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and welder.
    Elijah climbed out of the passenger side, and his father got out from behind the wheel. Mr. Workman was tall and broad-shouldered, and he wasn’t creepy like Elijah’s uncle.
    Elijah saw Sissy but ignored her as he ran to the bitch and crouched down to look at the animal.
    Sissy saw Mr. Harrelson and Mr. Workman exchange looks as they greeted each other, looks that said the dog probably wasn’t going to make it.
    Mr. Workman stood at his son’s shoulder. “Do you recognize this animal, son?”
    “No, sir.” Elijah squinted. “I don’t think. Maybe…Vince Cory’s dogs look kind of like this.”
    Again, that grim look between the adults.
    “What?” Sissy said. “What is it? She can go to the veterinarian. My family will pay. I know they will.”
    “But, honey, who’s going to take her afterward?” Mr. Harrelson asked reasonably.
    “I will,” Sissy said. She suspected her parents might not be keen on this, but it was clear Mr. Harrelson wanted to put her out of her misery.
    Elijah said, “How did she get like that?”
    The adults exchanged another look. Elijah gazed up at his father, and Sissy saw some kind of dawning recognition come over his own face. “Not…You think she got in a fight?”
    “That’s one way to put it,” his father said.
    Mr. Harrelson turned and walked toward a car that had driven up to the pumps, but Sissy had the feeling that was just an excuse to leave, to get away from the topic, to not talk about it.
    “Dogfights,” she said, suddenly understanding. “Pit fights. That’s what happened, isn’t it, Mr. Workman?”
    Elijah looked stricken. As though many revelations were coming to him suddenly, all at once.
    His father said, “Let’s see if we can get this old girl into the back of the truck. We’ll see what Dr. Fisher has to say about her.”

CHAPTER TWO

    My first dog, Lucky, had been the victim of a staged dogfight. I called her Lucky because a veterinarian was able to save her, despite her injuries.
    — On the Side of the Dogs , Elijah Workman, 2008

    Echo Springs, Missouri
April 10, 1959

    “Y OU’RE SPENDING an awful lot of time with Elijah Workman,” Sissy’s mother said.
    “So? We’re friends.” Granted, no more than friends, which Sissy found discouraging. She and her mother were cleaning the kennels, then her mother planned to take the dogs entered in the following weekend’s show around the practice ring. It wasn’t really big enough for German shepherds to stretch out, but it was better than nothing.
    Heloise Atherton studied her daughter briefly, then began to spread fresh straw in Ruby’s kennel run. “Just as long as that’s all it is.”
    Sissy’s pulse quickened. Did her mother think that Elijah might regard her as a girlfriend? Sissy dearly wished he would and rather liked the thought that othersmight consider the two of them that way. But what was her mother’s problem with Elijah? “What if it was different?” she asked as though simply curious.
    Heloise paused. Her daughters had inherited their height from her. She was a powerful presence, especially in the obedience or conformation ring. The Athertons expected and delivered excellence, whatever it took. Blond like her daughters, she wore her hair one length, drawn back with a headband or swept up in a neat French twist. Sissy could tell that her mother was carefully choosing her words now.
    “Oh, I just think you’d be happier dating a different type of boy, someone whose family is more like yours.”
    Sissy processed this. “What’s wrong with Elijah?” she finally said, determined to defend him. “He’s the best-looking boy in my class and a good student, and he’s been earning money since he was eight years old.”
    “I know, I know.” Her mother shook her head at Sissy. “There’s no need to overreact. But in a few years you’ll be going away to college and you’ll meet all sorts of people from backgrounds similar to your own.”
    “This is because