The Good, the Bad, and the Pugly (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 7)

by Susan C. Daffron

  Mildly startled by the woman’s enthusiasm, Brigid said, “Yes, I am. I want to set up a nonprofit to help the homeless dogs here.”

  The woman stopped by a shelf and pointed downward. “This is what we have on raising money. I know I’ve run across some good information online too.”

  Brigid crouched down and looked at the titles. “Thank you. This looks like it will be helpful.”

  Bending down to hold out her hand, the woman said, “My name is Jan. I have a dog that was my mother’s and if I hadn’t been able to take her, Rosa would have been homeless too. I think what you’re doing is wonderful.”

  Brigid shook her hand and stood up. “Thank you. I’m glad you feel that way. But I haven’t really done much yet.”

  “Getting more information is the first step. I’m so glad you stopped by. I just read a study that said more than four million animals entered animal shelters in 1995. And I can tell you that this town has very little as far as animal control or services. It’s becoming a problem.”

  “Actually, you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

  Jan backed down the aisle toward the desk. “Well, I’ll leave you to browse and see what I can find online for you. When you’re ready, I can show you where the other books are too.”

  “Thanks. That would be great.” Brigid crouched down again and looked at the book titles on the shelf. What a gung-ho librarian. By the time Brigid left here, Jan probably would have unearthed every tidbit about animal welfare available on the Internet.

  After the trip to the library, Brigid didn’t feel the need to get any more books at the bookstore. Maybe later, but for right now Jan had loaded Brigid up with a vast quantity of material to read. It was time to start digging in. She settled on the back porch with Gypsy, who was continuing to work on her tan, flat on her side, snoring contentedly in a big patch of sunlight streaming through the leaves of the big maple tree.

  Brigid skimmed a few books and took notes, trying not to panic about the overwhelming amount of work ahead of her. This was like starting a business, except with volunteers instead of employees. That meant she had to get people to work for free. How was that supposed to work? She skimmed some sections on volunteer recruitment. Maybe people in Alpine Grove were big-hearted animal lovers. She’d better hope so, or she was in trouble.

  Later that afternoon, Brigid returned to the station. No one had claimed Nugget, so it was looking more likely he’d be heading out to the ranch to join Judge in the barn. She leashed up the new sheltie for her walk, but it seemed like something was wrong. When Brigid had arrived, the dog had been pacing around her kennel panting. Now she didn’t want to go out. Brigid held out a treat to try to entice her, but the dog wasn’t interested. Then she started to whine plaintively. It was pitiful to hear and Brigid wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe the poor little dog was really sick.

  She put the sheltie back in her enclosure, closed the gate, and ran into the station. Jake wasn’t in his office, so she scribbled a note on a pad on his desk and went back outside to get the dog. The little sheltie cried as she was hoisted into the back-seat of the Honda and Brigid thought her heart would break. “I’m so sorry! It will be okay. We’re going to the vet. Hang on. It’s really close.”

  At the vet clinic, she snuggled the dog to her chest and turned to push the door open with her back. Tracy looked up from her desk. “Hi Brigid. I didn’t see you on the schedule. We’re about to close.”

  “I’m sorry! It’s an emergency. I think there’s something wrong with this dog.”

  “Another one? Where did it come from?”

  “The police station. She’s another stray. This morning she was starving, trying to eat everything in sight. Now she won’t eat and she’s panting and crying like she’s in pain. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

  Tracy came around the desk and took the dog from Brigid’s arms. “Okay, I’ll take her to Dr. C. now. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  Brigid sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room with her hands clasped between her knees, hoping that the dog wasn’t really sick or dying. She wasn’t sure she could handle that.

  A few minutes later, Tracy returned to the desk. “Well, we know what’s going on with your dog.”

  Brigid hurried over to the counter. “Is she okay?”

  “Yes, she’s fine. And she’s being quite a good mommy.”

  “What?”

  “She’s having puppies.”

