Part 4 — A dog was tied up on my land for five days, and an unknown man who came to the clinic lost color when he saw it

For several seconds after Maria’s words, I could not understand what she was telling me.

Mateo’s weak breathing could be heard beneath the warehouse floor, while outside Esteban was obstructing the policemen, as if he were trying with all his strength to draw attention in another direction.

“Who took him?” I asked into the phone.

“I could not see the face. He was wearing a white coat. He disconnected Guardian’s infusion and went out through the back door.”

“Stay with Mateo. Lock the doors!”

“I am already under protection. But Rogelio, the dog is bleeding. His life depends on hours.”

I hung up and turned toward the police chief.

“Esteban has an accomplice. He went to the clinic.”

Esteban’s face changed.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You knew that the dog was at the clinic. You knew that we were talking about the warehouse. Now you also know that Guardian has been taken somewhere.”

“You have lost your mind, old man.”

The police chief raised his hand.

“Esteban, put the car keys on the ground.”

“You have no right.”

“We have a video, we have a witness, and a minor may be in danger. Now put down the keys.”

Esteban took the keys from his pocket but did not put them down. His fingers gripped the metal ring so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Then a voice came from underground.

“Rogelio… I’m here…”

It was Mateo’s voice.

The policemen removed the boards completely. A small room appeared below. The boy was sitting by the wall, his knees pressed to his chest and his hands tied with old wire.

I climbed down.

Mateo had dried blood on his forehead. When I approached, he backed away.

“Did they take Guardian?” he asked me.

“We will find him.”

“If you do not find him, they will tie him up again.”

“No one will tie him up again.”

It was easy to say these words. To believe them—not so much.

The police brought Mateo up. Elena wrapped her green headscarf around him and held the boy to her chest. Esteban, meanwhile, was still trying to maintain his composure.

“This child is sick,” he said. “He is making everything up.”

Mateo looked toward him.

“You yourself told me that if I spoke to anyone, you would take me to my mother’s grave and leave me there.”

Esteban’s smile disappeared.

For the first time I saw how a man who had always thought he carried other people’s fear in his pocket became confused.

The police chief put handcuffs on him.

“You are under arrest on charges of cruel treatment of animals, illegal detention of a minor, and violence.”

“My lawyer will refute this!” Esteban shouted.

“Then you will explain it in court.”

His last look was directed at me.

“Your life should not have been ruined because of a dog, Rogelio.”

I answered calmly:

“The dog did not ruin my life. Your choice ruined yours.”

When I returned to the clinic, Maria was waiting for me in bloody gloves. Guardian was in the back room. The wound on his neck had opened again, but Maria was giving him an infusion.

“We found the man who took him,” she told me. “He is Esteban’s cousin. He was heading toward the warehouse, but a patrol stopped him on the way.”

“Guardian?”

Maria opened the door for me.

The dog was lying on a white blanket. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing.

I sat down beside him.

“My friend, let’s go home.”

His ear moved slightly.

Maria played the recording again. This time Esteban’s voice sounded in the room, clearly, without concealment.

“Tomorrow I will leave both of you in the field. We will call the dog cursed, and you will tell everyone that you ran away from home.”

They made Esteban listen to these words in the police car. For the first time he heard his own voice from someone else, as if an unknown murderer were speaking. He buried his head in his hands.

“I didn’t say that,” he whispered.

The policeman stopped the recording.

“It is your voice.”

“I don’t remember.”

“But the camera remembers.”

Mateo stayed in the hospital for several days. It turned out that his mother had died two years earlier and that Esteban had only temporarily been his guardian. He took the child to the farm to work, stopped sending him to school, and told the neighbors that Mateo had run away from home.

Six more dog collars were found in the warehouse. Two animals were found alive in a nearby abandoned shed. They were saved because Mateo showed the police the exact location.

Esteban’s lawyer tried to get out of the case on the very first day.

“My client only wanted to recover the ownership of the dog,” he said.

Maria placed photographs of the wounds on the table.

“Then explain to me why the rope marks are old, new, and even older.”

The lawyer looked at the photographs and then looked at Esteban.

“You told me that this was only a case of an abandoned animal.”

“That is what it is.”

“No. This is a case in which there is a minor witness, a video recording exists, and we have found dozens of pieces of evidence. I can no longer continue your defense.”

Esteban struck the chair.

“Everyone is against me!”

The lawyer picked up his bag.

“I am only on the side of the facts that stand against you.”

Several weeks later Guardian walked through the clinic yard for the first time. He was still trembling. Every sudden sound frightened him. When someone approached quickly, he crouched in the corner.

But every day he grew a little stronger.

I took him home. I installed a new wooden gate at the old shed’s doors, always put his bowl in the same place, and left a small lamp on at night. At first Guardian did not sleep near the bed. He lay by the door, as if ready to escape.

One night, when the first autumn rain began outside, he laid his head on my knee.

I did not move.

I was afraid that if I touched him, he would back away again.

Then he himself brought his muzzle closer to me.

“Now you can sleep,” I whispered.

Elena was appointed Mateo’s temporary guardian. She came to our farm twice a week. When she came for the first time, Guardian hid behind her, and then carefully sniffed the boy’s fingers.

“He remembers you,” I told him.

“He remembers everyone who did not hit him.”

These words struck me more strongly than any court decision.

Four months later we opened a small animal shelter on the outskirts of the town. Maria treated animals there free of charge one day a week. Mateo drew dogs and put the drawings on the walls. In one of them Guardian was drawn—with large ears, broad paws, and without black birds flying in the sky.

The court sentenced Esteban to imprisonment for cruel treatment of animals and crimes committed against a minor. His farm was sold at auction. Part of the money was used for treating the rescued animals, and part for Mateo’s education.

I never perceived this story as a celebration.

Justification was necessary, but it was not a reason for joy.

One evening, almost six months later, a letter was found at my door. My name was written on the envelope. Inside there was only one sentence.

“Come to me. Everything will be different.”

Mateo was sitting at the kitchen table, coloring a new drawing of dogs.

“Who sent it?” he asked.

“Esteban.”

Guardian immediately raised his head. His body tensed, but this time he did not hide in the corner.

I threw the letter into the stove.

Mateo asked me nothing.

He only told me:

“It is good that you are no longer going to save him.”

The first snow could be seen through the window. White flakes descended onto the old shed, where Guardian was now sleeping peacefully.

I took my old copper bell from my pocket. For years I had tied it around the goats, but that night I tied it to Guardian’s new collar.

The bell jingled once.

The dog opened his eyes, raised his head, and came toward me.

This time no one was waiting for him from the sky.