Christmas Cow Bells by Mollie Cox Bryan

Author:Mollie Cox Bryan [Cox Bryan, Mollie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2019-08-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Three

Brynn and Willow drove throughout Shenandoah Springs and stopped the car in several different places to call for her. They drove past the apple orchard, and Brynn briefly thought she saw Freckles, but it was just a cement statue in a yard. She’d never seen so many statues in yards as she had in Shenandoah Springs. Mostly of deer, which often startled her as she drove around town.

The car snaked along the narrow roads as dusk was coming on. A live deer popped out from a bank. Willow gasped as she slammed on the brakes. “It’s a bad time of year for them. Look how skinny she is.”

“Poor thing,” Brynn muttered. She was giving up hope she’d ever see Freckles again.

The frail-looking doe made her way to the other side of the road, only briefly glancing their way.

They continued driving into what remained of Shenandoah Springs. It used to be so much more, from Brynn’s understanding. But there were clusters of homes around this part of the area—homes of people who were not farmers. They were all lit up with Christmas lights. One house was decorated in all blue lights. Another had a projector of sorts projecting glittery snow against the house. If Brynn wasn’t so worried about Petunia and Freckles, she would enjoy the displays a lot more.

They swung around to head back out to the rural area of town. They’d approach it from a different way. They stopped at the pull over at the bridge over Buttermilk Creek and called for Freckles. The only returning sound was the rush of the creek.

“Okay,” Willow said. “Let’s keep going a while longer, but it’s getting dark and we should probably get home soon.” Her face was stiff with concern.

“You’re right. Besides, I have to call around to see if anybody’s seen her.”

“We’ll find her soon. Freckles is a such a scrappy dog. Who knows where she even came from? She was probably let out of a car, you know, dumped along the road.”

The two of them got back inside Willow’s truck. “That’s awful. Why would someone do that?”

“It’s crazy, right? But people have this idea that if they can’t handle their animals or they don’t want them, they can drop them off in the country and they will survive. Once, I found a box of kittens along the road. It’s a definite problem here.”

“Why don’t they take them to the SPCA?”

“It costs money, and they ask too many questions, I guess.”

Willow drove on in silence as Brynn watched out the windows, hoping for a glimpse of Freckles somewhere. Anywhere. Oh, Freckles, where are you?

What they did find was Frank O’Reilly walking the road. Willow stopped the car.

“Hey, Frank,” she said.

“Hey, Willow.” He stopped walking.

“Have you seen a stray dog, half Saint Bernard?”

His eyebrows knitted. “Ms. MacAlister’s dog? No, I haven’t seen her. Run off on you?”

“Yeah.” Willow lifted her foot from the brake. “Thanks, Frank.”

He didn’t respond, just walked farther down the road.

“What’s his story?” Brynn asked.

“He’s just an odd duck.

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