Another Pink Book!

Chapter 5

Friday, 10:42 am

Ben, Toby and I jumped out of the truck. I didn't see any sign of Sam. We all called his name and scanned the area. I saw a path to the left of the road. It looked like some sort of game trail. It was inviting: the perfect place for an enthusiastic dog to explore. There was a fence but it was old and in bad condition. Part of it had collapsed under a tree had fallen on it. Leaves and debris had been packed alongside the downed tree over the decades, covering the wire. There was a clear path running along there, down the hill and into the woods.

Toby and Ben talked about search strategies; I decided to investigate the path. I slipped down the trail. I went several hundred yards; the path was grown over with trees and brush. It wasn't suited for anything taller than a deer, although it seemed from some of the broken branches that something much taller had been through recently.

Since I was short, I was able to scoot along unimpeded. I called for Sam, begging him to be a good boy and come to Mama, but there was no response. At one point, I found a small spring; it trickled across the path leaving smooth rock exposed. I stepped over, but the stones were slippery. I slid backward and sat, rather abruptly, into the icy cold water.

I stayed there a long moment, absorbing my situation. I was wet, muddy, filthy, covered in sick, my bum hurt, my leg ached and I was just a little bit lost. My poor baby Sam was missing, and I was worried. Everyone thought I had made up the story about the man on the side of the road; they thought I was delusional. The Deputy had even implied I was hysterical and irrational. Right that moment, I FELT hysterical and irrational. I sniffled, then I blubbered, then I began to bawl.

I heard a crashing sound coming down the hill toward me. It would have been alarming, except I recognized some of Ben's attempts to moderate his language.

"OW! Da—er, dadgum it. Lou? Where the he—heck are you?"

"I'm over here!" I howled.

"What the he—haystacks do you think you're doing? Running off in the da—dad burned woods and...what are you doing?"

"I'm looking for my dog!" I blubbered.

"Well, that f—foolish dog isn't in that muddy puddle! Get out of there!"

"I want Sam!"

"Come on Lou!" He arrived at my side, a little out of breath and pulled me to my feet. He looked me over: "What a mess!"

I slapped his helping hands and slid in the mud. He caught me lightly and pushed me up on the bank.

"Stop that! Do you HAVE to hit the hand I hurt?"

"How did you hurt your hand?" I sniffed.

"Hitting your boyfriend." He grinned.

"Hmph! Jealous!"

"Well, if he wants you the way you look now, he can have you!" He smiled, inviting me to join him.

I didn't feel like it. "You're not exactly at your best right now either!" I snarled.

It was true. He was wearing nearly the same outfit as Toby, but the effect was much different. It was like one of those magazine things, where they compare two people wearing the same outfit and the readers decide who looks better in the clothes. Ben was wearing nearly the same jeans, baby blue polo shirt, and boots as Toby. But where Toby could have been on the cover of GQ, Ben was a fit mate for me.

There was blood on his face and on his shirt from the fight. His nose was swollen and bruised. His hair was disheveled and his shirt was smeared with some of the evidence of my unfortunate experience. There was mud all over his jeans, which were ripped, and he had several scratches across his beautiful face and on his arms from his attempts to push through the brush.