They began to argue but were interrupted by Button. He let out a frenzied bark and began to yap incessantly. Standing on his hind legs, he clawed at the trunk of an old-growth oak that stood in the yard.

We quieted, listening as a buzzing noise reverberated within the tree, punctuated by Button’s high-pitched barks. Suddenly, Royella jumped to her feet.

“Button, no!” she yelped, running down the porch stairs to the dog. Taylor and Dad sprung up and followed. Royella scooped up the dog. “Stay back,” she commanded the others. “Let’s go inside.”

After safely locking Button in the house, Royella explained that the strange buzzing sound had come from a diamondback rattler. The snake must have crawled into a deep hole within the oak’s expansive trunk.

Taylor gasped when Dad clinically observed that the snake could have injected “up to 800 milligrams of hemotoxic venom” into Button’s soft flesh. Collin rolled his eyes at me, signaling contempt for Dad’s never-ending attempt to impress Royella with his knowledge of mountain life

*

Later, I washed dishes and Collin dried them, wiping away the suds I had missed. We listened to the muffled sounds of Dad and Royella arguing in the next room. “Just talk to her,” I heard Royella exclaim. “She’s your sister, just talk it out.”