Mr. Brodie had come alone. He stood by his truck with his hands in the pockets of his dusty coveralls. He studied Danny a moment, then turned away.
“I come about the dog,” he said. He took one of Meg’s posters from his pocket and peeled it open. “Which one of you girls is Meg Harris?”
Meg nodded.
He tapped the poster. “If this is the dog I think it is, and judging by who’s standing next to you, I’m right, then it’s wanted by the law.”
Jacob barked out a laugh. “Seriously? The dog is wanted by the law?”
Mr. Brodie kept his eyes on Meg. “Where is he, miss?”
Danny stepped closer. “He’s in the barn, Mr. Brodie.”
Mr. Brodie’s eyes shifted from Meg to Danny. “How’s your new pup doing?”
Danny blinked but said nothing.
Mr. Brodie sighed. “Listen. We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Jacob said, moving in. “Is that a threat? Because if it is, I’m going to ask you to leave.”
“All’s I want is to get that dog impounded, son. It was attacking my livestock. He pointed toward the horses out in the pasture. “You got stock. You must understand that.”
“He hasn’t bothered any of our animals,” Meg said. “Why’s that?”
Mr. Brodie nodded. “Maybe so, but my boys caught him going after mine, and I don’t aim to see him come back to do it again.”
“He’s not coming back, Mr. Brodie,” Danny said. “I know the law, but I don’t believe he did what Billy and Ben said he did. Banjo’s not that kind of dog, and I’m not going to let you take him.”
Mr. Brodie squinted at Danny a long moment, then turned toward his truck. “Be back soon, folks. Don’t go nowhere.”
Mr. Brodie drove off.
Ann said, “He wouldn’t kill Banjo…would he?”
“Maybe not personally,” Tyrell said, “but he’d have the law do it. You remember the collie-malamute that chased that woman’s horse and got taken to court? It was all over the papers.”
“I remember,” Jacob said.
“He was sentenced to die,” Tyrell went on. “But he got lucky and was sent to some shelter in Utah for wayward animals. The lady who owned the horse wasn’t too happy about that, but they got it worked out. Banjo might not be so lucky.”
“But Banjo’s not a killer,” Meg said.
“This guy caught him going after what?” Jacob asked. “Cattle?”
“Sheep,” Tyrell said.
Danny paced. “Problem is, you have to protect your livestock. A pack of wild dogs can do more damage than wolves.”
“Banjo was running with wild dogs?”
“At night. That’s what that old guy’s boys say.”
“But why would he?” Meg said. “He’s not wild.”
Danny crossed his arms and looked at his boots. “Alls I know is ranchers see their calves and sheep dying, and how they deal with it is they shoot, right then. And it’s legal.”
“Dogs don’t know right from wrong,” Meg said. “They live in a different world. Like horses, and birds. Like any animal.”
“I just don’t want my dog shot,” Danny said.
Meg stared at Danny. “I’d say he’s not your dog anymore.”
Danny sat on the ground next to Banjo. His gut was tight as a whip, and his fingers trembled.
“So now what?” Meg asked.
Danny shook his head.