Here to Stay (2 page)

“Where’s Ella?” Elijah repeated.

“Gone.” His uncle sucked on his cigarette, crouched and rubbed Satchmo.

“Gone where? Did she run off and get lost while you were fishing?”

Uncle Silas seemed to consider the question. “No. She’s passed on.”

But Ella was a young dog, only five! “Did she get sick?” Elijah asked.

“She was hurt. Had to put her down. That’s all.”

Elijah could see that his uncle was upset, sad about the death of his dog, so he asked no more. He wondered how Ella had been hurt, and he felt his own eyes getting too warm at the thought that he wouldn’t see her again or rub her brindle fur. He missed the wrinkle in her forehead.

He petted Satchmo, then hugged the dog. Satchmo kissed his face.

“Let’s see what I owe you, son,” his uncle said.

O
N THE RIDE HOME
, Elijah’s stomach bothered him. He was sad about Ella being gone. She was the closest thing he’d ever had to a dog of his own, and if he’d been with her she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He kept wondering
what
had happened, and the wondering was what made his stomach hurt.

As he reached Y Road to head for his house, he saw a girl on a bicycle approaching, and he recognized the awful blond perm. It was Sissy Atherton.

He didn’t want to talk to her, which meant he was either going to have to pedal very slowly or very fast to avoid a conversation. He tried the first method, but at the Stop sign she braked. Seeing him, she waved and waited.

Almost as though she’d been looking for him.

He rode up to her. “Yeah?”

“That’s friendly,” she said.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just riding around.” She was all red. It was pretty hot out.

“Well, I have to get home for dinner,” he said.

“Were you at your uncle’s?” she asked.

He nodded and started to ride away.

“Well, bye,” she said.

H
OW OBVIOUS CAN YOU GET
, Sissy Atherton?
she asked herself as she turned her bicycle, riding toward the gas station on Y2 for a soda.
He probably knows you were hoping to see him.

She shouldn’t have tried to run into him. He hadn’t been friendly.
He doesn’t like you, Sissy. He’s never going to like you.
And now he must think she was chasing him. She would have to come up with a story to explain why she’d been out on Y Road, but she’d already told him she was just riding around. Maybe she’d say she’d let one of the dogs loose and was looking for it and hadn’t wanted Elijah to know so her parents wouldn’t find out and she wouldn’t get into trouble. But that plan could backfire, too, since her parents might hear the story anyway. They’d be mad if she told them she’d lied, but they’d be madder if they thought she’d been careless with the dogs.

She drank her soda at the gas station where Mr. Harrelson’s son was working on cars. Mike was seventeen and very good-looking. All the girls thought so.

Sissy finished her drink and pedaled home by the dirt lane between the Harrelsons’ land and the Corys’ place with its weeds. Her father said Max Cory had taken good care of the property, but he’d died and his son was letting the place go to seed. Sissy thought Vincent Cory was scary, and he kept mean dogs chained in his yard.

So when she saw a doglike shape ahead of her on the dirt lane, she stopped her bike, wondering what to do. If she turned around and rode away, the dog would chase her. If she rode past, the dog might attack her.

She wondered if she could turn around without the dog noticing her, but before she could move, it started toward her. There was something wrong with it, though, with the way it was moving, and its face looked wrong. It also seemed thin.

She held still, then stooped to pick up some rocks.
She ordinarily wouldn’t consider hurting a dog, but Vincent Cory’s dogs were mean.

But this one’s face was all black.

No, that was dried blood and flies.

E
LIJAH’S FATHER’S PICKUP TRUCK
finally pulled into the gas station. Sissy had tried to call Kennedy first, but the line was busy, probably because Kennedy was talking to her boyfriend.

When Mr. Harrelson saw the trembling, skeletally thin dog Sissy had been holding by its collar with one hand, he’d said, “Honey, can’t no one do nothing for her.”

The animal was a reddish pit bull bitch, Sissy thought, and she’d believed at first it must be one of Vincent Cory’s. But Sissy had never seen it before, and she was too afraid to go to the Cory house and ask. Nor could she possibly walk away from the dog. She had no idea what could do such a thing to an animal.

Sissy wasn’t going to let Mr. Harrelson shoot the dog, which he had expressed willingness to do; Sissy couldn’t stand it if that happened. The pit bull was missing an ear, and Sissy couldn’t find her features in her face. It was the worst thing Sissy had ever seen, but surely a vet could help her.

So she’d called Elijah, reasoning it was okay because this time she
wasn’t
chasing him; she was just concerned about the injured pit bull. Also, his job was looking after dogs, so maybe he would know whose bitch it was.

And now the green pickup truck was here, the bed full of tools and lengths of pipe and other stuff as usual. Elijah’s father was a pipe-fitter and welder.

