Home Cooking
Part VII B
There was plenty to be unhappy about in the draw. There were 30 dogs in the all-age and 20 in the derby. The grounds had a continuous course that would barely accommodate four one hour braces and the first course was far and away the strongest as far as cover and the ability to show a dog. The local pro had a dog in every brace of both stakes and from what Bobby remembered of his dogs his best two, which were decent bird dogs, had the first course in the morning on both days. Of the eight dogs they had entered none of Bobby’s dogs drew course one with the exception of Buster who would have it in the afternoon of the second day in the thirteenth brace. This was good for Buster, but he had also drawn the first brace of the derby and would have to return to the line a couple of hours later.
As John looked over the draw sheet, Bobby asked, “What do you want to do about Buster?”
John knew exactly what he meant and looked down at talked as he answered, “If we think this dog has what it takes to run in the endurance stakes, I guess it won’t hurt him any to go out for an extra half hour.”
Bobby looked at Mack who nodded in agreement and posed the question, “What do you think about the draw?”
“It is what it is, Bobby. It’s like I told you long ago, all we can do is bring a dog to the line and do what we can to help it while it’s in judgment. The rest is out of our control. If you’re trying to say you don’t think you got a fair draw then all you can do is not support this trial next year. “
“I know, I know, and I told myself last year I wouldn’t come back here. But it’s almost directly on our route home and last year I qualified Tort Reform here. I guess they’re doing their best to make sure I don’t qualify another dog this year.”
John looked at him hard until Bobby looked away, “If they messed with the draw last year, and you came back again this year you only got what you deserved.”
“Yeah, but that man makes some darn good chili.”
“It was good, but we still may get more out of this than a free meal. You got to believe in your dogs.”
Bobby got up to head to his own room, “I believe in our dogs but that doesn’t save them from some serious home cooking.”
In the morning, the three Georgians had hooded sweatshirts under their Carhartt jackets and gloves on their hands. Although the temperature would climb near 70 in the afternoon it was in the low 40s as they got in the truck and headed to the grounds. The routine of tending to the dogs and tacking up the horses required little talk between the three men as they each had specific tasks. Mack quickly had three horses tied to the trailer, checked their feet, and then began brushing and saddling the horses. Bobby took the two dogs that were drawn in the third and fourth braces of the first morning and put them on the dog truck.
The morning was already warming now that the sun was fully up and Mack agreed to stay at the trailer and let the dogs stay out on the chains. Bobby and John joined the gallery at the breakaway for the first brace. The local pro was braced with an amateur with a dog that was straining at the lead to get away. When they were turned loose the dog did just that and was not seen again until after the handler called for his tracking receiver 25 minutes later. The pro’s dog lined out at a 45 degree angle from the course and went directly to a distant gully where he slowed and then disappeared into the brush. The pro immediately raised his hat and headed for where the dog had last been seen. The judge and most of the gallery peeled off and headed towards the spot. When they were about halfway there the dog popped out of the gully a 100 yards from where it had disappeared.
The pro yelled and the dog broke towards them as they all headed back to the course. The dog then went to the next birddy looking spot showing its familiarity with the grounds. It was an uninspiring hour on the ground that was somewhat redeemed with four goods finds. The next brace was even worse with both the pro’s and the amateur’s dog lost before the halfway point. In the third brace Bobby put down one of his promising first year all-age dogs that was braced with another of the pro’s dogs. Both dogs ran respectable races with Bobby’s dog getting the edge on the ground. The only bird work was a divided find that both pros felt should have been theirs.
In the fourth brace both dogs went birdless. After lunch they started out at the same spot, but in the heat of the day the pro’s dog came up with only one find. The bracemate carded a back. Birds continued to be scarce as the afternoon progressed. Both of Bobby’s dogs were birdless in the second and third braces. On the last brace of the day the pro’s dog had two finds. Sal would have the fourth brace in the morning and Bobby felt he could show her well and she would have a chance at birds. Buster would obviously have the best course but at a tough time of day.
