A Golden Retriever Stands Ground
The masked man tossed a heavy burlap sack into the wooden bed of the covered wagon.
A golden retriever barked sharply, her paws kicking up dry dirt as she lunged toward the wooden wheels.
The driver snapped the leather reins, yelled at the dog to get back, and kicked his boot toward her snout.
The wagon lurched forward, its iron-rimmed wheels grinding against the stones as the horses accelerated.
Left behind in the thick cloud of dust, the dog spun around and sprinted toward the nearest wooden buildings of the frontier town.
Recruiting the Sheriff
In the center of town, the sheriff stood before a wooden board, pointing his index finger at a paper trail map.
His deputies watched closely, nodding as he traced the routes through the canyon.
The golden retriever burst into the circle, barking loudly and planting her front paws directly onto the sheriff’s leather vest.
The sheriff lowered his hand from the map, grabbed his hat brim, and looked down at the panting animal.
He turned to his mount, swung his boot over the leather saddle, and gripped the reins tight.
He kicked the stallion into a fast gallop, dust swirling behind them as the dog ran ahead to guide the way.
The townsfolk stepped back onto the wooden boardwalks, watching the dust trail disappear into the desert hills.
Chasing the Covered Wagon
Hooves pounded the dry earth as the horse struggled to keep pace with the sprinting golden retriever.
Ahead, the canvas-covered wagon bounced violently along the narrow, rocky mountain path.
The dog lunged forward, leaping onto the moving wooden tailgate, and clawing for grip on the rough planks before scrambling inside.
The sheriff pulled up alongside the driver’s bench, shouting for the driver to pull the horses to a stop.
The masked driver stood up and prepared to jump, but the golden retriever leaped from the wagon bed, tackling him mid-air.
They both crashed onto the dirt road, rolling through the brush as the wagon ground to a halt.
The horses whinnied, stamping their hooves as the dust settled around the fallen men.
The Truth Inside the Sack
The bandit lay flat on his back in the dirt, the dog’s teeth bared inches from his face as she pinned his shoulders.
The sheriff dismounted, walked to the rear of the stopped wagon, and unlatched the heavy wooden doors.
Inside lay several tied burlap sacks resting between wooden storage crates.
He tore open the center sack to reveal a blonde woman, her hands bound, squinting against the harsh daylight.
She crawled out of the sack, breathing heavily, and immediately wrapped her arms around the golden retriever’s neck.
The sheriff stood by the wagon wheel, watching as the rest of his posse finally crested the dusty ridge in the distance.
The woman stroked the dog’s ears, resting her forehead against the animal’s wet nose as the dust settled.
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