Elijah climbed out of the passenger side, and his father got out from behind the wheel. Mr. Workman was tall and broad-shouldered, and he wasn’t creepy like Elijah’s uncle.

Elijah saw Sissy but ignored her as he ran to the bitch and crouched down to look at the animal.

Sissy saw Mr. Harrelson and Mr. Workman exchange looks as they greeted each other, looks that said the dog probably wasn’t going to make it.

Mr. Workman stood at his son’s shoulder. “Do you recognize this animal, son?”

“No, sir.” Elijah squinted. “I don’t think. Maybe…Vince Cory’s dogs look kind of like this.”

Again, that grim look between the adults.

“What?” Sissy said. “What is it? She can go to the veterinarian. My family will pay. I know they will.”

“But, honey, who’s going to take her afterward?” Mr. Harrelson asked reasonably.

“I will,” Sissy said. She suspected her parents might not be keen on this, but it was clear Mr. Harrelson wanted to put her out of her misery.

Elijah said, “How did she get like that?”

The adults exchanged another look. Elijah gazed up at his father, and Sissy saw some kind of dawning recognition come over his own face. “Not…You think she got in a fight?”

“That’s one way to put it,” his father said.

Mr. Harrelson turned and walked toward a car that had driven up to the pumps, but Sissy had the feeling that was just an excuse to leave, to get away from the topic, to not talk about it.

“Dogfights,” she said, suddenly understanding. “Pit fights. That’s what happened, isn’t it, Mr. Workman?”

Elijah looked stricken. As though many revelations were coming to him suddenly, all at once.

His father said, “Let’s see if we can get this old girl into the back of the truck. We’ll see what Dr. Fisher has to say about her.”

My first dog, Lucky, had been the victim of a staged dogfight. I called her Lucky because a veterinarian was able to save her, despite her injuries.

—
On the Side of the Dogs
, Elijah Workman, 2008

Echo Springs, Missouri
April 10, 1959

“Y
OU’RE SPENDING
an awful lot of time with Elijah Workman,” Sissy’s mother said.

“So? We’re friends.” Granted, no more than friends, which Sissy found discouraging. She and her mother were cleaning the kennels, then her mother planned to take the dogs entered in the following weekend’s show around the practice ring. It wasn’t really big enough for German shepherds to stretch out, but it was better than nothing.

Heloise Atherton studied her daughter briefly, then began to spread fresh straw in Ruby’s kennel run. “Just as long as that’s all it is.”

Sissy’s pulse quickened. Did her mother think that Elijah might regard her as a girlfriend? Sissy dearly wished he would and rather liked the thought that others
might consider the two of them that way. But what was her mother’s problem with Elijah? “What if it was different?” she asked as though simply curious.

Heloise paused. Her daughters had inherited their height from her. She was a powerful presence, especially in the obedience or conformation ring. The Athertons expected and delivered excellence, whatever it took. Blond like her daughters, she wore her hair one length, drawn back with a headband or swept up in a neat French twist. Sissy could tell that her mother was carefully choosing her words now.

“Oh, I just think you’d be happier dating a different type of boy, someone whose family is more like yours.”

Sissy processed this. “What’s wrong with Elijah?” she finally said, determined to defend him. “He’s the best-looking boy in my class and a good student, and he’s been earning money since he was eight years old.”

“I know, I know.” Her mother shook her head at Sissy. “There’s no need to overreact. But in a few years you’ll be going away to college and you’ll meet all sorts of people from backgrounds similar to your own.”

“This is because he’s poor?” Sissy said in disbelief.

“No, not that. Darling, it doesn’t seem important to you now, but little things may matter to you later. For instance, if a person says, ‘I says’ or ‘So I tells him.’”

Sissy tried to remember if Elijah ever spoke that way. She knew his father did. Her mother was right about one thing; it didn’t seem important.

“Think what his uncle is like,” Heloise said. “Imagine him being
your
relative. Do they even have a telephone?”

Sissy scoffed. She could remember when the Workmans hadn’t had a phone, either. “Of course they do.”
No television, though, and his father’s work truck the only car. “Elijah’s smart,” she insisted. “Anyway, to set your mind at rest, I don’t think he knows I’m a girl.”

Her mother said nothing. Rather than seeming satisfied by this, she just appeared more quietly fretful, as though something very troubling was brewing beneath her calm exterior.

A few minutes later, as she let Ruby into the run, she said, “Sissy, my ugly duckling, I don’t think you realize yet that you are becoming the loveliest of swans.”