  “Oh. Wow. That’s…unexpected. And it would certainly make me whine too. So, is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. But we should probably keep everyone here for a while. Could you tell the local law enforcement where she is? They tend to get upset when we run off with their dogs.”

  “I couldn’t find Jake and I was in a rush, so I left a note.” Brigid rested her elbows on the counter, put her forehead on her palms, and groaned. “What am I going to do with puppies?”

  Tracy smiled. “Well, when they get big enough, find them homes.”

  “Dr. C said she knows people who might want to help. Do you think you could get a list together of people I might call? Right now, I’ve got to go back and walk Nugget, then go out to the ranch to take care of Judge.” Brigid handed her credit card over the desk. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks. If you talk to Jake, I’ll talk to Dr. C.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  After leaving the vet clinic, Brigid returned to the police station to walk Nugget. Tracy said that she would call her the next day to let her know how the new momma and her puppies were doing. Brigid was still somewhat shocked at the day’s events. Who knew the dog was pregnant? Not her, obviously. Utter panic had apparently turned her into an idiot. She also needed to think of a name for the little wanderer. Maybe Tracy would come up with something.

  Jake met her at the door and held up the note. “Hey, I wondered where you were. I can’t read this. You ‘tamed a duck and want to vote?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Brigid sighed. “I’m sorry. I was in a rush. It says I took the dog and went to the vet.”

  He looked down at the piece of paper. “Really? Wow, I didn’t get that.”

  “I’m sorry, but the dog was acting strange and I thought she might die. It was an emergency.”

  “Did the dog have some type of attack or seizure or something?”

  “No. She had puppies.”

  “Oh wow. We aren’t set up to deal with that at all.”

  “I know. They are at the vet clinic for the time being.”

  Jake crumpled the paper in his hand. “You probably figured this out, but we don’t have the budget for any medical-type stuff. All we do is give the dogs shots when they come in.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. I’m paying for it.” Her credit card was really getting a workout.

  “Well, maybe I should call Tracy tomorrow.”

  “No, that’s okay. She wanted me to talk to you.”

  “Oh. All right.”

  Brigid went back, took Nugget out, and apologized for being late. The dog was extremely glad to see her and did his head-snuggling thing again, which Brigid found completely endearing. What an adorable dog. Why wasn’t anyone looking for him? What was wrong with people? Who wouldn’t be frantic about losing a dog like this?

  After giving Nugget his walk, some affection, and dinner, Brigid went out to the ranch. Thinking about careless, irresponsible people had darkened her mood, but seeing Judge’s wagging tail helped cheer her a little. He was such a happy hairless fellow. She leashed him up and they had walked down the driveway a little way when an old and very dented tan pickup truck appeared from out of the trees.

  Clay slowed, rolled down the window, and stopped the truck next to them. “Hey there. How’s it going?”

  “Okay.” She glanced at the back of his hand, which was resting on the steering wheel, bleeding. “What happened to you?”

  He wiped his hand on his jeans, leaving a long smear of blood on his thig
h. “Nothing much. It’s been a long day.”

  Brigid reached into the truck and pulled a piece of straw out from the hair near his hat and held it up. “I guess it involved a horse?”

  “It usually does.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling out a few more pieces of straw, which he shook onto the floor of the truck. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the house cleaning up.”

  Brigid moved away from the truck and he continued up the driveway. At the sound of the truck door slamming, she turned and watched him slowly limp up the steps to the house. He had his arm around his stomach and it looked like an extremely painful ascent. Maybe she should see if he was okay. She looked down at Judge. “What do you think? Should I check on him or is that overstepping my bounds here?”

  Judge wagged his tail, but didn’t offer any other guidance. Brigid smiled. “You’re a big help. Okay, let’s finish up and I’ll give you some dinner. If he’s really hurt, I’d feel terrible if I didn’t do something. I’m just going to have to risk being a busybody.”

