Betsy gave her a private double eyebrow raise when she saw Molly’s face, but didn’t say anything. She gave the full report.
“Let’s see. It went something like this. Eat, sleep, squirm; eat, sleep, squirm; repeat. I had to change the pads. They’re starting to pee. Won’t be long before they’re pooping.”
Molly said, “Don’t know how to thank you for this.”
“How was Lookout Ridge?” She was looking at Bart.
“Spectacular. Molly said the two of you used to ride up there.”
“Only about a million times. And never once got tired of it. Good times, huh, Bets?”
“The best.”
Molly said, “Got to think of something nice to do for Betsy. That was really thoughtful to watch the pups so we could ride.”
“I’ll make her a fly.”
“Huh?”
“She’s big into fishing. Her fly collection in the store is impressive. I check on it when I’m in. She knows what she’s doing.”
“She’s a world class fly fisherwoman. Do you make flies?”
“A hobby, like working with leather. If you grow up on a ranch in Montana, you fly fish, and making flies is part of the deal.”
“Well, if you did, she’d love it.”
“I’ll work on it.”
“What’s up?”
Bart was up and moving around.
“I thought we should give Pup five a decent burial. Did you want to name him?”
“I’d like to. What’s your plan?”
“No real plan. I thought we’d bury him in a corner of the yard and plant a small larch seedling above. That way, when you see the larch turning yellow in the fall, he’ll be remembered.”
Molly had nothing to say to that.
“Okay?”
“Perfect. Let’s name him and I’ll help.”
She retrieved the list of names and followed Bart out the door. He went to the shed, retrieved a shovel, and said, “Where would you like him?”
Molly looked around in her yard and finally pointed toward the end of a row of pines. “A larch would look nice there.”
Bart walked over with the shovel, and quickly dug down about eighteen inches before walking over to the road that led to the cabin. “I saw a cluster of larch seedlings over here earlier. Mind if I transfer one?”
“Please do.”
He dug up a seedling with his shovel and carried it with a clump of dirt to the burial site.
“Got a name?”
Molly was working through the list. “How about Rocky?”