Eldon, Missouri
June 13, 1959

“H
OW DO
I
LOOK
?” Sissy demanded, pirouetting for Elijah, an action he found completely at odds with her appearance. Tight pink pants, black leather jacket, lots of bright red lipstick and black mascara, her hair, naturally straight, in a high ponytail. “Cheap?” she inquired.

Actually, Elijah thought she looked sexy but still a little too upmarket for where they were headed. And he was furious that she was here. “How did you get out of the house like that?”

“Changed at a gas station outside Echo Springs.”

“You know you could blow this entire thing. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Nobody in Eldon knows me, and I want to be part of this. I’m the whole reason
you’re
here.”

“I don’t want to be here,” he said. “I’m only here because I have to be.” He held Satchmo’s leash. The dog was lean, muscular and strangely eager. He knew what they were there to do, and the dog was keen for it.

Which didn’t make it remotely all right.

Sissy was certainly right that she was why Elijah was at the pit fight at Jackson’s Dock. It was Sissy who’d found Lucky, after all. Lucky, who had been so disfigured in a staged dogfight. Lucky had become Elijah’s first dog. And Elijah and Sissy had become friends. Sort of.

This had been her idea.
You can do something about it, Elijah. You can find out from your uncle where the fights are.

At first he hadn’t believed he could do it. Deceive Uncle Silas? Not to mention his own parents? The first thing he would have to hide was that he was interested in dogfights. Then he would have to tell Uncle Silas that he
was
interested in dogfights—and yet not explain why.

He’d told Sissy he didn’t think these were nice people.

It had taken him a year to work up his courage, then another year of being taken into his uncle’s confidence without once being invited to a pit fight. During that time, he’d learned a lot about himself—that he could become someone else at will. He felt anger toward his uncle; Silas Workman wasn’t the person Elijah had believed him to be. Ella had died as the result of a staged fight. When he was alone, Elijah had wept about this, and then he’d very coolly assume a false enthusiasm for fights, determined to find a way to stop them.

Finally, not knowing what to do if he could find out where dogs were being matched, he had gone to the Humane Society in Osage Beach with Sissy. Her father had driven them, convinced that they simply wanted to volunteer there. Elijah had persuaded him not to talk about it with Elijah’s parents, saying it might cause
some conflict in his own family. He just, he said, wanted to see what it was all about.

Deceiving Mr. Atherton was definitely the worst.

After three visits to the place, Sissy and Elijah met a man named Don Slocum, who was an agent for the Humane Society. His job was investigating animal abuse. He’d agreed that the dogfights were illegal, but said the Humane Society didn’t have the resources to address the issue.

But if they were illegal, Sissy insisted, couldn’t they make sure the people were arrested?

Don had at last decided that the people staging the fights might be required to pay some fines. He said again and again that it was “a big problem,” but that children could not make a difference.

Elijah had suggested he could gather information that Don might find useful. Then he had begun riding along with Don when the agent investigated animal shelters.

Now, Don knew about the match in Eldon.

Elijah had to go to the match because his uncle had persuaded him to take Satchmo there. Uncle Silas planned to match one of his other dogs in Arkansas. There would be no bust at that match, but a friend of Don’s would be present, trying to learn more about the dogfighting network. They needed to tap Silas Workman for all they could get, and Elijah was their link. Don was going to arrest Elijah at the match and call his parents.

Elijah hadn’t quite worked out what he was going to tell them.

Don Slocum worried that Elijah’s father might reveal the truth to his brother. Still, he’d said, “I can’t tell you
what to do, Elijah. If you want me to talk with your parents and explain everything, I’ll certainly do it.”

“Which one is this?” Sissy looked at Satchmo with slight distaste, Elijah thought.

“It’s Satchmo, and if you can’t pretend he’s the handsomest dog you’ve ever seen, you better get out of here.”

“I can pull it off. Here’s my story—I’m your girlfriend, and this is all a big secret. I want to come to the dogfight because it’s exciting, different from my other life. I want to be a bad girl, and I’m crazy about my boyfriend because he’s a bad boy. He has the baddest dog in Missouri. Right?”

Well, she’d certainly created a role for herself.

“Whatever,” he said. He was nervous about going in, nervous about any possible harm that might come to Satchmo in a fight, afraid of what he would see. And he couldn’t risk blowing everything by arguing with Sissy Atherton in this hot, dusty parking lot.

To his amazement, Sissy opened the black patent leather purse she carried and withdrew a pack of cigarettes.

Elijah rolled his eyes and headed for the lakeside shack that was known as Jackson’s Dock.

S
ISSY SUPPOSED
she’d expected snarling dogs. When the German shepherd bitches of Echo Springs Farm fought, they generally did some snarling.

But these dogs weren’t big on that apparently.

