Discord

[Merry]

The Great Scout Expedition

Fritz Vollmer had been talking for nearly fifteen minutes without stopping, and Taylor Buckner was beginning to wonder whether their best friend had developed the ability to breathe through his ears.

"And Eddie says Merlin's doing really well, except yesterday he decided the mounting block was going to eat him, which is stupid because he's seen that thing about a million times. I mean, seriously, it's a mounting block. It doesn't even move. But he was acting like it had teeth or something, and then Eddie started laughing, which made me laugh, and Merlin got all offended. But he's going to be a great driving pony someday. Eddie says so. I still like driving Scout better sometimes, though, because Scout doesn't get all worked up over stupid stuff. Do you, buddy?"

Scout, a venerable gray-and-white pinto pony who had long ago learned to disregard most of the things his young driver said, flicked an ear backward but continued along the farm track at his usual comfortable walk. He was getting along in years, and Fritz was careful not to ask too much of him. Merlin was the pony he would eventually take into serious driving work, but Scout was an old friend, and there was something particularly pleasant about going out for a leisurely drive with him. There were no lessons to worry about, no complicated instructions to remember, and no pressure to do anything except enjoy themselves.

It was a beautiful October afternoon in the Finger Lakes region of New York, the sort of day that made staying indoors seem like a criminal waste of time. The trees surrounding Riverside Farm had turned brilliant shades of gold, orange, and red, and fallen leaves skittered across the gravel track beneath Scout's hooves. Beyond the tall white four-board fences, horses grazed contentedly in pastures that were still green despite the increasingly chilly nights. The air smelled of dry leaves, damp earth, and the faint sweetness of apples ripening in neglected orchards along the back roads near Canandaigua.

Taylor had only recently moved back into Fritz's life, and neither of them had entirely gotten over the excitement of being together again. They had been close friends when their families lived in Northern California, and the separation had been miserable. Now that the Buckners lived in the house across the road from Riverside, Fritz had taken to appearing at their back door at all hours, usually with some elaborate plan involving horses, bicycles, or something he'd discovered on the internet. Paula had already informed him that six-thirty in the morning was too early to come looking for Taylor, although she hadn't managed to convince him that eight was much better.

"Hey, Fritz," Taylor interrupted.

"What?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure. You can tell me anything. Unless it's about Otto, because I suck at keeping secrets about Otto, and he gets really pissed off when I tell people stuff he doesn't want them to know."

"It's not about Otto."

"Oh. Okay."

"I want a dog."

Fritz considered this for approximately two seconds. "That's awesome! What kind?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, that's kind of important, because there's a huge difference between a Great Dane and a Chihuahua. Although technically they're both dogs, which is weird when you think about it. I mean, imagine if horses came in sizes like that. Oh, wait, they do. Scout's practically a Great Dane compared to those tiny miniature horses. Except he doesn't look anything like a Great Dane, obviously."

"Fritz."

"What?"

"The dog?"

"Oh, right. Sorry."

Taylor laughed. They had grown accustomed to Fritz's conversational detours years ago, and had learned that the easiest way to talk to him was simply to steer him back toward the original subject whenever he wandered too far away from it.

"I think I'd like something medium-sized. Not one of those enormous dogs that takes up the whole bed, but not a tiny little thing either. I want one that can come to the barn with me and go for walks, and maybe learn to go on trail rides once it's old enough. And I definitely want it to sleep on my bed."

"Scout would sleep on your bed."

"Scout would eat my bed." Taylor scoffed.

"Only if it was made out of hay."

"Or if there were cookies hidden in it."

"Ja, that's true."

Taylor smiled, watching Scout's comfortable little hindquarters swinging between the shafts. "I just want something that's mine, you know? The horses are great, but they're not exactly going to come running down the stairs when I get home from school. I want a dog that'll follow me around and hang out with me and sleep in my room."

