He was dead tired
When he reached the one-course grounds
Where starting tomorrow
He would run
The dogs on his string
First he removed his two mounts
From the trailer he’d pulled
From two states away
Behind the old pickup
Led them to stalls hung them some hay
Then he stretched the chain
On the ground neath the shed
One by one snapped his dogs’ collars
To the links in their places
Gave each a pan of water to lap
Two shooting dogs
Three shooting dog derbies
Held all his hopes for
A share of the purses
He’d need to buy gas to get home
Would they win any
Much less enough
That was the question
Foremost on his mind
When Willie Koonce walked over
“Buck, howdy
“I’ve got an owner likes your derby Sal
“Wants me to buy her if she is for sale
“Is she?”
It was the question he’d dreaded all day
Sal was going to make it
He was near sure of that
But among his owners
Was no setter man
So sell her he must…unless he could land a new owner
“Ask me again Sunday evening”
Was the answer Buck gave Willie
He’d paid her entry fees
For the derby and shooting dog
He’d run her in those see if Lady Luck brought him an owner