Waiting for Wyatt © 2016 by Stacy Dawn Hendrickson
(S. D. Hendrickson, LLC)
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This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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Waiting for Wyatt © 2016 by Stacy Dawn Hendrickson
Copyediting by Curiouser Editing
Cover Design by The Cover Lure
Design Layout by Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
PART I
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
PART II
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
PART III
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
PART IV
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For the dogs, sitting in cages, waiting to be adopted.
And the wonderful volunteers who run the shelters.
Your kindness makes the world a better place.
I SMASHED MYSELF AGAINST THE apartment wall, clutching Charlie to my chest. His erratic heartbeat fluttered under my fingers. Blood dripped off the wound on the side of his head, soaking into my favorite yellow tank top. The little dog let out a noise that was a cross between a whimper and a bark.
“Shh.” I put my fingers around his muzzle. The giant brown ears flattened against his gray speckled back. Craning my neck, I peered toward the front window located in the kitchen. A large bearded face smashed against the glass, looking inside my apartment. Flipping around the corner, I glued my body tight to the wall. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even dart to another room. The window gave a full view of our entire living area.
I was going to kill my sister for not shutting the curtains. I told Blaire every day not to leave them open, but she wanted to see her food with natural light as she cooked it. She could see it just fine without the curtains open.
A loud banging came from the door. “Emma Sawyer. I saw you run in there with my damn dog. Open the door.”
I knew that crazy man would snatch him right out of my hands if I opened the door. Charlie wasn’t technically mine. I had rescued him from our abusive landlord.
“If you don’t open this door, I’m coming in with a key. I’ve got rights, you know. And you’ve got none. Not when you stole that piece-of-shit dog.”
Taking my chances, I ran into the living room, sliding open the back window. I crawled outside onto the tiny ledge, balancing Charlie with one arm. My nails clawed the glass back down. Little prickles of fear slipped down my back. Blowing a blonde curl out of my eye, I chose not to look at the rocky area below our apartment. The ledge wasn’t meant for people. It was more of a cement decorative area that ran along the top floor. I moved, one foot at a time, one breath at a time, over to the next window.
Tapping lightly, I waited for Mr. Hughes. He was an elderly man who lived next door. I did his weekly grocery shopping and cooked him dinner a few times a week. The curtain moved slightly, revealing an old face that slipped into a toothless grin. He pulled up the glass with his crooked fingers.
“Emma, what are—”
“Hold him.” I transferred Charlie over to Mr. Hughes. Crawling inside his living room, I shut the window behind me and covered the glass with the thick, blue curtains. The adrenaline coursed through my blood, making my hands shake.
“You finally did it,” he said with an excited gleam in his eye.
“Yes. And he saw me. I thought I had enough time to get in and out of his office.” I took Charlie back into my arms. His little body shivered in fear. I doubt he’d ever experienced much of anything besides terror from Kurt. That man was incompetent as a landlord and borderline psychotic when it came to animals.
Yesterday, when I came home from my shift at the nursing home, I’d heard terrible sounds coming from the manager’s office. His voice, shouting and screaming, followed by the repeated squeals of a tortured animal.
“Where are you going to take him? You know he can’t stay here.”
“I don’t know. Maybe my parents’? I’ll call them.” Pulling the phone from the pocket of my tight denim shorts, I pressed the auto dial for my mother. I sat down on the couch, waiting for her voice.
“Emma?”
“Hey, I have a favor.”
“Oh, honey. What have you done now?” Her voice flowed with a hint of a drawl.
“It’s not that bad. I rescued a little dog. But he can’t stay here at my apartment. I have to find him a place. Will you take him?”
“I’m sure he’s a very nice dog. But I just can’t bear to have another after Rolly died. It’s too soon.”
“It’s been five years, Mom.”
“I know, but I still can’t shake that image, Emma. You weren’t there. Just the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.” My parents got Rolly when I was ten. A few years ago, he was hit by a car.
“It’s okay. I just thought maybe you were ready. I’ll think of something else.”
“You just need to talk to your sister. I know she doesn’t like dogs, but maybe you can entice her. Work that Emma magic on Blaire.”
I rolled my eyes even though my mother couldn’t see me. “It’s not Blaire. It’s my landlord. You met the guy. He’s not the world’s kindest person. I just need to get the dog out of here before Kurt finds him.”
“I would love to. But I really can’t, honey. I’m sure you will find it a home. You are so good at that kind of stuff.” I pictured her face with that wide smile as she fawned over me with her flowery words. “Are you coming to dinner Thursday night? I missed seeing your sweet face last week.”
“I’m sorry.” The guilt flowed in my chest, hearing the sadness in her voice. She was good at that too. “I had to cover for a girl at work. I’ll make sure I come this week.”