Fritz understood that feeling perfectly. He'd wanted a pony of his own for what seemed like forever, and although Scout had always been special to him, he knew there was something different about being responsible for an animal that belonged to you. Getting Merlin had been one of the happiest days of his life. He remembered how he'd gone out to the barn three times that first night just to make sure the pony was still there, until Merry had finally told him to go to bed and leave the poor horse alone.

"You should get a border collie," he suggested.

"Don't they need a ton of exercise?"

"Yeah, but you're always doing stuff. You could teach it tricks and do agility. We could build an agility course in your backyard! I've got some poles in the workshop, and we could make jumps and those weaving things. Except puppies aren't supposed to jump much until they're older, so we'd have to start with something else. I read that somewhere."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "You read something about dogs?"

"I read lots of things about dogs."

"You've never had a dog."

"So? I've never had an elephant either, but I know a ton about elephants."

Taylor burst out laughing. "You're impossible."

"I'm educational," Fritz said proudly.

"You're something."

They continued along the track, Scout walking contentedly through the fallen leaves while Fritz kept a light, steady contact on the reins. The route was one he knew well, winding through Riverside's back pastures toward the river that bordered part of the property. Mutti had given them permission to go as far as the old stone bridge before turning around, and Fritz was taking his responsibilities as driver quite seriously despite his constant chatter. Eddie had made it very clear that driving was something you did with your whole attention, and Fritz, who idolized the Scottish horseman, worked hard to remember everything he'd been taught.

"Have you actually asked your parents?" Fritz wanted to know.

"Sort of."

"What's sort of?"

"I told Mom I thought we ought to get a dog, and she said we ought to finish unpacking the house first."

"That's not a no."

"That's what I thought!" Taylor exclaimed.

"Did you ask your dad?"

"He said he'd think about it."

Fritz nodded wisely. "That's definitely not a no. Adults have three answers. There's no, which means no. There's we'll see, which means probably no. And there's I'll think about it, which means you've got a chance as long as you don't do something stupid and make them mad."

"Where did you learn that?"

"Otto."

"Oh."

"Otto knows everything about parents. Mostly because he's always trying to stop me doing stuff that'll make Mutti mad. He acts like he's about forty years old sometimes. Seriously, it's annoying."

Taylor grinned. "He's just looking out for you."

"Yeah, well, he could look out for me a little less."

They rounded a bend in the lane, and Scout slowed slightly as they approached the junction where the maintained farm road gave way to a narrower track leading toward the river. Fritz shortened his reins, spoke quietly to the pony, and guided him onto the familiar route.

"Anyway," Taylor continued, "I was thinking maybe a shelter dog. There are tons of dogs that need homes, and I don't really care about getting some fancy purebred dog. I just want one that likes me."

"Most dogs like people."

"Not all dogs."

"Well, okay, but if you feed them and take care of them and don't act like a jerk, they usually like you. That's sort of the point of dogs."

Taylor was about to answer when something moved in the bushes alongside the track.

"Hey, Fritz. What's that?"

"What's what?"

"Over there. By those bushes."

Fritz brought Scout to a halt. "Where?"

"There. Something moved."

A small brown shape disappeared into a tangle of blackberry bushes beside the fence. For a moment there was silence, and then a sharp, indignant bark emerged from the undergrowth.

"A dog!" Taylor exclaimed.

"No kidding." Fritz looked toward the bushes with interest. "That's not one of the boarders' dogs. At least, I don't think it is. Do you think it's lost?"

Another bark answered him, followed by a rather pitiful whimper.

Taylor frowned. "I think it's stuck."

They exchanged a look. An adventure had presented itself, and neither of them was inclined to ignore it.

Fritz guided Scout onto a level patch of ground well away from the bushes and brought him to a halt. Taylor climbed down, and Fritz gathered the reins securely in his hands. He wasn't about to leave Scout unattended while he was still hitched to the cart, even if the pony was generally dependable enough to stand for hours without moving.

"Can you see it?" Fritz asked.

"Hang on."

