Shepherd's Crook by Sheila Webster Boneham

almost back on schedule, and between laps around the property, I got to watch a bit. It gave me a good chance to ask everyone I saw to be on the lookout for Bonnie. The parade of herding breeds was lovely, and the dogs got plenty of applause. The group was well represented, too—Shetland Sheepdogs, Australian Shepherds, Pembroke and Cardigan Welsh Corgis, Australian Cattle Dogs, Summer’s English Shepherd, and more. Border Collies, of course, and a Pyrenean Shepherd.
    Judging by upright ears and sharp gazes, the spectating dogs seemed to enjoy the event as much as their owners, and I turned my camera on them from time to time. The result was several stunning head shots plus a couple of fifty-pound lap dogs squeezed into folding chairs with their people and a Corgi sacked out belly-up in a stroller with a toddler. I hadn’t planned to shoot a photo essay, but as I panned the audience for interesting shots, Kali, a red-merle Aussie I knew from Illinois, opened a cooler, finagled a soda bottle out of it, and handed it to her owner, Kim Johnson. I got the whole hilarious sequence and decided to surprise Kim with the best shots. There was also a cute black tri-color Australian Shepherd sitting in a folding chair and wearing sunglasses and a pink floppy hat with “Lilly” embroidered across the front. I took several shots of her and made a note to track her owner down after the parade.
    The herding demonstration, featuring a Corgi, a Border Collie, and an Aussie, was popular, but the real crowd pleaser was the disc-dog competition. My little friend Edith Ann was spectacular—she flew as if she had sprouted wings, and missed only one disc, which Kathy, her partner-in -sport, later attributed to her own “crappy toss.” Edith Ann left the field bouncing and wagging and grinning. Kathy came out panting. I smiled to myself as I checked my photos and caught up with her to get her email address. She’d get a surprise in a week or so.
    By late afternoon, Evan seemed to have gone to ground, but Summer was standing in the shadow of a big pin oak, watching as things began to wind down. I walked over and told her I needed to go home and regroup, but would be back later to help search for Bonnie, and the next day, too, if necessary. She nodded at me.
    â€œIt was a lovely weekend,” I said, realizing how dumb that sounded even as the words came out. At least I didn’t add, aside from the hanged man and missing animals. “Well, you know …”
    Summer barely answered. She was very pale, her eyes rimmed in crimson, and I could see that she wasn’t as impervious as I had thought. She put her hand on my arm and started to say, “I appre …,” but her gaze slipped to something behind me and she froze. By the time she said, “Talk to you later,” her body was already turning away, and in the next heartbeat, she was gone.
    Maybe if I had looked right away, I’d have known what startled her, but I was a bit startled myself and I watched her for a few seconds before I turned around. Nothing and nobody stood out at first. Then I noticed two men standing near Dogs-on -Wheels. The fat one tossed a wadded-up hotdog wrapper on the ground and unbuttoned his straining jacket. The tall, skinny one was stuffing what looked like a Coney dog into his mouth. They were the same two I had seen talking to Evan earlier. Who are they, and what the heck is going on? That was, of course, the Janet Devil voice, the one that gets me into trouble. The other one was trying to drown her out. Who cares? Not your beeswax. I hadn’t chosen a side in that argument yet.
    It was past four-thirty by the time I made another tour of the grounds, picked up a bit of trash, packed up my stuff, and finally slid behind the wheel. As I reached for the key, the emotional weight of the weekend fell over me, heavy and black.
    I could barely breathe. I had plenty to deal with running my photography business,