EPISODE TWO: ON THE TRAIL
The next morning, at the campsite, the three arose early. Izzy made sure she booped Nick with her wet nose and pawed him until he awoke. Then she lay right across him with her 90 pounds and big paws. He wasn’t getting up until she got some petting. Nick finally rolled out of his sleeping bag and lit the campfire. Soon Jonas went to frying bacon in the brisk morning air. The aroma wafted into the trees causing Izzy to perk up her nose.
“Uncle Nick,” is this trail drying up? I can’t believe Willy would have gone so far after his dog Rosco. He must be lost, too?”
Nick untied the horse so they could graze on the grass. Then he opened a can of dog food for Izzy. She’d sure become a fine dog, one at first, he’d had his doubts about. He poured himself black, steaming hot coffee from his camp coffee pot. “I think we’ll take a few minutes to pray. Ask for some guidance. I know he wore tennis shoes, but the tracks have vanished. Hope he had the sense to bring matches and warm clothes.”
Jonas placed toast on the grill. “I don’t think we passed him coming up; I didn’t see any places where someone could get off and into the woods without leaving a trail.”
Nick took time to pray, asking the Lord to help them find Willy and his dog. He needed to know whether to press on, higher into the canyon, hoping to reach the summit by nightfall, or to stop, try to contact the sheriff and gather more men. The problem was there was no cell service up here. For all he knew, Willy found his dog and had made it home. Unlikely though.
Jonas pulled two slices of toast from the grill on the fire and handed one to Nick, who buttered it and put it on his plate as the bacon sizzled in the pan. Jonas grabbed his fork and speared three long strips for his uncle. Then poked the others and flipped them onto his plate. Neither said much; the crispy and delicious bacon kept them occupied.
Izzy came over and stood waiting. Nick said, “Izzy, I know what you want, but you’ll have to wait until the pan cools.”
Jonas smiled. “That dog is some spoiled girl, Uncle Nick.”
“I know.” He sipped his coffee.
That’s when Zasper the Grackle appeared and landed in a tree above their
heads. Izzy barked at Zasper, and Nick looked up and smiled. He knew all about this bird that had led his wife to where he had fallen into the creek and broken his leg last year.
“Zasper, what are you doing up there?” Nick said. “You trying to tell me something?”
Zasper screeched and jumped to a branch overlooking the trail, accompanied by his high-pitched, clear whistles.
“Uncle Nick, I think he’s trying to tell us something.”
“I think you’re right, Jonas. Let’s hit the trail and give Izzy another sniff of that shirt of Willy’s you brought.”
The two were atop their horses and on the trail upward within minutes. Izzy was in the lead and seemed to have a scent in her nose.
Zasper stayed for a time, making sure that they followed his clear whistles, and then, when he knew they were back on the trail, he flew off, probably winging back to the farm to report.
A few minutes later, Izzy, ahead of them and around a corner in the tree-lined path, came sprinting back down the trail to where they could see her. She began barking insistently.
“Something’s up, Uncle Nick.”
“Let’s go.”
They heeled their horses, and as Izzy turned and hurried up the trail with her nose to the ground, the horses reached a slow gallop.
They reached a leveled-off plateau and Izzy took off up a clear path to the right that
followed jutting boulders and left the trees behind.
“Where’s she going, Uncle Nick? This is off the main trail; she’s leading us into the highlands. The main trail leads down to the Ravalli River. The Flathead Reservation is past there.”
“Let’s follow her—she hasn’t been wrong before.”
The horses ascended above the tree line and across to a collection of sizeable jutting granite rocks. There was a light breeze, and dismounting, they were both taken by the vista.
You could see for miles, and the puffy cumulous clouds drifted across the valley like a herd of long-lost buffalo.
