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“Possibly, but it whimpered. It sounded like a dog,” Slade replied, already walking toward the side of the road.
The whimper sounded again, this time more loudly.
“I heard it that time,” Latham offered.
“It sounds like it’s coming from that tree over there,” Slade said, pointing to a tall oak tree that stood behind hedges of mulberry bushes and other scrub bushes lining the road. “I cannot imagine what a dog would do there unless it was injured.” He parted the limbs of the shrubs and soon disappeared, except for the top of his beaver hat.
A few minutes later, he re-emerged, carrying a gangly looking white terrier in his arms. Over his shoulder was a length of heavy rope. “It is a female. She cannot be that old. Her eyes are bright, but she seems to have been tied up for a good while. She is nothing but ribs. There was a tin bowl left for water, but the water was long since gone. I am sure that anything it caught from the rain, it lapped up. She looks like she has not eaten in days,” Slade said, standing back and looking at his horse, trying to decide how to transport a dog. This would certainly complicate staying at the inns. But what else could he do? He did not have it in him to leave the animal. Besides, she looked like a dog he once had as a boy.
“Planning to keep it, are you?” Latham grinned. “You have always had a soft spot for animals. The way she is gazing up at you, I think you have found a forever friend.”
“I cannot imagine tying a dog up to a tree to die. Someone did that to this poor baby,” Slade remarked. His brows furrowed. “If it works out, I probably will keep her. My sister will insist.”
“I am surprised she did not chew through the rope,” Latham noted casually.
“Seems she tried but perhaps gave up. The rope is thick.” Slade showed him several spots the dog had tried to chew her way free.
“She will need to ride until she regains her strength. I have an idea,” Latham said, sliding down from his horse. He took the large black saddlebag and opened it, examining it. “It looks like it could be large enough,” he remarked. “I believe we have just invented a novel pet carrier.”
The two men laughed as Slade brought the small dog to Latham, who carefully opened the saddlebag and pushed it down, showing an opening large enough for the dog to rest in. They removed the rope and placed the puppy into the bag and secured her, folding back one side of the flap, and giving her a place to watch where they were going. “This is just temporary, little one. My mother’s carriage is a short distance behind us. They will insist you ride with them.”
“She may be starving, but she is at least a stone in weight. Maybe she has not lost too much,” Latham murmured, picking up the bag and showing that Slade should remount his horse.
Once Slade had remounted, Latham handed the bag to him, and he gently secured it around his neck and under his left arm, so it would rest snugly against his lower side.
“This could work. ’Tis much better than carrying her in front of me. I should have thought of the saddlebag, but mine is full of papers.”
“You are already taking your role more seriously,” mocked Latham.
“Right. They are the papers connected with our business—old bills of lading and things like that. I need to make sure they are all up to date. I am not sure how I mistakenly took them in my satchel with my clothing—but I did.
The dog whimpered softly and settled her head down next to his side. “Poor thing. She was lucky you heard her. I know this road gets traveled a lot, but she was not near the road for anyone to see her,” Latham remarked.
The dog’s head popped up, and she smiled, parting her shiny black lips to show a perfect under-bite, her row of small white teeth displayed like an upside-down grin. “I believe she likes the idea of riding,” Slade observed, smiling. “She makes me want to smile.”
Latham reached into this bedroll and pulled out a small leather pouch. “Here’s some tack. I have plenty and am glad to share it with the dog. She looks like she has not had a meal in days.” He looked back at the spot where the dog had been tied. “So many scenarios are going through my head. ’Tis almost as if someone did not want the dog to follow them.”
“The bowl looked like part of a camp set, now that you mention it,” Slade reflected. “Could be our experience has us looking for things. But it does make me wonder why they tied her so far from the road. If she had not whimpered, I would not have heard her.”
“I did not hear her. I am glad you did,” Latham murmured. He started to remount his horse and stopped. “I would like to look at the area around the tree,” he said.
“I should have paid more attention,” Slade admitted. “I saw her and pulled her into my arms.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Latham said, walking away.
Slade watched him disappear and turned to his new little friend. “I wonder what I should call you, little one. You cannot be that old.” He looked in her mouth. “I think my ostler could better tell your age, but you cannot be more than a year and a half. Your teeth look so white.” Opening his canteen, he poured water into his hand and let her lap it up. “I should have gotten the small bowl.” At that moment, he saw Latham re-emerge with the bowl in his right hand and something smaller in his left hand.
“Great! I was just lamenting that I should have taken the bowl for her.” Slade shook out his hand, shedding the droplets of water that had seeped through his fingers. “What else do you have there?”
“Hard to say. It looks like a piece of vellum with a smeared logo on it.” Latham held it up to the light. “It’s been out here for a while. It could be a coincidence that it was where the dog was, except the dog would not have tied itself up, with a bowl of water, no less. A few cigar butts were lying on the ground. I left them back there. I picked up one and it was an odd cherry blend. Pleasant enough. A small ring of rocks held the remnants of a fire a short distance away. It was as if someone had camped there and left suddenly.”
“Heavens. I guess my mind has been occupied. I missed all of that,” Slade admitted, touching the chin of the puppy on his side. “Except I heard you, little lady.”
“That was probably fortuitous. What do you make of this?” Latham handed the torn piece of paper to Slade.
Slade’s temper flashed. “A likeness of the crest on my father’s coach. It looks to have been drawn by someone who knew what they were doing.”
“Could we tie this drawing to your father’s accident?” Latham asked.
