Part VIII-B
Losing Ground
He hardly stirred until he heard someone out
in the kitchen and then smelled coffee brewing.
He looked at the clock to see that it was past eight. He couldn’t remember the last time he had
slept much beyond sunrise and while he’d been gone they’d been getting up in
the dark to work dogs or be at a trial when the sun came up. He looked down and Buster had already gotten
up.
Out in the kitchen, he found Jillian, his
oldest daughter and Mae’s grandmother, getting some bacon started on the
stove. “Mae wanted to come see
Buster. I hope it’s alright. I let her take him out in the yard on a
leash. Bobby told me you fixed breakfast
every morning at camp, so I thought I’d fix yours today.” She had filled a coffee cup as she talked and
handed it to him.
John started to protest and then accepted
the fact that it would do him no good.
All the women in the family shared Etta Mae’s tenacity when they decided
to do something, especially when it involved taking care of another member of
the family. “Thank you.”
Next to his place at the table was a small
pile of mail, “Johnnie said he’d taken care of everything else and the regular
bills were all on auto-pay while you were gone.”
His most recent bank statement was on
top. He opened it and was startled to
see his balance. He had sent some of his
purse money to his account while he was gone and the only deductions were for
the electric and then small amounts for the phone and cable which were all but
turned off while he was gone. Bobby had
not let him pay for anything for the last four months while his Social Security
and small pension from the owners of the plantation he had worked for a number
of years had been deposited regularly to his account. He and Etta Mae had lived comfortably but
frugally over the years and had always been able to cover their end of Etta
Mae’s medical bills. The house was paid
for as was the car in the garage and his pickup down at the kennel. He’d go to the bank later in the day and
transfer some of that to his savings as well as deposit some more of his purse
money from Buster. It still amazed him
at the size of the purses that some of the stakes paid out. Even when allowing for the cost of things
nowadays a man with a hot dog could make some serious money.
Mae came in with Buster as Jillian handed
him a plate of bacon and eggs with toast on the side. Mae sat across from him and her grandmother
put a plate with a single egg and a strip of bacon in front of her. She looked at the food, “I already had my
first breakfast at home, but Gram promised me bacon and eggs if I was quiet and
didn’t wake you up.”
“Well, I just woke up. So you done well. And
thank you for walking Buster, he’s not used to sleeping late.”
“Papa John, can I go to a field trial with
you sometime and see Buster run?”
“Maybe.
Do you know how to ride?”
“No. But Gram said you taught her and you
might be willing to teach me.”
John looked at Jillian who had learned to
ride on the prairies shortly after she learned to walk. John thought about it. “While maybe you can come over to Bobby’s
with me and we’ll see how things go.”
“Today?”
“Not today.
Buster and I need a couple of days off, but soon.”
She got out of her chair and came around the
table and gave John a big hug, “Thanks, Pap.”
The three of them made small talk as John
and Mae finished breakfast. A thought
crossed John’s mind, “How come you’re not in school, Mae?”
“Pap,
I’m just in kindergarten and I just go in the afternoon. My best friend Mary goes in the morning so we
only get to play together on the weekends.
But next year when we’re in first grade we’ll be in the same
class.” Mae went on telling John all
about kindergarten and how some of the kids in her class don’t even know their
letters yet and that she can already print her name. John half listened as Mae went on with the
details of life in kindergarten. She
obviously shared the family propensity for talking about everyone in her life
in full detail.
Breakfast finished, Jillian and Mae cleaned
up and headed out. John did an inventory
of his refrigerator and cupboards and realized he didn’t need much in the way
of food if anything. He did need to buy
some new clothes and a bag of dog food for Buster. He sat and made a list of errands that
included a stop at the coffee shop where all the local dog trainers dropped in
at one time or another during the day when they were in town and their
employers weren’t. He took the keys to
his truck from the rack by the door and turned to Buster, “Come on.”
