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Christian tapped his bottle to Jackson’s. “I appreciate you helping me, man. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They chatted about Christian’s plans for the week and how Jackson could help when he wasn’t hunting down other funding to get back to archaeology. Nicole presented them with chili that didn’t seem likely to kill any of them. After filling his stomach and downing another beer, Jackson deemed it time to go, though an invitation for him to hang around was issued.
“We could watch one of those history shows you like,” Christian offered.
“And listen to you call every historian or archaeologist on the show Doctor Nerdigan?” Jackson held up his hands. “I’m all set, dude.” He hugged Nicole. “Dinner was great. Thanks.”
“Anytime, but you do need to let me make you a cocktail sometime so I can show off.”
“And so you can keep up your skills,” Christian added. “Now that my woman’s enrolled in classes to become a counselor, she doesn’t have as much time to mix drinks.”
“I’m sure when exam time rolls around, I’ll make plenty of drinks.” Nicole presented a plastic container to Jackson. “Some chili for you.”
“Thanks.” He took the container. “See you guys later.”
With a full belly, he hopped into his rented Wrangler and headed for Pine River Cottages about ten minutes away where he’d secured a place while he was trapped in Vermont. A light rain had begun to fall and he quickly realized the windshield wipers needed replacing. Luckily it was a short drive, but he put buy new wipers at the top of his to-do list for tomorrow because those smudgy streaks along the window were going to drive him insane.
He splashed along in muddy puddles on the dirt roads, waiting for the appearance of the stone gates of Pine River Cottages. A hot shower called his name. Although the day had been all sticky July, the night had turned cooler with the rainfall. Or maybe the chill had come with leaving the coziness of his brother’s kitchen. The cottage he’d rented was nice, but it wasn’t a home.
Still, it was a significant upgrade to some of the places he’d slept, including the bed of a dump truck on a dig site in Sweden, the mossy ground of a forest in South America, and a hammock made from dried woven reeds in New Zealand. None of those had been comfortable and yet, they’d suited and exhilarated him. Pushing a key into a doorknob lacked the excitement he required, but he’d be doing that exact thing in only a few minutes.
With a plastic container of chili under his arm no less. Ugh.
The gates came into view as the rain fell with more purpose, pelting off the windshield and giving those tired wipers a workout they might not survive. Jackson squinted in the darkness, trying to see between the streaks on the glass, when suddenly a shadowy mass jerked wildly on the road in front of him. Something reddish-brown flashed in the beam of his headlights and he slammed on the brakes. The Wrangler skidded a little in the mud, but the vehicle came to a stop a few feet from whatever was out there.
Jackson lowered his window and stuck his head out. A whimpering bark immediately met his ears as rain hit him in the face.
“Shit.”
He opened the driver side door and sloshed his work boots into the mud. Almost slipping twice, Jackson made his way toward what he now realized was a mid-sized dog. Something appeared to be caught on its back legs, upsetting the critter so it bucked like a rodeo bull.
“Easy there, pup.” He kept his voice low and calm, squinting against the rain. “Let’s see what’s got you.”
Jackson approached the canine slowly, not wanting to further distress it. The dog’s yellow-green eyes nearly glowed in the headlights, giving the creature a supernatural look. When he was a boy, Jackson had always fantasized about finding evidence of the paranormal on an archaeological dig, but to date, everything he’d unearthed had been of human design. Of course believing in werewolves and such was merely childhood whimsy, although this dog did look possessed at the moment.
Wiping rain from his face, Jackson circled the dog and found some thin steel cable wrapped around its back paws.
“How did you get tangled up with that, pooch?”
The dog let out a warning bark that morphed into a pained cry.
“Okay, okay. I’m going to help you. Give me a minute.” He jogged back to his vehicle and rummaged around in the few tools he had in there. Of course nothing of any use for this situation. On a dig site, he had access to any number of different tools. But he wasn’t on a dig site. Nope. He was on a muddy road in the dark woods of Vermont.
He turned back to the dog, wincing over its struggle. “I guess you’re coming with me, pup.”
The dog let out a low growl as Jackson attempted to get close.
“I know, buddy. This sucks, but I’m trying to help you.” He slicked his hair back and shivered in his totally soaked T-shirt. “You’re not going to bite me now, are you?” He shuffled a little closer, his gaze fixed on the dog’s mouth. Teeth weren’t showing, but that could change in the blink of an eye and it wasn’t as if he were dealing with a tiny dog. If biting did occur, it wasn’t going to be pretty for Jackson.
He jogged back to his Wrangler and grabbed a flannel shirt he had in there from the other night. Creeping up behind the dog, Jackson draped the shirt over its head then quickly gathered the dog in his arms. It had to weigh about sixty pounds, but what made carrying it cumbersome was the fact that it was slippery from being wet, angry from being hurt, and scared from being handled by a total stranger.
“Shh... it’s going to be okay, pal.”
The dog bucked once in Jackson’s hold, a yelp sounding when it moved its bound legs, then it went slack.
“Shit. Don’t you dare die, pup. Don’t you dare.” He hadn’t had a pet in ages, but Jackson had always been a fan of animals. Witnessing this dog’s passing would completely ruin his night.
