Introducing Ulysses

Chapter 5

As the sun sank below the trees, I decided to make this a short day and go to bed early. Last night, I had been so wrought up from my hair-raising experience, I slept only a little. Tonight, I’d drink a cup of chamomile tea and, hopefully, sleep at least until sunrise.

Glancing out my kitchen window, I saw some juncos gathering at the empty bird feeder.

“I forgot to get sunflower seeds,” I told Penny who stood at the door gazing longingly at these feathered appetizers. “I’ll take this left-over cornbread from supper and scatter it on the ground. Maybe it’ll tide them over until I go to the store tomorrow.”

Scooping two pieces of cornbread onto a paper towel, I stepped into the back yard and breathed in the stillness and peace of early evening. Far off in the woods, an owl hooted. I was home.

I scattered the cornbread on the ground and stepped back to see if the tiny gray snowbirds would accept my offering. Maybe I’d just sit on the back porch for a bit and watch them.

A low growl stopped me before I reached the porch. Slinking around the corner of the house was the skinniest, most menacing dog I had ever seen. No! That wasn’t true. I had seen him before—last year at the Decker cabin outside of town. This was Ulysses, belonging to Vermouth Decker. The dog had threatened me last December when I went to the Decker homestead. In fact, he had very nearly bitten me. He looked uncared for then but now, he seemed to be on the point of starvation. The imprint of every one of his ribs showed clearly on his thin sides. He had lost a lot of fur and he held one front paw up as he limped toward the cornbread.

I slowly backed away until I reached my porch. Ulysses glanced at me with rheumy eyes, head down, but the food drew him on. Satisfied that the only thing he planned to attack was food, I stood watching.

The dog was ravenous. Those two pieces of cornbread would make little difference in his condition but he gulped them down in three seconds and turned to look at me.

Misery, suspicion and fear stared from those dull eyes. What had happened to him since Vermouth went to jail? Cade told me he had tried to catch Ulysses but the dog was so wild, he couldn’t get close to him. Had he been subsisting on an occasional rabbit or squirrel? If so, it was evident he hadn’t caught many of them.

Sympathy took the place of fear in my heart. This animal was hurting and hungry. He needed help. I had a small piece of left-over roast in my refrigerator. If I moved slowly, maybe I could get inside the house and out to the yard again without frightening Ulysses away or his attacking me.

“It’s all right,” I said softly to the dog. “I won’t hurt you. Stay right here and I’ll bring you some food.”

“Naw, I reckon you won’t do that!”

I whirled toward the sound of that voice and Ulysses cowered against the ground. A tall, black-haired man, a rifle over his shoulder, strode into the yard. Vermouth? Or, his brother Moe? I thought they were both in jail. My shoulder muscles tensed and my throat felt dry.

“This here’s my dog,” the man said, glaring at me. “He got away, chewed his lead in two. I’ll take him back home and teach him a thing or two about runnin’ off.”

This stranger advanced toward Ulysses. The dog crouched lower and growled again. For the first time, I noticed a collar around Ulysses’ neck with a short length of leather strap hanging from it.

“Wait!” I said, stepping toward him. “Who are you? You couldn’t be Vermouth.”

He grinned; actually, it was more of a leer. Turning his head to the side, he spat a stream of tobacco juice at my feet.

“Nope, I’m Rawl, Vermouth’s cousin. I’m takin’ over his house now that you all done put him in jail. Yep, I know who you are; know about your family and how you spell trouble. What’re you tryin’ to do now, steal my dog?”

I stepped over the tobacco juice and faced him. “If this is your dog, you’re certainly not taking care of him. What have you been feeding him? And, how did he get that injured leg?”

“Ain’t none of your business,” he snarled. “Come on, Ulysses. I’m taking you home.”

“No. You’re not.” Was that my voice? Had I said that? What was I thinking? This man had a gun over his shoulder. He was twice as big as I and, not casting any aspersions on his character, I felt he was a low-down piece of humanity.

His eyes narrowed. “Git outa my way, woman.”

I folded my shaking arms across my chest. “No.”

It seemed an eternity that we faced each other. His hands tightened on his rifle. His jaw muscles clenched. I held my breath. Even the breeze had stopped.

Finally, he spoke. “Look what you done. You infernal woman. You let Ulysses get away.”

I glanced under the bird feeder. Indeed, the dog was no longer there.

“Good!” I said. “Now, you get off my land and don’t you ever set foot on it again. I’ll have you arrested and you can join your kinfolk in jail. By the way, you’re not getting that dog. I’ll turn you in to the humane society, too, just for good measure.”

Muttering some unbelievable obscenity, Rawl spit more tobacco juice at my feet, turned and sauntered off. I backed slowly to the porch and collapsed into a chair. What had I done? Clashing with one of the Deckers was not very smart. I was lucky to be alive.

Slowly, a warm feeling of satisfaction replaced the knot in my stomach. Rawl might be meaner than a snake, but he hadn’t gotten hold of Ulysses.

If I cut that piece of roast in my refrigerator into small pieces and put it here on the back porch, I’d bet the dog would return. He was probably hiding in the woods right now, watching.

Grinning, I went back into the house.