Three hundred miles to the west and another year later

“Hello?” A man sat by the window as he held the phone receiver.

Somebody on the other side said something.  The man nodded his head and said, “Mr. Cooper, I’ve been trying to reach you all week.”

Again, he nodded. “Yeah, about that. The crops in the west field are failing somehow.”

He paused to listen. “No, I only used younger people to gather the fruit this time.  Nobody ‘bove twenty.”

He nodded several times before finally saying, “Yeah, I did, but gopher holes are sprouting all over the place.  Had to gas them out.”

Another minute of listening passed. “Honestly, I didn’t know. You never told me not to do it.”

Shaking his head vigorously, he replied, “No, sir. Not gonna do it again. But what about the gophers?”

He nodded till his eyes watered. “Yes, sir. Waiting for you to come, sir.”

He finally replaced the phone’s handset in its cradle and looked with angst at the fields beyond his window where Malvao shrubs filled every corner of his small farm.

--

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Fifty miles further west and only a week after

“You say that your dog just got swallowed by that hole?” The sheriff talked to the disheveled woman as his deputy leaned with a large flashlight into the dark hole.

“It got poor Spud in a second! She howled from inside the hole for an entire minute before she stopped.” The woman had tear trails dried over her cheeks. She clasped her hands for some time, squared her arms over her chest, and went back to clasping.

“Ma’am, let’s start with you telling us the dog’s breed, for starters.” The Sheriff stifled a yawn. Mary was infamous for her bogus calls.  Just last week, she reported aliens stealing her chickens. The dog could be anywhere, least of all that hole.

“German shepherd.”  Mary sniffed.  “Spud was a fine dog.” 

“Mary, this hole is barely wide enough to pass a rabbit.” The sheriff tapped the shoulder of his deputy. “A German shepherd would never fit through this tiny opening here.”

“You think I am lying?” Mary’s voice increased. “You think I'm crazy or not right in the head?” Her voice shook. “I tell you my dog is down there, and you should do something about it!” Her face was beet red and her body was shaking. 

“No, Mary. I shouldn’t.” The sheriff closed his notebook and faced the small woman. “I won’t be wasting taxpayers’ money on some junkie.”

He turned to his deputy and said, “Come on, Will. We have other real business to attend to.”

As they both departed, Mary leaned over the opening and said, “I hear you, baby. Mama’s going to get you out. Mama’s going to find a way.”

The wind swept over Mary’s head, and just for a moment, she could hear the faraway whining of a German shepherd.