Four-Footed Angels

by J. T. Livingston

  “You can change it if you like, but I named him Licker,” Amanda offered. She smiled broadly when Licker bypassed B.B. and jumped immediately into Jean Foster’s arms.

  Everyone’s attention was focused on the latest rescue, so they did not notice when Spartacus moved slowly toward the open door of Tyler’s truck and jumped into the front seat.

  “Interesting name,” Jean laughed, as she snuggled against the pup’s neck. She looked at Tyler and her expression turned serious. “Your Dad told me…about…what happened with this little fella.”

  Tyler grabbed the back of his neck with both hands. “If I told anyone else about what I saw, they would probably lock me up for observation, but…the three of you…all seem to take it in stride…like it happens every day. I’m still in shock…still trying to sort out…”

  B.B. touched his son’s shoulder and said, “Some things are beyond our explanation, son. Some things are just meant to be…believed.”

  “Amen to that!” Amanda chirped in. “Who are we to question God’s will…?”

  Jean looked back and forth between Amanda and her son. She smiled a mother’s smile and cocked her head sideways to catch her husband’s eye. “Yes, indeed…who are we to question God’s will?” She smiled again.

  B.B. Foster shook his head and whispered into his son’s ear. “You don’t stand a chance, my boy…”

  Spartacus sat inside the truck and watched while the happy scene unfolded before him. He was glad that Licker would have a happy-tails ending. He wasn’t so sure about his own, but he knew what he had to do. He had to return to the Abbott ranch; he had to fight one last fight…

  19. Little John Interrogates

  The lunch crowd had thinned, and Bertie poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down on a corner stool beside Amos Brown.

  Amos had never seen the naughty angel so quiet…for so long. She had not spoken a single word in more than five minutes. “Seems like you may be worried ‘bout something, Miss Bertie.”

  Bertie didn’t hear him; she really was wrapped up in her own thoughts. She sipped at the rich, black coffee and closed her eyes in silent prayer. She had been having concerning thoughts about Amanda for several hours now, ever since the young woman had left with Tyler Foster to drop off the rescued pup.

  “Miss Bertie?” Amos cleared his throat and placed his huge, black hand across her shoulders. “Is you okay, Miss Bertie? You looks like someone just walked across your grave…”

  “What…” Bertie turned to look at the old man sitting next to her. Amos was almost a permanent fixture at the café and she sometimes forgot that he wasn’t one of them. She shook the cobwebs from her thoughts and punched him against the shoulder. “Don’t you worry none about me, Amos Brown. Anyone dares walk across my grave, I’ll just give them a good punch!” She punched him again for good measure.

  Amos grinned, showing the three remaining upper teeth in his mouth. He rubbed his shoulder and said, “Yes, ma’am, I bet you would.” He smiled again before continuing, “It’s just that I ain’t use to seeing you so quiet and all. I figured if there was something you needed to talk about, then, I’d be mighty glad to listen to your troubles.”

  Bertie watched him for a moment and thought about what a genuinely good person Amos Brown was, just as his father and brother had been before him. He came from good stock. “Don’t you know by now, Amos, that angels don’t have any troubles?”

  Amos looked confused. “Is that right, Miss Bertie? You mean, none…none at all?”

  “Well,” Bertie laughed. “None of our own, I should say. We worry about all of the living souls here on earth…worry about their troubles and how we can best help them, but, no…once you die and go to Heaven, you truly never have anything to worry about ever again.”

  “That’s a pretty wonderful thought,” Amos sighed. “I have to say…I look forward to that day.”

  “Why, Amos!” Bertie punched him again. “What kind of troubles do you have? Just lay them on me and we’ll take care of every one of them before you leave here today.”

  Amos grinned and rubbed his shoulder. “You punch pretty good for a little thing, Miss Bertie.”

  “I’ve had years of practice,” Bertie laughed. “So…what worries you, my friend?”

