An Early Winter Read Online Free Page A

fishing."
    Tim sighs. This plan will work. Once he gets his grandfather away from all that talk about "burning down the house" and "hurting children," he'll be fine. Everyone will have to see that he is fine.
    Tim rises from the bench. "Come with me," he says.
    Granddad stands, too, and they start toward the veterinary clinic. For the first time since Tim returned to Sheldon, his grandfather's shoulders are back, his head high, his step light.
    And the humming racket in Tim's head has turned to pure song.
    I'm going to take care of Granddad. Granddad will take care of me. We'll show them. We'll show them all.

FOUR
Gone Fishin'
    Granddad bursts into the Sheldon Veterinary Clinic the way Santa must drop down chimneys, full of good cheer and an absolute certainty of his welcome. Seeing him back within these walls makes Tim feel warm all over. Granddad was always most fully himself when he was at the clinic. Why he'd decided to quit his practice and why Grandma had been so ready to sell it, Tim has never understood.
    Mrs. Hutchins, Dr. Hutchins's wife, is standing behind the new counter they have installed. The counter makes the place look more formal. The counter and the beautiful young woman standing behind it, too. Mrs. Hutchins is wearing a silky green blouse.
Not exactly the kind of clothes a person wears who is truly going to help out around a veterinary clinic
, Tim can't help but note.
    "Dr. Leo! How good to see you," Mrs. Hutchins calls. "And Timmy. You're back in town!" She tosses her head, which causes her tawny mane of hair to swirl and resettle.
    Tim nods, though inwardly he can't help but bristle at the
Timmy.
The name is bad enough coming from his mother and his grandmother.
    "How are you?" Granddad is saying. "How's business? Have the farmers been having trouble with milk fever lately?" And then, before Mrs. Hutchins can answer any of his questions, "Is your hubby here? Do you suppose Timothy and I could have a word with him?"
    "Sure, he's here, Dr. Leo," she says. "But he's with a patient now. Gould the two of you wait for a few minutes?"
    Granddad looks over at Tim, as though it's up to him to decide.
    "Sure." Tim deepens his voice. "We can wait. For a little while, anyway."
    Apparently satisfied, Granddad nods and turns to the waiting room.
    A rather portly middle-aged man sits in one of the orange plastic chairs holding an equally portly cat. The cat is long haired with a cross-looking, snub-nosed face. She reminds Tim of the principal of his new school.
    "Muffins!" Granddad exclaims, addressing the cat.
    Tim has heard his grandmother comment that during the last couple of years of his veterinary practice Granddad had increasing difficulty remembering the names of the people he served, but seemed never to forget the name of an animal patient. In fact, she claimed he could walk down the aisle of a milking parlor and name every cow—"Bessie, Milly, Fiona"—but afterward not remember the name of the farmer so he could send out a bill.
    Granddad approaches Muffins. In response, the cat narrows her eyes, flattens her ears, and opens her triangular pink mouth in a prolonged hiss.
    "Ah-ha!" Granddad exclaims. "She remembers me!"
    Everyone laughs.
    Granddad reaches out slowly and begins to scratch Muffins's chin, the place along the jaw bone where every cat in the world loves to be scratched.
    Muffins accepts the attention, stretching her neck to assist him in reaching exactly the right spot, but when he quits scratching, she hisses again.
    Everyone laughs once more.
    "Cats are intelligent creatures," Granddad pronounces. "Far more intelligent, I can't help but believe, than dogs. I know folks assume dogs have more brains, because a dog can be taught to obey. But think about it. Does it take more up here"—he taps his forehead—"to be a leader or a follower? What do you say, Timothy?"
    It was a discussion they'd had before, and Tim knows how to answer. "It takes more brains to think for yourself," he