Page 5 of Rabid
If she’d driven to the Hogg homestead, it would have been a much shorter distance. The problem was Jeb, and his sons could see and hear her coming. All she wanted to do was sneak close enough to gather evidence for the sheriff’s department and humane society.
She half-crawled up the final ridge, the sandy hill making it hard to find purchase without sliding backward. At the top, she looked around and saw an area of scrub brush with a large bush beside it that would be perfect for surveillance. She couldn’t turn on her flashlight and had no idea what critters were on the ground as she bent low and wiggled her body into position, dragging her backpack behind her. This was something else she’d never thought she could do and another accomplishment. She no longer gave a fig about bugs.
Reaching inside the worn leather, she retrieved her camera. It was an older model but had a good fast lens for nighttime photography. Sheloved taking pictures of her land and the amazing number of stars, along with incredible full moons. Her favorite cactus plant let loose with stunning pinkish-red blossoms for one week each year, adding to her image collection. The camera had become a friend.
A male voice called out, and Joan stopped attaching the lens so she could listen.
“This dog is gonna learn what it’s job is or he’s going in the fire,” Jeb yelled.
Joan finished attaching the lens and pointed the camera at the house. A burning fire pit sat about ten feet away from the front door of the home. Movement to the right had her veering her lens in that direction. One of the Hogg boys held the leash of a medium sized Pitbull. It barked and growled incessantly at another dog cowering behind one of the other boys. Jeb’s sons released them at the same time and the Pitbull sprang forward.
Joan watched in horror, a sick feeling rising in her stomach. The fight didn’t last long and when it was over, the smaller dog, which no longer moved, was tossed on the fire.
Jeb Hogg was a revolting human being, and his sons weren’t far down the list.
Joan moved the lens after getting her trembling hands under control and began capturing Hogg horror.
Kennel after kennel contained multiple dogs. She could only imagine their suffering becausemost were lying still within the small boxes. She could just make out one with its head between a break in its bars, panting, its muzzle low. She couldn’t begin to count the number of dogs.
Anger overwhelmed Joan, and she itched for her shotgun.
If the sheriff’s department didn’t do something with her evidence, Joan would take the law into her own hands, and the law could arrest her for being a psychotic killer. She took her final pictures and left.
Early the following morning, her anger still in overdrive, she’d driven to Deputy Berger’s place. She’d gotten lost twice because she only knew the general vicinity. She finally made the last correct turn and saw the top lights on his police SUV.
He’d listened and taken her evidence, which she’d transferred to a CD.
“This may not be enough,” he said.
Joan saw red. “You had better make sure it’s enough, or you’ll be investigating five homicides.”
“Don’t be saying that, Joan,” he insisted.
“It’s Mrs. Morgan to you. For once, do your job. That family is a menace. They treat that girl like their personal punching bag, and I’m tired of your department doing nothing.”
The deputy turned and muttered under his breath.
“I can hear you, you old goat. I meant what I said.”
She stormed back to her truck and kicked up dust as she slammed it into gear and took off.
Deputy Berger did his job and filed charges. Joan also sent the images to the Humane Society. Unfortunately, they had their own way of doing things and she hadn’t understood when she first spoke to them. The judge agreed with their solution. If Jeb turned over his dogs and swore to never own more, his charges would go away, and even his penalty for making the dogs square off would disappear. The judge added insult to injury by saying a video recording of the dog fight might have swayed him.
Joan’s testimony meant nothing. What she witnessed and captured in images was worthless.
Jeb took the deal. His new puppy mill was back in full swing within six months. A few months after that, his pit-fighting dogs were heard again too.
The memory of what she’d witnessed didn’t leave her and she constantly stewed on the trial’s outcome. Joan’s extreme dislike of the Hoggs grew to something more.
Chapter Four
Fate Be Damned
Past
Joan’s days on her land were filled with everything from gardening to maintenance in the summer to chopping wood and kindling for winter. Training Max was an ongoing job and one that she loved.
By six months old, his personality was in full bloom. He was the smartest of her Rottweilers, and she didn’t think it possible. He wanted nothing more than to please her. Well, cookies. He wanted those too.