A steak fry was the activity at the clubhouse on Saturday night and those who had not ridden the afternoon braces had started into the beer and whisky early. The pro’s dog in the first brace was named day dog to no one’s surprise, but Bobby saw it as a very beatable performance. After the dogs and horses were fed, Mack, John, and Bobby joined the others for a steak. The pro was holding court and the three outsiders were pretty much ignored. Bobby still had three dogs to run plus Buster. He was hopeful that one or more of them would get it right. He was always optimistic, at least until the announcements were made.
The first brace the next morning saw the pro’s dog mirror his other good dog from the morning before. The only difference was she came up short one bird with three finds. Bobby’s dog in the third brace torched the course but went birdless. This brought them to Sal. Bobby still had another first year dog in the afternoon but Sal was his best chance. And she didn’t let him down. In the previous 11 braces, no dog had put down what Bobby and John believed was a true all-age race and had any bird work. Sal broke away like her tail was on fire and only stopped twice for two scouted finds. There was a lot of scowling and mumbling in the gallery as the brace finished back at the clubhouse. Bobby felt good.
After lunch it was Buster’s turn. Some of the older men complimented Preacher John on his success with Buster over the summer. The pro mounted his horse and never looked at John who had handed Buster to Bobby who would scout the dog. When they let them go it was a race. The pro’s dog stayed with Buster for about five minutes before he slowed a step and was left behind. Buster drifted to the right side of the course and showed far to the front every few minutes. This was what the all-age was supposed to be about — a thrilling dog on the ground questing independently to the front on that long thin string that would guide him to the front as the course swung one way or the other. By the 20 minute mark Bobby had his horse in a full lather as he galloped to the far flung edges trying to help John keep track of the dog.
At 22, Bobby popped on a small hill far to the right of the course and raised his hat. The pro, one judge, and his loyalist customers in the gallery went forward, the rest followed John as he loped his horse towards Bobby. When they reached the height of land, Bobby pointed and they could all see Buster standing high and tight on the edge of a patch of small wild sunflowers in a small wash. John and Bobby were soon off their horses and they could see Buster’s loose upper lip fluttering as he inhaled and exhaled the intoxicating scent. When John stepped into the sunflowers, a covey of wild quail rocketed out. The dog hadn’t seen a wild quail since he’d been allowed to chase them in Georgia
It would take them a few minutes to catch the forward party and Buster was already well past them. As John slowed his horse to a walk he turned to the other judge, “My dog up here?”
The judge hesitated and looked at the pro who was riding in front but turned for the answer, “He came through, but I’m watching the other dog and I’m not sure where he went.”
John settled in next to the other handler as he said, “I’m sure he’ll show.”
Mack had stayed with the forward gallery and pointed to the right side of the gallery. He was the only friendly face in the crowd. Bobby swung out to the right as everyone else went forward. They rode forward into the second half of the hour with Buster’s bracemate showing every minute or two. John was confident in his dog, that he was to the front, but as the time passed and Buster hadn’t shown he began to worry that they might have ridden by him on point. He could see Bobby off to the right checking the brushy spots for the dog.
Just before the 40 minute mark the pro raised his hat as his dog was crossing the front and then slowed into a point. Everyone charged forward, although it was only a couple hundred yards. When they got close, they could see Buster in the edge of the cover locked up regally. John and the pro were quickly off their horses and John went in front of Buster. He had to go 50 feet in front of him before a cock pheasant cackled out. John fired his blank gun and to his surprise so did the pro. John wasn’t sure if he was trying to mess with Buster or trying to claim a divided find — most likely both. It didn’t matter to Buster as he stayed high and tight waiting for John to lead him away from the find.
