Four-Footed Angels

by J. T. Livingston

  Tyler was about ten minutes away from the café when he took a curve in the road too fast and almost lost control of his truck; he had swerved to avoid hitting a dog that was running fast on the side of the road. Tyler barely missed hitting the dog and somehow managed to keep his four wheels firmly on the road. “Jeez!” he growled and looked in his rearview mirror. The dog was black and it was hard to make it out in the dark and against the pavement, but something about the way it moved seemed so familiar to Tyler. He slowed the truck and looked in the rear-view mirror again; the dog was lagging a good hundred feet behind the truck now, but… “Oh, my God!” Tyler yelled when it suddenly dawned on him that the dog was Spartacus. “What the hell…” He slammed on his brakes and threw open his door.

  “Oh, boy…oh, boy!” Spartacus gasped. “Whew! I sure am glad it’s a friendly face!”

  “Spartacus!” Tyler yelled into the total blackness that surrounded them. “It is you! Come here, boy!” He grunted and fell backward as the mass of solidness that was Spartacus barreled into his chest. He held the dog firmly against him and picked him up quickly. He placed him on the passenger seat and pulled a half-bottle of water and a small, plastic bowl from underneath. “Here you go, fella…slow now…drink it slow…” He patted the dog’s head and wondered how in the world the dog had escaped from his cage at the fighting ring. He would love to know what was happening there at this very moment, what had happened to all the dogs, who had been arrested, if the bust had been successful, but he didn’t have the luxury of finding out the answers to all those things.

  Tyler waited a precious two minutes, allowing the dog to cool down and waiting for him to get his heavy breathing under control. He kissed the top of the dog’s head and said, “I guess you’re coming with me, fella. I can’t leave you out here in the middle of nowhere, now can I?”

  “Nope…nope, you sure can’t do that, Tyler! Come on, we’ve got to get going! I sure hope you’re headed where I need you to be headed!”

  Tyler started the truck and glanced sharply at the dog who was now riding shotgun. His brows drew together and he shook his head. “Damn…I could have sworn you said something…”

  _____

  Max was wiping down his stove and counters when he sensed a presence at the back door. Bertie and Doug were locking things up out front, so he knew it wasn’t either of them. He sensed who it was before he opened the screen door that lead to the back porch.

  Sam grinned up at him. “It’s all coming to an end, Max.”

  “So…” Max answered back. “I take it you accomplished your assignment? Everything went according to plan at the fights? Is Spartacus with you? Where are all the other dogs?” He looked into the empty back yard and listened. He heard the barking of one dog, and one dog only. He stepped out onto the porch and looked upward. There was a light on in Amanda’s room and Buster was barking up a storm. “Hmmm…I wonder why Amanda isn’t taking him out? She doesn’t normally allow him to bark like that.”

  “Yeah…about that, Max. I hate to tell you, but Amanda isn’t in her room…”

  “Of course she is,” Max laughed. She told us she was turning in early tonight, but for us to let her know if we heard anything from Tyler before she did. She’s been in her room for most of the night…”

  “Max…think about who you’re talking about…Amanda…our sweet, NOSY, Amanda,” Sam closed his eyes. He tensed for a moment when he sensed another presence close by. He looked across the back yard but did not see anything that looked out of place.

  “She’s really not in her room, is she?” Max pursed his lips together. “Bertie is not going to be happy about this. She warned that girl not to get involved with the dog-fighting bust. She went, didn’t she? Is she still there? Why isn’t she with you? Where’s Tyler?”

