Page 66 of Reading Between the Lines
I liked it too. Six weeks and our relationship was easier every day. I may not have been perfect, I had a long way to go when it came to intimacy and fulfilling Tallus’s need for affection, but I was getting there, and he remained surprisingly patient as I fumbled along.
The sign for McConaughy’s Kennel appeared shortly after we passed the trailer park on the outskirts of town. I slowed and located a gravel drive among a thicket of trees. A short way in, a clearing came into view, and I scanned the property.
High fences and large, dirt-packed enclosures took up much of the outdoor space near a rustic barn-like building. Inside the cordoned-off yards were play structures suitable for canine use. Several dogs of various breeds occupied the area. Some ran, some slumbered, others chased each other up ramps andthrough tunnels. Tattered balls and several colorful chew toys lay scattered about.
The main house sat farther back on the property, a leaning red brick century home in severe disrepair. Smoke rose from a chimney at the back. A lone rusted pickup took up space near a garage in similar condition.
I parked close to the barn, and the dogs in the yard went into a barking frenzy, gathering at the nearby fence, bowling over each other in their frantic race to greet the newcomers. I counted ten, but since they were bouncing about, I thought there might be more.
Tallus’s wide-eyed expression suggested he wasn’t over his experience from that morning and would have much rather been elsewhere.
“They’re behind a fence,” I said.
“I know. I’m looking for the rottweiler who wanted to eat my face. Do you see him?”
I scanned the animals and shook my head. “No.”
“Do you think he lives here?”
“Don’t know. Only one way to find out.”
A man in his early to mid-twenties appeared at the barn door, a young golden retriever at his heels and a squirming mess of brown fur in his arms. The man’s flannel and jeans needed a wash, and his faded ballcap had seen better days, but he seemed friendly enough compared to the stranger in the woods. At least he didn’t have a gun. The man tipped his chin in greeting, but questions lived in his eyes.
“Do you want to wait here?” I asked Tallus.
“No, I’m coming.”
We got out, and as I approached the man by the barn, Tallus hung back, calling, “That dog won’t bite me, will it?”
The man frowned and glanced at the young retriever at his side. “Echo won’t hurt you. She’s loving and calm despite her age. I promise.”
I glanced back and met Tallus’s eyes. He searched my face and must have found what he was looking for. Warily, he joined me, keeping a generous distance from the fence and enclosure, using my larger body as a shield.
“How can I help you?” the man asked. He had a slight country drawl. “You in the market for a dog?”
“No. Are you Nicholas?”
“That I am.” The quizzical expression remained as he studied us, seemingly trying to determine what we were all about. The furball in his arms wiggled and wormed. “This is about Weston, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
I showed Nicholas my credentials and made formal introductions, calling Tallus my partner and eliminating thein trainingpart, knowing it would erase the disquiet in his eyes. It worked, and he stood taller.
The golden retriever moved toward me, sniffing my hand. I gave her ear a scratch, and she licked my fingers before sitting at my feet and leaning against my leg, peering up at me like I hung the moon.
“She likes you,” Nicholas said, smiling.
“Doubt it.”
“No doubt, mister. She knows good people when she sees ’em.”
I wasn’t good people, and no one liked me—except Tallus—so I wasn’t sure what to make of the dog’s quick appraisal. Most people saw my scars and height as threatening, but little Miss Echo didn’t seem to care.
“She’s the only one of her litter who didn’t get adopted. A shame, really. She’s one of the calmest, most obedient dogs I’ve ever had, and would you believe she’s only eleven monthsold? I was considering putting her into the service dog training program next month. She’d make a great support dog. Can’t start until they’re a year old, but she’ll excel. Ain’t that right, girl?”
Echo peered up at me, tongue lulling, eyes sparkling. If I didn’t know better, I would say she was smiling. I tried to nudge her back to her owner, but she persisted in leaning against me. I frowned, and she nuzzled her face against my leg. I didn’t know what to do with the unexpected attention and affection.
Nicholas chuckled. “You’ve got a friend for life.”