Taylor approached the blackberry thicket slowly, then crouched down when a scruffy little face appeared between the branches. The dog was a small terrier of uncertain ancestry, with enormous brown eyes, wiry fur, and the general appearance of an animal that had been assembled from several different dogs.

"Oh, you're adorable."

The dog barked.

"What's wrong, then?"

Taylor peered beneath the branches and discovered that the dog's collar had caught on a broken twig. Every attempt the little animal made to escape only tightened the collar against the wood.

"It's caught, Fritz! I think I can get it loose."

"Be careful. Those thorns are nasty."

"I know."

"And don't get bitten."

"I know, Fritz."

"And–"

"Fritz!"

"Okay, okay! Sorry!"

Taylor worked patiently, talking to the terrier in a low, soothing voice while bending the troublesome branch away from its collar. The little dog wriggled, licked their fingers enthusiastically, and seemed determined to assist with its own rescue. After several attempts, the collar slipped free, and the terrier launched itself straight into Taylor's arms.

"Got him!"

"Geil!" Fritz exclaimed. "Don't let him go. If he takes off, we'll have a whole new problem, and I don't want to explain to Mutti why we came home with somebody's dog chasing the cart. She'll think I've been doing something stupid again."

Taylor held the wriggling terrier close. "He's got a tag."

"What does it say?"

"Banjo. And there's a phone number."

"Banjo! That's a great name. I once thought about naming a horse Banjo, except Eddie said it sounded more like a dog name, so I guess he was right."

Banjo sneezed directly into Taylor's face.

"Oh, I love him," Taylor announced.

"Don't get too attached. He belongs to somebody."

"I know."

But Taylor was smiling down at the terrier with such unmistakable affection that Fritz felt a pang of sympathy. He remembered how badly he'd wanted Merlin, and how sometimes adults seemed to forget that wanting an animal could be a very serious thing.

Taylor took out their phone and called the number on Banjo's tag. A woman answered almost immediately, and after a brief, excited conversation, Taylor learned that Banjo belonged to Mrs. Henderson, who lived on a small property not far from Riverside. The terrier had escaped through an open gate that morning and had apparently been enjoying a considerable adventure before his collar became tangled in the blackberry bushes.

"She says she's been looking everywhere for him," Taylor reported. "She can come get him, but she needs to know where we are."

"Tell her we're on Riverside's river track near the south pasture gate. She can come through the main entrance, but she'd better stop at the barn and have somebody bring her down, because she'll never find us otherwise. Half the people who come here can't even find the indoor arena, and it's huge."

Taylor relayed the directions, then ended the call and looked down at Banjo, who was now sitting contentedly in their lap.

"She sounded really worried about him."

"Well, yeah. Imagine if Merlin got lost. I'd completely freak out. Although Merlin's a horse, obviously, and harder to lose than a terrier. You'd think so, anyway. But horses can be surprisingly good at disappearing when they want to. Remember when Scout got into that other pasture and everybody thought he was missing?"

Taylor smiled. "You nearly had a heart attack."

"I did not."

"You were running around yelling his name."

"Because he wasn't where he was supposed to be!"

"And when you found him, he was eating grass."

"Ja, well, that's Scout."

Fritz looked fondly at the pony, who was standing quietly with one hind leg resting, apparently unconcerned by the day's excitement. He reached forward and scratched Scout beneath his forelock.

"You're a good boy, aren't you? Much too smart to get yourself stuck in blackberry bushes." Scout leaned into the scratching with an expression of profound satisfaction.

Taylor settled on a nearby fallen log with Banjo in their lap, careful to keep hold of his collar. The little terrier seemed quite willing to remain there, especially when Taylor discovered the particularly effective scratching spot just behind his left ear.

"I really do want a dog," Taylor said after a while.

"I know."

"Mom's going to think this is some kind of sign."

"Maybe it is."

"Fritz."

"What?"

"Don't tell her that. She'll think we planned the whole thing."

Fritz considered the accusation. "That's ridiculous. How could we possibly have planned for somebody's dog to get stuck in a bush?"

