Hart & Stocker

by Max Ellendale

  "Hansel's a cute little guy." I chuckled as he rolled onto his back, allowing both of us to rub his belly. "Keep him well-socialized. Chihuahua's need that, otherwise they can get grumpy."

  "I will." Mrs. Young grinned before scooping up the tiny dog. "C'mon, big man. Let's get you out of here. Thanks again, Doc."

  "You're welcome." I ushered them to the door. "Joanna, all good?" I asked the tech.

  "Yep. Got it," she chirped, smiling as she stroked the pup on the nose. "Time to go."

  We bid our farewells and I toted Hansel's chart into the treatment room to jot down some notes.

  "Will?" Nellie poked her head in over the half-door.

  "What's up, Nell?" I turned my attention to her after setting the chart in the file box.

  "I'm ringing out Mrs. Young, but there's someone here to see you…" She glanced over her shoulder then back to me, lowering her voice. "Are you in trouble?"

  "What?" I started, leaning around the corner, though I didn't see anyone. "No, why?"

  "The cops are here."

  "Oh." I thought about the events at the bar and wondered. "Um...I'll be right out."

  "Okay…" Nellie gulped, taking a deep breath before returning to the front desk, her cheery voice a pitch higher as she took care of Mrs. Young.

  I removed my stethoscope, hung it by the lab coat I rarely wore, and headed out into the busy waiting area. Confusion fell on me when I didn't see any cops, and I glanced to Nellie, holding my hands palm up. She pointed to the corner of the room where Dax stood, leaning against the wall as she looked out the window. A pair of sunglasses rested on her nose, and her badge hung around her neck. One hand held something in a brown paper bag, while the other rested on the butt of her weapon. One of the women in the waiting room stared at her while holding her Beagle in her lap.

  "Dax?" I called out, and she dropped her hand from her gun when she turned.

  "Hey," she said, sliding her sunglasses on top of her head. Like the first time I met her, deep green eyes met mine. "Brought you something."

  "What's that?" I nodded for her to follow me down the hall a few paces, out of earshot of the patients. She handed me the bag and I accepted it with a risen brow while pulling the bottle of Jack Daniel's from it. "Whiskey?"

  "For helping me out the other night." She leaned against the wall and shrugged.

  "So for driving your drunk and hostile ass home after a bar brawl, I get a bottle of my very own whiskey?" I shrugged, tucking it under my arm. "Sounds reasonable to me."

  Dax laughed as she held my gaze, and for the first time, her smile seemed to make it to her eyes. "And for helping my horse."

  "Well, I appreciate the gesture."

  "Let's open it." She jerked her chin in my direction, the smile still playing on her lips.

  "It's three in the afternoon. On a Wednesday." I gestured around us. "Literally in the middle of my job."

  "So what? You own the place. Call it quits."

  I laughed, shaking my head at her. "I can't. I have two more patients later."

  "C'mon, Pig Girl. Live a little."

  "Tell you what." I pointed toward the rear door to the building at the end of the hall. "We can grab a coffee in the break room, and open this another time."

  "Hmph." She shrugged, then headed down the hallway toward the break room as if she knew where she was going. "Acceptable."

  "Glad to be of service?" I followed after her into the empty, rarely used room, and flicked on the light.

  Dax dropped into one of the chairs at the small table, glancing around the place in a quick survey before she watched me again.

  "How do you take your coffee?" I asked as I loaded the dual-brew coffee maker after setting the whiskey on the counter.

  "Black is fine."

  "Same."

  It took barely three minutes for the hot liquid to pour into the two mugs, and I toted them to the table before sitting down to join her.

  "Thanks," she said, accepting it then taking a sip.

  "Welcome." I brought the mug to my mouth and blew on it for a few seconds.

  "You've changed a few things in here," she commented, glancing back to the entrance.

  "Dad wasn't known for his tidiness or decoration. I spruced it up a bit."

  "Looks good."

  "Thanks." The compliment came across as sincere in its own right. "So how's Carol? Have you tried the bit?"

  "Better." She nodded, holding the mug in her palms. "She wasn't miserable when I tried it. Giving her a little more time."

