Stella, page 5
“She’s a girl,” Mateo corrected.
“Sure enough, but I’ll arrange for a grown dog for a while, to work the sheep until we decide what we’re going to do. Probably going to sell the lot, anyway.”
Bart, Finn, and Mateo were very still.
“Sell the sheep?” Mateo finally responded, tentatively.
Dad’s sigh was long, low, and sad. “Just doesn’t seem worth the bother anymore. Been dry so many summers, and they hardly ever direct the dam spillway down the Raging River anymore. And after all that work, we barely make a profit on the fiber. Now we got wolves up in the hills, too, another thing to worry about.”
“But if I help out, and we get Stella trained, trained really well…” Mateo finally responded. “I’m sure we can handle the sheep, Dad. If you just—”
Dad pushed away from the table. “Still got plenty to do around here.”
Everyone remained quiet while Dad left the room.
“The old man’s lost his mind,” Bart blurted as soon as Dad was out of earshot. “We are a sheep ranch.”
“We’re a nothing-at-all ranch if Dad sells the place,” Finn retorted.
“It’s like he’s giving up on life. You need to talk to him, Finn.”
“Me?”
“He won’t listen to me. I’m too smart for him.”
“Ha,” Finn responded flatly.
“What did he mean, arrange for a dog?” Mateo wondered. “Like, how would that work? Borrow one from Mr. Paulson? What about Stella?”
“Oh, not from Paulson. Dad despises our next-door neighbor, even if Elias is determined to merge our family with the Paulsons,” Bart speculated. “It’s kind of the only thing the old man is passionate about anymore.”
“I don’t think your plan is going to work, Mateo,” Finn observed quietly. “If we get a trained dog from somewhere, I’m going to have to go out with Bart. He doesn’t know how to handle a herding dog.”
Bart shrugged. “Whatever.”
“I can do it. And Stella can do it, too,” Mateo pleaded. “Finn, you said you needed more time at the shop to make money for the ranch. Please let me take Stella out with the sheep. I want to help!”
Finn studied Mateo, then nodded. “Guess we’ll give it a try.”
Everyone stood up, so unhappy they forgot to give me any treats.
Seven
Over time, the sad urgency inside my boy grew deeper and more painful. It followed him around, this peculiar tension, even when we entered a small, muddy pen off to the side of the barn. At first Mateo and I just walked around the enclosure, with him waving his rake and sending me Come Bye and Away to Me. Then he brought in a small group of older sheep.
I was excited. We were going to play with sheep!
Mateo didn’t seem as excited as I was, so I nosed his leg, hard, panting up at him, and a smile touched the corners of his lips.
“Sometimes, like I said, I get lonely,” he told me. “But you make me feel better, Stella.”
I listened carefully for a word I might understand. “Turkey” was a good one. Had he said turkey? Not really, but did that mean the topic was out of the question?
Mateo shrugged. “It just … it would be nice to have somebody my own age to hang with. I mean, play basketball or go fishing or something. You’re my best friend in the world, but our conversations are mostly one-sided.”
He seemed to shake himself, and then he focused on me more tightly. I was impatient because I wanted to make the sheep move. Then, when they were moving, I felt the impulse to make them stop.
But Mateo stayed both of these ideas. Instead, he went back to doing Come Bye and Away to Me. I reacted instantly, darting ahead. I’d only gone a few steps, and the sheep had barely reacted, when Mateo called out, “Drop.”
I dropped onto my stomach.
“That’ll do,” he told me, which usually meant to go to him. But at times like this, it meant to lie down behind him while he stood between me and the sheep.
It’s very confusing when humans use words that have more than one meaning. But their tone of voice is the most important thing, and that’s what I was learning to pay attention to.
“Come Bye.”
“Drop.”
“That’ll do.”
He uttered these words over and over again. It was exhausting, especially when he said, “Drop!” just when I was in the middle of lunging at the flock. They were being so disorderly! I wanted to force them to move in one direction all at once, but they were sluggish and undisciplined. I barked, frustrated.