They walked together to the kennel and John
paused. It had been his plan to put
Buster in his run, but by the time he reached the kennel he decided to take the
dog with him and waited with the truck door open for the dog to jump up and
over to the passenger seat. Some place
in Alabama Albany , Georgia
His first stop was the bank where John Jr. had
worked his way up to become a vice-president.
While he stood in line the manager came out and ushered him into his
office, “Mr. John, it’s nice to see you back in town. Your son told me you’d probably be in this
morning. Is there anything I can do for
you?”
“I just need to transfer some money and make
a deposit. I’m sure one of the girls
would be happy to help me.”
“It’s no problem. I can do it right from my terminal.”
John thanked him and handed over an envelope
full of cash and a couple of checks, then asked him to transfer some of his
money in his checking account to his savings account. When the bank manager looked at the balance
in his savings account his eyebrow raised involuntarily, “You know we’re not
paying much in the way of interest right now.
You might want to put some of this where it can earn you a little better
return. I’m sure your son could advise
you as to how to invest some of this.”
“I’ll give it some thought. But I’ve always liked the idea of knowing my
money was safe here in the bank.”
“Well, it’s definitely safe with us.” He paused a moment, “John, says you’ve got
yourself a hell of a young dog you’re winning with.”
The bank manager liked to quail hunt and had
even had a dog or two with Bobby over the years. “I’m just working him, a fellow up north owns
him.”
“I’d like to see him some time.”
“He’s sitting out in the truck right now.”
The manager stood up, “Let me get you a
receipt and then let’s take a look at him.”
John followed him out to lobby where he
handed the envelope to the head teller who handed him the receipt. He then followed John out to the parking lot
where his pickup was parked in the shade with the windows part way down. When John hit the button to unlock the doors
Buster’s head popped up in the passenger seat.
John opened the door and then reached across to the console for the lead
he had grabbed at the kennel. When he
snapped it on Buster, the dog ample out onto the pavement and then walked over
to the nearest bush. Done with his
business he stood motionless looking at the two men.
The banker looked him over, “I don’t know a
dog like you and Bobby, but from what I’ve seen over the years all the really
great ones have that inner calmness that you can see in this dog. That is until you jump on your horse and cut
them loose. He looks a little like that
dog you did all the winning with before you came home.”
“He’s bred up pretty close to old Sam if
that’s who you mean.”
“Yep, that’s the one. I can still remember riding his brace at the
Masters the second time he won it. What
did he have, six or seven finds and just one hell of a race?”
“It was seven, and Buster here may be all
the dog Sam was and then some.”
“If anyone could be fair judge of that it
would be you. While thank you for
showing him to me. I hope to see him run
this winter.”
They shook hands and John thanked him for
his help with his banking. At Walmart
the greeter was a man he had gone to high school with. And he also wanted to know about Buster. He couldn’t leave his post nor could John
bring the dog in the store but he invited him to stop by any time. He went to the clothing department and looked
at the jeans. The price was right for
name brand jeans but the material was half the weight of the last jeans Etta
Mae had gotten for him. He left Walmart
empty handed and headed for the feed store.
When he walked in the door, he remembered a
conversation he’d had with Etta Mae about his jeans from the feed store. Over in one corner were racks of Carhartt
jeans, overalls, shirts, and jackets. He
went up and down the aisles until he found what looked like the same pants he
had on. He grabbed two pairs and then
picked out a couple of snap front work shirts to go with them. He asked the girl behind the counter for a
bag of dog food for Buster.
“I’ll have someone bring it out to your
truck, Mr. John.” He looked at her but
didn’t recognize her. She helped him
out, “I’m Mary Brown, I went to school with your granddaughter, Carla. She told me you’d probably be in once you got
back to town.”
“Thank you, Mary.”
“You’re welcome and I hope that dog of yours
keeps winning.”
