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The town of Great Cross was named for a towering monument that never existed. The founders had talked of making a bid to become the state capital, and the cross was meant to be a declaration of their ambition. The ambitious talk was more fun than the actual work of building would have been, however, and no great cross ever materialized. The town reached a stable population of about four hundred, which varied up or down by only a few dozen as decades and generations came and went. Few who lived there would have traded their quiet, close-knit town for the founders' dream of a metropolis. Anyone who harbored that kind of dream had long since moved away.

Besides, there was a four-way intersection with a traffic light, which was arguably a pretty good cross, if not a great one. Everyone called it "the cross," in any case. The old country store stood on its southwest corner. On a fine day, if you sat on the bench there and waited, sooner or later you might see one of the characteristic sights of Great Cross: a collie with saddlebags padding up the sidewalk, around the corner, and through the swinging doors into the store. A few minutes later, you'd see him emerge again and return the way he came.

Rex, the big rough collie, would most likely continue down the sidewalk and across the green, then turn onto a narrow footpath along Little Jordan Creek, the waterway which defined the western boundary of the town. This path would lead him a mile and a half upstream to a field of apple trees bounded by a split rail fence: home.

Rex could not remember the time before this had become his home, but his owner could. Helen Auer still had pictures of the starved, muddy, matted and burr-ridden creature who had come home with her on a plaid blanket in the back of her station wagon. sex with animals In those pictures, the only sign of the dog that Rex would become was the undimmed light in his dark brown eyes. Helen had given him fresh goat's milk, good food, shampoo, and hours of patient brushing and combing. Over the course of months, his body grew strong and his coat luxurious, a cascade of mahogany, white, and orange-gold.

She had also given him his name, and as he matured, she gave him increasingly complex jobs to do. He learned to open and close gates, carry buckets, drag the hose to the garden and turn on the water, pull a cart, and move goats from one pen to another. Eventually, he was trusted to carry a shopping list to the store in town and bring home a few items in his saddlebags. Rex could appreciate quiet moments in the shade of a tree, certainly, but he was happiest when he had a task to complete, or a problem to figure out.

There were not many salaried, nine-to-five jobs in Great Cross. Helen, like many who lived there, knitted together a living from various lines of work. She was a painter and illustrator, and had learned how to maintain a steady flow of commissions without getting buried by them. At certain times of year, she assisted Dr. Hartman at his veterinary practice. Goat's milk and garden produce brought in a few extra dollars, and in a good year, the apple harvest brought in quite a bit more than that.

She, too, enjoyed work, and she took pride in maintaining the land, the buildings, the animals, and the machinery. She was grateful for her parents' occasional help, and that of her neighbors; there were times when extra hands were indispensable. Four paws could be put to a lot of uses too, though, when creatively applied. It was a constant, pleasant puzzle to think up new jobs for Rex, and a joy to watch him study and master them. He was a dog, of course, and there were limits to what he could do. But she didn't feel they were anywhere close to exhausting the possibilities yet.

For his part, Rex also felt the world was full of possibilities. He awoke each morning expecting the day to bring adventures. Perhaps due to his own boundless curiosity, he was rarely disappointed.

Chapter 1: Spring Fever

The cash register chimed in the old country store.

No change was needed. Rex had brought the exact amount, including tax, as usual. Lydia Martin tucked the receipt into Rex's saddlebag, alongside the small packages of oats, flour, and coffee that Rex had been sent to pick up. Lydia knew, of course, that it was Miss Auer who had worked out the right amount to send. Still, she found it was not much of a stretch to imagine the big collie doing the figures himself. He seemed capable of everything else. And if Rex decided to do arithmetic, Lydia felt certain he'd do it to the penny, Sexy black mutt dominates scrupulously.

"OK, Rex. Take it home now," she said. "Home." He gave her a polite, affirmative wag, and she held the door for him as he headed out. She paused in the doorway. It was an early April day, warm, sunny, and dry. After a long, dreary March, the sunshine felt exquisite. There was color in the world. It would feel almost criminal to close the door on it and retreat inside again.

"Dad," she called. "Can I step out for a few minutes? I'd like some fresh air, and it hasn't been very busy in here today."

"You may," came the response from her father's little office in the back of the store. She heard his chair squeak as he got up and came to the counter. He had his reading glasses on, and a seed catalog still in his hand. Though not a short man, he still had to look up slightly when he spoke to his daughter. "Maybe you could bring me back a little something from the diner, too, if you wouldn't mind."

"Sure, I can do that." Lydia understood that "a little something" meant "a little something sweet and freshly baked, which is not strictly in accordance with my diet, so let's be discreet about it." She knew how her father enjoyed an afternoon treat, and didn't mind being part of a minor conspiracy. "I'll be back in... twenty minutes, OK? Thanks, dad."

