“Maybelle is calling Sam. Stay with me. Is that Spook howling?”

“Yes, he—he came in with me. I was just coming to close the chicken door. I’d been calling everyone to see where he had gone.”

“Did he have any heart problems, stroke problems?”

“Possibly. I made him an appointment with the doctor for this Friday. I finally got him to agree to go.”

“Sam is on his way. Five minutes, Maybelle says.”

Sobs racked her from her toes on up.

“Ginny, are you going into shock? Ginny, answer me!” Her voice was stern. “Breathe! Ginny, breathe!”

“I—I am.” She inhaled again, blinking and trying to respond. “If I turn the light on, the chickens will fly all over.”

“Okay, leave the light off. Is the door open?”

Ginny looked over her shoulder. “Yes. I can hear the siren.”

“We told Sam we would keep you on the line.”

“I—I can’t quit crying.”

“No, of course not. Will Spook let them in?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s lying right here with his muzzle on Fred’s leg. At least he quit howling.” She listened. “Sam is here.”

“Mom! I’m leaving the truck lights on for them. They are turning in now, both the ambulance and the fire truck.”

Spook growled, deep in his throat.

“Easy, Spook, it’s Sam.”

Sam blocked what little light was coming through the door. “Easy, Spook.”

Ginny took his collar. “If he is growling at you, what will he do when they get here?”

“I’ll put him in my truck.” But when he leaned over to take the collar, Spook snapped at him. “Is there a rope anywhere around here?”

“In the barn. Hanging by the halters just as you go in the door.”

Sam took off. The flashing red-and-blue lights lit the outside world. He returned in less than a minute.

“Hey, Sam, in here?”

“Yes, but I gotta get the dog into the truck. He’s gone into guard mode.”

“Maybe he’ll let Ginny get him out of there. Or we have a tranquilizer.”

“Please, just go back to the truck. And tell the paramedics the same.”

Ginny recognized the voice of the Fire Chief Adam Brunsfeld, one of their friends from church. Sam handed her the rope. She tied it through the collar loop and stood up. “Come on, Spook, there is nothing you can do here.” She tugged on the rope but he sank back on his haunches, front legs rigid. She cupped his furry face with both hands. “Come on, boy, we gotta let them do their work.” She stepped back. “Heel, Spook, heel now.” She tugged gently on the rope. “Heel, Spook.” She slapped her thigh and turned to walk away. Whining, Spook obeyed the command he’d learned so long ago.

“Good boy. Come on. Come.” Tears streaming down her face, she led their dog out to the truck, opened the door, and ordered him in. Spook leaned back on his haunches again but, at another command, leaped up on the seat. She threw the leash in after him and slammed the door shut. The dog scratched at the door and set to howling again. The mournful cry made her stagger as she turned.