  Brigid fed Judge, got him settled in for the evening, and then walked to the house and up the steps. Scout was lying outside on the porch. He stood up and wagged his tail at her. “Hi Scout.” She knocked on the door, peered through the glass, and waited, but there was no answer, just silence. Looking down at the dog, she stroked his fur and considered the possibilities. One, Clay was inside but too far away from the door to hear her knock. Two, he was out in a barn or somewhere else on the property. Three, he was lying in a heap somewhere, dying of some internal injury.

  She looked at the dog’s dark-brown eyes and knocked again. No answer. “Okay Scout, what am I supposed to do?” Like Judge, Scout wasn’t offering up any suggestions. She turned the handle, opened the door, and Scout ran inside, across the living room, through the kitchen, and disappeared down the hall around a corner.

  A few seconds later, Scout ran back into the kitchen followed by Clay, who was rubbing a towel on his wet hair, looking down at the dog. “Hey buddy, I thought you were outside with your cats.”

  Brigid put her hand to her mouth and uttered a tiny squeak of mortification. Clay looked over at her, raised his eyebrows, and wrapped the towel around his waist with a grin. “Oops. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I…sorry! I just wanted to see if you were okay. It seemed like you might be hurt.” Brigid’s cheeks were so warm it felt like they were on fire. They had to be a fantastic shade of crimson by now. Underneath those grubby jeans and t-shirts, Clay was incredibly well-built. Wow. No wonder he didn’t get tired—those were some serious muscles. Riding horses all the time had benefits she hadn’t considered before.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Clay gestured toward the table. “Jeez, you look like you’re going to have a stroke or something. Sit down.”

  Brigid scuttled to the table. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have just barged into your house like this. I did knock.”

  “Yeah, I was in the shower. I know it’s not the prettiest sight, but I’m assuming you’ve seen a naked man before since you were married and all.”

  She looked at him more closely as he sat down across from her. Along with quite a few scars, he had what looked to be recent abrasions. “Did something happen today? You were limping.”

  “Just a horse problem.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward with a groan. “Well, not really. It was more like a people problem. Horses are fine. It’s their owners that are stupid half the time.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s the same horse I went to see yesterday. He’s a beautiful thoroughbred. Just a gorgeous horse. But the guy who owns him is a dolt.” Clay rubbed at the back of his hand, which was bleeding again. “I suppose it’s one problem of living in a small town. He was a friend of my brother’s so I felt like I had to help him out.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “Well, I won’t be going back. Fool me twice, and I’m done.” He glanced at the window. “Actually, it’s more than twice, now that I think about it. You’d think I’d learn.”

  “Was this the horse with the bad feet?”

  “Yeah. Lots of thoroughbreds are kinda tender-footed. And sometimes they can be high-strung. You have to be careful, but usually everything is fine. No problem. But you combine a horse like that with a stupid owner and you can get into something that’s not safe. No farrier in his right mind would go out there again.”

  Brigid pointed at his hand. “What did you cut yourself on?”

  “I’m not sure. I was getting out of the way after the horse started kicking. Then the next thing you know, he’s galloping off into nowhere.” He shrugged. “I got up, gave the guy a piece of my mind, and left. I was too blind angry about what happened to think much. I didn’t even know my hand was bleeding until I was halfway back here.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I feel better now that I took a shower. But I should probably get dressed.” He stumbled to get up from the chair and grabbed at the towel around his waist. “Do you want something to eat? It’s getting late.”

  Brigid got up, went over to him, and looked up at his face. “You’re not okay. I can tell. Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere.” He smiled. “I’m getting way too old for this. Used to be I could just roll away from that kind of thing, get back up, and keep going. Now that I’ve got more miles on me, it doesn’t work like that anymore.”

  “Are you seriously hurt? Do you need to go to a hospital? I should take you to a doctor.”

