As Laura rounded the corner, past the trees, where the old concrete pavilion sat sinking into the slough bank, she was aware of her mouth opening.

In the summer, the slough was still and flat, blanketed by algae so thick it looked solid enough to walk on. That slough was so stagnant that Laura was surprised anything could survive in it. That slough looked like a bucket of water that had been left on the back porch all summer.

This slough was alive. It moved like something angry and afraid, churning fast and high. Whitewater swept along the bank, pulling up debris and washing it downriver. Laura saw a branch get sucked into the water and lost sight of it in an instant as it was swallowed by the seething froth.

Franklin was up ahead, nosing along the old concrete pavilion at the slough’s bank. He whined and gave her a look.

She called his name and slapped her thigh. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

He turned to come to her. He’d been a rescue dog. Her husband had found him on the Internet. He’d been kept in some barn in Idaho, given little food and no human comfort. It had taken them years to teach him to trust people. And it filled Laura with pride to know that he had turned into such a good dog.

Even with the noise of the slough, he’d heard her. He’d turned to come.

And that’s when it happened.

Did he slip? Did the slough rise up suddenly and take him? She didn’t know.

He was looking right at her, and in a second he was gone.

It took her a moment to move. And then she snapped into action.

Her dog was not going to die. Not like this. She ran. She didn’t think about the stress fracture. The sore back. The raging river. She ran to the edge of the bank, scanning the water for him, as Penny barked fiercely at her heels.

Her heart leapt. She saw him. A glimpse—a wet mound of fur struggling in froth. He was already moving down the river, but he was alive, his black nose just above water.

She had several options.

Maybe if Franklin hadn’t been looking her in the eye when it happened she would have considered more of them. She would have called for help, or run alongside the river, or tied a rope around her waist.

She knew what happened to people who went into water after pets.

They died.

But Laura had seen something in Franklin ’s brown eyes. He’d looked right at her.

“Stay,” she said to Penny.

And she plunged into the cold water after him.