there to starve. Emmy Blue, get him a pan of water and one of your ma’s cold biscuits.”
I poured water into our skillet, and the dog lapped it up. Pa told me to fill it again.
Ma said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Thomas. How can I use a pan that some stray dog’s been drinking out of? Who knows what kind of sickness he’s carrying.”
“He needs water and food,” was all Pa said.
I’d taken two biscuits left over from breakfast out of our food box and tossed them one at a time to the dog. He ate each in a single gulp and looked for more.
“Maybe he belonged to an Indian,” Ma said.
“I doubt it,” Pa answered. “He wandered off from a wagon train is my guess. Look, you can see a bit of rope tied about his neck.”
“Well, wherever he came from, we’re not taking him in. You said yourself, Thomas, we have no room.” Ma looked a little triumphant at that. It was the first time she’d pointed out to him that we didn’t have room in the wagon for something of his. Ma was stubborn. Although Pa had finally allowed a place for our clothes in the wagon, Ma wasn’t ready to ease up on him.
“I want him, Ma,” I suddenly said. “I had to give away Skiddles, and Pa wouldn’t let me take the turtle we saw along the road. May I keep him?”
“He was somebody’s pet, Meggie,” Pa told her. “He’ll make a good companion for Emmy Blue.”
Ma put her hands to the small of her back and stretched. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s just another mouth to feed.” Ma straightened up and twisted her hands in her apron.
“I’ll take care of him,” I pleaded.
The dog went up to Ma and whined, then sat down on top of her bare feet and looked up at her. While Ma stared at him, Aunt Catherine came up next to her. She had walked up from the back of the wagon train.
“He likes you, Meggie,” Aunt Catherine said. “Whose dog is he?”
“He wants to be Emmy Blue’s. Thomas found him when he was out looking for the runaway animals this morning. But I think he’s just one more creature I’ll have to care for.”
“Emmy Blue will do it. Just look at how much she’s helped on this trip. She’s a responsible girl,” Aunt Catherine said.
Ma studied me a moment. “She is that.”
“Does that mean I can keep him?” I asked. The dog came up to me and thumped his tail. Maybe he knew I was defending him.
“He’d be good protection for Emmy Blue,” Uncle Will spoke up. I hadn’t seen him standing behind Aunt Catherine.
“Not much of one,” Ma said. “He’s just a bare-bones creature. I doubt he could walk all the way to Golden.”
“I’ll carry him,” I said.
Ma looked around at all of us staring at her, then sighed. “It’s four against one. Emmy Blue. I suppose you’ve got yourself a dog.”
I grinned at Ma, then squatted down beside the dog and hugged him, feeling his bones through his coat. He needed a good scrubbing and his coat well combed, but I’d clean him up the next time we crossed a river. I’d wash him with the soap Ma had made from ashes before we’d left Quincy, and I’d use Pa’s currycomb.
“What will you name him?” Pa asked.
“How about Wanderer,” Aunt Catherine suggested.
“Or Brownie, because of the color of his coat,” Uncle Will said.
Pa suggested Lucky.
But I had already heard Ma call the dog by his name. “I’m going to call him Barebones,” I said.
----------
After I fed Barebones some of my buckwheat cakes for lunch, he was my dog, and he followed me everywhere. I brushed his coat to get out the sticks and prickers, then used soap and water to wash him in our basin. He’d get a proper bath later. Except for being dirty and hungry, Barebones seemed to be healthy.
“Got you a mongrel, did you?” Mr. Bonner asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Most likely an Indian dog. You be careful. He’s likely to go after you in the night. Might be crazy, too. Watch that he don’t foam at the mouth. He bites one of my oxen, I’ll put him down.”
“Yes,
I poured water into our skillet, and the dog lapped it up. Pa told me to fill it again.
Ma said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Thomas. How can I use a pan that some stray dog’s been drinking out of? Who knows what kind of sickness he’s carrying.”
“He needs water and food,” was all Pa said.
I’d taken two biscuits left over from breakfast out of our food box and tossed them one at a time to the dog. He ate each in a single gulp and looked for more.
“Maybe he belonged to an Indian,” Ma said.
“I doubt it,” Pa answered. “He wandered off from a wagon train is my guess. Look, you can see a bit of rope tied about his neck.”
“Well, wherever he came from, we’re not taking him in. You said yourself, Thomas, we have no room.” Ma looked a little triumphant at that. It was the first time she’d pointed out to him that we didn’t have room in the wagon for something of his. Ma was stubborn. Although Pa had finally allowed a place for our clothes in the wagon, Ma wasn’t ready to ease up on him.
“I want him, Ma,” I suddenly said. “I had to give away Skiddles, and Pa wouldn’t let me take the turtle we saw along the road. May I keep him?”
“He was somebody’s pet, Meggie,” Pa told her. “He’ll make a good companion for Emmy Blue.”
Ma put her hands to the small of her back and stretched. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s just another mouth to feed.” Ma straightened up and twisted her hands in her apron.
“I’ll take care of him,” I pleaded.
The dog went up to Ma and whined, then sat down on top of her bare feet and looked up at her. While Ma stared at him, Aunt Catherine came up next to her. She had walked up from the back of the wagon train.
“He likes you, Meggie,” Aunt Catherine said. “Whose dog is he?”
“He wants to be Emmy Blue’s. Thomas found him when he was out looking for the runaway animals this morning. But I think he’s just one more creature I’ll have to care for.”
“Emmy Blue will do it. Just look at how much she’s helped on this trip. She’s a responsible girl,” Aunt Catherine said.
Ma studied me a moment. “She is that.”
“Does that mean I can keep him?” I asked. The dog came up to me and thumped his tail. Maybe he knew I was defending him.
“He’d be good protection for Emmy Blue,” Uncle Will spoke up. I hadn’t seen him standing behind Aunt Catherine.
“Not much of one,” Ma said. “He’s just a bare-bones creature. I doubt he could walk all the way to Golden.”
“I’ll carry him,” I said.
Ma looked around at all of us staring at her, then sighed. “It’s four against one. Emmy Blue. I suppose you’ve got yourself a dog.”
I grinned at Ma, then squatted down beside the dog and hugged him, feeling his bones through his coat. He needed a good scrubbing and his coat well combed, but I’d clean him up the next time we crossed a river. I’d wash him with the soap Ma had made from ashes before we’d left Quincy, and I’d use Pa’s currycomb.
“What will you name him?” Pa asked.
“How about Wanderer,” Aunt Catherine suggested.
“Or Brownie, because of the color of his coat,” Uncle Will said.
Pa suggested Lucky.
But I had already heard Ma call the dog by his name. “I’m going to call him Barebones,” I said.
----------
After I fed Barebones some of my buckwheat cakes for lunch, he was my dog, and he followed me everywhere. I brushed his coat to get out the sticks and prickers, then used soap and water to wash him in our basin. He’d get a proper bath later. Except for being dirty and hungry, Barebones seemed to be healthy.
“Got you a mongrel, did you?” Mr. Bonner asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Most likely an Indian dog. You be careful. He’s likely to go after you in the night. Might be crazy, too. Watch that he don’t foam at the mouth. He bites one of my oxen, I’ll put him down.”
“Yes,
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