  “Brigid, don’t give me that mother hen look. I’m just banged up a little. Let me get dressed and we can have something to eat.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle rub. “You can tell me about your day. It’s got to have been better than mine.”

  He turned and disappeared down the hallway. Brigid looked down at Scout, who was lying on the floor. The dog raised his head expectantly and gave her a quizzical look. “I don’t know either, Scout. But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay for a little longer, just in case he’s really hurt and doing some dumb macho cowboy thing. You know how men can be.” Scout wagged his tail in agreement.

  While Clay was off presumably putting on some clothes, Brigid peeked in the refrigerator to see if there was anything resembling food in there. During her marriage, John had never cooked anything. When she wasn’t around, his idea of cooking had been pressing buttons on a microwave.

  During her quick investigation, she was pleased to discover actual vegetables in the crisper drawer. The lettuce wasn’t brown and the carrots weren’t dried out and desiccated. That was promising. A quick rummage through the freezer revealed bags of frozen veggies and fruit and some mysterious things in plastic containers. Maybe leftovers.

  Having completed her food snooping, she sat down at the table to wait, suddenly overwhelmingly tired from the events of the day. All the running around and the stressful trip to the vet had caught up with her. She slumped down in the chair, stretched out her legs, and closed her eyes. Resting her arms on the table in front of her, she could practically feel the adrenaline drain from her system.

  At the sound of Clay’s footsteps walking back into the room, she opened her eyes and put her hands in her lap. His eyebrows drew together and he squinted at her. “What happened to you?”

  “I guess I’m a little tired.”

  “You were going to tell me about your day.” He went to the refrigerator and pulled out some of the vegetables. “How do you feel about soup and salad?”

  She pushed herself back from the table and walked over to the counter next to him. “That sounds wonderful. But you don’t have to do this. I can go home and get out of your way.”

  “I swear, you have to be the most fretful woman I have ever met.” He pulled lettuce out of a bag and thumped it on the counter. “I wouldn’t have asked you if you wanted something to eat if I were trying to get rid of you.”

  “Well, okay. Thank you
. I do want to stay for a little while and make sure you’re okay. I can help cut that up if you want.”

  He handed her the head of lettuce. “Go for it.”

  Brigid took a chef’s knife from the block, pulled out a cutting board, and began chopping. One of her many jobs had been doing food prep for a salad bar place, so she had some wicked knife-wielding skills.

  Clay looked at the pile of chopped lettuce on the board. “That’s a little frightening to witness.”

  She grinned at him. “I’ve done some time in commercial kitchens.”

  “I’ll say. Have at the carrots.” He passed her the bag. “So what did you do today?”

  While she quickly julienned the carrots, she told him about her trip to the library and the dog with puppies. “I asked Tracy to make a list of the people Dr. Cassidy thinks might be willing to help out. I can’t take care of newborn puppies and all these dogs myself.”

  “You’re right. You can’t.”

  “It’s like I have to do everything all at once. I need to form a nonprofit, recruit volunteers, take care of dogs, put up flyers, and a dozen other things. This is turning into way more than I expected. I made a huge list, and then when I looked at it, after I got over the urge to cry, I couldn’t figure out what to do first.”

  Clay dumped the contents of one of the mystery containers from the freezer into a pot on the stove. “What’s most important?”

  “Finding foster homes for the dogs. Or permanent ones would be even better.”

  “What gets you there the quickest?”

  “I suppose finding volunteers. Putting up flyers maybe? Having the dogs actually returned to the people who lost them would be best of all.”

  “Okay. Do that first.”

  “I can’t make flyers. I need a computer, but I haven’t had a chance to look into that yet.” She turned and reached for a bag of red peppers that Clay had placed on the counter. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Well, you could borrow mine I suppose.”

  “You have a computer?”

  He waved the spoon at her. “Hey, you don’t have to look so surprised. Mostly I use it for email and accounting stuff, but it came with a bunch of other programs. You could probably find something you could use for flyers on the thing.”