She stepped outside and turned west. In the distance, she could see Rex on the footpath. The path was mostly shaded, but here and there, dapples of sun shone through the trees, and when he walked through a patch of light, his coat gleamed. Lydia jogged off in his direction. She liked Rex's company. He was easy to talk to, when she was in a mood to talk, and if she sometimes felt a little silly talking to a dog, she didn't feel quite as crazy as she would have felt talking to herself.

It didn't take her long to catch up. She slowed her pace to fall in line with him, and he looked up amiably. It wasn't the first time she'd joined him for some or even all of the walk home, and he considered her a friend. His first duty was getting his bags home safely and promptly as was expected of him, but he didn't see any problem with socializing along the way. He walked close beside her and quite deliberately made the top of his head available to her left hand. She smiled at the directness of the gesture and ruffled his ears with affection. "There you go, boy. I wish everyone could be so straightforward about what they want."

She looked down at the dog, who still had his head turned up toward her. He was watching her intently even as he maintained his steady gait along the path. Rex had learned the importance of eye contact from Helen. It had been the foundation for everything else he learned with her, and he found it helpful in his interactions with other people when he was out and about as well. It wasn't at all hard to figure out what people wanted, he found, so long as you kept your eyes in the right place. Sometimes you could even anticipate what a person wanted before she realized it herself.

Lydia picked up the pace to a jog again, and Rex matched her speed, always with his eyes up. There was a strong sense of connection as they moved together. She'd felt it once or twice before, as he read her moves, and this time it struck her that she'd been missing that feeling. His attention made her feel important, if only in a small way, and it felt nice. A thought occurred to her: "Does anyone else ever look at me like that? Like, really pay that much attention to me? Ever?"

Another thought followed: "He's really handsome."

That was a strange thought. It was true, certainly; anyone would agree that Rex was a handsome dog. That was just factual. So why had a blush come to her cheeks when she thought it?

Oh, the time! She'd been jogging away from the store all this time while her mind wandered. Allowing for a few minutes to run into the diner, too... that meant she needed to turn around now. It still seemed like a pity to go back, with the sun so warm and the companionship so pleasant, but work was work, and there'd be other pretty days. She stopped, knelt, and gave Rex a hug around his shoulders, her hands sinking into his thick ruff. He leaned into the hug, pressing his weight against her. "Thanks for the walk, handsome boy." Strange as the thought had been, it felt even stranger saying it out loud. "Come in to the store again soon, ok? See you soon?" She added a kiss on the top of his head, and ruffled his ears once more. "Now get on home."

With, again, a wag to signify that he understood "home," he continued up the path. Not too far ahead was the old millhouse that still stood on the creek, unused, and it wasn't too much farther after that until the apple orchard. He was looking forward to the satisfaction of completing his job.

Lydia returned the way she'd come at a brisk pace, hardly feeling the effort. A spring day could be so energizing! She jogged back past the store to the Bread Board diner, dashed in, and ***********ed a cherry turnover from the rack of bakery goods at the front. She forced herself to walk back to the store, rather than run. For some reason, she wanted to look composed as she walked in the door, not hurried or out of breath. She still felt buoyant, though, almost wanting to kick up her heels as she went.

Her father was at the counter when she walked in, and she slid the turnover to him covertly, hiding it under her hand and letting her eyes dart to the door as if someone might be spying on the transaction. "Ah, well done," he said quietly, "mission accomplished." Then he put an end to the espionage fantasy by unwrapping his pastry from the napkin and polishing it off in a few bites, openly and unconcernedly. "Thank you. Did you have a nice walk?"

"Mm, yeah. The sun felt good. I wish I could be out the rest of the afternoon." To herself, she added silently, "...with Rex." She wished the hug had lasted a little longer, at least.

"Well, it looks like there'll be plenty of sun over the weekend. By the way, your old teacher was here. Miss Knox. She said to tell you hello."

"Dad, Miss Knox isn't old!" Jennifer Knox was twenty-four, in fact, and easy to recognize. She had moved to Great Cross to take the teaching job, and her black hair stood out in a town that mostly ran a spectrum from buckwheat blonde to corn silk blonde. She taught classics, and had encouraged Lydia's interest in languages in her last years before graduating the previous spring. Lydia was thinking of looking for work as a translator, work which she might be able to do from home. Over the past year, she had spent a lot of her evenings by herself, studying.

"Deine ehemalige Lehrerin, habe ich gemeint." Her father's German wasn't anywhere near as good as hers had become, but he had been delighted with her decision to begin studying the language. He made his best effort to learn what he could as well, and took any opportunity to show off a new word.

"Ja, Vati, ich habe dich verstanden. War nur ein Witz." Her father beamed at having been understood.

"Yes, well... as I said, she says hello. Other than that, though, it was pretty quiet. I think we can get things tidied up for the day soon, and leave on time today. We'll still get some sun on the way home. I could use it too."

"Sounds good." It did sound good, but Lydia's mind was beginning to wander from the conversation. Not much of her father's subsequent talk about seeds and inventory and fertilizer sank in past the surface, but it probably wasn't too important anyway.

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