by Nancy Radke
“I won’t, Robyn, I promise.” She could feel her eyes shine with the intensity of her feelings, and knew Robyn could pick up the message.
“And thanks for helping Mary. The doctor hoped she might eat here.”
“She’s awfully thin.”
“She somehow thinks she’s responsible for her dad. Her birthday was last week and Warren went to George’s place to buy her a present.”
Angie shook her head, then pulled on her coat. “She should realize no one’s to blame. As for getting her to eat, try keeping some Brazil nuts around the hospital room. I gain weight on those— and it doesn’t take very many. Nibble food, if that’s what Mary needs. Are you taking her back now?”
Robyn nodded, shrugging into her coat. “If you want to make Ryan happy, stay away from Scott.”
“I will.”
Ryan and Angie took his mother home first. The main roads were bare, but the side streets were packed by the wheels, forming a solid crust of ice. The trees had dumped their loads and were dark and bare. Beneath them the snow had melted and compressed to about three inches, covered with an icy crust.
Once back at the houseboats, Angie asked Ryan if he wanted her help with any work. He shook his head and motioned towards Grandma Miller’s, so she took the hint and walked on.
* * *
Ryan watched her walk away, feeling a sense of loss as she turned her back. He should have thought of some task they could do together. Maybe he’d go to Grandma’s later...
The neighborhood kids detached themselves from the side of his house and swarmed around him, shouting excitedly. Angie turned and came back to see what was the matter.
“Don’t all talk at once,” he said. He turned to Kent. “You speak.”
“After dinner, when we came over to climb, some dude had just started to go up the wall. He pulled a gun, then left.”
“Did anyone follow him and get the— “
“He was in a speedboat. A small one, but fast.”
“Was there a name on it?”
“Chase? Any writing on the boat?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you been climbing all day?” Angie asked.
“Some of us, off and on. We only left for dinner.”
“Sounds like you’ve got pretty good burglar protection here,” she said, smiling at the group.
“Not when he pulls a gun. Nothing’s worth getting killed for, you guys. Unless it’s a person. Can you describe him to me? Tall, short, fat, hair color?” Ryan pulled out his notebook to get their descriptions down.
They took turns, each adding his comment.
“He was tall,” said Garrett.
“Real, real tall,” his six-year-old brother chimed in.
“Mouse-colored hair. Well, like my mouse at least.”
“It was brown.”
“Black. And marble eyes.”
“He means they bugged out.”
“He had a big ring on his finger.”
“I didn’t see a ring.”
“Yeah, a shiny ring. White, like my mom’s diamond.”
“Which hand?” Ryan asked, and the boys looked at each other and shrugged.
“Brushy eyebrows.”
“No, they weren’t.”
“They were too.”
They stopped, looked at each other again, then back at Ryan.
“Who actually saw him?” he asked.
“Only these three.” Kent pointed to the youngest ones. “They were waiting for the rest of us to come.”
Ryan looked at them. “Well, can you tell me if his hair was black or brown?”
“Brown.”
“Okay. Brown.”
“He doesn’t know his colors yet,” chimed in his older brother.
“Oh.” Ryan looked at Angie, who was laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re asking the wrong questions.”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
“Then you ask.”
“Okay. Whose father did this man look like?”
They looked among themselves and Chase said, “Nobody’s. He had mean eyes.”
“So much for your approach. How old?” Ryan asked.
“Real, real old.”
“I see. As old as Grandma Miller.”
“Oh no. Not that old.”
“As old as your father.”
“Maybe.”
“As old as me.”
“Uh, huh. That old.”
Angie laughed harder. “You’d better re-do tall while you’re at it.”
“Okay. Was he as tall as me?”
“Taller. As tall as Father.”
Kent looked at Ryan. “He pointed the gun at Chase. Threatened to shoot him. The rest of us were coming down the dock. Scared us all.”
“But you stayed,” Ryan commented, impressed. The boys were brave.
“Well, we figured he wouldn’t come back while we were here. We decided he might’ve come by earlier and waited for us to go eat— a speedboat passed by several times, but we didn’t pay much attention. We had Jason and Selina run and tell our dads. They called the cops.”
“Did a policeman come?”
“Yeah. Two hours later. We told him what we told you, sorta.”
“Have you been here since?”
“Some of us. We took turns.”
“Sounds like I’d better get a dog.”
“And a gun.”
“I’ve got a gun.”
“You do? Awesome,” Kent said, looking impressed, as did the rest of the kids. “Why don’t you have a dog?”
“I’m gone so often, I’d have to board it out all the time. That’s no life for a dog.”
“And now?”
“I’ll get one, train it, and see how it turns out. I’ll try to work around it. But I’m going to need someone to care for it whenever I go out of town. Boarding it won’t protect— “
“I’ll take care of it,” Blake said.
“You’re too little,” Kent scoffed at the eight-year old.
“Am not.”
“I’m afraid he’s right,” Angie said, entering the conversation. “Ryan would need to leave a key to his place. It’d have to be locked every time.”