John just nodded and was reminded just how
small a community he lived in. He swung
by the coffee shop and before he could sit down he was once again out in a
parking lot showing off Buster. The dog
was apparently a celebrity in the making in Albany
When he put his truck back in the carport he
once again looked at Buster’s run and then called the dog as he went up to the
house. Buster curled up on the rug in
the living room that he had claimed as his spot while John fixed himself a
sandwich. John thought about taking a
nap but he really wasn’t tired. He
turned the TV on and watched the news. After
five minutes of people yelling at each other about the President and the
congress he shut it off. He looked at
Buster. This was the first time since he
left for the prairies that he didn’t have something to do and before that he
had always had a doctor’s appointment or somewhere else to take Etta Mae.
Finally he made a decision. He stood up and looked at the dog, “Let’s go
do something worthwhile.”
The dog followed him out the door and down
to the kennel where they went into the building. It took a few minutes but John found a
serviceable roading harness and a checkcord.
He then went out to the shed and found the four-wheeler parked just
where he’d left it behind the riding mower.
He checked the oil and the gas and then turned the key. It started right up. He then started the mower and took it out of
the shed. He pulled the four-wheeler out
and then put the mower in the back of the shed.
Buster had watched all this with some interest. He had been roaded many times by four-wheeler
over the summer and began to get excited when John put the harness on him. John hitched him up fairly close to the rig
as the trail behind the house was not wide enough for the dog to do much but
run down the middle. They started out slowly and Buster pulled hard. When they got through the woods behind the
house to the power line right-of-way John increased the speed so that Buster
was barely pulling, just running in front of the machine. About twenty minutes out they came to a creep
crossing and John stopped to allow Buster to get in the water. The dog was barely breathing hard, took a
couple of sips and then tightened the line.
John went on another ten minutes and then turned around and did the
thirty minute return trip. It had been
five days since Buster had run in the last trial but he was still hard and
ready to run.
It was always a balancing act with top field
trial dogs. Work them too much and they
got stale, not enough and they lose their edge.
And it varied from dog to dog.
Buster was young and loved to work.
John wasn’t sure how far he could push the dog yet, but was quite sure
he would have no trouble stepping it up to run in endurance stakes like the
Continental and the National. When he
got back to the kennel, he hosed the mud off of Buster and finally put him in
his run. He wondered what he’d do next.
There were four box stalls attached to the
back of the kennel building and he walked around and inspected them. They had recently been swept out even though
there hadn’t been a horse in them for over 20 years. He had hung on to his horses for a few years
after he quit trialing until he realized it was foolish to keep horses that
never got ridden. When he took the job
at the plantation, it was just easier to ride one of the plantation horses when
he rode with the owners and their guests during hunting season. He thought about Mae and went into the house.
There were a few old horse trainers in the
area that he trusted. He called them all
and told them what he wanted. A horse that
they’d put their own grandchildren on, and possibly a second horse that he
could work up into a handler’s horse. By
the time he’d done all that it was early evening. John fixed himself a plate of leftovers from
the fridge and had just sat down at the table when the familiar sound of a
diesel pick up rolled into the yard. He
stood and looked out to see Bobby getting out of the truck.
John opened the door, “Did you miss me
already?”
“That’s part of it, but we’ve also got a
problem?”
John motioned to the table, “You eat yet.”
“Yeah, I went through the drive through at
Sonic on the way over.”
They both sat down and John picked up his
forked, “So what’s problem?”
“I’ve lost my training grounds. The farmer I’ve been leasing from was
foreclosed on while we were up North and the plantation next door to him
gobbled up the place when it came to auction.
I spent most of the day call around and there’s nothing else nearby.”
“So what are you planning to do?”
“I talked to Trey, and we’re going to South Carolina
“What do you mean we? I just got home.”
“Yeah . . . and what did you do today?”
“Ran a few errands, went to the coffee shop,
and then I got out the four-wheeler and roaded Buster.”
A grin spread across Bobby’s face, “At least
I took the day off. I’m not planning to road the dogs until first thing in the
morning. So, what are you going to do
tomorrow?”
“I’m thinking about looking around for a
horse for my great-granddaughter.”
“So what are you going to do about working
Buster on birds?”
John thought about it and picked at his
plate of food. He had already decided to
stick with running the dog for as long as he could. “I guess were going to South Carolina
