You've got his lead. I hated him then. Nothing sounded better than to quit, drink a gallon of lemonade, and eat my weight in egg salad, but when I ruffled BoJack's head, his eyes sparkled. He knew something, something I hadn't yet figured out. Injun squatted beside the panting dog, cupped both hands on his dirty muzzle, and stroked from wet nose to shoulder.
Dogs have more sense than people do.
I'd know what he was saying, if only I listened better. I considered the oak tree's cool shade, then thought of Mary Esther Culpepper, hot and tired and wanting her grandma. Maybe we can do something with it. At the perimeter of the yard, I noticed we had company. The sheriff was busy organizing men to comb different sections of the woods, while some of the neighbor women had set up torches in the yard and set tables with sandwiches under the sprawling oak trees.