Please Don't Feed the Mayor

by Sue Pethick

  “I don’t see how it could. The campaign hasn’t even started.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I just wish I knew why.”

  Melanie grabbed the folder and flipped it back open. Where was she going to find the time to do all this stuff? Kayla only worked part-time, and that was during the busiest part of the day when the shop really needed two people at the counter. Melanie might be able to get someone in temporarily, but that would take money she didn’t have and she was already teetering on a thin financial edge. The plan she’d been expecting to save her town might just ruin her.

  “What if I do all this and it still doesn’t work?”

  “You mean, what if Fossett goes down the drain? Sorry,” he said. “That was in poor taste.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She took a deep breath. “Better to laugh than cry, right?”

  Melanie closed her eyes feeling weary to her bones. She’d been fighting to save her town for almost four years and things never seemed to get any better. At what point would it be enough?

  “You look tired,” he said.

  “I am tired.” She lifted her hand to cover a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”

  “I’d better go, then.” Bryce stood up. “There’s a lot of work to do in a very short time. You won’t be able to do it if you’re exhausted.”

  Suddenly, the thought of being alone unnerved her and Melanie found herself close to tears. Even if she could get volunteers to help, even if Kayla agreed to work extra hours, she’d still have to make all the decisions herself. What if she made a mistake? What if she blew it and Rod Blakely did become the mayor? Fossett would be worse off than if she’d never done anything.

  “Bryce, could you still be Shep’s campaign manager, at least for a couple of days? You know, till I get the hang of it. I just don’t think I can do all of this stuff alone.”

  “Sure, if you want me to.”

  Melanie almost sobbed in relief.

  “Thank you.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “You’re an angel of mercy.”

  “Yep, that’s me,” he said, snapping his briefcase shut. “I’ll order the ballots and file whatever paperwork is needed online. Do you think you can get someone to cover for you at work tomorrow?”

  “Probably. Why?”

  “We’ll need to start canvassing as soon as possible.”

  She thought about that.

  “Kayla will be there in the morning. I should be able to get someone to cover for me in the afternoon.”

  “Good,” he said. “Now go to bed before you fall asleep on the couch.”

  Melanie giggled.

  “You always hated when I did that.”

  “Yes, and I still would.”

  She walked him to the door.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “No problem.” Bryce put on his coat. “I’ll come by the shop in the morning and we’ll start making the rounds. Once you see how canvassing is done, I think you’ll feel more confident about the rest.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Mel?” He turned to face her. “I’m proud of you for trying to pull this off. I hope it works.”

  Melanie felt her chin dimple.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Now get some rest.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Bryce lay in bed the next morning, watching the shadows move slowly across his hotel room. The alarm had gone off half an hour ago, but he couldn’t quite make himself get up. The time he’d spent at Melanie’s the night before had both pleased and puzzled him. There’d been a few false starts, of course, and the Mr. Stuffy episode was awkward, but after that it was just like old times, the two of them teasing and flirting—she’d even kissed him. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Melanie had changed her mind about getting back together. Now the question was, after everything that had happened, could they still make it work?

  For the first few weeks after their divorce, Bryce had been stunned, unable to reconcile his new life with the one he’d been living only a few months before. Even now, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things between them had gone off the rails. Their courtship was no more fraught than their friends’, their arguments no more heated or destructive. Melanie talked about moving back to Fossett “someday,” but there was never any time frame mentioned, and with law school to finish and bar exams looming, Bryce couldn’t afford to worry about something that might never happen. Any inkling he might have had that a crisis was looming was put aside for the sake of expediency.

  Then Melanie finished school and got a job she said she loved. The fact that it wasn’t in her hometown seemed to be irrelevant, and Bryce thought the matter was settled. So it was a shock when he passed the bar and Melanie refused to stay in Portland. In spite of the lack of opportunities for him in Fossett, she dug in her heels, accusing him of lying to her about his willingness to relocate. After that, things unraveled quickly. When Bryce told her he’d accepted a job in the DA’s office, it was the last straw.

  That was one thing about Melanie that hadn’t changed. Once she’d made up her mind about something, she refused to budge. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and her persistence in the face of misfortune was one of the things he admired about her, but trying to make her dog the mayor was pretty clearly a last-ditch effort. Even if Shep did become the mayor, there was no way that tourism alone was going to pull the town out of its tailspin. It did, however, leave the door open for him to try to persuade her to do the right thing. Once she saw how much work a campaign involved, Bryce was sure she’d shelve the whole “mayor Shep” thing and see that the best thing for her to do was to come back to Portland. There, she could find a better job, move into his condo, and the two of them could start over.

  Bryce rolled out of bed and got dressed. No doubt, there’d be adjustments to make. They’d both been on their own for a few years and it would take a while to learn to live together again. The only real problem he could foresee was Shep. Melanie had spoiled the dog rotten, and if he was going to live in the condo they’d have to get him under control. Fortunately, Bryce had experience raising dogs. They were pack animals, quick to fall in line behind the alpha. Once Bryce showed him who was boss, the rest would be smooth sailing.

