A Piece of the Moon by Chris Fabry

Author:Chris Fabry [Fabry, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Southern, FICTION / Coming of Age
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2021-04-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

PIDGE DROPPED TD OFF AT THE STATION. He pointed at the lower lot, where a Cadillac was parked.

“That’s not good,” he said.

Waite came out rubbing the back of his neck and stood by Pidge’s open window. “Milton Quidley wants his father’s dog.”

All the air went out of Pidge’s lungs.

“Did Gideon wake from his coma?” TD said.

Waite shook his head. “I told him we were glad to take care of it as long as he needs. Then I told him about The Kid and how attached the two of them have become.”

“He sleeps at the foot of Clay’s bed,” Pidge said. “Won’t leave it.”

“Milton won’t take no for an answer.”

TD opened his door and spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll talk with him.”

“Hold up,” Pidge said.

“I’ll tell him the dog ran away,” TD said.

Pidge frowned. “Is he in your office?”

Waite nodded.

Pidge walked into the station and heard Willie Nelson singing, “All of me, why not take all of me?” She said hello to Ardelle.

“Waite ain’t back there.”

“I know. I’m here to see somebody else.”

“Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

She’d only seen Milton’s face in the newspaper in black and white and when she saw him standing by Waite’s desk, looking at the pictures on it, she nearly turned away. Something about him brought back the look on Dudley’s face when he was in bad shape.

“Did you bring the dog?”

No hello. No introduction. No kindness of any sort. He looked at her like he might look at a possum that didn’t make it across the road before a semitruck arrived.

She held out a hand. “I’m Pidge Bledsoe. I run the salvage yard yonder. I’m sorry about your daddy. We’re praying for him.”

He shook her hand reluctantly and she saw a leash in his hand that still had the price tag on it.

“I understand your son has my father’s animal. I want it back.”

“He’s not my . . . ,” Pidge started to explain, then held up. There was no need. “Sir, Clayton has had a rough patch. And even though that dog has only been here a short time—”

“I understand.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I’ll pay you for your trouble. You probably had to buy food.”

“No, sir, that’s not what I mean. You don’t owe us. I was just wondering if maybe you could see fit to let him stay until your daddy gets better. It would mean a lot to the boy. And to me, sir.”

Creases in the man’s forehead seemed to disappear. He pulled a ten-dollar bill out and handed it to her. “I need you to get the dog.”

She’d been in situations, particularly dickering about a junker, when she wanted to say something but knew there was more to lose by talking than keeping quiet. Knowing what she could sell the engine for and resisting the urge to laugh or walk away or tell the seller he was crazy. She steeled herself and gave it one more try.

“A dog like that needs to be outside, sir.

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