Everything she’d believed about the kinds of people who staged dogfights was borne out by the crowd at Jackson’s Dock. She saw one other girl her age; she was missing a front tooth. The people looked impoverished, mean or both. Some of the men appeared frankly dangerous.

Elijah didn’t stick out, though she’d been sure he would. He always struck her as clean-cut, certainly the type of boy her father would be happy for her to date, if her mother felt differently. He did look nervous, but it seemed perfectly normal—a tall, hawk-nosed teenage boy in a place he wasn’t supposed to be, doing something he’d been forbidden to do.

Sissy knew she would have to work at self-control. She would want to rescue any dog that was being hurt, and she knew she must not attempt to do that. A sheriff would come, and
he
would save the dogs and arrest the people staging the dogfight. She supposed she could expect to be arrested as well. That seemed exciting to her, and it was certainly for a good cause.

Sissy was here because she cared about dogs.

She was also here because if Elijah spent enough time around her, perhaps he’d begin to think of her differently and it might occur to him to ask her to the Kickoff Dance in September.

Elijah, unfortunately, didn’t seem terribly interested in her, and why should he be? She was skinny and didn’t tan, and her eyelashes and eyebrows were so light, they just blended in with her skin. She had a long face and she was too tall. She’d seen Elijah looking at her friend Lucia D’Angelo, who was voluptuous and looked like a movie star.

Sissy was going to have to get by on her personality.

Right now Elijah didn’t appear to be thinking of girls at all, only about his uncle’s dog, whom Elijah was holding by his wide collar, though he had a leash on him as well.

Satchmo appeared to be all muscle, a little too lean, in Sissy’s opinion. Elijah agreed. He’d told her that
when his uncle’s dogs were “in the keep,” in other words training for a fight, they spent hours endurance-building on homemade treadmills.

Elijah remained against a back wall with Satchmo, who was not one of the first dogs to be matched. Deciding to make her own way in this unfamiliar world, Sissy headed down to the pit. It smelled of beer and cigarette smoke and the occasional person in serious need of a bath. She saw a timer and another person she supposed was a referee. Neither of these individuals would have been allowed within an AKC ring as they were dressed, one in a white tank-style undershirt like her father wore under his business shirts, the other wearing a shirt with an embroidered pocket identifying him as “Mean Moe.” The timer was smoking a cigarette, holding it between his thumb and forefinger like a tough.

A man beside Sissy looked her up and down, grinned, then looked away.

She lit a cigarette. She
did
know how to smoke, as this was something she and her friends did when her parents weren’t around.

There was a coin toss, and a red-haired man with peeling lips and many freckles and scabs began washing a white pit bull-type dog.

Sissy peered around the group. There were only a few women, most of them hard-looking, but some simply could have been wives and mothers. It shocked her that women would enjoy seeing dogs tear each other to pieces. Already her own stomach had begun to flutter in apprehension of what was about to happen.

The other dog was also white but with brindle spots.
This one was skinnier than Satchmo—muscular but too skinny.

Finally the fight began, and Sissy was stunned by the fury with which the dogs leaped at each other, stunned by the tenacity with which one latched on to the other’s ear.

She started to feel sick. How would it look if she turned away from the spectacle? She glanced around to see what Elijah was doing.

He still leaned against the wall, now talking to a middle-aged man who needed a shave. They were both watching the pit. How long would this go on for before the Humane Society people or the police, whoever was coming to save the dogs, arrived?

Blood.

Seeing Lucky the day Sissy had found her, Sissy knew she should have been prepared for the blood. The owner of Jackson’s Dock wandered to the edge of the pit but also glanced regularly toward the door. A man in a black leather jacket beside Sissy gave her a nasty smile. He held a black pit bull on a lead. He was handsome but frightening. He wore his hair in a DA style, and he had long sideburns.

Sissy knew she should try to act her part. She tried to pet his dog, but it snapped at her.

“He’s mean,” the man told her.

Sissy glanced back at the ring and wished she hadn’t. The white dog with the brindle spots was bleeding profusely from its face, and she thought she might faint.

It seemed to go on too long, until a whistle blew. The man with the black leather jacket told her that one of the dogs had “turned,” but Sissy didn’t understand. He was telling her that it was the all-white dog’s turn to “scratch,” whatever that meant.

Legs shaking, she eased back from the pit to join Elijah, who was now crouched beside Satchmo, looking apprehensive.

The double doors suddenly flew open, and a slight stirring went through the crowd.

“Everyone stay where you are.” Two sheriff’s deputies walked in, as people poured out of the dockside doors, ignoring the officers’ command.

Sissy knew Elijah was supposed to be arrested now. Instead, he grabbed her hand. Ducking beside Satchmo, he dragged her into the crowd and away from the deputies.