  * * *

  The line was nearly out the door by the time he arrived at Ground Central. When Bryce walked in, Melanie was behind the counter pulling an espresso and Kayla was fetching pastries out of the display case. Shep, who’d been greeting customers, took one look at him and went back to his dog bed.

  “Shep! Come back and say hello to Bryce.”

  “No, it’s okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  He stepped aside as another person got in line.

  “Doesn’t look like you’ll be free to go canvassing anytime soon.”

  She shook her head.

  “Not until this surge dies down, anyway.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  Melanie wiped her hands on her apron and tested the steamer.

  “Actually, if you could take Shep out for some exercise, that’d be great. He didn’t get a chance to run his obstacle course this morning and I don’t want him getting antsy while we’re trying to talk to people.”

  Bryce smiled. Working with Shep one-on-one would be the perfect way to get their relationship sorted out.

  “Great idea,” he said. “Any place in particular I should take him?”

  “There’s a trail about five miles east of here that Shep loves. It goes through a meadow and then down along the river. That should wear him out.”

  “Sounds good. Just tell me where his lead is and we’ll leave you to it.”

  “Oh, you won’t need one; Shep’s a good heeler.” She finished the latte and set it on the counter. “With any luck, I’ll be ready to go by the time you two get back.”

  Taking the collie out without a lead didn’t sound like a good idea to Bryce, but he’d already agreed and standing there arguing with
her would pretty much negate his offer of help.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’ll see you later.”

  * * *

  Shep sat quietly in the back seat of the BMW, staring out the window as they drove to the trailhead. The collie had gotten into the car and settled down without incident, but Bryce still worried that he’d take off once the car door was opened. If last night was any indication, there wasn’t much chance that Shep would come back if Bryce ordered him to, and Melanie would never forgive him if he lost her dog. Then again, she knew Shep better than Bryce did, and if he was the good heeler Melanie said he was, it shouldn’t be a problem. If he wasn’t, well, there were other ways to show a dog who was in charge.

  The turnoff for the departure point was up ahead. As the car pulled into a parking spot, Shep seemed almost indifferent, his growling defiance of the night before replaced by a sullen acceptance of his fate. When Bryce opened his door, the collie slunk out of the car like a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

  “Oh, come on,” Bryce said. “It’s not that bad.”

  There was a trail map by the parking lot; Bryce took a picture of it before starting out. It had been a long time since he’d hiked around there and the surrounding area was densely forested. He wanted to make sure he could find his way back if they got turned around. In spite of the grey skies, though, there’d been no rain that morning and the trail looked firm and dry. After a brief warm-up, the two of them headed out.

  They started off at a sedate walk, Shep’s displeasure showing in his limp tail and sagging shoulders. Bryce, however, refused to try to coax the border collie into a livelier mood the way Melanie probably would have. The dog would warm up to him in his own time, Bryce thought. In the meantime, Shep needed to follow his lead, not the other way around. He’d never known a dog who didn’t enjoy a walk in the fresh air, and at their present pace there wasn’t much chance that the collie would give him the slip.

  At least Bryce could enjoy the scenery. Benton County in the fall was a beautiful place, the last reds and golds of the maple trees giving way to the deep blue-green of the Douglas fir. The area around the trailhead had reverted to meadowland after repeated clear-cuts, and horned larks and red-winged blackbirds were singing their last songs of the season. As he and Shep continued their amble, memories of Bryce’s visits to the area came back to him.

  Up ahead, there was a wooded area where the trail descended, following a branch of the Luckiamute River. From there, it was just a little farther upstream that he and Melanie had gone kayaking for the first time. Her parents had taught her how to navigate the river at a young age and he’d been impressed by the ease with which she skirted the hidden hazards, her paddle barely riffling the water as it propelled her forward. Lying by her side as they dried out on the riverbank afterward, Bryce knew he’d met the woman he wanted to marry.

  He and Shep were almost halfway across the meadow and the collie was starting to perk up. As their pace quickened, the sun came out from behind the clouds. It seemed like a good omen. Maybe, Bryce thought, the dog was finally warming up to him.

  They were approaching the forest and Bryce could hear water rushing up ahead. As the grasses gave way to shrubs and saplings, the collie’s speed continued to increase. What had begun as a listless stroll had gradually become a brisk walk and then an easy lope. Was Shep trying to make a break for it, or was this some sort of contest, a way to show Bryce who the alpha dog was?

  If that was the intention, he thought, then Shep was in for a rude awakening. Since his law school days, Bryce had offset his long hours at a desk by running, competing in 5Ks and the annual Hood to Coast run—even a border collie would find it hard to outrun him. As their pace kicked up another notch, the two of them remained neck and neck. Bryce grinned.

  Bring it on, buddy.

  By the time they entered the forest, there was no longer any question about Shep’s intentions. Panting hard, the dog kept glancing over at Bryce as if wondering when he would drop back. Instead, Bryce upped the ante, nearly passing the collie before the trail became too narrow for the two of them to continue side by side.

  Suddenly, the broad, gently sloping trail they’d started out on became a treacherous footpath that rose and fell as it wove through the trees. Sweat dripped into Bryce’s eyes, and when a low branch almost knocked him down he was grateful that Melanie had advised him to take her dog out without a lead. At that speed, on that trail, being tethered to an animal would have been suicide.