“Not if you got a doggie door,” Blake said, and Ryan looked at him with interest.
“That’s an idea.” He hadn’t thought about a dog door. A motion detector would be more effective— but the kids would set it off. He could get a surveillance camera from Scott. “Tell you what, I’ll set something up, then let you know.”
The quiet one, Brandon, spoke for the first time. “You could put a lock on the dog door. We have one like that. A metal bar across it, on the inside, with a padlock. We lock it at night. Dad says thieves crawl through large dog doors.” He turned to Angie. “I have a big husky.”
“But you don’t live on a houseboat,” said Kent. “Your dog can go outside whenever he wants. Whoever takes care of Ryan’s dog would have to do more than just feed and water him. You’d have to take him to shore and walk him. I’d offer, but I have basketball practice after school.”
“I’ll do it,” Garrett said. “I’ll help Blake, we can do it together. We’ll check each other.”
Ryan nodded. “I’ll pay— “
“No way. My dad would kill me if I asked for money, after you let us climb your wall. I know my dad.”
“We’ll all help,” said Kent. “I’ll keep the key at my place, since I’m close, and make sure it’s returned each day.”
“But how can I walk it if you aren’t— “
“I’ll leave the key at Grandma Miller’s place,” Ryan suggested, laughing to himself at the boys’ eagerness to take care of a puppy. They’d soon learn it was not all fun and games.
He had been thinking about buying a dog for several years, but dismissed it as impractical. This was different. He wouldn’t be able to take Angie with him every time he took a trip. She could work alone, but he would prefer having a dog with her
. Even a small dog deterred burglars with its bark— unlike an alarm system, which he had, but didn’t arm during the day because of his young climbers.
That night he paced the floor, missing Angie, yet refusing to call and wake her. He attempted to write some checks and pay some bills. His output was laughable.
He was worse off than when Kathleen had left him.
The next morning Angie appeared on Ryan’s doorstep, bright and early and ready to start working. She looked more beautiful than ever. He motioned her outside. “We’ll go to the shelter and look for a dog.”
“You’re really going to go get one?”
“Uh, huh.”
17
In a typical Seattle weather pattern, it warmed up overnight, leaving only scattered piles of dirt covered slush littering the ground. Ryan drove to the animal shelter and led Angie inside. The racket started the second they stepped through the entrance. The dogs barked and yelped and howled like a chorus of lost souls plea-bargaining their sentences.
As they started down the walkway, he noticed Angie’s eagerness explode. These dogs were all alone, like she had been, wanting a home. It seemed fitting they should rescue at least one.
She reached out, wanting to touch each animal, ooh-ing and ah-ing as she walked along, and Ryan smiled to himself. If he let her, she’d take them all.
“Here’s a large one,” Angie said, pointing to a huge black dog of indiscriminate breeding. Its teeth were curled back in a snarl that looking quite viscous and able to ward off any attackers.
“Too big.” And too old. It would probably run away as soon as it could.
“I’d think you’d want him big.”
“For a houseboat?
“That’s right. He’d rock it, wouldn’t he?”
“We need a small one— one that doesn’t yap a lot. One who’ll warn us, but won’t take chunks out of the kids. Or Grandma Miller.”
Angie laughed. “Or chase her cats.”
“Australian breeds are smart.”
“Shouldn’t you go to a breeder?”
“I like... a blend.”
“Good luck.”
He had had very good luck sending people here to get guard dogs. It was his turn now.
They examined the animals as they went along. “This one, I think,” he yelled above the din.
Angie stopped trying to pet a golden retriever and hurried over to him. A small gray-and-white pup gazed back at them with intelligent eyes, tail wagging enthusiastically. Angie pushed her hand through the bars to stroke the female’s cold, wet nose. The dog licked her hand eagerly.
Probably nine months old, this pup would quickly bond. He motioned to the attendant, who had been hovering in the background, giving them time. “This one.”
The young woman walked over, smiled at the dog and then at them. “She’s a doll. We all wondered how long it’d be before someone spotted her. She’s got Australian shepherd blood in her, and beagle. Maybe some blue heeler.”
“How can you tell?” Angie asked.
“Markings. The shape of the nose, size.”
“How long’s she been here?” Ryan asked.
“Just over a week. She’s such a good dog, we wondered why she was running loose with no ID. I would’ve taken her myself, except I’ve already got three. We can fill out the paperwork, then she’s yours.” She turned to lead the way back to the office.
“No chance the owners will come looking for her?” Angie asked.
“No. We always wait a week before the dogs are free to be adopted out. She’s been spayed and had all her shots.”
Ryan filled out the paperwork, paid the fee and bought a leash and collar.
When they reached the car, Ryan wrapped the young animal in a towel left in his car from a work-out. After Angie buckled in, he handed the pup to her. She held the wiggling animal with care, fruitlessly trying to hold her face away from the flicking tongue, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.
It made Ryan happy to see her happy. He felt an extra lift to his step as he walked around the vehicle and slid in behind the wheel.
He glanced over at her. “Ever had a dog?” he asked.