***
Back at Mission Creek Dairy, I saw Ellen standing outside the nearest pasture. Tyler was wrapped in a blanket in his bassinet on the porch. She was looking out to our pasture where trouble was brewing. You see, after we were milked, the dairymen from Alden and Beatrice’s, high-tailed it out and put us in the same pasture as the Black Angus cows. Ellen couldn’t do a thing about it, with a baby and no Nick to help.
No secret, there were more of us Holsteins, but we were all girls—and the Angus were bigger, more challenging, and there were some bulls in that collection—big boys. The Angus began moving toward us with mean looks on their faces. As if there was anywhere we could go. The barn was locked. However, I noticed that the dairymen had left the gate ajar. If we kept backing up, we would be on the road that led back to town. They were trying to force us from the dairy.
Fortunately, Big Louise had once again taken the lead and got to the very front of us. I, being the oldest and second largest, joined her. We weren’t letting these bruisers intimidate us any longer. I saw Zasper the Grackle fly over, screeching up a storm. He could see the difficulty we were in. I let out a loud moo, sure that would back off the Angus. Then my sister did the same, and soon all 60 of us started a mooing concert that shocked even Ellen.
The Angus stopped. All 28 stood with all manner of strange Angus expressions. Doubt, wonder, questioning, fear—we must have scared them into backing off. Yep, working together, our herd of Holsteins had gotten them to think better about tangling with the likes of the Holsteins of Mission Creek.
I turned around to find another spot of grass to munch. Then the ground shook and echoed. They were ambling toward us; as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I was petrified. I said to myself, “Pretty please, stop.”
Oh, I’ll give us credit, we girls stuck together, and none of us broke ranks. Zasper buzzed those Angus to back them off, but you know what? They just kept coming.
Then, the strangest things happened. As we were near bullied out of the corral and onto the road, it all came to a grunting halt.
The Angus stopped in their tracks, all of them—looking past us up the road.
My sisters and I turned to see what had gotten the entire herd of 28 enormous, bruising black Angus to stop.
Oh my gosh. At first, I had no idea what this creature was. Some pre-historic animal from a long-ago time? Zasper was beside himself, flitting this way and that. The lead Angus – I think his name was Gus – started bellowing at the top of his lungs, and then the rest of their herd did the same.
“What is it?” I said. Nobody knew. But it had a brown hairy, barrel body, short legs, and a protruding snouty face, and it grunted as it made a bee-line right toward us.
The mooing cows, grunting (whatever it was), screeching Zasper and bellowing Angus became so loud that none of us could move. For such a short-legged and fat animal, it moved with quite a speed, and before we knew it, this creature was walking right through the middle of us all. We all parted, and it made straight for the pasture. Nobody was going to stop this journey. By the time it was nearing the creek, we heard the sheriff’s car driving down the drive to our gate.
The officers jumped from their two squad cars and made their way to our
pasture. But whatever it was went into the creek and up the other side. It turned back for but a moment and then was back on the run. I mean, really, even I can’t do that.
Ellen came out of the house and walked up to the police as they pointed and gazed across the creek. There it was, up the other side, giving us one last look and then on its way somewhere only it knew.
“Hi, Ellen.”
“Morning, Vince. What’s up?— You going to get some folk to go looking for Willy?”
“You bet. If Nick doesn’t find him tonight, I’ll get it going. In the meantime, I gotta get my hands on the gog. He’s rampaging across the county, and on his way to wherever he thinks he’s going, he’s causing quite a stir. Already knocked over Mrs. Gilcrest, out in her garden, didn’t even stop; grabbed a couple of rutabagas in its mouth and kept on going. Well, say hi to Nick. I’ll be in touch. Gotta get to it.”
With that, the sheriff hurried back into his car and left.
That night we all slept in the barn together. 60 Holsteins and 28 Angus cows. It was crowded, but we all agreed: we would all be far better off with Louis sleeping at the barn door.
***
If you wish to read BOOK ONE
of Izzy the Bernese Mountain Dog
You may purchase it from most major booksellers here for only $4.95.
***
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