny and reminded Merle Henry of a cute little possum’s. He hoped he could have a girlfriend like Aunt Pie one of these days. For now, he’d make do with Lily Bea. That is, if he didn’t lose his shot with her by not knowing how to dance.

  In the afternoon, Merle Henry waited for Aunt Pie’s arrival, while chopping wood out front. He wore a T-shirt, hoping to impress her with the new muscles he’d noticed in the mirror recently. Now the damp shirt stuck to his skin from sweat. He was thinking about changing when Aunt Pie rode up with a red-headed fellow in an army jeep. Merle Henry wanted to escape inside the house. He hadn’t liked her last boyfriend, Buck, a car salesman from Lake Charles who told stupid jokes, then socked Merle Henry’s shoulder as if to emphasize the punch line. “Get it?” Buck would say.

  Merle Henry’s arm hurt an entire week following their visit. When they’d driven off, his mother had said, “Mercy, Pie can surely do better than that.”

  And when Aunt Pie showed up alone the next weekend with a black eye, she decided she could do better.

  “What did he do to you?” his mother had asked, handing Pie a dishcloth filled with ice chips.

  “You should see him, Rose,” said Aunt Pie. “Mr. Fancy Pants won’t be flashing that snazzy grin until he gets that tooth replaced.” Then she laughed and soon Rose joined her.

  That day Merle Henry had wanted to kill Buck.

  Today when the soldier boy parked, Aunt Pie jumped out of the jeep, and Merle Henry kept chopping wood. Pie’s hair looked blonder than usual and she wore red high heels and a circle skirt like some of the girls from school.

  “Merle Henry, is that you? Come give your aunt Pie a hug.” She held out her arms wide as if she was trying to grab all the air around them.

  Merle Henry gave her a quick hug. The skinny red-headed soldier was standing right behind Aunt Pie, grinning. With a closer look, Merle Henry thought the soldi
er looked the same age as Gordie, who was a senior this year.

  Aunt Pie swung around and slipped her arm through the soldier’s. “This is Cooter.”

  Cooter held out his hand to Merle Henry. Merle Henry shook it hard, trying to show all his strength.

  When Merle Henry released his hand, Cooter rubbed his fingers. “Goodness, that’s some shake you have there, buddy. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  Aunt Pie laughed and Merle Henry’s face felt flushed. “Where’s your momma?” she asked.

  But before Merle Henry could holler for her, she was standing in the doorway, an apron tied above her huge melon belly.

  “Hey there, Pie.” She reached over and kissed Aunt Pie’s cheek.

  Aunt Pie looked down at Rose’s stomach. “Mercy, Rose. You’re as big as a house.” She patted Momma’s apron.

  “It won’t be too long,” said Rose. “Doc says a month, but I don’t know about his arithmetic.”

  “You look beautiful,” Aunt Pie said. “Maybe this time it will be a girl.” Then she seemed to notice Rose staring at her friend.

  “This is Cooter,” she added, slipping her arm through his again.

  Cooter took off his uniform hat. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  Rose looked startled. Merle Henry wondered if it was because she’d fried only one chicken and fretted that there wouldn’t be enough for everyone or if she was noticing how young Cooter looked.

  “Come on in.” Rose led the way into the house. “We’ll go ahead and eat. Luther is working a little late.”

  They listened to Aunt Pie talk at the dinner table about how she’d met Cooter when she got hired to run errands at Fort Polk. “Then this cute redheaded thing asked me to a dance at the enlisted men’s club. And you know how I like to dance, Rose.”

  Merle Henry suddenly felt a stab in his gut.

  That night Luther came home with some beer and offered Cooter one, but not before asking, “You are old enough, aren’t you, son?”