  "Good. She's a lovely horse."

  "Yeah." Dax slouched in her chair, crossing her legs while her gaze fell from mine to her hands around her mug.

  And cue crickets.

  "So, what's your main job as a marshal?" I asked, leaning my elbows on the table.

  "Why do you care?" she asked, her tone falling from normal to monotonous in a heartbeat.

  "Because you know what I do, and I want to know what you do," I said, notably keeping myself calm as I addressed her.

  Her gaze flickered in my direction as if she didn't trust that was my sole reason for asking. It took her a moment, and eventually she answered. "Now, mostly serve federal warrants. I used to be on Judicial Security, but backed off over the past year."

  "How come?"

  "After my father died, I got the opportunity to take over the farm and…" She shrugged, taking a moment to sip her coffee. "Took it."

  "Are you happy with that decision?"

  "Happy?" She smirked as if she never heard of the word before. "Peaceful."

  "Peaceful sounds worth it."

  "It is."

  The scratching of nails on the wood floor drew our attention to the door and a barreling ball of brown fur skid into the room. The happy puppy, with ears flying behind him, tore a circle around the table.

  "Beeboo!" Joanna shrieked, as she raced after him.

  The dog's expression, wide and smiling, enjoyed every minute of it. Dax sat forward, an amused expression on her face.

  "Don't chase him, Jo." I laughed as I rolled off my chair right onto the floor, clapping my hands. "Here, Bee."

  The puppy nearly mauled me, diving his thick Labrador body right into my lap. He rolled on his back, kicked in the air, with his tail wagging rapid fire.

  "There we go." I patted his belly and held my hand out for the leash when Joanna finally caught up to him. I clipped it to his collar, though it didn't seem to disturb his playfulness. "We have an escape artist. Good thing he's chipped."

  "Seriously." Joanna wiped her brow. "He's a little menace."

  "Naw. He's just a lab." I rubbed his ears and he chuffed at me before rolling to his feet. Beeboo shook off, then plopped down to sit in front of me, enjoying the affection of the shoulder massage I offered.

  Dax grew quiet, then lowered herself in front of the dog, her hand held out palm down. The pup sniffed her, then shifted closer so she would pet him, too. She did, stroking his head and muzzle with a soft smile on her face.

  "Is his name really Beeboo?" she asked, her voice soft. Unlike with me, she had no trouble holding his gaze. The dog put his front paws on her thigh and snorted out his happiness.

  "Their three-year-old named him," I said, smiling at the sight of Dax with the sweet dog. "He likes you."

  "Yeah." Dax leaned back, stroking a single finger down his nose before standing. "I gotta go."

  "So does Beeboo. Can you take him back to Doctor Harmon, Jo?" I asked and she nodded.

  "You got it. C'mon, bud." She gave the leash a gentle tug and he followed her, though zigzagged between her legs on the way.

  I stood up to join Dax. "I'll walk you out."

  "It's okay." She dropped her sunglasses back down over the bridge of her nose. "Later, Hart."

  "Later." I watched her head off down the hall, taking a deep breath, then returned to my post.

  The day wore on as usual, and instead of heading off to Sage's after work, I retired to my apartment. In the quaint space, s
et up in clean whites and earthy grays, it bore some resemblance to my place in Seattle, except without any of the flash. Charming, I would call it, and cozy. I locked up, tossing my keys on the half-moon table by the door, and ditched my shoes.

  My apartment didn't match the rest of Sequim, in my opinion. It lacked rustic and country, and instead served as a sort of shrine to the life I had once. Or an apartment that fell out of a frilly home decor magazine. I enjoyed looking at it, and remembering what it was like to sit on the pristine white sofa and sip wine.

  It didn't feel as homey anymore like it used to.

  I set the bottle of whiskey down on the kitchen counter, then headed off for a shower.

  My thoughts circled around the drain the same way the grime of the day managed its way down. I thought about my mom bringing up the sore spot of Kari, and her feelings about my future. If I let myself dwell on it too long, I would tumble down the slope of believing it.

