“Mangy son of a bitch!” the man roars. “You ruined my hat!” His boot makes contact again, and when the dog whimpers, a matching, muffled cry of despair comes from Mara.
“Please, Warren,” she breathes, unable to take her eyes from across the street. “Please. It’s just a defenseless animal that hasn’t done anything to deserve being treated like that. We have todosomething. Please.Please.”
“I will. I promise. Now go on inside and wait for me, okay?”
She nods reluctantly, but I wait until she’s tucked awaybehind the door before I leave. My steps are muffled, thanks to the festival and saloon unknowingly assisting me. He doesn’t even hear me approaching, whether because he’s too busy bellowing obscenities at the dog that I can now see is tied to a post with a short rope or because his senses are dulled from too much whiskey. Without a word, I whirl him around, and one swift uppercut to his filthy chin drops him to the ground.
Ignoring the sting in my knuckles, I empty out his gun before sitting on my haunches beside the dog. Just to its right is a hat with a pile of shit on it. Sure didn’t have much chance of dodging any punishment from its owner with how tightly it’s secured to the post. “Well hey there, buddy. Did you make a mess on that hat? I can’t say I blame you one bit. He probably wasn’t a very nice owner, was he?”
Two big ole amber eyes stare up at me, and even scared to death, the dog’s tail tentatively thumps the dirt. The poor thing’s scrawny as all get out and has the worst case of mange I’ve ever seen. But its ears flop over in a way that makes it look like just a pup. And in those eyes…there’s a spark of life. An undeniable will to live.
Damn it. Any thoughts of freeing it and letting it run off to somehow survive in a winter that’s only just begun are out. I curl my fingers beneath its black snout for a sniff. “If I take you home, you’re gonna be good and not bite or growl at my wife and baby girl, you hear me? I want to help you, but if you do anything like that, you’re not gonna be able to live with us.”
A warm tongue darts out for a quick lick, and the dog inches closer, belly never leaving the ground. “I suppose that’ll have to be answer enough for now.” I untangle the rope tied too tightly about its neck and slap my thigh. “Come on, buddy. You want to see if you can be part of ourfamily? Let’s get you out of here so we can take care of you.” The dog struggles to all fours, its next steps unsteady.
“Aw, shit. You’re limping. Did he do that to you?” As if the dog understood me, he whimpers again and his hind legs almost buckle beneath its weight. Poor thing. “Damn it. I’m gonna pick you up, all right? Keep those teeth together and you and me’ll get along just fine, okay?”
I pick it up nice and easylike.It. I didn’t think to see if it’s male or female. Doesn’t matter right now, though, because now I can feel just how bad off it is. Weighs next to nothing despite its size, and my fingers count just about every one of its ribs pressed up beneath the skin.
What kind of sick son of a bitch mistreats an animal like this? I toe the hat full of dog shit over until it’s on top of the man’s face, then press it down. He snorts but doesn’t come to, so I grind it down even harder. “Choke on it, you bastard.”
Mara hurries out with Emmaline when I get closer. “Are you okay? Is the dog coming home with us?”
“I’m all right. And yes, for now.” I nod towards the wagon. “Let’s go.”
Even though I warned her to be careful, Mara fusses over the animal all the way home. She even goes so far as to cover it with her white wrap to keep it warm at her feet, not even caring that the mud and filth might stain the material into ruin. When we reach our house, I help her down, hands lingering at her waist. “You go on inside. I’ll be in after I get the horses put up.”
She frowns. “Why not bring the dog in first so it can be warm?” Then her face falls. “Unless…unless you don’t mean for it to stay in the house?”
“The barn’ll be more than warm enough with all the straw,” I explain gently. “Besides, it’s dirty and needs a bath.”
“It’s cold tonight. It might even snow.” She looks to the barn and back at the dog. “You once said that your dogs would sleep on the floor in the house if it was cold enough. Do you remember?”
“I…” Damn it. I do. That’s what I’d told her when I found her sleeping on the floor instead of in our bed. The dog does look beyond a bit of pitiful, and my heart can’t take seeing my wife unhappy. “You’ve got a sharp memory, don’t you?” My lips twist wryly. “I guess it can sleep by the fireplace for tonight. You go on and get Emmaline to bed, then I’ll be in after I finish with the horses and we’ll make sure the dog gets all settled in.”
Her smile breaks free, blooming to a brilliance that rivals the silky moonlight caressing her face. “But you’ll bring it in first, right?” The dog’s tail cautiously thumps as if it knows what we’re talking about.
“All right, wife.” Again, I relent. I wonder if Mara knows I would do just about anything to keep happiness on those beautiful lips of hers. “But don’t touch it until I get back. Can’t be sure how friendly it is yet, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” If it didn’t snap at me when I picked it up or at Mara on the cold way home, I think it’s unlikely to do so in a warm, comfortable place, but I’m not willing to chance anything further.
So I do everything I say I would. But when I enter the house afterwards, I stop and groan at the sight before me. “Mara Shay, why is the dog’s head in your lap? I thought we decided you weren’t going to touch it until I was with you.”
“I didn’t touch him,” she says defensively from her place on the floor beside the Christmas tree we decorated together. “He crawled up and put it there all by himself.” This she says even as her hand strokes his head.
My boot stops mid-step. Wait a goddamn second.Him. “And just how do you know it’s a him?”
“Because he told me.” She rolls her eyes. Feisty little wife. But then she gives me a straight answer. “Because he kept turning around in the blankets to find the best spot and I could see between his legs.”
“Hmm.” Not only does the dog rest cozily in a pile of blankets before the banked fire—along with his chin firmly settled on my wife’s lap—but there’s also a bowl of water beside him. And next to the bowl, an empty plate with crumbs that look a lot like leftovers from today’s early supper. Leftovers I planned to feed Mara before we turned in for the night.
I force down a sigh. Looks like my wife hides the tenderest of hearts beneath that prickly exterior. I’d long suspected, of course. I just didn’t realize how much. “My, my. You’ve been busy, haven’t you? I didn’t think I’d be gone long enough for you to feed him.”
She caresses the dog’s dirty ears but watches from the corner of her eye as I lower to the floor beside her. “I want to keep him.”
I offer up my hand for another sniff, and when I receive another lick from a pink tongue, I ease my fingers over his patchy body, lightly prodding for any injuries. His body tightens when I find a sore spot, but all he does is lick Mara’s fingers in response. I haven’t heard him bark or growl once, not even from pain. There’s only one answer to give her. “I guess you’d better pick a name, then.”
Mara’s head jerks up. “Really?”
Oh, wife of mine. It hurts to hear the disbelief in her voice. “You’ll find that with the exception of anything that would hurt you or Emmaline or take you away from me,there’s nothing I wouldn’t give or do if it meant your happiness.”