  “You’re an angel, Max! I thought you would already know the answers to all these questions…” Sam tensed again when that same, uneasy feeling crept over him again. “I’m worried about her, Max. I saw her earlier tonight…with Tyler, but…I couldn’t stay with her…I had to return to the fights. I don’t know where she is right now, but I got an uneasy feeling about things while I was finishing up my assignment…I hope and pray she’s with Tyler, but I don’t think she is…”

  “Just because we’re angels doesn’t mean we’re privy to what’s going on in everyone’s life at any given time, Sam.” Max opened the door wide. “Come on inside…”

  Sam stepped inside the kitchen and lifted his nose at the leftover aromas of the night’s meal…spare ribs with sauerkraut, sweet potato casserole with marshmallows, and grilled corn on the cob. Sam loved marshmallows, but he re-routed his senses when he heard voices coming from the front of the café. His spine stiffened, his ears flattened against his head, and his tail became erect. “Wait, Max! I know that voice…it’s Little John Abbot! What’s he doing here…”

  Max tensed and inhaled sharply. “I don’t know, but… I intend to find out. Stay here, Sam. I don’t want him to see you…STAY!”

  “I’m staying! I’m staying…” Sam muttered beneath his breath. He lay down and belly-crawled behind Max so that he could hear what was going on.

  Max pushed open the swinging half-door and stopped in his tracks. The man that he supposed was Little John Abbott was holding a gun to Bertie’s head.

  _____

  Tyler made it to the café in record time and immediately cut his lights when he recognized Abbott’s truck in the parking lot. It was the only vehicle there, other than the café’s van. The lights inside the café, as well as the floating halo, provided sufficient lighting to make it hard to sneak up on Abbott’s vehicle. “Sweet, Jesus…” he whispered. “I don’t believe it…I found him. Please don’t let me be too late…please, God…let Amanda be with him…” Tyler opened his door as quietly as he could and crept alongside the passenger side of Abbott’s truck. He almost tripped over Spartacus when he lifted his head to look inside. “Spartacus! No, boy…go back!” he whispered as loudly as he dared.

  Spartacus shook his head and slobber splashed against Tyler’s jeans. “No way, Jose…nope, nope, nope…I’m not staying on the sidelines for this!”

  Tyler flicked some slobber off his jeans and looked disgusted. “Really? You’re picking now to be obstinate? Fine, okay, but try to stay out of the way…” He stretched up and looked inside the truck. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but it wasn’t Amanda stretched out on the back seat, with her eyes closed, and her hands and feet tied together with tape. “Son of a bitch…” he hissed.

  He didn’t expect that Abbott would have left the door unlocked, so he was startled when he squeezed the door handle and the door opened with a slight squeak. Spartacus pushed between his legs and dashed into the front seat before Tyler could stop him. He watched in awe as the dog quickly bounded into the back seat and began licking Amanda’s face. She didn’t wake up, but Tyler heaved a giant sigh of relief when he saw her head move and her eyelids flutter. “Okay, okay…” he exhaled and looked upward. “Thank you, God…she’s okay.” He looked at Spartacus and began talking to him like he knew the dog would understand everything he said. “I have to find Abbott, so it’s important that you stay with Amanda, okay? Do you understand what I’m saying, Spartacus? You have to stay with her and make sure nothing happens to her until I get back.”

  Spartacus appeared to shrug his shoulders. He returned Tyler’s intent stare and growled softly. “Do you really think I would be anywhere else? Really?”

  Tyler watched the dog’s expression and closed the door softly. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear that dog understood every word I said…”

  He stayed as low to the ground as possible as he moved quickly and closer to the café. He stood among the bushes that lined the front of the café, and rose as high as he dared to get a look inside. His gaze riveted to the front door where he saw Abbott holding a gun to Bertie’s head. He exhaled and quickly made his way around to the back of the cafe. “He obviously does not kno
w who he’s dealing with…I almost feel sorry for him,” he smirked. “Bertie is not going to be happy with him…”

  _____

  Max pushed open the swinging kitchen door and moved slowly toward the front counter where Doug stood with his hands in the air. Max looked at Little John and said, “There’s no need for the gun, Mr. Abbott.”

  Little John pulled his arm tighter against Bertie’s neck and pressed the gun closer against her temple. “How the hell do you know who I am?” he spoke loudly. “Damn! All I wanted was some coffee to go…until this bitch got too damn nosy for her own good.”

  “I wasn’t being nosy!” Bertie choked out. “Let go of me, you big oaf!” She stomped on his foot which only served to make him choke her tighter.

