Shiloh Season by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor Page B
Authors: Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
Tags: Fiction, General, Juvenile Fiction, Action & Adventure - General, Children: Grades 4-6, Dogs, Animals - Dogs, Children's Audio - 9-12, Children's audiobooks, Social Issues - General, Audio: Juvenile, Kindness
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it's maybe not right at all?
Down below in the yard, I can see Shiloh standing up, looking around. I'd thought he'd follow us up here, been wanting so bad to come. Guess when you scold a dog four times in one day, he learns a little something. But
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why couldn't he have learned to stick with Becky? Why wouldn't he just naturally know that Becky, being the smallest, needed him most?
"Becky! Becky!" I can hear my ma yell. There's no answer.
It's going to get dark right soon, now. It's already black back in the trees. I can see the spot of yellow from Dad's flashlight from time to time, then it disappears again.
Ten minutes go by. Which is worse, I'm thinking, sitting here waiting for Becky, or lying in the weeds beside David Howard when Judd was yelling, "Who's there?" and was starting over with his gun to find us?
I think I'd choose to be back there and take my chances at Judd's. At least what was happening, or going to happen, would take place before my eyes. Here I don't know. All I can do is sit.
Dad's coming back through the trees now, then I hear Ma's footsteps not far behind.
"I'm calling the sheriff, ask for a search party," Dad says, and I hear a tremble in his voice. Ma's starting to cry.
We make our way down the steep path, and Dad's talking out loud. Praying, I guess he is, closest he comes to prayer: "I wish to God I hadn't riled Judd; wish to God I'd handled that better."
I can see right off I'm not the only one feeling responsible. Guess I'd thought that when you get to be thirty-eight, like Dad, you don't have these questions. You just know. Now I'm seeing the other side of things.
"Ray," Ma sobs, her nose all clogged up. "You don't think Judd would come through those woods and just take Becky, do you?"
"No, not even drunk. I don't think so." Dad puts an arm
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around Ma to steady her, but his voice gives him away. Needs a little steadying himself.
Shiloh's standing down at the bottom of the path waiting for us, tail wagging, tongue hanging out, glad to see us coming back.
But Dad's not glad to see him. In fact, seems to me that Dad's right foot sort of reaches out and gives that dog a push. Not blaming Shiloh, exactly, but not feeling so kindly toward him, neither.
Dara Lynn's standing at the screen door bawling 'cause she don't like being left in the house by herself at night, and nobody's paying her much mind. Dad steps up on the porch and goes straight for the telephone. Ma's telling Dara Lynn to hush.
I go up on the porch and wait for Shiloh to follow us in, the way he does when we're all on the porch in the evening. But he just trots back down the steps, goes over to the shed, and stands there wagging his tail.
And suddenly my heart begins to beat faster. I leap off that porch, not even bothering with the steps, and open the door of the toolshed a little wider.
There's Becky, sprawled out on the dirt floor, head on a bag of chicken feed, her lips letting out little fluttery sounds while she sleeps.
I'm so happy I shout. Then I hug Shiloh and get the wettest kiss this side the Mississippi. I shout once more. The shout don't even wake Becky up. Her body jolts for a second, then drops right back into sleep.
But now Ma is coming out of the house, then Dara Lynn and Dad.
"I found her!" I yell. "Shiloh was looking out for her all the time. Led me right over to the shed."
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Everyone comes running, and I can't tell who's hugging who. Ma's hugging Becky, Dad's hugging Ma, Dara Lynn's hugging Shiloh, but I'm not hugging Dara Lynn. Not that far gone. I guess I'm hugging Shiloh, too.
Dad picks up Becky in his arms and carries her into the house and she don't even open her eyes. Bet you could operate on her brain and she wouldn't even feel it.
Ma takes off Becky's shoes and lays her down on her bed, clothes and all, and then the only thing left to do is have some ice cream. Dad calls the sheriff again to tell him the search is off, and Ma's dishing up big helpings of fudge ripple. Shiloh
Down below in the yard, I can see Shiloh standing up, looking around. I'd thought he'd follow us up here, been wanting so bad to come. Guess when you scold a dog four times in one day, he learns a little something. But
63
why couldn't he have learned to stick with Becky? Why wouldn't he just naturally know that Becky, being the smallest, needed him most?
"Becky! Becky!" I can hear my ma yell. There's no answer.
It's going to get dark right soon, now. It's already black back in the trees. I can see the spot of yellow from Dad's flashlight from time to time, then it disappears again.
Ten minutes go by. Which is worse, I'm thinking, sitting here waiting for Becky, or lying in the weeds beside David Howard when Judd was yelling, "Who's there?" and was starting over with his gun to find us?
I think I'd choose to be back there and take my chances at Judd's. At least what was happening, or going to happen, would take place before my eyes. Here I don't know. All I can do is sit.
Dad's coming back through the trees now, then I hear Ma's footsteps not far behind.
"I'm calling the sheriff, ask for a search party," Dad says, and I hear a tremble in his voice. Ma's starting to cry.
We make our way down the steep path, and Dad's talking out loud. Praying, I guess he is, closest he comes to prayer: "I wish to God I hadn't riled Judd; wish to God I'd handled that better."
I can see right off I'm not the only one feeling responsible. Guess I'd thought that when you get to be thirty-eight, like Dad, you don't have these questions. You just know. Now I'm seeing the other side of things.
"Ray," Ma sobs, her nose all clogged up. "You don't think Judd would come through those woods and just take Becky, do you?"
"No, not even drunk. I don't think so." Dad puts an arm
64
around Ma to steady her, but his voice gives him away. Needs a little steadying himself.
Shiloh's standing down at the bottom of the path waiting for us, tail wagging, tongue hanging out, glad to see us coming back.
But Dad's not glad to see him. In fact, seems to me that Dad's right foot sort of reaches out and gives that dog a push. Not blaming Shiloh, exactly, but not feeling so kindly toward him, neither.
Dara Lynn's standing at the screen door bawling 'cause she don't like being left in the house by herself at night, and nobody's paying her much mind. Dad steps up on the porch and goes straight for the telephone. Ma's telling Dara Lynn to hush.
I go up on the porch and wait for Shiloh to follow us in, the way he does when we're all on the porch in the evening. But he just trots back down the steps, goes over to the shed, and stands there wagging his tail.
And suddenly my heart begins to beat faster. I leap off that porch, not even bothering with the steps, and open the door of the toolshed a little wider.
There's Becky, sprawled out on the dirt floor, head on a bag of chicken feed, her lips letting out little fluttery sounds while she sleeps.
I'm so happy I shout. Then I hug Shiloh and get the wettest kiss this side the Mississippi. I shout once more. The shout don't even wake Becky up. Her body jolts for a second, then drops right back into sleep.
But now Ma is coming out of the house, then Dara Lynn and Dad.
"I found her!" I yell. "Shiloh was looking out for her all the time. Led me right over to the shed."
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Everyone comes running, and I can't tell who's hugging who. Ma's hugging Becky, Dad's hugging Ma, Dara Lynn's hugging Shiloh, but I'm not hugging Dara Lynn. Not that far gone. I guess I'm hugging Shiloh, too.
Dad picks up Becky in his arms and carries her into the house and she don't even open her eyes. Bet you could operate on her brain and she wouldn't even feel it.
Ma takes off Becky's shoes and lays her down on her bed, clothes and all, and then the only thing left to do is have some ice cream. Dad calls the sheriff again to tell him the search is off, and Ma's dishing up big helpings of fudge ripple. Shiloh
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