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He registered almost immediately what they were, what they signified, and, shoving open the driver’s door, he burst out of it, yelling, “Arden, get back in the truck. Get in the truck!”
He’d telegraphed his panic, because she stopped in her tracks and looked toward him, but she was blinded by the headlights. She raised her hand to shield her eyes just as one of the dogs took a flying leap at him.
He jumped backward onto the hood and jerked his legs up in the nick of time. The dog hit the side panel with a loud thump and enough momentum to rock the vehicle.
Arden screamed.
“Go around, go around. Get in the truck!” Ledge crab-walked across the hood to the front of it, then jumped down. He grabbed Arden?
??s hand, yanking hard, placing her behind him as another of the animals charged. Ledge kicked at it.
“Get in!” He let go of her hand and pushed her toward the passenger side, hoping to God she would do as he said.
He clambered back up onto the hood. The dogs continued to attack, trying to launch themselves high enough to reach him. They were snarling, barking a cacophony. Slobber flew from their maws in globs. His boot heel caught one in the muzzle and sent it backward. It landed hard on the pavement, stunning it, but only momentarily. Then it was up and throwing itself against the pickup again and again, maddened, frenzied.
He glanced behind him to see that Arden had made it into the cab, but one of the animals had targeted her and was repeatedly launching itself at the passenger door, its wide jaws snapping.
The front door of Crystal’s house flew open. She and Marty came running down the steps. Crystal was screaming his name. He shouted for them to get back inside.
Then a blast of the truck’s horn stunned him, the dogs, Marty and Crystal into silence.
Its ear-shattering blare continued. Then, above it, Ledge heard a shrill whistle.
So did the dogs. As one unit, they took off, racing in the direction from which they’d come.
Ledge gave no thought to pursuing them, or to anything else except Arden. Without even pausing to catch his breath, he slid off the hood and rushed around to the passenger door, where the window was streaked and gummy with canine saliva. He yanked open the door.
She was leaning across the console, her back to him. He didn’t shout above the racket. Instead, he spoke quietly. “Arden, you can let up now. They’re gone.”
She turned and looked at him with a stunned gaze, but his words registered. She pulled her hand away from the horn activator on the steering wheel. The sudden, resultant silence was almost as deafening as the blare had been.
Her eyes still fixed on his, she sat upright in the passenger seat. He placed a hand on her knee. It was trembling. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“You weren’t hurt?”
“No.” Then, shaking her head, “No.” She looked him over. “You?”
“No, but I was losing. Good thinking with the horn. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Her teeth began to chatter.
Crystal came running up to them, panting. “Are you two okay?”
“We’re fine,” he said. “Shaken, but fine.”
“Good Lord, Ledge.” Crystal splayed her hand across her chest. “You could have been killed.”
“I think that was the idea.”
She looked at him with dismay.
Marty joined them just then. She’d had the presence of mind to tell neighbors who’d come out to see what the commotion was about that everything was under control. She’d also collected Arden’s purse, which she’d dropped when the dogs attacked. It had been trampled.
“Everything was spilled and scattered,” Marty told her. “I gathered up what I could see. Your billfold is intact.”
“Thank you.” Arden took her purse but seemed indifferent to its battered condition and at a loss as to what to do with it.