  “Shut up, bitch!” Abbott bellowed. “Asking all those questions about whether I had attended the dog fight…looking at my truck and wanting to know if anyone was out there waiting for me…” He pointed the gun at Max. “You didn’t answer my question…how do you know me?” He saw Doug’s slight movement to the left of Max and did not hesitate. He moved the gun quickly from Bertie’s temple, aimed it at Doug, and…fired twice in rapid secession.

  Tyler had entered the café through the back door and moved silently into the kitchen. He pushed through the swinging door just as the second bullet passed through Doug’s shoulder. “Nooooo!” he screamed as he ran recklessly toward Little John.

  Abbott saw Tyler running toward him and a sickening grin crossed his face. Fate was with him; he would have his revenge against Tyler Jones-Foster after all, and face-to-face revenge at that. He pushed Bertie roughly to the floor and turned the gun toward Tyler. Tyler was about thirty feet from him when Little John raised his gun and fired again. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the bullet raced toward Tyler’s head.

  The bullet was within ten feet of hitting Tyler squarely in the center of his forehead; everything truly was moving in slow motion. Tyler watched helplessly as Bertie and Doug fell to the floor simultaneously. He was now within five feet of the slow-moving bullet when, out of nowhere, Sam flew through the air, soared in front of Tyler, and took the bullet that was intended to kill Tyler Foster. Everyone in the room saw the bullet hit the right side of Sam’s head, between his ear and eye. The slow motion effect of what was happening even allowed Tyler to see the bullet exit on the left side on Sam’s head.

  Sam landed with a hard thud at the feet of Little John Abbott. Tyler had never stopped his running approach; the slow motion effect suddenly ceased and everything returned to rapid movement. Tyler dove his entire body into the solid concrete wall that was Little John Abbott’s massive chest.

  The big man went down and the next thing Tyler and Little John saw was Sam’s huge mouth clamping down on Abbott’s neck.

  “What the hell!” Little John screamed.

  It would have been comical to Tyler to hear a tough guy like Little John Abbott screaming like a scared little girl, except for the fact that a dead dog had been the one to cause his hysterics. All he could do was repeat Little John’s expletive. “What the hell?”

  Max had helped Doug and Bertie to their feet and hugged each of them to him. He smiled down at Sam and said, “Easy, Sam…don’t hurt him…just hold him there until the authorities arrive, which should be any minute now…I called them from the kitchen when I saw what was going on out here,” he attempted an explanation that Tyler might believe.

  Tyler looked at Sam closely while Little John struggled in vain to escape the dog’s jaws. “He was shot…I saw him…I saw the bullet go straight through his head…” He looked back at Max and at Doug who was standing next to him. “And, you…” he pointed at Doug. “He shot you, too, TWICE!” He plopped down heavily on the floor next to Sam and grabbed Little John’s gun. He looked over at Bertie and exhaled. “Who the hell are you people…”

  Bertie pulled away from Max and straightened her uniform and adjusted her halo headband. She walked slowly over to Tyler and squatted down next to him. She looked him directly in the eye and winked as a golden hue surrounded her entire body. She punched him hard against his arm and laughed out loud. “I’m guessing you might already know the answer to that question, handsome!”

  Everyone was so engrossed in subduing Little John that they never noticed when Sam walked slowly behind them, through the kitchen, out the back door, and to Little John's pick-up truck. The back door opened on its own, and he jumped inside where Amanda was still sleeping on the back seat, with Spartacus guarding her. Spartacus looked up and said, “I heard shots inside...is everyone okay?”

  Sam moved closer to Amanda and licked her forehead. “Everyone is just fine, my friend. Everything will be fine from here on out.” A golden glow filled the inside of the truck's cab.

  Amanda stirred and blinked her eyes open. She smiled at Sam and reached out to wrap a limp arm around his neck. “Hey there, you...” she said sleepily. “So glad you're okay...”

  Sam put his head against hers and whined softly. He raised a paw and draped it across her shoulder.

  Amanda opened her eyes again, and a single tear slid down her cheek. “You've got to go now, don't you, Sam? Oh, how I wish you could stay...even if for just a little while...”

