Part 6
Grief lifts when Grandpa reveals he has entered Billy's hounds in the championship coon hunt.
Flowers on the graveRubin's death leaves Billy hollowed out. He cannot eat, cannot hunt, and cannot close his eyes without the memories of that night crowding in. His mother lets him do the one thing his heart asks: he gathers a bouquet of wildflowers, climbs the hillside alone, and lays them on Rubin's grave, a quiet gift to a boy who was never kind to him, and the first moment the weight begins to lift.
Grandpa's summonsSoon after, a neighbor boy brings a message that Grandpa wants Billy at the store. Billy goes with dread, certain his grandfather means to talk about the accident. Grandpa does ask for the story, all of it, start to finish, then looks his grandson in the eye and tells him to lay the blame down, admitting how sorry he is that he ever helped urge that bet along.
The entry feeThen the old man springs his surprise. A championship coon hunt is coming, the biggest gathering of hounds and hunters in the country, and Grandpa has quietly kept count of every hide the dogs have taken. The count is good enough: he has filed the paperwork and paid the entry fee, and the winner takes home a gold cup. Papa agrees to come along, and Billy's youngest sister claims the cup before it is won.
Two biscuitsAt the store the buckboard is loaded with tent, groceries, and Billy's freshly cleaned ax, and the three roll out. Around a roadside campfire Papa tells the story of the two biscuits: how Old Dan once carried both to the doghouse and called Little Ann out so each dog could have one. Then the road delivers them to a camp of hundreds of hunters, tents spread over an acre and a half.
| Section | What you will practice |
|---|---|
| Vocabulary | Grief, comfort, and the road to the big hunt: haunt, console, guilt, mourn, provisions, anticipation… |
| Literary Elements | Mood turning from dark to light, the campfire anecdote, and foreshadowing that points the whole story toward the championship |
| Cross-Curricular | The science of the dog–human bond — gesture reading, the oxytocin loop, and why two hounds share everything like a pack |
| Ch. | What happens |
|---|---|
| Chapter 14 | Flowers and a Gold Cup — Grief has Billy by the throat until his mother lets him lay wildflowers on Rubin’s grave. Then Grandpa calls him to the store, hears the whole story of that night, and tells him to lay the blame down — before revealing that he has counted the hides, filed the papers, and paid the fee: Billy’s hounds are entered in the championship coon hunt, and the winner takes home a gold cup. |
| Chapter 15 | The Road to the Big Hunt — The buckboard is loaded with tent, groceries, and the freshly cleaned ax, and Billy, Papa, and Grandpa set out. Around a roadside campfire, Papa tells the biscuit story that proves the hounds’ bond. The journey ends at an enormous camp of hunters and hounds, where strangers already know about the two little red hounds. |
ⓘ The vocabulary words in this list are selected to help you understand and complete this workbook. Some may not appear verbatim in the original novel.
- Grandpa hears the whole story and tells Billy not to blame himself.
- Grandpa reveals the hounds are entered in the championship hunt.
- Billy first sees the huge camp of hunters and tents.
- The buckboard is loaded with tent, groceries, and Billy’s ax.
- Billy lays a bouquet of wildflowers on Rubin’s grave.
The worst night of Billy’s life is over, but it will not let go of him. The house has gone quiet; the boy who lived for hunting cannot eat, cannot sleep, and cannot look at his hounds without his stomach turning over. Then a neighbor boy brings word: Grandpa wants to see him at the store. Billy dreads that walk more than any midnight river crossing, because he knows what his grandfather will want to talk about, and talking about it means living it again. But what waits behind the counter is not what he fears. It is an old man’s honest sorrow, the kindest advice in the book — and then, sliding toward him like a ticket to another world, a piece of news: a championship coon hunt, the finest hounds in the country, the paperwork already filed, and a gold cup for the winner. Part 6 walks out of a graveyard and onto a road — buckboard wheels turning, a tent in the back, two little red hounds trotting behind — and it is the turn from grief toward hope.
No animal has lived at our side longer than the dog. Wolves drifted toward human campfires at least fifteen thousand years ago, and the friendliest slowly became a new kind of creature. In a famous experiment, a researcher points at one of two containers, and a dog goes straight to the hidden food. Chimpanzees, our closest relatives, generally fail the test, while puppies with little human contact pass it easily. Scientists conclude that dogs are born ready to interpret human signals — the skill is inherited, not merely learned.
The bond is chemical as well as clever: a dog will nose at a crying stranger, as if trying to console someone it has never met. Oxytocin — a hormone released when parents hold an infant — also flows between species. In 2015, a Japanese research team reported that when dogs and owners gazed into each other's eyes, oxytocin rose in both, each feeding the other in a loop. It is the same loop that bonds a mother and her baby, and wolves raised lovingly by people show no trace of it. Across those years, evolution wrote the friendship into the bodies of dogs alone.
The partnership shows most clearly when dogs work: a hound shaking with anticipation as its handler lifts a lantern is already half into the hunt. Hunting dogs coordinate with a handler and with each other, and a well-matched pair divides the labor, one pushing ahead while the other circles and thinks. That teamwork descends from the wolf pack, where every member takes a role and an attack on one is an attack on all; a modern dog folds its humans in. So a dog's devotion is real emotion, and it is also ancient machinery — the oldest friendship on earth.
This writing task is optional and is not part of your auto-graded score. The feedback below checks only the basics — length, spelling, and grammar — not whether your ideas are right or wrong. It is meant for classroom discussion and creative practice, so feel free to use your imagination!
Writing Task — Part 6 “Flowers for a Rival”
Billy carries wildflowers to the grave of a boy who was never once kind to him — not because anyone asked, but because it is the only way he can find peace. Write about a time you made peace with someone who had been unkind to you, or honored someone you did not get along with — or imagine doing so. Describe what stood between you, what you did, and what it cost you to do it. 6–10 sentences. End with what changed inside you afterward.
No right or wrong — close the screen and tell someone nearby what happened in this part. Can’t find anyone? Tell yourself out loud. The moment you teach it, you truly understand it.
Part 6 Complete!
You finished Chapters 14–15 of Where the Red Fern Grows.
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Independent study guide by Garden Heights. Not affiliated with or endorsed by Wilson Rawls. Contains original analysis only; no text from the novel is reproduced. Reference text: This workbook follows Wilson Rawls’s classic text (the standard Puffin edition sold worldwide). Revised 2023 UK editions change some wording and may not match the vocabulary studied here.