After river

Our cow dog, Buddy, lifted his head, then bolted off the bottom porch step where he had been sleeping in the afternoon sun. He leapt over the picket fence and raced past the barn, a blur of black and white, barking a belated warning. The longhaired stranger was kneeling in the dust on the road, murmuring quiet words to the growling dog. After a moment he stood and, with Buddy at his side, continued up to the yard, smiling. Mom smiled back, smoothed her apron and started down the porch steps. I hesitated for only a moment before I followed. She was expecting him. She was not expecting the heartache that would follow like a cold wind.