“Stella! You silly dog. These are old sheep,” Mateo told me. “They know what to do. When I say ‘Come Bye,’ they’re already moving in the right direction.” He laughed. “We’ll get to the young ones. Now that’ll be a challenge worth barking over.”
After a while, Mateo opened the small gate, and the sheep scampered across the yard and back into the larger enclosure, greeting the flock there as if they’d been gone for days.
Both Dad and Finn were working on the ranch that day. I could smell them, lending their human odors to the strong mix of chickens and ducks and sheep and sheep poop.
After we played with the sheep, Mateo led me over to the smallest of the large buildings on the property. There, oily, stinky machines sat silently while Finn and Dad toiled on one of them, not speaking a word to each other. When Finn was on the ranch, this greasy place was generally where he spent most of his time. It was as if this was Finn’s doghouse.
I sat next to Mateo, who stood respectfully and then finally made a small noise. Finn looked up, and Dad noticed the motion and turned to stare at us.
I was happy to see them.
“Well, what is it?” Dad finally demanded suspiciously.
“I wonder … I know I said I didn’t want to go to school,” Mateo began. “A while ago I said I wanted to be homeschooled, like Bart was.”
Dad looked wary. “Well?”
Mateo continued in a rush. “I think I would rather go to school. I mean, be with other kids my age.”
Dad just stared at him. Finn was mute, but he looked at Mateo with warm eyes. Finally, Dad shook his head. “Aren’t you getting all of your lessons off the computer? Isn’t that why we bought the thing?”
Mateo agreed. “Yeah.”
Dad shrugged. “Well, homeschooling gives us the flexibility in your schedule so that you can work on the ranch with us here, son. That’s what you said, remember? You can do your studies anytime, day or night. School, you have to get on a bus for an hour, and then you’re inside all day, and then you’re on the bus home. No taking time out in the middle to take care of the chickens. Doesn’t make any sense, Mateo. My father didn’t go to school at all, and I only went until I could drop out to help on the ranch. That was before computers, and we did fine. You’ll be okay.”
Dad turned back to the machine, picking up a metal object. Finn stood silently for a moment, looking at Mateo as if he felt a bit sorry for him. Then he bent down to help his father.
That evening the sheep were flowing back from the largest yard, through the open door and into the barn. I had noticed that, around this time of day, Mateo would toss fresh hay over the railing for the sheep. Perhaps somehow the sheep knew this as well—they moved as if they were looking forward to something.
I watched approvingly, liking how smoothly they entered the barn. Then I spotted it: a sleek, black animal mingling among the sheep—small, as small as a puppy, silent and swift.
“You see that?” Mateo blurted. “That’s the cat. That’s Slink. He lives in the barn. You see the cat?” I heard Mateo’s words and figured this new animal was called a “cat.” I looked at the cat, wondering why it thought it should be out in the middle of the sheep. As far as I knew, the thing had never received any training in doing Come Bye and Away to Me.
I wanted to get to know this cat animal, so I scampered through the big open door into the barn. My motion caught Baron’s attention. He and Nix, who had been lying around doing nothing much, slowly climbed to their feet to watch me.
I looked around, and sure enough, there was the thing called cat. It was just coming out of the sheep pen, oozing under the rail. Somehow it could squish its body so that it could squeeze through that small space.
A new friend to play with! I joyfully approached, panting happily and giving it the friendliest of tongue-out expressions. The cat’s eyes were bright in its black face and utterly unreadable—not at all like a person’s, or even another dog’s.
I could feel Baron and Nix watching me as I galloped up to the little creature, and then I was suddenly brought up short. The animal flattened its ears, drew back its lips, and with a yowling hiss came right at me, slashing the air with wicked-looking claws! I fell over myself, backing away from the thing, yipping loudly. For safety, I fled to Mateo’s side and hid behind him. He was laughing, and the two big dogs sitting next to him seemed amused as well. Baron even lowered his massive head to give me a mildly friendly sniff.
“You can’t make friends with a barn cat, Stella,” Mateo informed me. I didn’t know what he was saying, but I heard the word cat and assumed he was saying that this was a horrible animal, a vicious creature that none of us would ever have any use for.
