After the ceremony, parents were snapping pictures and kids were posing with their classmates. Nettie and Don were wrapped in conversation, and my dad was busy wielding the camera. I found Samuel standing to the side, his cap and gown removed and turned back in to the senior class advisor. He wore the black slacks and white shirt he’d worn at the Christmas Eve church service. His black hair was brushed back off his face. It wouldn’t be long before his long hair would be buzzed military short. His recruiter had told him to cut it before he reported for boot camp, but so far Samuel had refused.

His grandparents were driving him to San Diego the following morning. Don and Nettie wanted to make a leisurely trip of it; neither had spent much time outside of Levan. They planned on taking the ‘scenic route.’ Samuel would report at the Marine processing station on Monday morning.

“I have something I want to give to you,” I said awkwardly, trying not to be overheard or draw attention, but wanting to arrange a meeting. “Are you going home afterwards?” There was always a big school celebration after graduation, but I doubted Samuel would stick around for the festivities.

“Nettie and Don want to take me to Mickelson’s Restaurant for an early dinner, but after that we’ll be home.” He gazed down at me for a moment. “I have something for you, too.” His eyes shifted away, detaching himself from me with his body language. “Do you know the big tree that’s split in two?”

I nodded my head. I called the tree and the others around it Sleepy Hollow. Sleepy Hollow was where three huge trees grew in a triangle about half a mile up the road from Samuel’s grandparent’s home, just before the turnoff to the cemetery and beyond that, Tuckaway Hill. Lightening had struck the tallest of the three trees, splitting it in two about half way down its trunk. Interestingly enough, the tree didn’t die, but simply forked into two trees supported by one massive trunk - like nature’s version of Siamese twins. The upper branches, now angled at 45 degrees, had created boughs, curving into the two other trees across the clearing. The lower branches were twisted and deformed by the strike, causing them to grow sideways instead of up, like leafy arms stretched out in supplication. In the late fall when the tree lost its leaves, the thick gnarled branches appeared like skeletal arms with claw-like fingers curled menacingly, inspiring the name Sleepy Hollow. But in the spring, as the trees donned their leafy adornments, this branched oddity, combined with the other two trees in the gully, created a thick green hideaway - a natural enclosure completely hidden from the dusty lane that ran close by.

“Can you meet me there later, say 8:00?” Samuel seemed uncomfortable but determined, and I agreed immediately. The sun didn’t go down until almost nine o’clock as the looming summer days stretched daylight later and later, and I would be free until dark.

I arrived before Samuel and stood in the shelter of the trees, holding my gifts. I’d decided at the last minute to give Samuel one more treasure, something I hated to part with, something that had been a gift to me, but something I knew would be especially meaningful to him.

Samuel rode up on horseback, holding something in his arms. He slid off the horse and looped the reins over a convenient branch. The horse immediately commenced grazing, and Samuel came around her, revealing his furry bundle. A pure white face and a wet black nose wedged into view under the concealment of his folded arms. I gasped.

“Samuel! Oh my gosh!” I gushed, rushing to him. The puppy in his arms was fat with very white fur, like a little polar bear. “Where did you get him?”

“Hans Larsen said I could have a pup when he found out his dog, Bashee, was expecting. My grandpa and Hans help each other out with their herds. I’ve moved Hans’ herd a time or two.

“Is it a Lab?” I guessed, looking at his handsome doggy face.

“Half,” Samuel replied. “In his case, half-breed looks a lot like the original, huh?” His voice was light, and I let the half-breed comment go without censure.

“What’s the other half?” I stroked the silky head and tickled the tiny chin.

“Hans Larsen says the dog’s mother is an Akbash - that’s where the name Bashee came from.”

“Akbash? I’ve never even heard of that.”

“That’s because they are sheep dogs native to Turkey. Hans has used the Akbash to guard his sheep for years. He says they aren’t as hyper as your average sheep dog. In fact, they really don’t herd sheep at all. They are considered guardians. They are very calm, and it is their nature to simply lie with the flock. Hans has a sheepdog to help him move the herd, and the Akbash to keep watch and live with the flock. He says this pup’s momma thinks the herd belongs to her.”

“So how did the Lab half come in to the mix?”

Samuel put the warm body in my arms, and I rubbed my cheek along its back.

“Hans had corralled the herd close to home during that week of bad storms in January. The Stephenson’s big white Lab came over for a friendly visit, much to Hans’s disappointment. Hans had arranged to breed his dog with another pure bred. The Lab just got there first.”

I giggled a little and sank to the soft dirt and grass, folding my legs and letting the pup waddle around me. “She looks like a Lab to me…but she’s so white!”

Samuel squatted down on his haunches, reaching out to the little dog, letting his fingers smooth his snowy fur. “The Akbash is very white - and it looks like the Lab through his snout and head, but its legs are longer and it has a feathery curved tail. This guy’s got his daddy’s tail.” Samuel patted the tiny rump. “He’ll be a big dog. In fact, full grown, he’ll probably weigh more than you, but he’ll look out for you when I’m gone.” Samuel’s voice was quiet and serious. “After all, when I saved your life, I became responsible for you, remember?” He smiled a little to lighten the seriousness of his words.