Steve Foster watched the hound dog through his riflescope. He recognized the breed as a Black and Tan Coonhound. Many of the raccoon hunters in Southern Jersey relied on the four-legged tracker to tree the bandit-looking rascals. Steve didn't hate this dog, but he had already decided he would kill it. Maybe then Jeffrey Doyle would leave the neighborhood.
Though Steve had never met the thirty-something Jeffrey Doyle, he hated him all the same. Rumor had it that the bachelor with the hound was an ex-convict, which explained his many tattoos and solitary lifestyle.
Now that Steve's son, Randy, was turning three years old, Steve didn't want a misfit anywhere around Lakeside Paradise. That meant Jeffrey Doyle wasn't welcome in their wooded, middle-class neighborhood.
With those thoughts, Steve pulled the trigger.
#######
A year later, Jeffrey Doyle still lived in the cottage through the woods, and Steve Foster still had not met him. The man had replaced his first hound with another, this time with a Bluetick Coonhound. Steve had considered shooting this dog as well, but decided against it. He reluctantly realized that Jeffrey Doyle was there to stay. At least he kept to himself.
One overcast day, Steve returned home late from the construction site to find police and paramedics all over his property. He hastily parked and dashed across the lawn to his tear-streaked wife, Julie.
"It's Randy!" She buried her face against Steve's chest. "He's gone!"
"She reported him missing an hour ago," a police sergeant notified. "We tried to reach you. Seems he either wandered off or..."
"Or what?"
"Or he was kidnapped. We've got everyone looking into all the possibilities, Mr. Foster, but we've got a storm moving in off the coast and it'll be dark in an hour."
"He probably just wandered off." Steve held Julie by her shoulders. "Honey? Did he go outside? What was he doing?"
"I don't know!" she wailed. "I was doing the laundry..."
Steve comforted his wife, took a deep breath, and faced the sergeant again.
"Randy loves the forest. Have you--,"
"Several of your neighbors offered to help so we've got them combing the woods, Mr. Foster. Why don't you take your wife inside? I'll call you as soon as we hear anything."
Steve ignored the sergeant as he cocked his head and looked towards the woods.
"Do you hear that?" Steve jogged to the side of the house. "Do you hear it?"
"Mr. Foster, please let us do our work. Just--,"
"Listen! Don't you hear it?" Steve ran towards the forest. "I hear a hound! They must've found Randy!"
"I don't know what your husband hears, Mrs. Foster," the sergeant said with a shrug. "None of the search and rescue dogs have arrived yet."
Steve disappeared into the pines. He paused again to listen. He knew the distant bawl of a hound dog on a scent, just like the coonhounds he hunted with in the autumn.
Passing several volunteers who were calling Randy's name, Steve ran farther into the woods, driven by fear and hope.
The dog's howl suddenly ceased. Steve looked around him, and then paced with uncertainty to the west. Hearing a branch break a distance behind him, he turned, then froze.
Jeffrey Doyle had just emerged from a stand of saplings. Four-year-old Randy was sitting on the man's broad shoulders. Doyle's tattooed arms were extended upward, holding onto Randy's hands. A hound zigzagged through the forest behind them, her nose to the ground.
"You can always come get Bonnie if you want to go for a walk in the woods, Randy," Jeffrey offered, "but you shouldn't be out here alone."
Steve opened his mouth to call out to his son and the despised neighbor, but no words would come. He watched them through the bushes as they passed him twenty paces away. Jeffrey's Bluetick bounded over, sniffed at Steve's feet, and then raced off to scout a deer trail.
Jeffrey and Randy continued towards Steve's house, Steve and the hound following. A cheer erupted as the two emerged from the woods. Jeffrey lifted Randy off his shoulders, and the youngster ran to his mother. Steve hung back. The sergeant clapped Jeffrey on the back while neighbors congratulated the hound with hugs. She tolerated the attention for a moment, and then ran off to hunt squirrels.
"Jeffrey," Steve called when the neighbor was finally alone.
Jeffrey approached Steve as he stood on the lawn, stopping five paces from him.
"Mr. Foster," Jeffrey greeted with a nod.
"You found my boy."
"That was all Bonnie." Jeffrey smiled. "Honestly, I thought she was on a rabbit trail."
"All the same, I owe you an apology." Steve looked down at the ground. "It's about your old Black and Tan."
Jeffrey crossed his huge arms.
"I try not to hold grudges, Mr. Foster."
"You know?"
"I watched you that day, down by the lake. Her name was Sadie."
"I didn't want you around. I guess I had you pegged for a crook."
"I was...once."
"Sure glad my stupidity didn't scare you off. Randy would still be lost if it weren't for you and Bonnie." Steve forced himself forward and offered his hand. "I hope you'll let me make it up to you somehow, Jeffrey."
Jeffrey shook his hand and nodded.
"Maybe we could start with dinner sometime, Mr. Foster--get acquainted like real neighbors."
"Sounds good. And call me Steve."
"Okay, Steve. And maybe Randy can hang out with Bonnie sometime. She'd really like to have a boy around to keep her company in the woods."
"He'd like that. We'd both like that. Thanks again, Jeffrey. See you around." Steve waved and turned towards his house.
"Yeah, you’re welcome," Jeffrey said as he turned for home. "Bonnie, come, Girl!"
"How about Saturday?" Steve called after him.
"What?"
"For dinner--how about Saturday?"
Jeffrey turned with a big grin. "That would be great! Thanks!"
"As long as we can leave the past behind us."
"Both of us?" Jeffrey asked with a half-smile.
"Yeah, both of us. I think we could both use a new start. With Bonnie too, of course!"
