The old terrier lay by the fire while Carrie baked. She talked to him gently.
“They say the men are coming home, Brewster. Do you think that means Danny too?”
Brewster thumped his stump of a tail and Carrie laughed. She finished her chores and bent to pat the little dog’s head.
“We been faithful ain’t we boy.”
As she straightened her back Brewster lifted his muzzle and gave a small bark. He hustled to the door whining and wagging.
Carrie turned her head and Danny stood in the doorway.
“Smells like home,” he said and held out his arms.
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