And the Killer Is . . . by G.A. McKevett

Author:G.A. McKevett [McKevett, G.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Once Ethan had left and Granny had settled down for a nap in the upstairs bedroom, Savannah decided to take a glass of lemonade out to Brody, who was still playing with the Colonel.

The boy had found a ball and was playing fetch with the hound. Although he was getting a bit frustrated. The Colonel was good at catching a thrown object, but he had never been inclined to bring it back to the human who had tossed it for him. He seemed to be of the opinion that, if he’d gone to the trouble of catching his prize, he should be able to keep it.

As a result, Brody was spending more time chasing the hound and prying the soggy ball out of his dripping jowls than throwing it.

The moment she stepped outside with his lemonade in one hand and a glass of tea for herself, she found the child standing, hands on his hips, glaring at the dog and giving him a piece of his mind.

“You ain’t so good at this,” he told the Colonel, who was prancing around the yard, his tail held high, the ball in his mouth, and a self-satisfied look on his long face. “You’re supposed to bring it back to me so’s I can throw it again, you knucklehead!”

Savannah laughed, took the glasses over to the wisteria-draped arbor near the back of the property. “The Colonel doesn’t always play by the rules,” she told Brody.

“No kidding. He seems to think it’s a lot of fun for me, watching him run around with the ball in his jaws. He ain’t got the hang of this a’tall.”

“I hate to tell you this,” Savannah said as she set the drinks down on an accent table between the chairs, “but he’s been doing that since he was a pup and his father before him and his granddaddy, too.”

“You knew the Colonel’s granddaddy?” Brody asked, amazed.

“I sure did. This is Colonel Beauregard the Third. His grandfather was our first Colonel. Granny got him when I was a kid.”

“My age?”

“A mite older than you.”

“Did you play ball with him, too?”

“I tried. He was as obstinate as his son, and his grandson after them. Seems that particular brand of contrariness runs in the Beauregard hound dog family.”

Brody laughed. “I don’t care. He’s still fun. Watch this.”

He scampered over to the dog and got down on his hands and knees. Immediately, the hound dropped the ball, ran to him, and with his nose, bowled the boy over onto his side.

Brody grabbed the dog around his saggy neck and dragged him down on top of him.

That was when the battle began in earnest. Pseudo-fierce growling on the Colonel’s part, a lot of squealing from Brody, as they rolled back and forth across the grass, neither willing to let go of the other.

Savannah laughed, enjoying the moment of innocence and levity, having had little of either for the past twenty-four hours.

What is it about kids and dogs? she thought, watching them. They bring out the best in one another.

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