Later, in my room, I studied the photo I’d taken, hoping desperately to make out some part of the coyote. Being grounded kept me from talking to Ray, but maybe I could think it through by writing a letter to Scott. I grabbed a pencil and a notebook, but when it came down to it, I didn’t feel like writing a letter; I felt like taking action.
Suddenly, I heard a car roar into the driveway, screech to a stop, and Wham! Wham! Two doors slamming shut. Loud banging at the back door. I heard people yelling, and one sounded like a kid. I jumped up to my window and saw a police car pulling in behind a truck. I shot down the stairs. Jack ran with me, barking the whole way.
Dad beat me to the door. I stepped behind him as he swung it open. Prater’s dad filled the doorway with his huge frame.
Dad moved squarely in front of him. “What’s going on here? What’s this all about?” he shouted over the yelling.
Mr. Prater’s face was red. “Your dog—your dog—”
Ed, the policeman, leaned in front of Mr. Prater. “Listen, Rich, there was an incident at Bruce’s place this morning. I was called in—”
“Incident?” Mr. Prater yelled. “That dog killed my boy’s horse.”
My heart dropped. I caught a glimpse of Prater behind his dad. His eyes looked swollen and the rims were red. Dried streaks of salt stained his cheeks and his whole face was puffy. He cried openly.
Stricken, I stood behind Dad.
“This dog didn’t do anything,” Dad said.
“First he attacks my kid, then he—”
Dad stepped forward. “Back off, Bruce,” he said in a low, menacing voice I’d never heard before. “You’re on my property.”
“Yes,” Ed said, turning to Mr. Prater. “I told you before to let me handle this. Step back from the door.”
Mr. Prater glared at Dad. Taking one step back, he shook his finger at Ed. “You’d better handle this.” The veins in his neck popped out. “You’d better do something this time.”
Ed took a big breath and exhaled loudly. “Something attacked their horse early this morning. Got ahold of its hind leg and ripped it up something good. Tore into some of the muscle and buttocks, too. Bruce ran out, fired a shot in the air, and saw a dog run into the woods.
“The vet came out but said there was too much damage. They had to put the horse down.”
On those words, sobs shook Prater’s body. Poor, gentle Shadow. That beautiful horse. I felt tears spring to my own eyes. I knew how I’d feel if something hurt Jack.
“Your dog did it,” Prater said, trying to control his sobs. “I know it was him.”
I shook my head, scared. “Jack’s been home all morning.”
The policeman waved his notebook. “We got a witness found your dog loose in his yard early this morning.”
My mouth dropped open. I stared up at Dad.
“Yes, the dog got loose.” Dad folded his arms.
My breath escaped me. I couldn’t believe Dad would betray me like this.
Dad narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “What else? What real proof do you have?”
Ed stared at him. “Well, the animal that ran away headed into the woods in your general direction.”
“You mean he ran into the woods.”
Ed sighed. “Okay, I can see where this is going.” He turned toward Mr. Prater and his voice became clipped. “Bruce, do you have a definite description?”
Mr. Prater’s face bulged with rage. “I had a horse to take care of,” he said between clenched teeth. “Are you going to let him get away with this? I don’t believe it! He destroys our horse and you’re letting him off?”
“Mr. Prater, go to your truck,” Ed said.
“What?”
“Mr. Prater, go to your truck now.”
Mr. Prater’s hands clenched into fists. His eyes became wild. “Are you kidding me?”
“Mr. Prater, I am not joking.” Ed spoke firmly. “Go to your vehicle now with your boy.”
For a moment, Mr. Prater stood there, opening and closing his fists. The three men glared at one another. Finally, Mr. Prater grabbed the back of Prater’s shirt and turned with him to leave.
“That’s it?” Prater yelled up to his dad. “He gets away with it?”
“Come on,” Mr. Prater said gruffly under his breath.
“I can’t believe this,” Prater shouted as his dad pushed him along to their truck. Prater turned and locked eyes with me. “I hate you! I hate you and your stupid dog.”
“Shut up,” Mr. Prater said and jerked Prater forward.
Prater wrenched away and faced me again. “You killed mine; I’m going to kill yours. I’ll leave poison meat outside for him. I’ll set leg traps by the corral. I’ll—”
“Get in,” Mr. Prater said. He gritted his teeth. Without another look at us, he got in, slammed the truck into reverse, and tore through the side yard around Ed’s patrol car. Gravel shot out from under the tires when he hit the driveway. Then they were gone.
Ed turned to Dad. “It’s a shame what happened to that horse,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yes, it’s a shame. But I don’t appreciate—” Dad turned to me. “Joshua, go in the house.”
I pulled Jack in, closed the door, and pretended to walk to the living room, but I turned and leaned my ear against the crack of the door.
“Bruce is a hothead,” Ed said. “As soon as he picked up his car keys I knew where he was going. That boy of his was so insistent.”
“Ed, if either of them ever touches my boy or his dog, I will do something about it.”
“Well, now, I do need to talk with you about that,” Ed said evenly. “This is the second time someone’s pointed to your dog for killing their animal. I have to ask you—what was the dog doing outside?”
“Joshua accidentally let him out—they heard a noise in the yard. We were both right behind the dog; he certainly didn’t run all the way to Bruce Prater’s.”
“Are you sure?”
“Look, he didn’t come home with blood on his face.” Dad’s voice rose with irritation. “Something else is going on here. I didn’t believe it at first, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My boy says he heard a coyote the other day, and last night he saw it.”
“Rich, do you really believe that?” Ed paused. “I’ve never heard of a coyote showing up around here before.”
“I don’t know. He said he heard it howling.”
A few seconds passed.
“Well,” Ed said. “Could be a fox or a wolf. Let me make a few phone calls, see if any other counties are having wolf problems. In the meantime, keep an eye on that dog. People are scared of him.” Ed clicked his tongue. “He sure is a strange-looking mutt.”
Dad’s voice became formal. “He’s a Pharaoh hound. And do me a favor,” Dad said. “Tell Bruce Prater to stay off my property.”