HOME COMING

Henry Hobbs' adventure

If Henry ever found the damn dog, he was going to kill it.
Well, probably not, since the sorry excuse for a canine had sent him back three hundred dollars, but the thought was appealing, nonetheless. It was well past lunch time, and Henry was not a man known for missing meals. He had never been able to understand how some people could become so involved in an activity that they would skip a meal. He'd worked with guys like that, before he'd gotten his disability, and he never trusted them. When the clock struck twelve, you dropped whatever you were doing and you went and ate your lunch. You had to have your priorities straight,and Henry Hobbs figured his priorities were as straight as an arrow.

   Hunting came in right below eating on Henry's list, particularly coon hunting. There was nothing finer than the sound of a hound baying as it treed it's quarry. On the flip side, there was nothing more frustrating than losing a dog, which was the reason Henry was trampling around on Driver Mountain instead of sitting down to a bowl of beans or a corned beef sandwich. Blue, his newest acquisition, had failed to run with the others when he'd called them in this morning, and so far he'd been unable to find the stupid mutt. But three hundred dollars was a lot of money, and Henry would be damned if he was going to lose the dog, especially after the grief Wanda had given him after spending that much money in the first place.

             Henry stopped and called the dog. Silence answered him. He was dead tired; he'd been up most of the night hunting, and be had hoped to be home in bed by now. He had another hunt planned for tonight, but if he didn't get any sleep, that would go out the window. Damn dog. Pete Ferguson had warned Henry about buying dogs from Ol' Walt, but he had gone and done it anyway. Now he was paying for it.

    The noon sun was bright and warm, causing Henry to consider shedding some of his clothing. He was dressed for a nighttime hunt, not for traipsing about in the middle of the day. But he didn't want to be lugging stuff around with him; the terrain was steep and rocky here, and he was constantly slipping on the freshly fallen leaves as he went. He'd left his gun locked in the truck for that very reason.
  He'd seen more than a few hunting accidents caused by people slipping and falling while holding a loaded gun. He had his .22 revolver on him, just in case he ran into a snake, but they generally go before giving up. Further up the slope,a rabbit broke cover and made a mad zigzagging dash across the next rise. Henry watched it go, his hopes of finding blue starting to diminish. Maybe it would be better to just turn back. There was a good chance that someone would find the dog and return him to Henry. He knew most of the other hunters in the area,and the my would all know whose dog Blue was if they happened upon him. Besides, it wouldn't be the first dog he'd ever lost though arguably the most expensive and he was awfully hungry and sleepy.

      He'd just made up his mind to return to the truck when he heard the sound of a treeing dog in the distance. It had to be Blue. Coon hunting was a nocturnal sport, and and seeing as how it was the middle of the day, he was probably the only fool in these woods. Henry's heart lightened,and he even forgot his gnawing hunger for the moment. Wanda would never have to know how close he came to losing his investment, and that was a good thing, because she could really be a bitch when she set her mind to it.

             He stood still and quiet and quiet as he tried to get a bearing on the direction of the dog's barking. It wasn't easy cause the sound echoed off the hills and seemed to come at him from all directions at once. But Henry was an experienced hunter, and be was used to honing in on the sounds of his dogs at night. He finally decided to go east and set off at a fast pace. There wasn't much danger of the dog moving now that he had something treed, but Henry wanted to go home. If he could eat and get in bed in the next hour or so, he may be able to salvage the planned hunt tonight.

     He came to a small stream, crossed it, and began to climb up a steep incline. He could have circled around the ridge,where the going was much easier but it would have taken more time despite the fact that he was receiving a disability check for his back Henry could get around as well as anyone else provided no one was watching he didn't feel guilty about it he put in his time in the mines nearly 16 years, and he figured he'd paid enough dues to be able to sit back and enjoy life. There would be no black lung disease for Henry Hobbs, being around and coughing up his lungs like he'd eaten a lot like the older times do. That was bullshit. If the government was willing to pay eighteen hundred dollars a month because he'd been able to get his doctor to say his back was shot, so be it. He'd paid his taxes when he was working. He was simply getting his own money back from Uncle Sam.