Frank O’Reilly poured a few inches of pea gravel into the fence-post hole he’d just dug. He glanced over his shoulder at Johnny, one of the ranch hands he’d recently hired.

“Make sure you get at least three inches of these rocks into the hole and tamp it down good, like this.” he said, tamping the rocks down with a large wooden pole. “We need a solid footing for the fence posts. Them cattle will rub up against just about anything, so these here posts need to be sturdy, you understand?”

“Yessir, Mr. O’Reilly. And you need them posts eight feet apart so them sixteen-foot planks can span two openings, right?”

“That’s right. Make sure them posts are square with the ground and space them evenly.”

Frank handed Johnny the post-hole digger and smiled. The ranch hand had just turned eighteen, and Frank couldn’t help but remember when his Kathy was that age. Johnny had that same lively spirit and energy that reminded him of Frank’s baby girl when she graduated high school and took off for the world.

He patted Johnny on the shoulder. “You got this?”

“Yessir, but if’n you don’t mind my asking, why all of a sudden you taking on help? You fixing to retire?”

Frank laughed and shook his head. “Johnny, I might be fifty-three, but I’ve still got quite a bit of life left in me. Just get the job done, and you best be minding what I said about doing a quality job. I’m going to check all your work, so don’t take no shortcuts, you hear?”

“Yessir. Don’t have to worry about that.” Johnny hefted the post-hole digger and walked to the next flagged spot.

As Frank turned away, he nearly tripped on a dog that was sitting on its haunches right behind him.

“Damn it, where the heck did you come from?”

The chocolate lab just sat there with its tongue lolling. A beautiful animal. Shiny coat, heavily muscled body, and obviously well-fed. Not a stray.

Frank held out his hand. “Are you friendly?”

The dog stood, and its tail became a blur. It sniffed at Frank’s hand, then lowered its nose and sniffed at his boot and up along his jeans. Finally, it sat back on his haunches, licked its lips, and whined. Its bright brown eyes stared up at him, glanced at his trousers, and then back up at his face. It whined again.

Frank tilted his head, unsure what the dog was trying to say. Then it hit him, and he laughed. “Ah! I know why you’re so interested in me.” He pulled a folded-up piece of homemade beef jerky from his pocket and tossed it gently to the dog.

The animal snatched it in midair and chewed contentedly.

“Well, I best be off, pup. I’ll get a tongue-lashing if I’m not home in time for supper.”