“You know how important our weekly dinner is to me.”
“I know, Mom. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“Okay. Well, I have to go, Emma. I’m working in the fl
ower bed today. I need to get it done before I burn up out here. Good luck with your dog.”
“Thanks. See you Thursday.” Clicking the end button, I watched Mr. Hughes come back into the living room, leaning heavy on his walker, carrying a duffle bag. I needed to speak with Kurt about transferring him to an apartment on the first floor. He’d struggled getting up and down the stairs the last few months. I guess that conversation would have to wait until Kurt forgot about the Charlie incident.
“She said no?”
“Yeah, she wishes me luck.” I frowned. “So I guess we need another option.”
“I was thinking. It’s Saturday, right? Today is Saturday?”
“Yes, it’s Saturday.” I nodded my head, feeling a little sad. Over the last few months, I’d noticed other signs of his fuzzy thoughts. I guess that’s what happens when you stay in an apartment seven days a week.
“That pet store. You know, the one in that outdoor mall thing? There used to be a shelter place in front of it on Saturdays.”
I vaguely remembered the little cages next door to the shoe store. I grinned at him. “That actually might work.”
“Here’s you a bag. Go wrap him up in a towel and zip him up in the bag. You’ll have to make a run for the car.”
“Okay,” I said, holding Charlie tight to my chest as I got up from the couch.
I found an old towel under the bathroom sink. Wrapping it tight around his body, I felt a surge of emotion, seeing his terrified eyes peering out of the duffle bag. I didn’t know what kind of dog had features like Charlie’s. He was the strangest little animal. Almost like the giant ears of a brown rabbit were yanked off and placed on the body of a gray and black dog. He was one of a kind.
“Hey, little guy. You are almost home free. Just one more trip.” I zipped the top closed and put the black straps over my shoulder. The weight of the twenty-pound animal cut tight into my skin. I patted Mr. Hughes on the arm. “Thank you for the help.”
“Anytime—and good luck.”
Unlatching the door, I pushed it open an inch, checking the walkway for my landlord. My eyes followed the stairs from the second floor down to the parking lot and over to my car. I didn’t see the six-foot bearded man anywhere. Maybe he went back inside the manager’s office. Charlie whined from deep inside the canvas. Nerves fluttered under my skin. It was now or never.
I fished my keys from my pocket. Taking off in a sprint, I felt a sharp twist in my knee. Seriously? My knee had to act up today of all days. But I knew better than to be running in flip-flops. The pain came in burning stabs through my leg. Taking the stairs two at a time, I got to the parking lot without seeing Kurt. I glanced to my left toward the manager’s office before running in the direction of my car. The white Fusion was roughly half a building away.
My leg jerked again, sending pain right through my kneecap. The muscles curdled into complete mush. I lost my balance and flew forward. I cried out as I hit the ground. My arm scraped across the cement. I came to a stop, feeling every ounce of pain as the bag with Charlie slid across the parking lot.
No, no, no. I scrambled to my feet, limping over to the black duffle bag. Charlie whined from deep inside. “Sorry, little guy.”
I grabbed the straps and ran the final few yards to my car door. Putting the bag in the passenger’s seat, I started the motor and threw the car into reverse. My heart beat a hundred miles an hour as I left the apartment complex with the face of the bearded man in my rearview mirror.
I DROVE TO THE PET store in Stillwater. The Red Dirt Claws rescue had roughly fifteen cages set up out front. I carried Charlie in my arms. His eyes held a wild gleam as I set the little dog down in front of the older woman. She seemed like a reasonable person in a T-shirt bearing the name of the rescue. Her long black hair was pulled up in a youthful ponytail on the back of her head that showed off a gray streak across the front. She resembled a skunk, which made me want to laugh.
“I need to find him a place,” I pleaded with her. “He was in a bad situation, and I got him out. But I can’t keep him.”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t take anymore. The rescue is full.” Her kind, blue eyes trailed over the stains on my yellow shirt and back to Charlie. “I’ve got an idea. I think Wyatt might take him. He usually has space. I would try him. I doubt he’d say no to you.”
“Where is this Wyatt?”
“You know Marshal Road on the west side of town?”
“Yeah.”
“It turns into County Road 3210. Take that about thirteen miles. Turn left at the blue barn. Go another five miles. It’s a silver gate. Can’t miss it.”
“Okay. You have any info flyers on this kennel?”
Her lips curled up on the sides like they possessed a secret. “It’s not that kind of place. But you should go out there. He’ll take good care of that little guy.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I didn’t have much choice. Picking Charlie up from the cement, I held the scared dog tightly against my chest. His head tucked slightly under my chin. He was getting used to me now. My heart filled with sadness. I wanted to keep him. I wanted to give the battered dog the home he’d never had with evil Kurt.