  The increasingly hazardous path was forcing him to slow down, but Shep had also slackened his pace. Freed from the worry that the dog would get away, Bryce could catch his second wind, and as they continued their descent toward the river he settled into the rhythm of the run. Scenery passed in a blur as the wind whipped through his hair, but in spite of the uneven ground, low branches, and an occasional fallen log, his feet always landed securely. Even Shep seemed to be losing himself in exhilaration. It felt as if the whole dynamic between the two of them was about to change.

  There was a blind corner up ahead where the trail rounded a trio of close-packed firs. As Shep disappeared around the first tree, Bryce heard a yelp and the sound of something scrabbling in the undergrowth. He rushed forward and saw the dog tumbling toward the riverbank.

  “Oh, my god. Hold on, Shep!”

  He swerved off the trail and executed a controlled slide down the same route the hapless collie had taken. Shep was lying at the bottom of the embankment, breathing hard and struggling to stand. Bryce bent down and stroked the dog’s head, trying to reassure him as he gently probed for any sign of an injury. It didn’t seem that anything was broken.

  “That was a close one,” he said.

  As Shep got up, Bryce recoiled. The fur on the dog’s side was saturated with a mixture of mud and decayed vegetation that was stomach turning. At least he was okay, Bryce told himself, trying not to think about what the stuff would do to his car. Maybe there was something in the trunk that he could use to cover the seat.

  “Come on, boy,” he said, trying not to breathe through his nose. “Let’s get you back to Mama.”

  But as Shep took a step, he yelped again and stumbled.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Bryce shook his head, feeling foolish. Of course the dog couldn’t tell him what the problem was. Why even ask?

  He sat back on his haunches, considering the possibilities. There was no blood on the collie’s legs or paws, but the muck on his side made it impossible to tell if there was any on his side. Clearly, there was something wrong. Could it be a sprain? A dislocation? It might be as simple as a muscle cramp or as serious as a break—Bryce had no way of knowing. The important thing was to get Shep to someone who could help. He took out his cell phone and groaned: no signal.

  They must be in a dead zone. Bryce wished he’d noticed when he took that picture. He glanced back up along the trail. How far were they from the top? A hundred yards, maybe two? They hadn’t been in the forest that long, but the two of them had been running pretty hard. He looked down at the soggy, smelly dog and wondered which was worse: having to carry a forty-pound animal that far or trying not to gag while he did it? Bryce took a stick and tried to wipe away the worst of the slimy, sticky muck, but it was no use. Spreading it around was only increasing the stench.

  Oh, well. Might as well get it over with.

  “Come on,” he said, scooping Shep into his arms. “Let’s go.”

  Carrying an injured animal is not as easy as carrying a human being—even when it weighs less than half as much. A person can hold on, helping to lighten the load, and someone who’s unconscious can be carried over the shoulder. An animal, though, is nothing but deadweight, and by the time Bryce got Shep to the top of the ravine his biceps were on fire.

  “Here you go,” he said, setting the collie down. “Let’s see if you can walk now.”

  Shep struggled forward a few steps and collapsed in a heap, whimpering.

  “That’s okay,�
� Bryce said, trying to catch his breath. “Just stay there while I call for help.”

  He took out his phone and walked several yards in every direction, checking for a signal—still nothing. Bryce sighed as he put the phone back in his pocket. He’d just have to carry the dog the rest of the way.

  The level ground made the going easier, but Shep’s injury had apparently become more uncomfortable and Bryce had to stop and readjust his hold several times when the dog began to whimper and squirm. By the time they got back to the car, Bryce was exhausted and his shirt was soaked through with the filth from Shep’s coat. As he opened the car door and set the dog inside, Bryce tried not to think about what all that crap was doing to the BMW’s interior. He stripped off his shirt and threw it in the trunk.

  “All right,” he said as he shut the door. “Let’s get you home.”

  * * *

  Melanie was standing outside the coffee shop when they arrived. Bryce had finally gotten a signal on his phone, and she’d promised to alert the vet. The smell was so bad that Bryce had to drive with the windows down, and even with the heater on full blast, his teeth were beginning to chatter. She peered inside.

  “What’s that smell?” She gasped and stepped away. “Oh, my god. Look at your car!”

  “It’s all right,” he said as he rolled up the windows. “I set him on a couple of reusable grocery bags I had in the trunk. The worst of it is pretty much confined to the place where he’s been lying.”

  “Poor Shep,” she said, opening the back door. “Did you get an owie?”

  Hearing her voice, Shep struggled to his feet and began shaking himself off. As stinking muck flew everywhere, Bryce covered his head and threw himself out of the car. Melanie stood on the sidewalk, screaming.

  “No no! Stop, Shep, stop! Oh, Bryce, I’m so sorry.”

  Bryce stood on wobbly legs and leaned against his car. The interior was peppered with gobs of filth, the windows nearly opaque. He’d have to find an auto detailer. No way was he driving it anywhere like it was. Nevertheless, he told himself, if it meant that he and Shep had formed a bond, then perhaps it was worth it.