I entirely agreed.
The snow had been gone for some time. There was still cool air, especially at night, and very often a misty rain moistened the ground. But when the sun broke free of the clouds, there were small flowers exploding everywhere. The birds were so joyous the noise was almost too much to bear. I wanted to roll on the ground, and Mateo let me, laughing.
The sheep must have been jealous because they began anxiously bleating to be let out of the barn and into their pen. As soon as the gate was flung open, they stormed out and lowered their heads to the shoots of grass in the big fenced-in yard. They were clearly enjoying it.
I had eaten a little grass myself. I couldn’t see the attraction.
I was excited when Mateo picked up his rake. Time for my favorite activity, training, where I got to run around and be praised by my boy. It was hard to understand why certain things, like lying down when he said “Drop!” pleased Mateo so much, but I was willing to do them if they made him happy.
Before, Mateo and I had done training with just a few sheep in the small pen. Now the entire herd was together in one bunch. I liked this idea very much.
The young lambs and their mothers and all the rest of the sheep milled about. They were so focused on yanking grass out of the ground that when I first approached them, they ignored me. Frustrated, I stormed them. That did the trick! They fled in every direction.
“Drop!” Mateo shouted to me, but I couldn’t stop. I had this glorious power over the entire herd of sheep. If I darted to one side, they all flowed the other way. I reversed direction, and they all jostled each other to get back. I was panting with excitement as I raced back and forth, having a glorious time.
I could hear Mateo yelling at me, but I was seized by something deep inside, an impulse I did not understand but had to obey. Move the sheep! it told me. So I did. It was even more fun when I started circling them.
“Stella!” Mateo called sharply. “Drop, Stella, drop!”
I froze suddenly, hearing disapproval in my boy’s voice. But how could this be wrong? It was so much fun to chase these creatures!
But I’m a good dog, and I tried to stay down on my belly. When Mateo told me, “That’ll do,” I tried to return to him. I really did. But then some sheep broke away from the main flock and I couldn’t help it. I ran at them.
This time, they split and encircled me instead of the other way around. I barked in frustration. I didn’t even hear Mateo approach until suddenly his hand was in my collar. I felt the familiar snick of the leash.
I was dumbfounded. A leash? Really? When we were having as much fun as a dog could have? I was crestfallen, and was sure the sheep were disappointed as well.
When Mateo dragged me out of the big pen, I saw Dad standing there staring down at me with a disapproving expression. Then he looked at Mateo, shook his head, and walked away.
He was wearing a shirt with no sleeves, so I could see that he still didn’t have a hand on one of his arms.
Mateo turned to me. “Oh, Stella,” he murmured. “Bad girl.”
I could hear the disappointment and heartbreak in his voice, and I felt terrible. I had done something wrong, and now my boy was disappointed in me. But what had I done? I couldn’t figure it out, but that didn’t really matter. I still felt like a bad dog, and there is simply no worse experience.
From that day forward the sheep wanted to spend all of their time out in the gigantic fenced-in yard, which I noticed didn’t have nearly as much grass inside it as it used to. A tangle of shrubs surrounded a few trees on one side, all of them bursting with new leaves, and I loved going in there because it was the only place in the yard that didn’t smell like sheep poop—they didn’t like to venture into the small copse. Outside the gates, the hilly fields that stretched as far as the eye could see were growing greener every day, covered in lush flowers and thick grasses. But inside the rails, the sheep seemed determined to return the big sheep pen back to its muddy original state. The guardian dogs kept an eye on it all, sprawled out lazily nearby.
This was our life now. In my dreams, Mateo called “Come Bye!” and I dashed into the flock, scattering sheep, overpowering them with dog energy.
Then, one morning, things changed. It started with the sound of a truck catching my attention. I could tell it wasn’t one of the vehicles that came and left the ranch on a regular basis, but I still thought I’d heard this particular engine before.
When the vehicle stopped and the cab door opened, I was shocked and thrilled to realize I knew the tall, tanned, thin woman who climbed out. It was Erra!
