Page 63 of Final Ride

Maybe Eldon killed Willy. Be just like him. He was always jealous. Then she remembered Cleo growling and jumping on Willy at the fishing camp.

Tammy hoped Cleo didn’t hurt Willy too badly. He was a good person and didn’t deserve to be chewed up by that huge, crazy dog.

A nurse came in and smiled at her. “How are you doing today, Tammy?”

“Okay. I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

“Well, aren’t you the nice polite little girl. Do you feel like eating some Jell-O?”

“I’m not too hungry.”

“We’ll get you on regular food soon, young lady. All of us here at the trauma center are happy you’re going to make it.”

“Thanks for being nice to me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Nonsense. Everyone deserves the best care we can provide.”

Maynooth. Northern Ontario.

As soon as Bobby opened his eyes and the morning sun blasting through the window almost blinded him, he heard Cleo whining. She was determined to go outside and investigate the bear’s nighttime visit.

“I’m tired, Cleo, and I don’t want to get up this early. Can’t you wait for another half hour?”

Cleo could not wait. Barking to get out, she scratched at the back door.

“Damn it, Cleo. I’m coming. Let me check outside first. I don’t want you running into Mrs. Bear out there and getting torn to bits. You have no idea what kind of a mess you could get into.”

As soon as Bobby opened the door a crack, Cleo pushed her huge body through the opening and was gone.

Nose down, she sniffed around the porch then followed the bear’s scent to the trees at the side of the cabin and kept going down into the ravine.

Bobby whistled for her, and she didn’t come back right away. When she did return, Bobby put her in the truck to get her mind off the bear and headed for the store.

There was a little white frame general store not even a mile down the highway from the cabin. The old guy who owned it sold groceries, gas and seasonal items for the cottagers who came in droves starting every year at Easter weekend.

Bobby bought a case of beer, a carton of smokes and a few groceries. He filled the truck with gas and paid for it all at the counter.

Without knowing who he was or where he came from, the old guy asked, “Mrs. Powell at her cabin? She hasn’t been up here for a while. I know she lives in Texas. Beautiful lady.”

Bobby grinned. “She’s here now. I’ll tell her you were asking about her, sir.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.” The old guy grinned.

Bobby loaded his purchases into the truck and said to Cleo, “That old guy is creeping me out, Cleo. He knows where we’re staying. The only way he could know that, is if he was watching us. Fuck. He might give us trouble.”

Cheyenne. Wyoming.

We drove south for hours through Wyoming. Needing food and a rest for himself and the boys, Travis pulled into the Golden Arches for a break.

I followed him into the parking lot, and it was a good place for us to stop with two big rigs. This parking lot had lots of room for the horse trailer and the Jeep towing the Harleys.

We parked near the back of the area and Travis let the dogs out and stayed with them while me and Virge went inside to order.

Travis held both leashes and at times it was a battle of strength between him and the dogs. Max and Sarge were wiry and muscular. Incredibly strong.

He tried to hold them back, but they insisted on pulling him over to the fence between McDonald’s and the Citgo gas station next door.

The dogs whined and rooted in the long grass that lined the fence. Travis moved closer to see what they were after.

---