“No. No pets at all,” she replied, surprising him. He figured most every kid had a pet, at some time or other. “My training wouldn’t allow it. I would’ve liked one, but I had to choose. That’s how life is. You work with what you’ve been handed.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. He had thought when Scott took Kathleen from him, that it meant he wasn’t good enough. It really meant that she wasn’t the one for him. This girl was, with her ready smile, her bright eyes, her gamin good looks. He wanted to take care of her, to tell her how much she meant to him. Like Robyn said, Angie’s eyes were not the eyes of a liar. He could trust her.
He drove from the shelter to a pet store. Leaving her cuddling the delighted pup, he went inside and brought a food and water dish, dog food, a small bed, two boxes of treats, three chew toys, shampoo, and a brush. As the cashier rang it all up, he wondered what he had gotten himself into.
Yet, if he had had a dog, any dog, he would’ve been warned the other night, and that thug wouldn’t have gotten his hands on Angie. The thought still made him shudder. The icy water could’ve killed her if she had become disoriented under the dock. He remembered his panic as he had run over to dive in after her, just as she re-surfaced.
Perhaps he should’ve chosen a larger dog, or an older dog. One with strong teeth and a heavy coat. He could tie it outside the door at night.
That’d be no good. Angie would turn it into a lap dog in no time. All he needed was one that would bark.
He carried his purchases to the car and put them in the back. Angie watched him load up. “All that for one little dog?”
He grinned. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a dog.”
“What’re you going to name her?”
He grinned. “You do it.”
“Me? But she’s your dog.”
Ryan shrugged. He wanted her to name the dog. He wanted it to always remind him of her. He felt compelled to involve her in his life and this was one way of doing so.
“Any ideas?” he asked.
“Not at the moment. I’ve read so many dog stories growing up, wishing I had one, but it wouldn’t have been fair to the dog.” She stroked her hand across the animal’s soft hair, lifting the floppy ears.
“She’s got beagle ears and a beagle nose. If she’s got the beagle temperament, and the Aussie smarts, we’ll have ourselves a good dog.”
Using cardboard boxes, they walled off the living room carpet and let the dog run through the rest of the house. The pup checked out her bed, but as soon as Angie sat down at the kitchen table, she abandoned it and jumped into Angie’s arms.
Laughing, Ryan searched through his library for his dog-training book— the one he always recommended— The Kohler Method of Dog Training. Finding it, he sat down and skimmed the puppy section, then handed the book to Angie.
She opened it up, laying it on the table so she could read past the pup. “This section is about training a guard dog,” she said. “You don’t think she’ll ever be a guard dog do you?”
He laughed. “Not the way you mean. A guard dog is different from an attack dog. All our pup has to do is bark. Scare the bad people away.”
“So she doesn’t need to take a bite out of anyone.”
“That’s right.”
Angie flipped through the book, and stopped at the pictures. “This photo shows a dog attacking a man with a protective pad on his arm. That looks like it’s being trained to bite.”
“It’s all in there, companion dog, guard dog, military police dogs. How to train them. Just read the section on training a puppy.”
Angie found the section, tucked her feet under the chair, and began reading, hugging the puppy closer. Ryan watched as she quickly became absorbed. She attacked each problem in a serious manner. Serious, concentrated, dedicated. He understood how she took silver in the Olympi
cs.
The puppy continued to lick her arms and try for her face, and Angie finally put down the book. “Keep that up, and I’ll name you “Tongue,” she threatened.
“Shows subjection,” he said. “Dogs lick to show you that you’re the boss.”
“So I’d better get used to it, is that what you’re saying?”
“Sort of.”
She laughed, and hugged the dog tighter. Her face shone, her happiness so evident Ryan would gladly have bought her a thousand dogs. He felt the warm glow inside himself, responding to her.
He needed to bond the pup to him, too, so he reached over for the leash. “Why don’t you finish the chapter while I take “pup” for a walk?”
“Okay. I won’t ever get done, this way.”
He snapped the new leash onto the collar and took the puppy outside. She didn’t want to go, preferring to stay in Angie’s lap, and he finally had to carry her outside and close the door before putting her down.
After a lot of persuasion, he walked her over to the edge of the parking lot, took the leash off and let her run free for a while along the grassy bank. The pup stayed fairly close to him even while busily checking things out. With the bloodlines of working dogs in her, she’d quickly develop her protective instincts.
He reached down to pet her just as she spied Angie coming toward them. Instead of running along the shore to where the dock started, the pup ran out onto a nearby log, then tried to continue running across the water’s surface, giving a yelp of astonishment as she went under. She resurfaced, tried to dog paddle towards Angie, then— as Angie ran to the shore— tried to get back onto the log.
Ryan called her, but the frightened pup pawed vainly at the slippery log, growing more and more desperate. It looked like he’d have to rescue her. He checked the log— it felt firm— and walked out, balancing carefully, then plucked the animal out of the lake.
The log spun, tossing him and the pup backwards into about two feet of icy water. Angie had stopped on the shore five yards from them, and expressed her concern by doubling over with laughter.