“Three days passed while His friends felt so sad that He was gone, but Jesus had made them a promise. Do you remember the promise?”
“Yes!” shouted July, jumping from his chair. “He rolled the rock away!”
The eyes of the adults turned toward him from the church.
“No, July, that wasn’t the promise. What was the promise?” she asked gently.
“He rolled the rock away!” hollered July again, his face now filled with uncontainable joy and good feeling. Della tried once more to settle him down and get him to remember the promise, but the image was so rooted in his mind that he was unable to let go of it and once more shouted that the stone had been rolled away, the angels of the Lord had pushed it aside and Jesus wasn’t dead after all. The fact that He had promised anything didn’t interest July, and he was so emotionally wrought up that he wouldn’t stay in his chair and went running around pushing the other children and generally starting a fracas. Sarah came over and admonished him, but because it was so near time for Sunday School to be over, Della dismissed them and they exploded in all directions. The circle of women fanned out to keep them in view.
December 1946
Wilson’s only dog, Cindy, was as broken and old as himself. They walked outside together in carefully measured steps, never going much farther than the barn and outer sheds, leaving paths in the snow. Wilson would think to himself, I can remember when she was young. She could run like the wind. What a dog she was! There’re no dogs any more like she was. He thought of her as an old warrior who had fought many of his battles for him. It was Della’s secret, terrible wish, hidden by seven seals of silence, that Cindy would not pass from the living world until after her husband had quit it. She did not want to watch that kind of pain kill him. She didn’t want to see his worn-out heart hurt him again.
One day Wilson began to notice that he was feeling stronger. His arthritis began to slip away. He felt good enough to do some snow-clearing from the steps and sidewalk. He got the shovel and went outside. Della came out immediately and took it away from him and locked it up in the kitchen closet, despite his protests. OK, he thought after lunch, I will go for a walk this afternoon. He dressed warmly and walked farther than the sheds, out among the trees, close down to the bottom of the hill. Cindy, he noticed, seemed to be getting younger. She was running in the snow. I could walk on further, he thought. But I’ll go back, because Della would worry.
He went back and said nothing. That night he had to tell Cindy several times to stop chewing up the furniture, but quietly so his wife wouldn’t find out and blow up. Later Della took the flashlight away from him just as he was about to go out and hunt coon in the valley.
The next day he had the same walk. Cindy was running like a two-year-old and barking. He felt as if he could run himself. There was no pain in his chest. He felt strong. The crisp air was invigorating. Then Cindy let out a growl and the hairs covering her nervous spine stood on end. Wilson looked out into the timber and saw a wolf coming toward them. Cindy stepped forward to attack, but the wolf stopped running and began wagging its tail. No, thought Wilson. “Josh? Is that you, Josh?” The tail went furiously, whining and barking, but he stayed back. “Cindy,” Wilson said, putting his hand on the old dog’s back, “take it easy. It’s Josh. It’s only Josh. Come on, Josh.” The wolfish dog came and Cindy smelled him and was soon friendly. He jumped up on Wilson, then ran off with Cindy, both playing like puppies. Wilson was so happy he could hardly contain himself, but, not wanting Della to worry, he went back up the hill.
Between the barn and the house he began to think: Now there’s going to be a problem with Della. She won’t easily accept another dog after I promised no more than one. But she humors me. Always has. I can remember when I brought home those mules. Boy, was that something! Two black mules with . . . His mind wandered, and he forgot about Josh, and went inside with both of them, kicked his boots off on the porch and let them into the house. They ran into the living room, growling and snapping at each other, knocking into furniture. Oh no, he thought, I should’ve left him outside. But it was too late and he waited in the kitchen for Della to begin yelling. After he had listened what seemed to him a long time to the ruckus and the curtains being pulled down from the windows, Della came out. “Take off those wet pants,” she said, and went upstairs. He crossed the kitchen and looked into the living room, expecting it to look as if a drunken army had spent the night. But it was all right. Quickly he got hold of Josh and took him out onto the back porch. He could hear the sewing machine running upstairs. She must be getting very slow, he thought. He had everything under control before she came down.
“I thought I told you to get out of those pants,” she said. “Put on your coveralls.”
That evening Wilson listened to a talk show on the radio and ground coffee. He managed to smuggle Josh into the basement where it was warmer and set water and food down for him. Just before going to bed he let Cindy down for company. Sleep came quickly and he yielded up to it.
In the middle of the night, Wilson heard them both barking and howling and carrying on to no end. The ticking clock said it was 2:30. Della remained asleep next to the window. He got out of bed and went downstairs. Burglars, he thought. There must be burglars. He took the flashlight from off the top of the refrigerator and let both dogs upstairs. Immediately they squared off against the back door. Wilson went over and listened. “Keep quiet,” he said to Cindy and Josh. “I can’t hear anything with you carrying on so.” They were quiet and he could hear scraping noises against the wood. Very strange, he thought, and opened the door. On the porch was a large yellow-and-black dog. “Hey, you,” he said, “you get away from here now, you—” Then he saw the torn ear and scarred left side. The dog was lying down, trying to crawl into the warmth of the kitchen. “Duke,” he said. “Duke! My God, get in here, you look like you’ve been buried in a snow-bank. Get back there, Cindy, Josh; let Duke get in here.” Josh was jumping on him and knocked him back against the table. Upstairs he heard Della’s relentless footsteps coming down the hallway, heading for the stairs. “Quick now,” he whispered. “All of you in the basement. Get going now. Get! There’s food and water down there. Get.”
He had them down and the door shut in time. The upstairs door opened and Della came into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I thought I heard something. I got up to check.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No,” he said. “No, just the usual.”
“Well, come back to bed. Your feet will freeze.”
They went up together.
In the morning Wilson could remember hardly anything about the day before. Something unusual . . . yes, something unusual. Now, what was it? Halfway through his poached egg he remembered it and could hardly wait until Della took the car into town to pick up Sarah and go to the grocery store.
Then he let them up and took them out to run rabbits. They went off into the trees and down the hill. Wilson followed them. When he came up he had Jumbo with him too, running and jumping in the prime of her age. What fine dogs, he thought, looking at them. What fine dogs. Look at Cindy run! He felt very strong and even ran several steps uphill.
Two nights later, lying awake in his bed, watching the stars out the window, he had all of his fourteen dogs safely locked in the basement. New-fallen snow covered everything. He felt too good, he decided, to go right off to sleep, so he just lay and watched the stars, saying little prayers for the well-being of his wife, his children, some neighbors, and daydreaming.
“Wilson.”
It’s my imagination, he thought. Everyone knows I’m asleep now. Then he heard it again, more clearly.
I should know that voice, he thought, got up, put on his pants and shoes and went downstairs. In the kitchen it was deathly silent, only the faraway tick of the clock above. He went over to the cellar door and opened it. More silence welled up and around him—but no sounds of any kind from below. He went back to the table and sat down, then got up and