Even more exciting was the shaggy, hairy dog who leaped nimbly to the ground next to her. Deuce! Erra and Deuce were here!
Eight
I was overjoyed to see Deuce, though he focused on Erra and mostly ignored me.
The big dogs were less enthusiastic about my friend’s arrival. They sniffed Deuce, accepting that he wasn’t an enemy, but still a bit wary. The older dogs—Louie, Baron, and Scoop—seemed to know Deuce, while he was clearly a stranger to Nix.
“Stella, look at you,” Erra greeted me as I bowed and jumped and licked. The big dogs watched with what I presumed could only be rampant jealousy as the tall, slender woman fussed over me.
“I’m training her every day, like Dayna said,” Mateo informed her proudly.
Erra smiled and stood up. She slapped her hands on her pants. “Well, that’s a good thing. Donitta isn’t doing a thing to train either of the two corgis we kept.”
“You kept two?” Mateo repeated, his eyes wide.
Erra nodded sheepishly. “Squiggles and Noodles. It’s the last time we’ll be breeding corgis, I promise you. Donitta just couldn’t say goodbye. I feel like Stella was able to escape just in time. If Memphis hadn’t accidentally loaded her in the truck and taken her to the LGD sale, we’d have three of the little guys running around. That’s why Stella was older than usual for a puppy when you bought her. It’s because Donitta had a secret plan all along, to turn us into a house run by corgis.”
Dad joined us.
“Werner,” Erra announced, for some reason. I realized I’d heard the word somewhere before. What was a Werner?
“Erra,” Dad replied amiably. “Glad we could come to an arrangement.”
“How long will you be needing Deuce?” she asked.
Deuce glanced up at his name. I bowed in front of him again, but he ignored me.
“Well, so, a couple of months anyway,” Dad responded.
“And then what?” Erra asked curiously.
Dad looked thoughtful. “Well, then I suppose I’ve got to make a decision. Probably after the next sheepshearing, I’ll sell the whole lot of them.”
Mateo looked down at the ground, his mood sad in spite of the fact that my old friends had come to play. I did a perfect Sit to get him out of it.
Erra nodded. “We’re not really getting the money we need for sheep fiber either. Angora, that’s the thing this year.”
“Not too fond of goats,” Dad observed.
“Me either, though my partner thinks they’re cute. I get some goats, Donitta will probably let them sleep in the house. Anyway, I’m doing what you’re doing—not bringing in any more lambs than what my flock’s producing on its own. That’s why I can spare Deuce.”
Erra knelt down in front of Deuce, who was still glancing around, distracted. I remembered how much he’d loved to play with the flock of sheep back at my first house, and I wondered if he was smelling ours. “Deuce,” Erra murmured seriously. “You’ll be living with these folks for a time, okay? You’re our rent-a-dog.” She grinned. “But I’ll come back for you soon, I promise.”
She stood, slapping her legs and making little clouds of dust as she did so.
“Mateo, take Deuce, introduce him to our sheep,” Dad instructed.
“Come on, Deuce!” Mateo raced off toward the big fenced-in yard, and the shaggy dog and I followed.
Erra departed at some point. I didn’t see her go, and neither did Deuce. We were busy gazing through the fence at the sheep, who mostly pretended they weren’t impressed with us. I did notice him sniffing around, searching for Erra, but after a time, he gave up, too focused on the flock to spare any effort on anything else.
I was astounded when Deuce joined the rest of the dog pack in the barn that night. Deuce put up with my examination, but when I tried to climb on him to play, he backed me off with a short growl. He just wanted to sleep, it seemed. He wasn’t even excited to see Mateo, who came out dragging the sleeping bag and putting it down in front of my doghouse, as he did every night.
The next day, though, everything changed. We were out early, the sun just barely up on a crisp and cool spring day. The fascinating smells of the blooming flowers came to my nose, the birds were trying to out-whistle each other, and the scattered stands of trees were waving leaves to one another. I lifted my snout to the air to drink it all in. Mateo and I walked all the way to the other side of the big yard and opened the massive gate. Then we returned to the barn.