  The golden glow brightened and Sam whined again. He licked her cheek and looked toward Spartacus. “I'm depending on you to look after her for me...”

  “I won't let you down, Sam...I promise…” Spartacus choked back his own tears. “Thank you for everything...thank you for saving us all...”

  “You are very welcome, my friend...I have to go now...until we meet again, Spartacus...”

  Amanda reached out to Sam just as the golden glow shimmered and he began to vanish. “I love you, Sam...I always will...”

  EPILOGUE - Six Months Later

  The last two months of 2013 were happy and hectic ones for the angels of the Heavenly Grille Café. Thanksgiving had always been Max’s favorite holiday because it gave him an official reason to produce his mouth-watering meals and desserts. The holiday also held a very special, though not totally unexpected, announcement from Amos Brown and Isabelle Ghent. The happy couple knew that whatever time they had left on earth may be limited, so they mutually decided on a quick wedding after their announcement on Thanksgiving. Izzy presented Amos with an early Christmas present so that he was able to proudly show off his new set of dentures in their wedding pictures on Christmas Day. The couple moved into Izzy’s home and quickly settled into a comfortable routine – one of which included at least one daily meal at the Heavenly Grille Café.

  The twenty-three dogs that had been rescued from the final illegal dog fight on the Abbott ranch had all been placed in loving foster, rescue, or fur-ever homes. Engrique Ramos quickly adopted Kong and the white pit bull that had died and been chained to the back of the F-150; he renamed them Hank and Willie after two of his favorite country singers. The two dogs bonded immediately with Enrique’s twelve grandchildren and spent their weekends romping and playing on the Ramos’ small farm. Ten of the remaining twenty-one dogs, to include Spartacus, went to live on the Foster Farm; two of those ten had been so traumatized that B.B. and Jean decided it would be in the dogs’ best interest to remain with them permanently. The remaining eleven dogs all found their fur-ever families…some locally, while others were transported as far north as Michigan. They would be well cared for and loved for the remainder of their earthly lives. Only one dog had been unaccounted for, and that was the huge black pittie-mix that had fought the final fight of the night. A thorough search of the woods and surrounding area had been done, but the dog had never been found. Of course, the handful of Christians that had been in attendance during the fight, had their own suspicions about what had happened to Sam.

  Tim Breydan had miraculously survived his gunshot wound, and spent several months resting and recuperating before returning to his job as an animal control investigator. Ross Taylor spent a lot of time by Tim’s bedside after his friend’s surgery. Tim awoke d
uring one of those visits to find Ross with his head bent and hands pressed together in prayer. Tim spoke with Ross constantly and answered all of his questions about God, the Bible, and organized religion. It was a slow, gradual process, but Ross Taylor accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior on Christmas Day. He left the agency after the first of the year and accepted a job heading a larger, independent group of people responsible for the rescue of abandoned and neglected animals.

  Little John Abbott, along with several of his ranch hands, had been captured and incarcerated while awaiting their upcoming trial, which was scheduled to begin in May 2014. Some of those ranch hands had been fined and placed on probation, and prohibited from ever owning a domestic pet of any kind. Bail had been denied for Little John and Clint Meacham; Clint could not afford bail, and Little John was deemed to pose a threat for fleeing the country, so he was denied bond. Once a jury was formed, the prosecutors felt sure that justice would be served. Violation of Georgia’s dogfighting statutes was a felony, with a mandatory fine of $5,000 and/or imprisonment of one to five years. Any subsequent convictions brought fines of not less than $15,000 and imprisonment of one to ten years. The prosecution had done their job well and would provide documentation of the total number of illegal fights over the past ten years at the Abbott ranch. They would also provide an estimation of the number of dogs that were stolen, abused, neglected, and killed in support of Abbott’s illegal operation. The Abbott ranch was currently in foreclosure status. Everything on it would be auctioned off, and all proceeds would be contributed to local rescue organizations, specifically to those credited for caring for rescued bait and fighter dogs.