Page 2 of Eden and her Mercenary
The pit mix inched forward, her nose twitching as she sniffed my fingers. Then, surprising me, she crawled into my lap and buried her head against my stomach.
I stroked her velvet-soft ears, feeling her bony spine beneath my fingers. She was so thin. Tears sprang to my eyes when I felt the scars that crisscrossed her flanks—some old, some newer.
"What did they do to you?" I whispered. "What makes you worth five grand to get back?"
A flash of lightning lit up the night sky, visible in the cracks of the barn’s old wooden planks.
“How bout we get you guys out for a bathroom break?” I asked in a soothing voice.
I secured a long lead onto Stella’s harness thencarefully opened the rear doors. Instead of taking her out to the tall grass, I led her to a nearby hitching post and looped the leash around it.
“You stay here girl while I close the barn doors,” I said in a soothing voice.
Rain pelted my head as I shoved against the massive doors. They groaned in protest from lack of use over the years, but somehow, I managed to close them. I fumbled my way back over to the van, the interior light, guiding me. One by one I took out the dogs on their leads and once I removed the last one, I gathered all their leashes and led them to the enclosed arena. I watched as they sniffed out their surroundings, all but Stella. She stood by my side, watching the other dogs.
I took to my knees beside her and looked her in the eyes. “You don’t know how to play do you?”
The look she gave me tore at my heart.
I unclipped her leash and gave her a gentle nudge toward the others. "Go on, it's okay."
She took a tentative step forward, then another, her nails clicking softly against the packed dirt floor. The border collie mix bounded over, play-bowing with his tail whipping the air. Stella froze, muscles tensed as if expecting punishment.
"He just wants to play," I said quietly. "See?"
The collie circled her, maintaining a respectfuldistance. After a moment, Stella's tail gave the faintest wag—just a hesitant twitch at first, then a more confident sweep. Something inside me loosened at the sight.
The barn had seen better days, but it would shelter us for the night. Rusty farm equipment lined one wall, and a hayloft loomed overhead, half-filled with ancient, musty hay. A small office tucked in the corner would give me a place to sleep while keeping the dogs secure in the van.
I whistled softly, and six of the seven dogs trotted back, ready for food and water. Stella remained in place, watching the beagle sniff an interesting spot.
"Stella," I called gently. Her ears perked, and she looked at me with surprise, as if she couldn't believe I knew her name.
That's when I heard it—the crunch of tires on the gravel lane outside.
As if they knew what was going on, thankfully not one dog made a sound as I gathered them quickly, rushing them back to the van. Stella came willingly this time, pressing against my leg as I secured each dog in their crate. I left her for last, and when I reached for her harness, she licked my hand—a small gesture of trust that made my throat tighten.
"We're going to have to be very quiet now," I whispered, helping her into her crate.
The headlights swept across the barn's wooden slats, sending thin beams of light through the cracks. I ducked down, crawling toward the office space. From a small, grimy window, I could see the black SUV idling in the yard, its engine a low growl in the rain-soaked night.
Two men emerged—the driver I'd seen earlier and a shorter, wiry man with a flashlight. They approached the farmhouse first, their boots squelching in the mud.
"Keep your eyes peeled," the larger man ordered, his voice carrying through the damp air. "There is nowhere else she could be. She’s gotta be somewhere close."
My hand slid to the small of my back, where my father's old .38 special rested in its holster. Fifteen years transporting rescues had taught me more than just how to recognize trouble—it had taught me how to prepare for it.
The wiry man circled toward the barn, his flashlight beam dancing across the exterior. I held my breath as he tested the door, pushing against it. The rusted hinges groaned but held.
"Locked up tight," he called out.
"Check the back," the larger man shouted. "I'll try the side."
My heart raced. The barn had three entrances—front, back, and a narrow side door partially hidden by overgrown bushes. If they split up to search, they'd find us for sure.
I crept back to the van, my mind racing. The dogs sensing my tension, stayed eerily quiet. I grabbed my keys just in case and whispered to them, "Stay quiet. I'll be right back."
The side door's hinges protested with a soft squeal as I eased it open just enough to slip through. Rain immediately plastered my hair to my face as I circled through the shadows to where their SUV was parked. If I could move it, I'd have a straight shot out to the road.
