Friday morning Tom took Buffy on their first walk together. Her wound had healed enough to use a collar padded with cloth.
The collar and lead had come from Dave’s store of dog gear previously used by the original Buffy. Even though the registration tag was years out of date and the wrong colour, they left it there thinking it was better than nothing. Not that Tom intended going out on the road where people would see them. He planned to stick to the quiet of the forest.
Before he left, Dave warned him that most pig dogs weren’t taken for walks. Their only job was to chase and bail up a pig. She might not know what was expected of her on a walk.
This was confirmed over the first hundred metres where it became very clear Buffy was not used to being on a lead. She kept diving sideways to sniff things, almost pulling Tom’s arm out of the socket, and hurting herself at the same time.
“Take it easy, Buffy,” growled Tom. “Walk quietly.”
She lowered her head and walked alongside, although obviously not enjoying the experience. This worked for a minute or so before something especially smelly grabbed her attention, and she was back to tugging sideways.
Tom sat her down. “What will you do if I let you off? Will you behave yourself?”
Buffy wagged her tail.
“You won’t run away?”
More wagging.
Tom had trouble removing the clip from the collar, his hand was shaking so much. This experiment could go horribly wrong. What if she wouldn’t come when called? What if she decided to find her way home? What if she caught the scent of a pig or, worse still, sniffed out a kiwi burrow?
None of that happened. After the lead had been removed she stayed sitting, waiting to be released.
Tom gave the nod. “Okay, Buffy.”
Instead of rushing off, she stayed alongside Tom for a time, as if proving she could be trusted. Eventually, a smell took her sideways. Tom kept walking, hoping she’d catch up soon. Which she did, moving past him on to the next smell, whatever it was. And that was how the rest of the walk went: Tom walking steadily, Buffy stop-starting.
Not wanting to tire her too much, he turned back after a kilometre, returning to Dave’s place half an hour after they’d left. Before going inside, Tom sat her down and gave her a thank you pat. He was now more determined than ever to keep this dog as his own.
* * *
Later on Dave took them back to the logging site with the intention of asking his mates about Mike Davidson.
They were met by the foreman in the site office.
“Ah, Dave, Norm said you were coming for smoko, very timely. You know Ray, our security man?”
Dave nodded, they’d spoken to him on the way into the site.
“He’s heading off tonight to Auckland. His mum’s in hospital. He’ll be back Monday. The trouble is we’ve now got to work on Sunday.”
“Sunday? That’s unusual,” said Dave.
“Yeah. It’s because of this hurricane that’s coming. Cyclone Pene. Have you heard about it?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Well, it’s been moving down from the tropics for a few days now. Hasn’t caused any damage so far, but the remnants are expected to hit us late Monday, early Tuesday. If we don’t get the rest of this block on the ground before then, the storm will do it for us.” He let out a sigh. “Then we’d have a heck of a mess to clean up. Lose half the timber as well. The bosses don’t want that. So we’re working Sunday.”
“And you want me to do security?”
“Yeah. You know what’s involved. Just keeping the book of who comes in and goes out. Make sure there’s not too many trucks up top at the same time. That sort of thing.”
Dave looked at Tom. “Your dad working Sunday?”
Tom shrugged. “I don’t know. He never tells me things like that. Anyway, I can look after myself and Buffy.”
Dave turned back to the foreman. “Yeah, I can do it. What time you starting?”
“Usual time, six o’clock. But we’ll be working later. The boys have agreed to go through till five. Ten hours will get most of it done. We should be able to clean up the rest Monday morning.”
After that they joined the workers sitting on the logs. All the talk was about the coming storm and what it would do to the trees. The problem was that during the felling of a block, lots of trees were exposed that had never experienced the wind: they’d always been sheltered by those around the outside. That was the case with this block.
Tom could see what they were talking about. The trees nearby had bare trunks reaching high into the sky with a Christmas-tree of green at the very top. Even to him it looked like if you pushed one, they’d all fall over. The solution was to fell them in an orderly way before the storm came.
Not until they were about to return to work was Dave able to ask about Mike Davidson. Most of them knew of him, without being close.
“Arrived here a couple of years ago,” said one. “Bought that property down Bush Road. Does a bit of pig hunting, both with dogs and shooting.”
