MONDAY
Just before dawn the next morning, Danny crept into his brother’s room. “Tyrell,” he whispered. “Wake up. We gotta go.”
Tyrell had to be at work by ten. They didn’t have a lot of time.
“Huh? Oh.” Tyrell sat up and rubbed his face. “Give me five.”
The night before, Danny had talked Tyrell and Ricky into going back out to Camp Sherman. Guilt was driving him crazy. He had to fix things…without Dad and Mr. Brodie knowing. If he could get Banjo back, he would hide him somewhere and move mountains to find a home for him.
The sky was just starting to lighten, the road empty of cars.
Ricky was sitting on his heels at the end of his driveway.
Danny opened the door and slid over. “Hey,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”
Ricky got in. “Kind of a late start, don’t you think?”
Tyrell grunted.
They drove on without speaking.
Danny couldn’t help searching the trees along the way, thinking about all the things he could have done for Banjo, like having Tyrell drive him to Portland or the Humane Society in Bend. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You could have done that!
“You know that steer of yours?” Ricky said. “The crazy one?”
Danny turned to look at him. “What?”
“The crazy steer, the one looks like he’s going to come out and stomp you but never does?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Think I could ride him? I mean, would your dad care?”
Tyrell laughed. “Now there’s an oddball question.”
“How can you think of that at a time like this?” Danny said.
“I bet he’d buck like his tail was on fire.”
Danny shook his head. “Jeez.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, first to Camp Sherman Store, then downriver to where Danny and Tyrell had left the truck the last time.
“We walk from here,” Danny said, his heart thumping.
What if they found him dead?
“Haven’t been out here in a while,” Ricky said, glancing around. “Why do you think he’s still here? Wouldn’t he have run off, maybe looking for a way home or for food?”
Tyrell sighed. “I told him this was a waste of time.”
“He’s here,” Danny said, his hands on his hips. “Somewhere…out there.”
They made their way through the trees to the spot where they’d chased him off. “Let’s get this over with,” Tyrell said. “Break up and meet back at the river in an hour. Good?”
They found nothing.
Danny lagged behind as they headed back to the truck. He didn’t even have the will to punch a tree or throw a rock. His anger was gone. In its place was just a hole that good things fell into and vanished.
They stopped at the Camp Sherman store, where Danny tacked up a note on the information board, asking if anyone had found or seen a black-and-white dog.
Ricky read the other notices. “Don’t forget your phone number.”
“Yeah.” Danny added the number and posted the note with a thumbtack he took off the corner of someone else’s.
Then he ripped it down.
“Why’d you do that?” Ricky asked.
“What if someone finds him and calls the house and Dad answers?”
“Right. He thinks you shot him.”
“And what are we going to tell him when we get home?” Tyrell said. “He’s gonna want to know why we weren’t there when he got up.”
Danny crumpled the note. “I’ll think of something.”