  Amos picked up his coffee cup and took a long sip before he answered. It did not escape him that Bertie had managed to turn the topic of conversation back on him. “Well…Miss Bertie…the older I get…and the closer I get to meeting my Maker…I finds myself worrying that I may not be good enough to spend eternity with Him. I mean…all my life, I tried to help folks and to be a good friend and neighbor, but…well…I done some things in my past that I ain’t too proud of…when I was younger…”

  Bertie covered the old man’s trembling hand with her own. “How old were you, Amos, when you accepted Christ?”

  “How old?” Amos scratched his head. “Well, Andrew and me…we were brought up by God-fearin’ parents, but you probably already knows that. I mean, we went to church every Sunday and we was both baptized when we was about seven or eight, but…well, that didn’t mean much to us at the time. I left home when I was seventeen…didn’t contact anyone in my family for almost ten years. I think the young folks today would call it rebellion.” He looked over at Bertie and shook his head. “I did a lot of things in those ten years that I’m not proud of, and I ain’t going to tell you what those things were, but…well, I finally came back home when Mama was dying. I’m so glad I got to see her before she passed. She whispered something to me the night she died.”

  Bertie already knew what his mother had whispered to him that night, but she wanted to hear Amos say it. “What did she say, Amos?”

  A single tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it away with the back of his weathered hand. He looked over at Bertie and shook his head. “She told me that she loved me, and that God loved me, no matter what I had done those past ten years…and, she told me that He was waiting for me to let Him in again.”

  “Is that right?” Bertie smiled.

  “Yes, ma’am…Mama died in her sleep that night. Two weeks later I walked into her church and turned my life over to God…again. I know He forgave me, but, it was harder for me to forgive myself. I guess I still have a little doubt as to whether or not I’m really good enough to spend eternity in His presence.”

  Max had been listening to their conversation and came out to stand behind the counter.

  Amos looked up at him and nodded. “I’m guessing you heard that conversation, Mr. Max?”

  Max nodded. “I heard, Amos.” He reached across the counter and took Amos’ hands into his own.

  Amos shivered at the immediate warming sensation that coursed through his hands, up his arms, and across his chest. He inhaled sharply until the warming sensation turned into a tingling, peaceful vibration that soared through his entire body.

  “Trust me, Amos…you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Your mama was right. God loves you no matter what you did yesterday, what you did today, or what you may do tomorrow. He loves you, unconditionally, and wants you to feel that love every day of your life. You must learn to turn all your worries and fears over to Him, and not to keep them buried inside your soul.”

  Amos closed his eyes. “But all those things I did…all those people I used…all the pain and worry I caused my mama and papa, and Andrew…”

  “All of that is truly forgiven, Amos…” Max released his grip.

  Amos sighed again and opened his eyes. His spirit felt lighter and more secure. He nodded and smiled. “It really is, isn’t it…thank you, Jesus!”

  _____

  Ross Taylor’s spirit was definitely not as light and secure as Amos Brown’s. His bruised and battered body still lay crumbled in a corner of the darkened cabin. His lungs burned with every shattered breath he attempted to take. He didn’t know what time it was, what day it was, or how long they had been in the cabin. “Tim…” he croaked. “Tim…?”

  A chair
pushed backward from across the room.

  Tim lifted his own head when a cigarette lighter flickered on and illuminated the face of the massive man that stood before them. He immediately recognized Little John Abbott. He tried to swallow but couldn’t produce enough spit to do so. Instead, he coughed loudly and croaked, “Are you okay, Ross?”

  Little John lit a blunt and inhaled deeply. He walked a couple of feet forward and lit the kerosene lantern that hung on a huge nail on one of the room’s exposed beams. “You’re both awake…that’s good. What do you say we have ourselves a little talk?”

  The sudden light hurt their eyes and both Tim and Ross squeezed their eyes tightly shut to block it out. Tim was the first to ease open his good eye. He didn’t want Little John to know that he knew who he was. “Who are you?” he choked out the question. “Why are we here?”

