Read Online Shiloh Season by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
Tags: Fiction, General, Juvenile Fiction, Action & Adventure - General, Children: Grades 4-6, Dogs, Animals - Dogs, Children's Audio - 9-12, Children's audiobooks, Social Issues - General, Audio: Juvenile, Kindness
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she'll start out as a dishwasher and work her way up. Boy, Laura sure knows how to please a teacher. Miss Talbot likes Laura saying how she's willing to start out small and work up.
David Howard and I look at each other and figure
71
maybe we better do a little more work on our reports before we give them.
It's about five o'clock that afternoon that something happens.
Dad's not home yet. Ma's in the kitchen cooking some turnips and onions, and listening to the news.
Dara Lynn has a wire strung between the chicken coop and the shed, and she's got these little cereal boxes fastened to it like cable cars or something, and she's running 'em back and forth. Sort of neat, really. Wish I'd thought of it myself.
Becky's rolling around in the grass with Shiloh, who's looking about as bored as a dog can look and still be polite about it. Becky rolls over his back and then rolls the other way. Each time Shiloh sort of braces himself, digging his paws in. Don't even protest. Just turns around and licks her now and then.
I'm trying to pick enough apples off our two apple trees to see if there's enough for Ma to make applesauce. The peaches are all gone now, but Ma wants every last apple I can find.
I've found about six, when I hear this barking and carrying on. Sounds like it's far away but coming closer. Shiloh turns his head in the direction of the sound and stands up, body all tense, and Becky rolls right off in the grass.
"Who's that? Your friend?" I ask Shiloh, thinking of the. black Lab.
But the noise is too much for a single dog. Gets louder and louder, and I'm wondering what it could be when suddenly, here come these three dogs through the trees back beyond the house. I know the minute I see them that they belong to Judd Travers.
72
Eleven
T here's not even time to think. I grab Shiloh up in one arm, Becky in the other, and run up on the porch. "Ma!" I yell, and she's already halfway to the screen.
She opens it for me and I drop the two inside. Shiloh runs over to a window and stands up on his hind legs, front paws on the sill, wanting to see.
"Dara Lynn?" calls Ma.
I turn around on the porch to see Data Lynn backed up against the chicken coop, like her body's frozen, dogs all around her snappin' and snarlin', and first thought in my head is that Judd's sicced 'em on us.
Ma goes charging down the steps and grabs the clothes pole that props the line up on wash day. I grab my baseball bat from off the porch and we're running over to that chicken coop.
Dara Lynn's screamin' now, elbows up over her face, and
73
this one dog, the black-and-white one, lunges forward and nips her arm.
Whack! Ma brings down the clothes prop on the black-and-white dog. The others snarl and turn our way, but I'm swinging that bat out in front of me ninety miles an hour and Ma's bringin' that clothes prop down a second time. The dogs back off.
Air is filled with noise. Dogs are yelping, Ma is shouting, Dara Lynn's screaming, Shiloh's yipping, Becky's standing at the screen squalling, and the hens are all carrying on in the chicken coop.
The black-and-white dog seems to be the leader. As Ma's pole comes down again he hightails it out of the yard, and the others follow.
Ma grabs Dara Lynn and rushes her in the house, cleans that bite with soap and water.
About this time Dad comes home.
"Whose dogs are those running up the road?" he asks. "Judd's!" I tell him. "They got loose and come over here, and one of 'em bit Dara Lynn."
She's sobbing. "I didn't do nothing! All I was doing was playing out in the yard and those dogs come up and bit me." "You sure they were Judd's?" Dad asks.
"I'd know 'em anywhere," I tell him.
Ma calls Doc Murphy and he says to call the sheriff and get those dogs picked up. The one that bit Dara Lynn'll have to be kept locked up for ten days to see whether or not he's got rabies. If he does, Dara Lynn's got to have shots. If we can't find the dog, she'll have to have 'em anyway.
Dara Lynn howls again.
Dad
David Howard and I look at each other and figure
71
maybe we better do a little more work on our reports before we give them.
It's about five o'clock that afternoon that something happens.
Dad's not home yet. Ma's in the kitchen cooking some turnips and onions, and listening to the news.
Dara Lynn has a wire strung between the chicken coop and the shed, and she's got these little cereal boxes fastened to it like cable cars or something, and she's running 'em back and forth. Sort of neat, really. Wish I'd thought of it myself.
Becky's rolling around in the grass with Shiloh, who's looking about as bored as a dog can look and still be polite about it. Becky rolls over his back and then rolls the other way. Each time Shiloh sort of braces himself, digging his paws in. Don't even protest. Just turns around and licks her now and then.
I'm trying to pick enough apples off our two apple trees to see if there's enough for Ma to make applesauce. The peaches are all gone now, but Ma wants every last apple I can find.
I've found about six, when I hear this barking and carrying on. Sounds like it's far away but coming closer. Shiloh turns his head in the direction of the sound and stands up, body all tense, and Becky rolls right off in the grass.
"Who's that? Your friend?" I ask Shiloh, thinking of the. black Lab.
But the noise is too much for a single dog. Gets louder and louder, and I'm wondering what it could be when suddenly, here come these three dogs through the trees back beyond the house. I know the minute I see them that they belong to Judd Travers.
72
Eleven
T here's not even time to think. I grab Shiloh up in one arm, Becky in the other, and run up on the porch. "Ma!" I yell, and she's already halfway to the screen.
She opens it for me and I drop the two inside. Shiloh runs over to a window and stands up on his hind legs, front paws on the sill, wanting to see.
"Dara Lynn?" calls Ma.
I turn around on the porch to see Data Lynn backed up against the chicken coop, like her body's frozen, dogs all around her snappin' and snarlin', and first thought in my head is that Judd's sicced 'em on us.
Ma goes charging down the steps and grabs the clothes pole that props the line up on wash day. I grab my baseball bat from off the porch and we're running over to that chicken coop.
Dara Lynn's screamin' now, elbows up over her face, and
73
this one dog, the black-and-white one, lunges forward and nips her arm.
Whack! Ma brings down the clothes prop on the black-and-white dog. The others snarl and turn our way, but I'm swinging that bat out in front of me ninety miles an hour and Ma's bringin' that clothes prop down a second time. The dogs back off.
Air is filled with noise. Dogs are yelping, Ma is shouting, Dara Lynn's screaming, Shiloh's yipping, Becky's standing at the screen squalling, and the hens are all carrying on in the chicken coop.
The black-and-white dog seems to be the leader. As Ma's pole comes down again he hightails it out of the yard, and the others follow.
Ma grabs Dara Lynn and rushes her in the house, cleans that bite with soap and water.
About this time Dad comes home.
"Whose dogs are those running up the road?" he asks. "Judd's!" I tell him. "They got loose and come over here, and one of 'em bit Dara Lynn."
She's sobbing. "I didn't do nothing! All I was doing was playing out in the yard and those dogs come up and bit me." "You sure they were Judd's?" Dad asks.
"I'd know 'em anywhere," I tell him.
Ma calls Doc Murphy and he says to call the sheriff and get those dogs picked up. The one that bit Dara Lynn'll have to be kept locked up for ten days to see whether or not he's got rabies. If he does, Dara Lynn's got to have shots. If we can't find the dog, she'll have to have 'em anyway.
Dara Lynn howls again.
Dad
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