Preacher John Part VIII-A

Losing Ground

As summer faded to fall, Bobby, John, and Mack worked their way southward hitting a number of trials along the way.  Buster and a couple of the other young dogs stayed hot in derby stakes.  However, Bobby’s adult dogs had hit a drought and with each passing trial Bobby became more anxious.  The dogs were running well but just not getting the breaks you need to win.  Sal (Rebel Girl), at the last trial, looked like she was finally going to get the first place placement she needed to qualify for the National, but they lost her on point at the 50 minute mark and finally called for the tracker when the judges had waited the obligatory time at the end of the brace.

      Buster continued to impress everyone who saw him.  He instinctively adjusted to the changing cover as they moved further away from the prairies where he had left behind a trail of victories.  Bobby convinced John to keep running him in the all age stakes at the qualifiers in hopes the young phenom would also join the elite ranks of the dogs qualified to run at Ames in February, but that needed first place remained elusive for Buster.  When they finally reached Georgia the three men, their dogs, and the horses all needed some time off.  They went to Bobby’s first where John helped them unload and get everyone settled in.

      They pulled into Bobby’s late one afternoon in early October and the three men immediately went to work cleaning out the kennels that had been vacant for going on four months.  The horses were turned out into a pasture with grass up to their bellies, and they rolled and cavorted before settling down to graze.  John had taught Bobby long ago that an all age handler is only as good as his horses and the three of them had made sure that the horses were as fit as the dogs.  They were fully fleshed out with rippling muscles and shining coats.  When they asked a horse to step up to find a dog, they never had to worry about their mounts.  But even the horses would benefit from a break.  By early evening all was squared away and John was ready for a ride to his house on the other side of town.

      John knew he had to go home.  He wanted to see his family and he was worried about the house that had been vacant since he had left in July for the prairies.  He felt guilt at leaving it behind without Etta Mae to take care of it.  He knew John Jr. and the girls probably never let a day go by without at least one of them stopping by.  But guilt was not that easy to assuage.   He felt Etta Mae looking over him even from the grave, and, as he had for his entire adult life, he didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to think less of him in any way.  He knew all this was irrational, and besides, Etta Mae would have loved to have made one more trip to their old summer camp as she had when the kids were little.  But it was time to go home.  He would still go to some trials with Bobby and continue to work Buster when they were at home. 

John threw his one bag into the back seat of the dually and opened the front passenger door.  Bobby got in the driver’s seat and turned to John before starting the engine, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“What about Buster?”

John paused before answering, “I figured he’d stay here with the rest of the dogs.”

“How’s he going to sleep next to your bed if he’s in my kennel?”

“What’s he going to do at my place?”

“Whatever you want him to.  And you can bring him over to my grounds to work him.”

John thought about arguing with Bobby about the fact that he was too old for all this, but realized he felt as good as he’d felt in years.  The daily grind of working dogs and traveling to field trials didn’t exactly make him feel young again, but he had to admit that he was able to keep up, and he still loved the game.  He felt the same thrill when he rode over a rise and saw Buster standing in the distance, the call of point, the charge of the judges and gallery behind him as they cantered to the dog, the flush of the birds, and the shot of the gun.  Even the smell of the black powder from the blank cartridge added to the moment. 

Then there was the anticipation of the announcements when they thought Buster or one of the other dogs had done well enough to earn a placement.  It all still felt good and with Etta Mae gone he really didn’t have anything else to do.  He sure as heck wasn’t going down to Wally World and get a job as greeter as a couple of his old friends had done.  Besides, every time he had one of these debates with Bobby over the summer and early fall he had lost.  It was time to just accept the fact that for a while anyway he was going to be a dog trainer again even if he only had the one dog.  He got out of the truck and went over to the kennel they had put Buster in and opened the door.  Buster sauntered out, peed on the front wheel, and then waited for John to open the back door of the truck.  John obliged and the dog hopped up, used John’s bag for a pillow and was asleep before Bobby had the big diesel rumbling down the lane towards the highway that led to the other side of Albany.

It was almost eight o’clock when they pulled up in front of John’s house.  There were a number of cars in the yard and every light in the house was on.  He had told John Jr. he’d be home today, but he didn’t expect them all to be waiting for him.  As Bobby shut off the truck, a gaggle of the younger grandchildren and great-grandchildren came tumbling out of the kitchen door.  They were soon hugging him as tears welled up in his eyes.  One of the youngest girls, Mae, saw Buster in the back seat and recognized him from the pictures her mother had shown her in the The Field as the reports of the prairie trials had appearred.  She wanted to let him out.

John took a lead from the front seat and handed it to her.  With the help of one of her bigger male cousins they got the back door of the truck open and the lead snapped on Buster.  Buster took one look at the diminutive girl on the other end of his leash and carefully climbed out of the truck. 

“Mae, walk him around the yard for a minute before you bring him into the house.”   John looked at her cousin, Billy, and the boy nodded, knowing that it was his job to keep an eye on both Mae and Buster.  Buster, who could put a strain on a thousand pound horse when in his roading harness never let the slack out of the lead as Mae led him around the yard.

John grabbed his bag and another one of the boys offered to take it into the house for him.  John handed the bag to him and then with grandchildren and great-grandchildren fore and aft navigated his way into the kitchen where his children, their spouses, more grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were waiting for him.  Everyone wanted a hug except for a few of the older boys who were parked in front of the TV in the living room as they watched Monday Night Football.  All the adults and older children knew Bobby well and he was greeted as the honorary member of the family he had been since John had first taken him on as a helper on the prairies all those years ago. When Mae and Billy came in with Buster, he got a welcome that was almost as effusive as the one John had received. 

There were tons of food, as there always was in Etta Mae’s kitchen, and John caught himself looking to the stool she usually sat on to direct traffic as her daughters and daughters-in-law did the actual cooking that she was unable to do in the last few years of her life, but she was not there.  Her time here on earth had ended in March and he hoped she was in the heaven that she had so fervently believed in her entire life.  John had never been able to make that leap, but his doubts did not negate her faith. 

It was after 10 before the last of his family had hugged him and Buster and headed to their own homes scattered around town.  When the last car left the yard he let Buster out and wandered around the big backyard for a few minutes while the dog explored his new domain.  John went over to the kennel to see how much work he’d need to do in the morning to make a place for Buster.  When he flipped on the light, he was surprised to seen the kennel was spotless with fresh bedding in the barrel in the first run.  He looked in the carport next to the kennel and his pickup truck had been recently washed.  It made him feel good to be back in the bosom of his family whose love he felt and shared.

John’s usual bedtime while he had been at camp and on the road with Mack and Bobby had long passed when he and Buster finally made it to the bedroom.  Buster, as he had done at camp and in motels from Canada to Georgia, curled up on the rug next to the bed as the old man crawled under the fresh sheets and turned out the light.  As he did many nights he dreamed of the big liver and white dog as he ran across the prairies questing ever further to the front in search of birds.