"Exactly."

"Although it would've been pretty clever if we had."

Taylor gave him a look.

"I'm just saying."

They sat companionably for a few minutes, listening to the quiet sounds of the farm. Somewhere across the river a blue jay called, and the afternoon breeze stirred the dry leaves overhead. Banjo eventually curled up in Taylor's lap with a contented sigh, apparently deciding that his rescuer would make a perfectly acceptable permanent arrangement.

"You know," Fritz said thoughtfully, "if your parents do let you get a dog, you'll have to be really responsible."

Taylor stared at him. "You're giving me a lecture about responsibility?"

"Yes."

"You." Taylor said with a laugh.

"Yes."

"The person who once tried to build a ramp over a drainage ditch so he could jump it on his bicycle?"

"That was a really good ramp."

"You fell off."

"Only because I was going too fast." Fritz shook his head.

"You broke your helmet."

"That's what helmets are for."

Taylor shook their head, laughing.

"Anyway," Fritz continued, undeterred, "dogs are a lot of work. You have to feed them and walk them and train them, and pick up their poop, which is gross. Although probably not as gross as mucking out stalls, and we're used to that. And you can't just go somewhere and forget you've got a dog at home. It's a big responsibility."

"I know all that."

"Well, good. Because if you get one, I'll help you train it. I bet Eddie knows something about dogs. Eddie knows practically everything, except he can't remember where he puts his sunglasses, which is weird because he can remember about a million songs."

Taylor smiled. "I like Eddie."

"Me too. He's awesome. Mutti's happier with him around, I think. Otto's still getting used to him living with us, but Stefi likes him, and I think everybody's going to be fine. Anyway, if you get a border collie, we could teach it to fetch things. Maybe even fetch Eddie's sunglasses."

"That would be useful."

"Exactly!"

It wasn't long before they heard the sound of a vehicle approaching along the farm track. Fritz looked up as one of Riverside's utility vehicles came around the bend, driven by Nora Keegan, with a gray-haired woman sitting beside her.

"There's your owner," Fritz told Banjo.

The terrier's ears shot upright. He gave a delighted yelp, scrambled out of Taylor's arms, and would have bolted across the track if Taylor hadn't kept a firm grip on his collar.

"Banjo!" the woman cried as the vehicle stopped. "Oh, you wicked little creature!"

Mrs. Henderson climbed out and hurried toward them, her expression an extraordinary mixture of relief and exasperation. She knelt beside Taylor and gathered the wriggling dog into her arms, holding him so tightly that his front paws stuck out at peculiar angles.

"I've been looking everywhere for you! Everywhere! You had me worried sick!" Banjo licked her chin.

The woman laughed shakily and looked at the children. "Thank you both so much. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found him. He's only a year old, and he thinks the whole world belongs to him."

"That's a terrier for you," Fritz said knowledgeably.

Mrs. Henderson smiled. "Do you have dogs?"

"No, but Taylor wants one. Really badly. Actually, that's what we were talking about when we found Banjo, which is a pretty amazing coincidence when you think about it."

"Is it now?"

"Mom says we need to finish unpacking first," Taylor explained, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with taking your time," Mrs. Henderson said. "Dogs are wonderful companions, but they do require a good deal of work. Banjo here is proof of that."

She examined the dog's collar, made certain it was still secure, and clipped on a leash she'd brought with her. Before leaving, she thanked the children again and promised to bring Banjo by for a visit sometime, provided he could be trusted not to make another escape.

Taylor watched as the utility vehicle carried Mrs. Henderson and her errant terrier back toward the main barns.

"He was a really nice dog," they said wistfully.

"He was," Fritz agreed. "But you wouldn't want to take somebody else's dog away from them, would you?"

"No."

"Especially not when she loves him that much."

"I know."

Fritz studied Taylor for a moment, then brightened. "You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"Make a list."

"A list?"