  I wrapped myself in a towel after finishing up, and stood in front of the mirror while brushing out my hair. The bottle of whiskey looked tempting after my mood dipped, and I thought of Dax. It didn't take a genius to recognize that something was off with her. Her innate distrust, quiet nature, and lack of eye contact disturbed me at times. Though something deeper, primal even, found her interesting.

  My phone rang and I scurried off to the bedroom to swipe it up from the bed. Sage's name appeared on the screen and I answered her.

  "Hey, sis."

  "Mom's going to watch Macie for a bit. Want to head to Rooney's?"

  "Um…" I glanced at the pile of laundry on the floor then sifted through my drawers. "Let's do something else."

  "Like what?"

  "Fishing or something."

  "Will, it's nearly seven. We'll go fishing on Saturday. C'mon. Meet me for a beer."

  "Fine. But you're buying."

  "Jake's buying."

  "See you soon."

  "Yay."

  "Brat."

  "You know it."

  Half an hour later, I joined Sage at Rooney's. We headed inside, and I kept my focus on the steel toe of my boots.

  "You're unusually frowny tonight," Sage commented as we sat at our places at the bar. We ordered right away.

  "I'm tired tonight."

  We sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the music until our dinner arrived.

  "What'd Mom say to you, Will?"

  "The usual. It just makes me think sometimes," I said, taking a swig of beer in between bites of my burger. "Although I love being here with you and the family, I miss Seattle sometimes."

  "It's understandable. Take a day trip or something."

  "How do you keep yourself from getting restless?" I asked, meeting her gaze after she stole one of my fries and dipped it in her mac and cheese.

  "Well, Jake and I both work full-time, and then we come home only to get wrapped up in Macie's stuff. Schoolwork, plays, dance class, birthday parties." She shrugged. "It's rat-racy at times. Not much time to be restless if you're exhausted."

  "True." I scrunched up my face at the idea. "Maybe I will take a day trip."

  As we chatted, small groups of people began to arrive. Most of them wore cowboy hats and matching boots. Normally, that wasn't unusual, though the numbers continued to increase after a while.

  "It's unusually Wild West in here tonight," I commented when yet another batch of cowgirls showed up.

  "It's square dancing night. Every Wednesday." Sage glanced to her watch. "Usually around eight."

  "Uck. Let's get out of here."

  "Not yet. I want ice cream," she said.

  People began moving tables and chairs out of the way, so Sage and I huddled on the corner of the bar where we usually sat. Jake and Hugh sat next to us for once, staring at some sports game on the televisions behind the bar.

  When the rest of the bar stools cleared, I caught sight of Dax at the other end of the counter. She had a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of her, though didn't seem to be nursing it as heavily tonight.

  "Is she here every time you come?" I asked Sage and she followed my gaze to the woman.

  "Not every time. She's been a regular for a few months."

  "Hmm."

  The waitress returned to take our empty plates and Sage ordered a strawberry sundae. I leaned my chin on my hand as I watched her devour it, a happy smile on her face.

  "I'm envious of your metabolism," I said.

  "All the sex keeps me svelte. Right, honey?" She reached over and patted Jake's hand. He kissed her cheek, though never stopped staring at the T.V.

  "He's so very attentive to your needs. I can see why."

  Sage laughed and we turned our attention to the cleared out center of the bar where people began lining up. Most of the dancers were older than us, but their chipper faces, blue jeans, and button-down tops made them appear like a country-western dance troupe. A good twenty or so folks swayed with the start of the music.

  Jake and Hugh stood up as if some invisible force turned them into automatons and carried them over to the pool table. Jake glanced over his shoulder, a look of repulsion on his face. I laughed at him and turned back to Sage.

  "The look of regret." I nodded in his direction.

  "Totally." She grinned, licking ice cream from her spoon.

  The moment the first chords of Boot Scootin' Boogie began to play, a harsh thud hit the bar counter. Sage started and we both looked down to the other end where Dax dropped her forehead down on the counter. Andy stood in front of her, laughing his head off as she lifted her gun from its holster and moved it toward her head. Andy wrestled her arm back down toward her hip, his face red with hysterics.

  "Oh my God." Despite my horror, I burst out laughing.

