Christine was sure Stevie was safe, she whistled for Tomahawk. The dog’s ears flicked at thesound, but his body didn’t move and his eyes never left the snake.
Christine and Stevie watched in horror.
Tomahawk took a step forward, sniffing. The snake backed up. Its tongue flicked out. When it moved forward again, Tomahawk withdrew. The snake held still. Tomahawk advanced again. The snake remained where it was. Tomahawk growled. The snake snapped backward. Tomahawk bared his teeth. The snake shifted forward again. Tomahawk barked. The snake stood still for a second, then shifted backward.
It was like a primitive dance, acted out between ancient enemies. Neither seemed to want to strike. Neither seemed to want to back down.
The snake shook its rattle harder. That distracted Tomahawk. He glanced at the creature’s tail and reached forward with his nose. But this time he’d gone too far.
In an instant, the rattlesnake shot forward and punctured the dog’s shiny black nose with his deadly fangs. Later Stevie wondered if she’d actually seen it happen, or if it had been too fast for the human eye.
Tomahawk yowled, first in surprise, then in pain. He shook his head violently while the snake hung on, injecting his deadly poison into Christine’s German shepherd.
“Oh, no!” Stevie screamed. “It can’t be!” She wanted to run to the dog to help him. She wanted to kill the murderous snake with her bare hands. She wanted revenge.
“Don’t move!” Christine commanded.
Stevie froze.
It was over in a few seconds. The snake removed itself from Tomahawk, sank to the ground, and slithered off into the underbrush. Tomahawk, already weak from the poison, stumbled over to his mistress. Stevie was closer to the dog and caught him before he fell. She sat down and held the dog’s head in her lap.
“You saved my life, boy!” Stevie said to Tomahawk, patting him gently on his shoulder. Tears came to her eyes. “The snake got you, not me. You saved my life!”
The dog panted, breathing irregularly. He looked up into Stevie’s eyes and blinked. It almost seemed as if he were trying to reassure her, to tell her it was right that he should die and she should live. Then he shuddered.
Stevie cradled him gently, patting him, talking to him. Christine knelt next to them, frozen in shock, listening blankly to Stevie’s comforting words to Tomahawk. Stevie didn’t know what she was saying, but she wanted the dog to know that he was with someone who knew what he’d done, how he’d chosen to die in her place, and how thankful she was.
His tongue came out once to lick her hand. And then his eyes closed forever.
There was a silence then, more profound than any Stevie had ever known in her life. She held the dog as his life left him. Tears streamed down her face.
“He’s dead,” she told Christine when she looked up. “Tomahawk died saving me. He was a wonderful dog, and now he’s dead,” she finished desolately.
Christine’s face was filled with the same deep sadness that Stevie felt. Christine didn’t even
like
Stevie, but her dog had given up his life for hers.
“I’m sorry,” Stevie said. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was the only thing she could say.
Slowly, Stevie stood up. She lifted Tomahawk’s limp body, still warm with the life he’d lived so joyously. She carried the dog solemnly over to where Christine had hitched Arrow. “You’ll want to bury him, won’t you?” Stevie asked.
Christine nodded.
Together, Stevie and Christine lifted the dog’s body carefully and placed him across the horse’s back.
“One of the wranglers will have a shovel,” Stevie told Christine. “I bet Tomahawk would like to rest on the shore of that creek over there. There’s a nice green patch at the base of the hill.”
Christine was silent.
“H EY , S TEVIE, ARE you all right?”
It was Carole. Stevie turned around from Christine’s horse to see her leading Stewball.
“Stewball came running around the
Christine and Stevie watched in horror.
Tomahawk took a step forward, sniffing. The snake backed up. Its tongue flicked out. When it moved forward again, Tomahawk withdrew. The snake held still. Tomahawk advanced again. The snake remained where it was. Tomahawk growled. The snake snapped backward. Tomahawk bared his teeth. The snake shifted forward again. Tomahawk barked. The snake stood still for a second, then shifted backward.
It was like a primitive dance, acted out between ancient enemies. Neither seemed to want to strike. Neither seemed to want to back down.
The snake shook its rattle harder. That distracted Tomahawk. He glanced at the creature’s tail and reached forward with his nose. But this time he’d gone too far.
In an instant, the rattlesnake shot forward and punctured the dog’s shiny black nose with his deadly fangs. Later Stevie wondered if she’d actually seen it happen, or if it had been too fast for the human eye.
Tomahawk yowled, first in surprise, then in pain. He shook his head violently while the snake hung on, injecting his deadly poison into Christine’s German shepherd.
“Oh, no!” Stevie screamed. “It can’t be!” She wanted to run to the dog to help him. She wanted to kill the murderous snake with her bare hands. She wanted revenge.
“Don’t move!” Christine commanded.
Stevie froze.
It was over in a few seconds. The snake removed itself from Tomahawk, sank to the ground, and slithered off into the underbrush. Tomahawk, already weak from the poison, stumbled over to his mistress. Stevie was closer to the dog and caught him before he fell. She sat down and held the dog’s head in her lap.
“You saved my life, boy!” Stevie said to Tomahawk, patting him gently on his shoulder. Tears came to her eyes. “The snake got you, not me. You saved my life!”
The dog panted, breathing irregularly. He looked up into Stevie’s eyes and blinked. It almost seemed as if he were trying to reassure her, to tell her it was right that he should die and she should live. Then he shuddered.
Stevie cradled him gently, patting him, talking to him. Christine knelt next to them, frozen in shock, listening blankly to Stevie’s comforting words to Tomahawk. Stevie didn’t know what she was saying, but she wanted the dog to know that he was with someone who knew what he’d done, how he’d chosen to die in her place, and how thankful she was.
His tongue came out once to lick her hand. And then his eyes closed forever.
There was a silence then, more profound than any Stevie had ever known in her life. She held the dog as his life left him. Tears streamed down her face.
“He’s dead,” she told Christine when she looked up. “Tomahawk died saving me. He was a wonderful dog, and now he’s dead,” she finished desolately.
Christine’s face was filled with the same deep sadness that Stevie felt. Christine didn’t even
like
Stevie, but her dog had given up his life for hers.
“I’m sorry,” Stevie said. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was the only thing she could say.
Slowly, Stevie stood up. She lifted Tomahawk’s limp body, still warm with the life he’d lived so joyously. She carried the dog solemnly over to where Christine had hitched Arrow. “You’ll want to bury him, won’t you?” Stevie asked.
Christine nodded.
Together, Stevie and Christine lifted the dog’s body carefully and placed him across the horse’s back.
“One of the wranglers will have a shovel,” Stevie told Christine. “I bet Tomahawk would like to rest on the shore of that creek over there. There’s a nice green patch at the base of the hill.”
Christine was silent.
“H EY , S TEVIE, ARE you all right?”
It was Carole. Stevie turned around from Christine’s horse to see her leading Stewball.
“Stewball came running around the
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