Page 11 of Winterset

“What happened to him?” she asked, moving around them to the dog.

“I don’t know.”

“Some other animal hurt him, we think.”

“His side’s slashed open.”

“And one of his legs is hurt.”

Belatedly, one of the boys added tentatively, “Well, actually, you might not want to look.”

“It’s all right,” Anna assured them. “I have seen wounded animals before.”

The boys, who had come up on either side of her, grinned.

“Wizard!” said one, and the other told her, “Sometimes girls get squeamish.”

“So I’ve heard.” Anna looked down at the dog, which did not move, only rolled his eye up warily at her. “Well there, fellow, you have gotten yourself into a mess, haven’t you?”

He was a medium-size dog, with short yellowish fur. His front leg was torn open and bent at a strange angle, and there were several slashes along his side, blood matting the fur.

She crooned to the animal, reaching her hand slowly toward his head while at the same time she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. The dog regarded her, and his tail gave a feeble thump. “That’s right. You know we’re only trying to help you, don’t you? But just in case…”

She stroked his head gently as she slipped the handkerchief beneath his snout, then brought the ends together and tied them. She looked more closely at his wounds, then stood up.

“I think he’s going to need more help than I can give him,” she said. “If anyone can save him, it’ll be Nick Perkins.”

“Who’s he?”

“Someone who lives not too far away and is an expert with animals. I’ve gone to him with every animal I’ve ever had who was sick or wounded. Everything I’ve learned about helping them, I learned from him.”

“Good.” One boy nodded.

“Let’s go,” the other one said.

“The only problem is, we will have to carry him.”

“We can do that,” the boys told her confidently.

“But we want to jar him as little as possible,” Anna went on. “So if you two young men will turn your backs, I’ll see if I can provide a litter of sorts.”

They looked a little confused, but obediently turned their backs to her. Anna quickly stepped back and reached up under her skirts to untie one of her petticoats, then slipped it down, off her feet.

“All right,” she said, carrying it over to the dog and spreading it out beside him.

“Jolly good idea!” one of the boys approved.

“Let’s tie knots at the ends to make it easier to carry,” the other suggested.

Anna smiled and agreed. They were engaging lads and obviously quick-minded, as well as kindhearted. They were, she supposed, what one would expect from Reed’s brothers.

With as much gentleness as they could, they slid the dog over onto the petticoat, and while he let out a whimper, he seemed to know that they were trying to help him and did not even growl. The two boys picked up either end of the makeshift sling, and, with Anna in the lead, they started off.

Their progress was slow, and Anna was sure that the boys’ burden must have gotten very heavy, but they did not breathe a word of complaint, and when she offered to take over carrying one end of the sling, they refused, pointing out that as they were perfectly matched in height, it made the ride much more comfortable for their patient.

They introduced themselves politely as Con and Alex Moreland, but the only way that Anna could tell them apart was that Alex had a streak of dirt across his forehead, whereas Con had a thin red streak on his left cheek where a twig had snapped him.

“I am Anna Holcomb,” she told them in turn, and when they politely called her Miss Holcomb, she protested, “Call me Anna. I think that formalities can be dismissed after an experience such as we are sharing, don’t you?”