Sassidy Sue dug under a fence and merrily followed a scent in Bowen’s soybean field. I heard a dog baying in the distance, counted the dogs, and yep. Sassidy Sue had got out of the yard somehow. I couldn’t pinpoint her location. There was no walking in the field; the rows had succumbed to mature soybeans netting themselves everywhere. The bluffs beyond the old Wymore Line railroad track echo oddly…