  Little John took another long drag on the blunt before walking over to where Tim lay on his side. He removed a short machete from a side holster and squatted down. “Oh, I think you already know who I am…”

  Ross opened his eyes, saw the machete, and managed to scream out. “Don’t you hurt him!”

  Little John shot a cold, irritated look in Ross’ direction. He looked down at the man called Tim and expected to see fear etched upon his face; that did not happen. Little John was impressed with the calm expression the man before him maintained. The man did not even flinch when Little John whipped the machete around and expertly cut the ropes that bound his hands to his ankles. “Sit up…” Little John walked back across the room and dragged the chair over to where Tim was trying to get the circulation to return to his hands and feet.

  His hands and feet were still tied, but the rope no longer connected them, so Tim was able to sit up and roll his shoulders and neck. He stretched his legs out before him and was relieved to see them both still attached to his body. It had been several hours since he had been able to see or feel them, so he hadn’t been sure. He looked Little John squarely in the eye and said, “There’s been some mistake…I don’t know who you think we are, but…”

  Little John took a long toke off the blunt and continued to stare into Tim’s good eye. “Doesn’t really matter who you are, does it? You were trespassing on my property. Folks around here don’t take kindly to that. As you can see…we take the law into our own hands when that happens. I heard him call you Tim…got a last name?”

  Tim did not hesitate in his reply. “Smith…Tim and Ross Smith. We’re cousins…we heard there was going to be a good dog fight and we just wanted to get an up-close, personal look at the dogs before we placed our bets. That’s all…I’m sorry we trespassed…”

  Ross lifted his head and added, “Just let us go…we’re really sorry…we didn’t mean any harm…”

  Little John looked at the man called Ross, who still lay on his side. “Smith, huh? Cousins, you say?”

  Tim nodded. “Yeah…second cousins, actually…” He never expected the kick to his face, so it caught him completely off guard.

  Little John walked over to Ross, bent down, and cut the rope that connected his hands and feet. “You two may as well make yourself as comfortable as possible…for whatever time you have left, because, you see…I don’t believe anything you just said. One thing I can’t stand is a liar and a cheater. You two are both those things. You’ll see soon enough how we deal with liars and cheaters in this county. In the meantime, you can try to get those ropes off if you want, but it won’t do you any good…the door is bolted from the outside, no windows, and no way off this property. There are two bottles of water beside the door. I suggest you make it last. I’ll be back later…while I’m gone, maybe the two of you can come up with a better story, or, maybe…I don’t know…even the truth?”

  Tim had managed to upright himself again. “You can’t just leave us here…” he started.

  Little John spun around and kicked him hard against the head again.

  Ross could have sworn he heard Tim’s teeth rattle. “Leave him alone, you son-of-a-bitch!”

  Little John looked over at Ross and spat. “You don’t know anything about my mother, so I suggest you be very careful about what you say next…” He turned to leave. “I’ll leave the light on for you, but be careful…one stray flame could burn this room up in a matter of minutes…”

  Tim and Ross listened to the door being bolted and locked from the outside. They heard a truck, with a loud muffler, start up and drive away slowly. The stench of burned flesh and fur had rushed in when Little John opened the door, and Ross leaned over, gagged, and retched the almost-empty contents of his stomach onto the wood floor beside him.

  Ross watched while Tim had managed to crawl closer to him. Now that there was light from the lantern, he saw how badly his friend had been beaten. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, and sure enough, when Tim opened his mouth, Ross noticed at least two teeth missing. “You look like shit, buddy,” he tried to smile.

  Tim wasn’t smiling. He just nodded when he managed to collapse beside Ross. “I think we may be in trouble, Ross…”

  “Yeah…” Ross groaned when he tried to take a deep breath with his bruised lungs. “I don’t think he believes that we’re cousins…”

  20. The Truth About Sam

  Spartacus sat stoically on the front seat between Tyler and Amanda. He stared straight ahead and thought about what he had to do next. “I wish there was some other way…” he thought. “I sure don’t want to go back to the ranch, but…Sam said that’s the way it has to be.”

