2016Bluestone

A Boy and His Dog Cortney Bledsoe

I don’t remember why I looked outside, but there he was, beaten-down, once-black Ford pulled over in the tall grass, up the road toward the top of the hill. I went to meet him, thinking anything would be better than the boredom inside. When I was closer, I could see he had his snake rifle aimed at a dog running across the far side of the valley. I knew what he was thinking: the dog had been spooking the cows, might incite them to hurt themselves or at least raise worry in them. So he was taking the practical solution. A rise blocked him from seeing the boy running up the other side of the ridge, up

from Aunt Mary Bob’s trailer, chasing his dog that’d gotten out. And I ran trying to beat that crack of thunder that travelled miles faster than I ever could.

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