Chapter One

Cold cozy evening, except

Chester crawled up on the coach and cuddled up next to the pillow in the corner. There he fell asleep.

A big fire kept the old farmhouse nice and warm, even on a cold wintry evening such as this one. Snow had been falling for the last six hours, but that was outside. Inside, everything was warm and dry.

George and Rita had finished the chores, inside and out, for the day.

The cold weather made it a good day to do as little work as possible. Only the essential work was done, feed the cattle, check the water in the sheep pen and stay inside.

“This weather is not fit for man or beast,” George said.

Throughout the day, even with the bitter cold breeze, Chester stayed with George. The two where best of friends, wherever George went, Chester went.

But now, with the sun down, the work done and the house closed up, both sat back in their favorite chairs to relax.

George sat back in his favorite recliner. Chester’s favorite was the sofa. He would stretch out across it and take up over half the space. Rita loved ‘em both, but sharing the sofa was always a battle.

Chester felt the whole sofa was his. He’d stretch out and usually, if Rita was already sitting at the other end, he’d stick his feet right in her lap.

“Excuse me!” she would say.

But it did no good. The feet were there and she would have to live with ‘em or move.

When Chester was younger, she wouldn’t have allowed him to get away with it. However, now at his age, 10 years old, 70 in dog years, she felt sorry for him. He didn’t have the vigor and bounce in his step he once had. In fact, he seemed to have less energy and more aches and pains than George.

Tonight was shaping up to be a quiet night.

George was reading Louis L’Amour’s, Down the Long Hills. Chester was asleep and Rita was working on a crochet project for her daughter.

No one would come over to visit them tonight. The weatherman said a blizzard was on its way and no travel was advised.

“If you can stay inside,” the weatherman said, “do it.”

The last big blizzard was 15 years ago. It was terrible! Snowdrifts were higher than the pickup.

That year, George lost 20 of his best cows. They were in the corral behind the house. When the snow and wind came, they were buried under the snowdrifts.

This year the cows were in a row near the house and should be safe. The cupboards were full and there was no need to worry.

That is, as long as you stayed inside.

In the middle of chapter three, Chester leaped from the couch. He let out a hug bark that startled both George and Rita.

Something was wrong. Chester charged to the door, barking the whole way.

Chapter Two

Out into the cold

Chester was acting like a puppy jumping and barking at the door. Whatever was outside, Chester wanted out with it.

“What’s with your dog?” Rita asked.

“You’re guess is as good as mind,” George answered.

“Chester you don’t want to go out. It’s cold out there,” George said to the big black lab.

But Chester wanted out and wasn’t going to quiet down until the door swung open.

“Calm down, boy,” George said as he opened the back door.

Chester bolted out into the snow and disappeared quickly in the darkness.

The cold breeze cut through George’s flannel shirt and the wind hollowed as pulled the door shout.

“Not a good night to be outside.”

“It’s a blizzard just like back in ‘87,” Rita said. “The wind was hollowing that night to. I wish that dog of yours would of stayed put.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“He’s to old to be out there. And if he doesn’t come back don’t you get any crazy ideas about goin’ out lookin’ for him.”

“I won’t,” George said. But he couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten Chester’s attention. It wasn’t like Chester to want out this late, especially after just getting comfy on his sofa.

Every night he would cuddle up on the couch and usually it was easier moving a truck load of 50 pound feed sacks than it was to move that dog.

Now, in the middle of a blizzard with temperatures dropping dangerously low, he was out running around like a pup in the snow.

Somewhere in the darkness, Chester was bouncing from snowdrift to snowdrift. He was on a mission.

It was one of life and death. It was a mission only he could accomplish.

The wind was cold and the blowing snow made it hard to see, but he pushed on. With his nose to the snow covered ground Chester searched for the scent. One moment it seemed strong and easy to follow the next it disappeared altogether.

He had made his way through the yard and out to the road. Now he was slowly working his way north, directly into the storm.

Chester knew George would have been lost by now. He wouldn’t have even been able to see his hand directly in front of his face.

This was weather that was not good for man; and it wasn’t much better for beast. It was the worst weather Chester had ever been out in.

It was a no-brainer; the comfy sofa would be much nicer right now. To be cuddled up in the warmth of the cushions and have his feet against Rita’s warm body was a much nicer place than out in this snowstorm. But instead, he was searching for that scent.

To read the rest of The Storm contact me at bradstaman@yahoo.com