  Amanda draped her left arm around the pit’s broad shoulders. She kissed the top of his head when he turned to look at her. “Why do you think he jumped into your truck, Tyler? I mean, he was stubborn when your Dad tried to coax him out…I was afraid Spartacus might bite him.”

  Tyler’s mind had been churning since early that morning when he witnessed the resurrection of Licker. He kept thinking about what Amanda had said about Sam being special, but she had never gotten around to elaborating on that statement. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, Sam and Spartacus were connected by fate or destiny. He glanced down at Spartacus, who seemed to be listening intently to their conversation.

  “Go ahead…tell her, Tyler…tell her that I would never, ever bite anyone…that would be so wrong of me. Tell her…” Spartacus’ look was imploring.

  Tyler blinked hard and shook his head. Spartacus appeared to be using his soulful eyes to tell him something…something important. “I don’t know why he insisted on coming back with us, Amanda, but I’d be willing to bet our family farm that this dog would never bite anyone. If he was ever going to do that, trust me, he would have done it to those assholes who work at the Abbott ranch…excuse the language, but it’s hard to think of them as anything other than that.”

  Amanda smiled. “I’ve heard worse…so, will you be taking him back to the ranch with you?”

  Tyler nodded. “Yeah…I think that’s probably his plan. I want to drop you off at the café first and maybe talk to Max about some things.”

  “But I wanted to go with you to meet those investigators tonight…” Amanda almost pouted, but caught herself in the nick of time. The last thing she wanted was for Tyler to think of her as a clingy, pouty female.

  “No…I don’t think that’s a good idea, Amanda. Let me meet them first and hear what the plan is. There’s a big fight scheduled for next Friday night, and I still don’t know when the bust is going to take place. I was hoping it would be before that fight…especially now…” He glanced down again at Spartacus. “If he goes back with me, I know Little John will use him in that fight, even if he doesn’t expect him to win…it would be just like Little John to want to get even with Spartacus for costing him so much money during his last fight. Trust me…nothing would make Little John happier than to see Spartacus suffer a fatal loss.”

  “What other dog do you think he will place in that fight?” Amanda asked, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer to her question. “Nev
er mind…he’s going to fight Sam, isn’t he?”

  “I’m pretty sure he will, yeah…” Tyler sighed. “He’s already purchased the dog that beat Spartacus in the last fight; his name is Czar and he really is one helluva fighter. At first I thought Little John would pit Spartacus against Czar…just to see Spartacus torn to bits. There’s not another dog in this area that could beat Czar, but after seeing what Sam did this morning, well…I’m having second thoughts on that score. It’s against the rules for owners to pit their own dogs against each other, though…redneck rules…so Sam, Spartacus, and Czar will probably all face champions from other counties or states.”

  Amanda knew that Tyler was providing an opening for her; he had been patiently waiting to hear her explanation as to why Sam was special, and he deserved one. She wasn’t sure how mentally capable she would be if she had witnessed what he had, and not knowing what she knew. She took a deep breath and prepared for whatever might happen next. “There’s a small rest area up ahead, Tyler. Why don’t you pull in and we’ll let Spartacus stretch his legs; and, besides…I don’t think you should be driving when I tell you about Sam…”

  “Well…this should be interesting…” Spartacus almost smiled.

  Two minutes later, Tyler turned into a small, shaded rest area. There were no other cars in the parking lot, so they had the area all to themselves.

  Amanda opened the passenger door and hopped down. “Come on, Spartacus…time for a break.”

  Spartacus looked over at Tyler.

  “Go ahead, fella…I’m right behind you,” Tyler rubbed the back of the dog’s neck and opened the driver’s door.

  Spartacus exited on Tyler’s side. “No offense, pretty lady, but I think I’ll stick close to Tyler while you tell him your story…after I go pee, that is…” He trotted over to the first bush he saw and paid his respects. He walked and sniffed around for a couple of minutes, and finally spread out beneath a wooden picnic table.