"Ja! Of everything you need to do before you get a dog. Feeding, walking, grooming, training, vet bills, all that stuff. Then you can give it to your parents, and they'll know you've thought about it seriously. Adults love lists."

"Do they?"

"Mutti does. She makes them constantly. Otto makes lists too, except his are usually lists of things he thinks I shouldn't do."

Taylor laughed. "That's probably a really long list."

"Enormous. Practically a book."

They climbed back into the cart, Taylor taking their place on the passenger seat while Fritz checked the harness and gathered the reins. Scout lifted his head hopefully, recognizing the familiar preparations for departure.

"All right, old guy," Fritz said affectionately. "Let's go home."

Scout stepped forward willingly, and they set off along the lane at a comfortable walk. Fritz had no intention of hurrying him. The little pony had already been very patient while they rescued Banjo, and Fritz knew he would be perfectly happy to take his time getting back to the barn. He reached forward and gave Scout an affectionate pat on the rump before settling back into his seat.

"We should put together a real proposal," he decided. "Not just a list. A proposal sounds way more impressive. We could have different sections, like feeding and exercise and training, and then a bit about why having a dog would be good for the family. Like, dogs are supposed to be good for stress, and your dad's probably stressed from moving. And Rose and Annie would love a dog, wouldn't they?"

"Definitely Annie. Rose probably would too."

"So there you go. A dog would be good for practically everybody."

"Except Mom, who'd probably end up cleaning up after it."

"Not if you promised to do that."

"I would."

"And actually did it."

"I would!"

"Then you've got it figured out."

Taylor leaned back against the cart seat, feeling considerably more hopeful than they had an hour earlier. Perhaps their parents would say no. Perhaps they really did need to finish settling into their new house before thinking about another animal. But at least now there was a plan, and Fritz was exceptionally good at plans, even if they occasionally involved more enthusiasm than practical judgment.

"Thanks, Fritz."

"For what?"

"Helping me."

"Of course I'm helping you. You're my best friend."

Taylor smiled. "You're mine too."

Fritz grinned and turned his attention back to Scout, who was walking along with the comfortable, cheerful determination of an old pony who knew exactly where supper was waiting.

"You know," Fritz remarked a moment later, "when you get your dog, we should see if it likes riding in the cart. Some dogs do. We could put a little cushion down between us, although we'd have to make sure it couldn't jump out, and maybe get one of those harness things that attaches to the seat. Imagine that! You and me and Scout and your dog, going on adventures."

"That sounds pretty perfect."

"It does, doesn't it?"

They drove on through the golden afternoon, talking about dogs and ponies and all the wonderful things they might do together. By the time the blue-gray barns of Riverside came into view, Taylor had decided that the ideal dog would be friendly, intelligent, not too big, not too small, and preferably fond of sleeping late on weekends. Fritz had offered approximately seventeen different breed suggestions, changed his mind about most of them, and invented an elaborate training program involving a homemade agility course in the Buckners' backyard.

Scout, meanwhile, had listened to the entire conversation without offering an opinion. He was an old pony, and his ambitions were considerably simpler than those of the children in the cart behind him. He wanted a comfortable stall, a good supper, and perhaps someone to scratch that particularly itchy place behind his ears. He had no interest whatsoever in learning new tricks or doing anything more strenuous than an occasional pleasant drive through the countryside.

And Fritz loved him exactly that way.

As they approached the barn, Taylor looked across at their friend with a sudden grin.

"Fritz?"

"What?"

"When I get my dog, I'm going to name it something really good."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, we should make a list of names too. I've got tons of ideas. There's Biscuit, and Pickles, and Waffle, and Captain Thunderpants, and—"

"Captain Thunderpants?"

"It's an awesome name!"

Taylor's laughter rang out across the yard, and Scout continued toward home, his ears swiveling lazily backward as Fritz launched into a detailed explanation of why Captain Thunderpants was, in fact, the perfect name for a dog.

It had been a very pleasant afternoon, and Scout was quite prepared to do it again sometime. But first, he wanted his supper.

(3880 words)