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It only worked halfway. Shadow’s ears twitched around to us.
Tom said, “She’s a ranch dog — a dude ranch dog, granted, but she wouldn’t be happy in town.”
“You have a ranch.”
Yeah, we’d agreed it wouldn’t work, but with the dogs lying together by the hearth...
I felt Tom’s grin, then sat up to see it. “We have a ranch. But I spend more time in town than would work for her. Wouldn’t feel right leaving her on her own at the ranch when I’m here.”
I dropped my head on his shoulder, acknowledging the validity of his position.
Then I popped back up.
“What?” he asked.
“I just remembered something Penny said.”
“Penny at the supermarket?”
“Is there any other?”
He appeared struck by the point. “Can’t think of one. Certainly not one comparable. What did she say?”
“Something about people I talked to when Deputy Redus went missing.”
****
I pulled into the open area of the Johnsons’ property — called a ranchette around here because the modest acreage was less than the size of a county back east.
I’d opted not to let Tom or any of the other volunteers come with me, to avoid putting undo pressure on the Johnsons.
I had not, however, come alone.
After following the protocol of beeping my horn to let humans and animals know of an arrival, I got out. No animal greeted me, but I was aware of movement inside the small, tidy house.
Suzie Q gave me a miffed look when I hooked the leash on her, but I ignored that. No way was I risking her running off and ruining this meeting.
“E.M. Danniher,” Roger Johnson Senior greeted me — far more friendly than the first time I’d come here. This time the bib overalls on his portly frame were topped with a jacket. It was, after all, spring in Wyoming.
“Please, call me Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth,” he conceded with a slight smile. The smile was mostly for Suzie Q at my side. “What can we do for you?”
His wife, Myrna, appeared at the door behind him. “We can start by inviting her in, Roger.”
That was a decided turnaround from my first visit, too, when she’d run me off. Politely, but unmistakably.
“Thank you. And is it okay for Suzie Q—?”
“Of course,” she said warmly, though I caught the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes as they led me to a comfortable room at the back. They gestured me to a loveseat, while they each occupied one of the chairs paired in front of the fireplace and with the best view of the TV.
I didn’t beat around the bush. “I know you lost your family dog recently. I’m very sorry to hear that.” A memory of that black and beige dog waiting for the son who never returned lumped my throat.
It might have shown. Myrna muttered a thanks. Roger Senior cleared his throat — not in preparation to speak.
“This is Suzie Q,” I said.
She lifted her head at her name and looked from me to each of them.