“I’ve met him a couple of times,” added another. “Talks about shooting things a lot. Could be all talk.”
“I know he’s had a few run-ins over jobs he’s done,” said Norm. “Slow to complete them and then lots of stuff needs fixing.” He pointed to Buffy who was sitting at Tom’s feet. “Why you asking? Is she one of his?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Go to the police, mate,” said Norm. “Using those transmitters is a criminal matter. Let them sort it out.”
“Aw, I don’t want to put a guy crook with the police. Not without giving him a chance to sort it out for himself.”
Norm shook his head. “You’re far too fair, Dave. From what I’ve heard about Mike Davidson he’s not the type to be told what to do. You take care, mate. And if you need any help, give us a call.”
* * *
Around five o’clock that afternoon Marika Greenwell arrived at Brandon and Tom’s place.
Tom was playing with Buffy on the lawn outside Dave’s when he heard the vehicle pull up. The engine sounded much too smooth to be Brandon’s van, so he led Buffy along the path to check it out.
“Hello Tom,” said Marika. “Bran not home yet?”
So it’s ‘Bran’ already, thought Tom. That was what his mum used to call him, now she used Brandon.
Out loud he said, “Nah. You’re a bit early for him. He could be hours yet.”
“He said he’d be home and ready by five. We’re going out for the evening.”
This was news to Tom.
“I guess he’s running a bit late,” Marika added.
“He’s always late,” complained Tom. “Get used to it.”
Marika raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
“Look,” he said, “why don’t you come over to Dave’s, we’ll hear Dad arrive from there.”
Dave was sitting in a chair on the lawn enjoying the late-afternoon sun. After greetings, Marika asked, “So how’s our story about the transmitters going. When am I going to be able to publish? Our deadline for Thursday’s edition is Wednesday midday.”
“We’re getting there,” said Dave. “We have a suspect.”
“Who?”
Dave took his time before answering. “Mike Davidson.”
Tom expected Marika to show surprise. Instead she gave a little nod.
“You expected that?” asked Dave.
“Let’s just say, I’m not surprised he’d be doing something illegal. He has a history.”
“Tell us.”
“Mike lived in Dargaville before he came up here a couple of years back. He had a property out of town, much like that one on Bush Road. One day a man came onto the place and Mike confronted him with a shotgun, telling him to leave. The man wouldn’t, so Mike fired off a couple of cartridges. They weren’t fired at the man but, wisely, he took off before some were. He went straight to the police and laid a complaint. It turned out the man was on a designated road that has never been built. It’s public land, a so-called paper road. Mike had access to it because it was next to his place. The police charged Mike with reckless discharge of a firearm. That’s $4,000 or three years prison, right there.”
She paused and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “In the end he got nothing. When it came to court it was revealed the man was an activist who set out to draw attention to public land being used privately. It was considered he provoked the reaction. In the end, the judge gave Mike a telling off, before discharging him without conviction as long as he did some community work. I don’t know what that was, but I gather he completed it because I’ve seen nothing in court documents since. The thing is, Dave, I think you need to be careful in dealing with Mike Davidson. What have you got against him so far?”
Dave outlined Buffy’s reaction to their drive along Bush Road.
“So he’s got a lot of dogs there?” said Marika. “That’s interesting. I wonder if they were tested by DoC. That road doubles back onto the forest. It wouldn’t be far from there to where most of the dead kiwi were found.”
“You think he’s harbouring a kiwi killer as well?” asked Dave.
Marika shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Probably not. It’s just that he’s very vocal about kiwi killers. Who knows?”
“When will the results be through?” asked Dave.
“Monday, I believe.” She looked down to Buffy. “You know if it is her, then I’ll publish anyway, even if we haven’t confirmed the owner.”
Before Dave could answer they heard the unmistakeable sound of Brandon’s van arriving home.
Marika looked at her watch, then at Tom. “You said he’d be hours late. It’s only twenty minutes.”
“Must be because it’s you,” mumbled Tom.
She was about to take off down the path when she turned back. “When are you visiting Mike?”
“Tomorrow,” said Dave.
“You going too, Tom?”
Tom looked to Dave who said, “Yes.”
“Take care, please. Both of you.” Then she was gone.