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“You have to do what you can to save him. I’ll help.” She edged around to Dawg’s head. “I’ll hold him.” She gave Brand an unblinking look. “We can do this.”
He nodded. “He ain’t gonna like it much, and as Slim said, Dawg’s got a bad attitude toward most people.”
“He’ll be good for me, won’t you, Dawg?” She scooted closer, put the animal’s head between her knees. “Dawg, I’m here to help,” she murmured softly. “So is Brand, but then you know that. I expect it will hurt some.” She drew in a steadying breath. “But it’s only because we want to help.”
Dawg whined.
She cupped her hands over his head. “We’re ready.”
Dawg flinched as Brand pushed back the matted hair and dabbed away the blood. Then he threaded the needle and held it poised above the wound.
“He ain’t gonna like it.”
Sybil leaned over the animal. “Dawg, you can’t fight.”
“Don’t put your face so close. What if he bites?”
She jerked back, her eyes widening in shock.
“I’m just saying he’s a dog with an anger problem, and what I’m about to do is gonna hurt.” Brand’s jaw clenched and he began his task.
Dawg yelped. He snarled. He fought. He tried to free his head so he could stop Brand, but Sybil held him tight.
Brand pressed his knees to Dawg’s paws to immobilize them, and continued the job.
“It’s okay,” Sybil crooned over and over, not certain if the words were meant for Dawg, her or Brand.
Brand paused and wiped his forehead on his shirtsleeve. He threaded the needle again, clenched his jaw so tight the muscle corded and continued sewing.
Sybil’s arms began to ache from restraining the dog. Her vision blurred several times as she saw how much pain it caused the animal. She bit back a cry and had to turn away when she observed the agony on Brand’s face.
Finally he finished and put everything away before he fell back on his heels.
Sybil collapsed against the wall as Brand stroked Dawg’s head.
“I’m all done, old pal.” He raised weary eyes to her. “I just hope it’s good enough.”
“You did your best.”
“Thanks for your help.”
She nodded, her heart bursting with so many things she couldn’t even name them. Sorrow at the pain Dawg had endured. Admiration and pity at how Brand had done what was necessary. And a feeling that went deeper than any of that. A sense of having been part of something wonderful with a man who continued to earn her respect with his courage and determination.
The warning bells rang inside her head.
He’d won her admiration, even as he had earned her caution. He’d left once without a word. She knew he’d do it again, but she wouldn’t let him take her heart with him when he did.
He met and held her gaze. “You asked what was the hardest thing I ever did. I’d like to change my answer. This was.”
Dawg whimpered and they both sprang forward.
“Do you think he would take a drink?” she asked.
“Sure would be good if he did.”
“I’ll find something.” She got stiffly to her feet and went in search of a dish. She found a battered tin bowl on the workbench and stepped outside to dip it in the trough, then took it back to Dawg. As she sat again, she placed it at his muzzle, but he showed no interest.
“Guess he’s too exhausted at the moment.” She set the bowl where he could reach it.
“He’s a trooper.” Brand sounded weary. “So are you.”
She faced him, saw gratitude in his eyes.
His gentle smile curved his mouth and softened the skin around it. “You did real well.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You did the hard stuff.”
He turned his hand and caught hers. “We did it together.”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t break away from his touch nor end the look between them. It went on and on. Reaching deep corners, touching tender spots, awakening places she’d vowed to guard. She fought to regain control.
Booted footsteps sounded in the aisle and she jerked her hand free and relocked her heart.
Eddie leaned over the gate. “Heard your dog met with some kind of accident.”
