(copyright 2002 Camille LaGuire, all rights reserved)
King started to bolt, and by the time Lysette had him under control, the dog had stopped barking, and started jumping all over Momma, trying to lick her face.
"Chuckie? What you doin' to them?" A little old lady was standing in the door. She came out on the porch. "Who are you folks?"
"Ma'm?" said Momma, trying to talk while pushing the dog down. She wasn't succeeding very well. "I'm...um...me and my daughter here...yuck!" Momma wiped the dog spit off her mouth.
"We need a place to camp tonight, ma'm," said Lysette.
"Camp?" The old lady came down and pulled her dog off of Momma. "What're you camping for? Don't you know there's a storm comin'?"
Both Lysette and her mother babbled out an explanation. The old woman looked at the horse and then back at Momma.
"How far have you got to go?"
"Only about twelve more miles."
"You'll never get that far tonight."
"I know. That's why we need to camp."
"Well, let's see...." The old woman looked around at her field and barn. "The barn's still in pretty good shape, and so is the fence. It should hold him for over night. You put him in there, and I'll go make up a couple of beds."
"Oh, you don't need to do that...," said Momma politely, but Lysette could see in her eyes that she really did want a nice soft bed. Today had been hard.
"It's no trouble. I've got room, and I won't even have to clean up, because tomorrow the wind'll sweep it all away." She made a sweeping motion with her hands and chuckled.
* * *
The old woman's name was Mrs. Cartier, and she was the friendliest person Lysette had ever met. She brought out some toast and homemade jam, and sat everybody right down on her couch to talk.
The dog's name was Chuckie, and he was friendly too. He was big and sandy, with mournful brown eyes. He looked like he was part Irish Wolfhound and part Cocker Spaniel--a strange mixture of wiry and soft fur, of thin and stocky build. The instant Lysette started to pet him, he flopped down on her feet and lolled, his huge tail slowly sweeping the floor. Lysette bent down to scratch his chest. The tail swept faster.
"I have a favor to ask," said Mrs. Cartier after they had talked a while.
"Well, you've certainly helped us," said Momma.
"Tomorrow my nephew is coming to take me to a shelter, and there is no place for Chuckie."
"Oh," said Momma. Momma had always been firm about not getting a dog, no matter how Lysette had begged.
"Now, I'm wondering if there might be a little room in that barn you're heading for, for a dog."
"Well...," said Momma. She hesitated and looked at Chuckie's ecstatic pose, his tongue dripping slobber on the floor. "Shoot, Jeb has so many other animals, I can't see as he would even notice one more for a week or so. Sure, we can take him."
Lysette looked at her mother in amazement, but Mrs. Cartier took a deep breath and seemed to brace herself.
"That's a problem," she said. "It may not be just for a week or so. See, the shelter I'm going to is a nursing home, and if something happens to this house, I don't see as how I'll be coming back."
"Oh," said Momma.
"I'm not even sure I'll be coming back if the house is still standing. My money doesn't go as far as it used to, and, well, I am dependent on my family, and they want me to move."
Lysette looked up from Chuckie's stomach, expecting to see tears in the old woman's eyes, but Mrs. Cartier had her jaw set, and she looked ready to deal with the hurricane itself if necessary.
"Oh, I've been expecting this for some time," she said. "This little storm is just an excuse to get me to take a look at the home. I expect it will work out the way my family wants in the end. And maybe it is for the best, what with my heart getting worse. But, I'm not leaving my dog uncared for. You can take him to the animal shelter if you want, but I'm not leaving him here."
"Won't your family take him to the animal shelter?" asked Lysette.
"My nephew has a new car. No dogs allowed."
"We'll be glad to take him," said Momma. "Two women living alone need a nice big dog. Don't you worry about the animal shelter any. We'll keep him."
That was when Mrs. Cartier started to cry. Lysette stared gape-jawed at her mother. She would never let them have a dog! On the other hand, Momma always hated anything unfair.
"Oh, my," said Mrs. Cartier, through her tears. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Do you want some more coffee? Or...." She started to fuss at the dishes, and then they all burst out laughing. Chuckie leaped up at the excitement, and bounded over the coffee table, upsetting the pot and spilling it all over the floor.
"Landsakes," said Mrs. Cartier, "can't you leave the destruction to the hurricane?"
Chuckie barked once and bounced back and forth, as if expecting something fun to happen.
Momma and Mrs. Cartier cleared up the spilled coffee together, while Lysette took Chuckie outside. The big dog bounded off to water the bushes, as Lysette stood on the porch. She could see stars in the sky. No clouds yet. In another day, it would be all storm clouds. It could last for days and days, even.
King, though, was grazing contentedly in the little pasture. Now he and Chuckie would be safe. The dog bounded up to sit at her feet and looked up, as if to say, "whatcha looking at?"
The door opened and Momma leaned out.
"Come on, Hon. You've got a long ride tomorrow.
* * *
The clouds drifted in over night. Lysette awoke to a mild grayness. It was not dark, and the wind had not picked up yet. There was a breeze, a reminder of what was to come. Lysette shivered as she watched the bushes shift under that breeze, even though the morning was warm. The radio was saying that the hurricane was still headed straight for Louisiana. A commentator described how Lake Ponchetrain could "pour" into New Orleans, and wipe the whole city out. Lysette wondered if they had got all the carriage horses out of the city.
"How much time have we got?" asked Lysette, as she came out to breakfast.
"TV says it won't make land until this evening," said Mrs. Cartier. "You got all morning and some before the weather starts getting bad."
She looked up from her frying pan and smiled. Lysette noticed that she seemed to be fixing enough food for a football team. There were three kinds of sausages, which smelled wonderful, and pancakes, and bacon, and pancakes, and toast, and eggs, and pancakes, and all kinds of jam. And more pancakes. Momma came in from the yard, where she must have been feeding King.
"We can't eat all this," she said.
"It's just going to go to waste," said Mrs. Cartier. "We're turning off the power, so even if the storm doesn't wash it away, it'll just spoil."
"Wow!" said Lysette. She sat down and speared herself a couple of spicy, homemade sausages.
"Don't eat too much meat and fat," warned Momma. "You've got a lot of bouncing to do, and you don't want anything too heavy."
"Yes, Momma." Lysette snared herself a piece of bacon anyway. She loved bacon. She ate more toast and pancakes than anything else, anyway.