A Dog's Way Home Read Free

his collar.”
    â€œAnd he’s microchipped,” my mother added.
    â€œBesides, he was in the crate,” Daddy said. “He’s not going anywhere soon.”
    They both smiled, but their eyes said they didn’t really believe what they were saying.

CHAPTER 4
Tam
    S unlight burned off the mist hovering over the creek. By the time it reached the bed Tam had made under a fallen birch, the forest had been awake for a long time. Squirrels and chipmunks busily gathered acorns to store against the winter months ahead. Red foxes lined their burrows with leaves, and geese passed overhead, pointing the way south. Life in the Appalachian Mountains in late October was a race against time.
    Tam knew nothing of the ice and snow just weeks away. As he tried to rise from the damp earth, all he knew was how much his bruised, cold body hurt and how hungry he was.
    With a groan, Tam limped down to the creek anddrank, careful not to get his feet wet. He lifted his head, nose reading the damp air crisscrossed with scents. Any other time, Tam would have followed his nose through the streams of scent, like a fish hooked on a line.
    But Tam was hurt. And a hurt dog knows only one thing to do: be still.
    Tam took one last drink, then limped back to his shelter. He lowered himself to the ground with a whimper. He didn’t stir when a large gray squirrel ran back and forth across the fallen tree. He slept as two white-tailed deer slipped down to drink from the creek. And as the moon rose over the ridge and a great horned owl hunted the far meadow, Tam dreamed of hot gravy and chunks of beef set before him next to the woodstove in his home with his girl.

CHAPTER 5
Abby
    D addy sucked in his breath. “Good Lord.” He stared at the crumpled guardrail and the skid marks of our tires.
    â€œTam,” I said. “Remember?”
    â€œRight,” Daddy said.
    It had been a whole day before the doctor let me out of that putrid hospital. Time to find Tam was a-wasting.
    Daddy and Mama got out of the van. I opened the back door and tried to maneuver the crutches in front of me. Mama hurried over. “No, Abby, you stay here. The road’s too narrow. Daddy and I will call him.”
    â€œBut he needs to hear my voice,” I said. “If he’s scared or hurt, he might not answer you.”
    With a sigh, Mama helped me stand and brace myself against the car. Filling my lungs with hope, I cried out as loud as I could, “Tam! Come here, Tam!” We listened for any sound—a bark, a jingle of tags. Nothing. I called again. And again and again and again. Until my voice was broken.
    Daddy studied the place where the truck had plowed through the trees and bushes. Shattered limbs and glass marked the path. “Seems like the crate would have been thrown down this way,” he said. “I’ll take a look.”
    â€œThe crate should be easy to spot,” Mama said.
    Daddy disappeared through the trees. I held my breath so I could hear him call, I found him! He’s okay!
    My all-time record for holding my breath was one minute and forty-three seconds. I broke that record and then some that day. But all I heard was wind and birds and Mama tapping her finger on the door of the van.
    She reached out and pushed my hand away from my mouth. “Stop chewing your hair, Abby.”
    I dropped the wet end of my braid. “It’s been hours, Mama. What’s taking him so long?”
    Mama looked at her watch. “It’s only been fifteen minutes. I imagine he’ll be back any second.”
    Daddy scrambled over the guardrail. His face was flushed and sad. He shook his head.
    â€œNo sign of him, peanut.”
    â€œNot even his crate?” Mama asked.
    Daddy wiped his hands on his jeans. “Trouble is, the embankment goes right to the edge of a little cliff. Then it drops straight down to the creek. There’s not a shore or anything. Just rocks and a lot of water.”
    A huge