Clem's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Clem padded back through the empty streets as the sun climbed higher. The painted shepherd and his dog stayed in his mind. Tonight he would return to the adobe house and dig where the doghouse had collapsed. The brass collar waited there, buried in the same earth where his first friend once stood. The wooden watchtower rose ahead, its bronze bell catching the morning light. Clem had passed it on his way into town yesterday. The tall structure stood at the edge of Gremlin's Gorge, visible from every street. Metal railings ran around the flat roof where someone could look out across the desert. Travelers had used it to find this town for a long time. Clem sat in its shadow and looked back at the path he'd walked. Everything here felt old and steady, like the memories he carried. He started walking again and found a yellow palo verde tree spreading its branches over a dusty clearing. The small leaves and green bark made it different from other desert plants. Clem stretched out in the shade beneath it. The cool ground felt good against his paws. Two lizards darted past, chasing each other around the trunk. This was the kind of place where neighbors might stop to rest and talk. Clem could picture his first friend's family pausing here on hot days, maybe with their sheep dog trotting beside them. Past the tree, something tall caught his eye. A thick stalk rose from an agave plant, covered in dried blooms. Carvings marked its base—dates from the 1880s scratched into the hard surface. This plant only flowered once after many years of growing. Clem sniffed the old markings and thought about all the time that had passed since the 1950s. The brass collar had been buried for decades, waiting through seasons and years. But tonight, when darkness came, Clem would dig it up and carry it again. He turned toward the path leading back to the adobe house. The sun would set soon enough.