  Dax peeked up from her death, her brow cocked as she shot a look in my direction.

  "C'mon. Let's dance." Sage grabbed my arm, and dragged me from the stool.

  "Sage! Are you fucking kidding me?" I dug my heels in, but she just dragged me toward the line of people dancing the slowest line dance ever.

  Heels tapped while men fondled their hats and women's hands fell to their waist.

  "Shut up and follow along." Sage's laughter made me want to kill her as she shoved me in line. "You know how to do it."

  "Jesus Christ." I stumbled, but moved with her out of sheer fear of getting trampled in the line. The woman beside me turned in a circle and I had to dodge her elbow. "This is the worst fucking song—"

  "Shh." Sage smacked my arm and I was forced to fall in line. Literally. And it killed my insides. My sister's laughter never ceased, except now Jake stood by watching. His arms crossed over his chest, grinning like a fiend as he stared her down. She had eyes only for him while she danced, fairly well.

  Heat rushed my face when the old movements that I'd learned in grammar school at best, returned to me, and suddenly I was an old fogey just like the rest of the line dancers. We spun around, and when we faced the bar again, I caught sight of Dax. She leaned back against the counter, her elbows perched on it, with an amused smile curving her mouth. Her eyes lingered only on me and if my face was red before, it nearly exploded at that point.

  Sage punched my shoulder when I stumbled a step, and her laughing turned to a giggle fit that set off mine. "Stop that." I swatted at her when she grabbed me around the middle, and now full on danced with me, forcing me into a ridiculous twirl. Jake and Hugh both let out hearty laughs. Again, I glanced to Dax, whose smirk remained and her merriment made it to her eyes.

  The song seemed to last forever and when it finally ended, I shoved away from Sage before the next song started.

  "Get lost. Dance with your husband." I swatted at her hands and escaped her grasp right before Jake grabbed her into a rough hug. He pretended to bite her as he growled against her shoulder.

  I escaped to the bar, where no one save for Dax stood dead center. Her eyes never left me when I swatted my hand down on it. Andy plopped a beer in front of me, continuing to chuckle at me l
ike everyone else.

  When I looked back to Dax, having avoided her gaze for the majority of that ridiculous show, she lifted a single brow at me. "Hot, Hart. Hot."

  "Oh shut up." I downed a gulp of beer, then pointed to the crew that danced to Good Time. "I don't see you out there."

  "And you won't. Ever. And if I ever am, call an ambulance because I'm about to die."

  "If they play Cotton Eye Joe next, I'm leaving," I threatened, pointing to the door.

  "Don't even play, Hart. You knew every step to that dance." Dax laughed, leaning down the counter to grab her glass and pull it closer to her.

  "Yeah, well, I'm sure you do, too."

  No response.

  "Thought so."

  Jake and Sage danced to a tune of their own, with her arms around his neck and his hands on her waist. Their slow dance didn't match the upbeat tempo of the line dance phenomena happening. Jake said something to her, his eyes twinkling nearly as much as hers. Sage lifted on her tiptoes, and kissed him with a passion that nearly stole my breath away and it wasn't even happening to me.

  I spun around in my seat at the same time that Dax did, the two of us leaning on the bar now facing the wall of liquor.

  "Never thought they'd stay together this long," said Dax, finishing off her drink then sliding the empty glass to Andy when he came by.

  "High school sweethearts in small towns are a thing." I shrugged, taking another sip of beer. "And they're a thing."

  "Clearly." Dax leaned her head on her hand, turning slightly to face me. "Good for them."

  "Yeah." I smiled when I thought about my sister's happiness. "Good for them."

  Quiet fell between us and I tried to tune out the annoying music. One thing that'd never earned me favor around here was my disdain for country. I preferred rock of the alternative persuasion.

  "Never had to deal with crap music like this in Seattle unless you went to a themed bar," I said, thunking the bottle down on the counter.

  "When it's the only game in town, we suffer."

  "Cheers to suffering."

  "Sláinte." She lifted an invisible glass and I chuckled.

  "Back at you. Where'd you hang out in Seattle?" I asked, crossing my legs when I turned to face her slightly.