Buster was raring to go, but Bobby had taken the water jug from his saddle and made Buster stand while they attempted to get him to drink some water. Bobby poured some on him. It was more a reminder to Buster that they were there and in charge than any thought that the dog needed water as the temperature had barely reached 70 and the humidity was quite low — a beautiful day to be following bird dogs. With less then 15 minutes left in the brace Buster once again was off with the same speed and enthusiasm he had shown at the breakaway. He showed twice more well to the front and at time could be seen crossing from left to right. John and Bobby went after him and soon had him in the harness and headed back to the dog truck.
Once Buster was in a box John grabbed a bottle of water out of the cooler where the judge was sitting on the tailgate waiting for Bobby to get his final dog ready to go. The judge hesitated and then spoke to John without looking him in the eye, “That’s a real nice young dog you got there, Mr. John. It’s too bad he couldn’t dig out another bird or two.”
John was dumbstruck and the only thing he could do was nod to the man. He almost went over to Bobby who had told him as they rounded up Buster that he figured Buster was winning, Sal was second, and the dog the pro ran in the first brace a distant third. John agreed but had reminded him that not everyone saw things the way they did and the judge was obviously using the bird count as his primary criteria.
Bobby picked up at the 30 minute mark as his dog was birdless and wasn’t having a race to compare to Buster and Sal. The pro did the same. The last brace went the hour but it wasn’t pretty as both dogs faded hard in the second half and were watered frequently. The handlers would have probably picked up had they not had a divided find on a brood of sharptails 10 minutes into the brace. They would hold the announcements until they got back to the clubhouse. The trial chairmen figured they had enough course and time left, due to the early pick up in the second afternoon brace to get three braces of derbies run.
Buster was in the first brace and had not lost a step from having already run an hour. For 26 minutes he flashed across the distant front ever farther as he hunted a course that had not produced a bird in three earlier braces. At the 30 minute mark the call of point came from the far left side of the course as Bobby rode onto the top of a small hill with his hat held high. It was a repeat of his other two finds with the dog posed perfectly next to a small bluff. The only difference was this time a brood of sharptails blew out giving Buster the trifecta of the birds to be found on the grounds. Bobby had dogs in the next two braces with the one in the last brace going beyond the clubhouse to point a pheasant on the beginning of the first course. Their three derbies looked good with Buster giving the strongest performance.
Once the dog truck was unloaded, the trial chairman gave three long blasts on his whistle and shouted, “Placements!”
Soon everyone was gathered around the table that had been set up in front of the clubhouse with a dog food company banner, bags of dog food, ribbons, and a trophy. The chairman went through the usual thanking of the judges, the dog truck driver, the handlers, the land owner, and finally got to the placements, “In third place, Buster with Mr. John.”
John stepped forward and tried to put his best face on. It would count as one of the two placements that Buster needed for the National, but he still needed a first. He took the ribbon which he’d send to Trey Sutton, Buster’s owner, and the check which he’d use to pay some of his own expenses as they went down the road. To the surprise of many the dog that had three finds in the first brace that morning was named second. There was still hope for Sal, but John knew that the dog with four finds in the first brace the day before would be getting the placement as the judges were obviously using the number of finds to spice up their home cooking.
The air went out of Bobby when they announced the dog with four finds as the winner. As the pro walked back to the table he turned to Bobby, “See you in Grand Junction
Bobby just turned and walked away. He went back to the trailer and finished taking the saddle off his horse and wiping him down before hitching him to his stakeout and giving him his evening grain. The three of them finished the chores and then went over to the clubhouse for fried chicken. Many of the locals had gone home and it was a small group that gathered for dinner. It was also a quiet group. Bobby had already congratulated John when they made the announcement and didn’t say a word as the three of them ate in silence. They talked of the derby on the way back to town and what they had left to run in the morning.
There were a very few people on the grounds in the morning. The derby turned out as they expected with Buster winning and two of Bobby’s derbies in second and third. Shortly after lunch they were headed down the road to a championship that started on Wednesday. John called Trey on Bobby’s cell phone to give him the derby results and as the field trial grounds faded away in the side mirrors of the truck Bobby turned to John and shook his head, “I hate home cooking.”
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