The dog blinked and stared back at him intently.

"I take bus number seven. Follow that bus, okay?"

Rusty cocked his head to one side.

Carter didn't know what more he could do. Disconsolate, he tried to accept that the dog wouldn't understand him, no matter how many times he repeated the information. After today, when the bus delivered Carter to his home, it was unlikely he'd ever see Rusty again. Carter couldn't bear to have that happen, but he had to prepare himself for disappointment.

Because it was the last day before winter break, school was dismissed an hour early. While Carter lined up with his friends for bus number seven, he scanned the area for Rusty. Again the dog was nowhere to be seen, and once again Carter's heart fell.

"You wanna come to my house and play video games?" Timmy asked, plopping down on the seat next to Carter.

"No, thanks."

His friend seemed dejected.

"Can I come on Monday?" Carter asked.

"Sure." Timmy perked up right away. "I'll show you all my presents under the tree."

"Okay." Carter tried to smile but it was hard. He was glad that his friend was getting lots of gifts. He wanted gifts, too-stacks and stacks of them. But Carter would give up every single one for Rusty.

God had answered his prayer, Carter told himself, struggling to believe. Rusty would find him. God had sent Rusty to that schoolyard and now God would figure out a way to bring him to Carter's house.

The bus stopped, and Cameron and Isaiah got off and ran to their home at the end of the street. Their house was the biggest and nicest in the neighborhood.

The next stop was for Carter and Bailey's block. Grabbing his backpack, Carter felt his heart beating hard. He hoped with all his might that Rusty would find his way. Bus number seven. He'd told Rusty to follow bus number seven. Carter knew it would be a miracle if the dog had understood him, but God was in charge of miracles, and He'd already worked one. If He could do one miracle and send him a dog, then God should be able to accomplish two.

When the doors of the bus opened, Carter stepped down and looked in both directions. Rusty wasn't there. His heart felt about as heavy as...as a two-ton truck.

"Move," Bailey said, coming down the steps and shoving him in the back.

"Hey," Carter complained.

"You're blocking the exit," Bailey informed him in that prim tattletale voice she sometimes used.

Carter got completely off the bus then and started slowly down the sidewalk to their house. Bailey walked beside him.

"I saw you with that dog on the playground again," his sister said, matching her steps to his. She held her backpack with both hands, leaning into the cold wind.

"You're not gonna tell Mom and Dad, are you?"

"No. He's a nice dog."

Carter nodded. "He's smart, too." But not smart enough to follow bus seven. Not smart enough to know that winter break had begun and there'd be no one at the school to feed him or play with him or anything else. Sooner or later, he'd be picked up by Animal Control.

"You should wash off your coat before Mom sees it," his sister warned.

Carter had forgotten about the mud on his sleeves. "I will. You go in the house first, all right?"

"Okay."

True to her word, Bailey went into the house and while she distracted their mother, Carter removed his coat in their bedroom, then entered the kitchen.

"Ms. Jensen thanked you for the cookies," Carter told his mother. She was folding towels fresh from the dryer on the kitchen table and nodded absently. "Your father's working late this evening," she said. "He's getting overtime pay, and that's good."

"Oh."

"He said we should have dinner without him."

"Can we have macaroni and cheese out of a box?" Carter asked. That was one of his favorites, and he knew it must not cost very much because his mother never objected when he asked for it.

"Okay," she said.

"I wanted hot dogs," Bailey whined.

His mother smiled. "We'll have both."

While his sister helped their mother put away the towels, Carter loped into the bathroom for a clean washcloth and soaked it. Then he wrung it out and took it into the bedroom where he'd put his coat. He wiped off the sleeves. The washcloth got muddy, but his coat looked a lot better.

"Mom said we could watch television," Bailey said, coming into the room.

Since his sister would choose sissy programs, Carter wasn't interested.

"I'm gonna go read."

That was an activity his parents always approved of. The only reason he decided on it now was that he didn't feel like doing anything else. He didn't want to visit his friends or watch television or even play with his toys. He just wanted to forget Rusty. Apparently God only did one miracle at a time. Carter had been wrong.

Slumping down on the floor, he opened his book, but he could hardly concentrate on the story. About fifteen minutes later, his sister barreled into the bedroom. "Carter, come and look!"

"At what?"

"Just come," she insisted, annoying him with every word.

"Oh, all right," he muttered.

She led him to the living room, where the television was situated. She pointed out the front window.

There was Rusty, walking up and down the sidewalk, looking this way and that.

Carter nearly screamed with happiness. "It's Rusty!"

"I know." His sister's eyes were huge.

Without bothering to get his coat, Carter burst out the door. "Rusty!" he cried. "Rusty."

As soon as the dog heard Carter, he turned and bolted toward him. Carter dared not hug him now because his mother would see all the mud. But how could she be angry? God had sent them this dog. Carter had proof that Rusty was the answer to his prayer.

"This way, boy," Carter said and led him to the back of the house. Because their mother had told them their dad would be late, Carter put Rusty in the garage. By the time he'd finished, his teeth were chattering with cold and excitement.