My little white car bounced over the ruts in the road, covering the outside with a layer of red dirt. I searched for a blue barn as the weeds grew taller in the ditch.
I reached over to pat Charlie on the head. His nose stayed glued to the window, making a wet spot. The little dog seemed to love car rides. I grinned, seeing the first sign of something besides fear coming from those terrified eyes.
At the blue crumbling landmark, I made a wide turn in the dirt road, sending a cloud of dust behind the car. The silver gate came into view with old cow skulls hanging from the fence poles next to it.
Pulling off the road, I parked in the grassy entrance. The place seemed so abandoned and desolate. I opened the door and walked to the gate. Climbing on the rungs, I peered out into the distance, seeing a few buildings. A black bird landed next to one of the boney heads on the pole. Its yellow eyes glowed against its dark feathers. I cringed, looking back out across the tall grass to the buildings. I guess this must be the place.
I unlatched the gate, which lacked any type of lock. Climbing back inside my car, I held Charlie in my lap as I drove over the semi-visible path, hearing the tall weeds scrape the underside of my car. I paused in the dirt clearing, taking in a view of the area.
On the north side, a single-wide trailer sat propped up on cinder blocks. The kennel resembled a large metal shop building with outdoor pens attached to the sides, making an indoor-outdoor run for the dogs. Charlie jumped out of my lap and went crazy against the window.
I parked close to the kennel. The sound of dogs echoed even before I got out of the car. I looked around for signs of people, but the place seemed vacant. I lifted Charlie out of the passenger’s seat, tucking him against my chest. He latched tight to my shoulder.
“Hello?” I yelled, looking at the buildings. “Anybody here?”
I walked toward the kennel entrance, trying not to sneak up on this Wyatt. I got a little nervous. This was a stupid idea, coming out here by myself. I knew nothing about the lady at the rescue or this person she sent me to find in the middle of nowhere.
Wyatt might be some crazy, old man with a sling blade. It’s not like I could even outrun someone. My knee was a complete mess after the fall in the parking lot. Scary man with a knife would equal a few quick sprints and then another face-plant out in the middle of the pasture—stab, stab, and then lots of blood, followed by dead. Great! Now I sounded like my sister.
“Hello? Anyone here?”
I pulled open the door, peering inside the entrance of the building. A blast of cool air hit my face. I didn’t go inside. I thought it best not to go poking around without an invite. The dogs ran from the outside kennels through the little flap doors. Each face pressed against the inside gates with another round of barking. Still no sign of Wyatt.
The mysterious man was either hiding
out in the trees with a gun or he was away. The lady at the shelter didn’t give me a phone number for the place. She didn’t even suggest it. Great! I came all the way out here, and he’s gone. I turned around to go back to the car.
“Oh my gosh!” I jumped and almost dropped Charlie. My stomach fell right out of my skin. “You scared me.”
A guy watched me from the cement steps of the single-wide trailer. He didn’t smile. He didn’t move. This did not seem promising. I put on a brave smile and walked toward him, getting a better look at the mysterious man.
He was younger with short brown hair. My eyes slipped down the rest of him. Nothing fancy or out of the ordinary about his clothes. The guy wore a simple white T-shirt and jeans with a pair of brown work boots. He was attractive in a brooding sort of way, like that old poster of James Dean that hung in the Cinemark. I glanced back up to his piercing face. He watched back with an unhappy snarl.
“Hey, I . . . well . . . um. So this lady at the rescue said you might be able to help me.” I paused, but he still didn’t say a word. His face stayed in that unfriendly, bewildered look of surprise and anger. The longer I waited for him to respond, the more his lips flattened into a thin line. He wasn’t happy that I was here.
I smiled again as my nerves fired under my skin. “I’m sorry. Th-this is Charlie. Can you help me? I can leave if you can’t. That’s okay. I’m sorry. I mean, you look busy. You’re busy. I’m sorry for just stopping in. She didn’t give me a phone number. I would have called. I-I’m sorry. I can go. We can just go. Yeah, I will get out of here. Sorry to have bothered you.”
I walked away. Awkward. Awkward. Awkward. I wanted to get right back in my car and drive away from this unfriendly guy. Maybe he had been asleep and I’d woken him up. That had to be it. He’d been asleep and I’d ripped him right out of some dream and he just wasn’t awake yet. Or maybe he was just an angry, terrible person and I needed to get in my car as quickly as possible. Yes, I bet that was it. My feet moved faster across the dirt.
“What lady?”
Startled again, I turned around to the sound of his deep, raspy voice. The guy’s soft lips pressed into a hard line. He slipped back into that unfriendly gaze, which made me nervous all over again. Mr. James Dean sure had a way with intimidation.
Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) Page 1