Page 3 of Wandering Souls

She’d signed up to the military to follow in her father’s footsteps and spent her entire time at the academy studying his life. He’d left the police force to become a major and command his own troop, but she learned early on she wasn’t cut out to be a combat soldier. Instead, she chose to become pilot, preferring life in the clouds rather than on the ground.

As one of only a handful of female aviators, she’d had to fight for every small win, working harder than all her male counterparts to prove she was as capable, that she wasn’t a liability. It never seemed to matter; she was always paired with a more senior ranking male officer.

“Abi?”

She blinked, Hollywood’s voice bringing her back to the moment. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she smiled. “Sorry. Zoned out for a minute there.”

His hand patted her shoulder. “Not to worry. Say, why don’t you head out for a walk? Get a little fresh air and see a bit of nature. It’s good for the soul. There’s a river trail that leads all the way into town.”

She thought about her thigh. “How far?”

He chuckled. “A few clicks. Nothing too strenuous.”

She tilted her head to the side before looking down at her legs. Her left thigh was noticeably smaller than her right, but he didn’t seem aware of it. “Maybe a short walk. I have to be careful with physical activity for a little longer. Don’t want my little keepsakes migrating, now do we?”

Worry creased his brow. “How many do you have?”

“Forty-two, at last count.”

Hollywood’s jaw dropped open. “Wow.”

“Some are from the rocket that blew apart my helicopter and the others are from my helicopter. I’d always said I’d bring a piece of that bird home with me.”

Magnus chuckled, though Hollywood only bit his lip, looking like he wasn’t sure how to respond. “You were the pilot?”

“Amstill a pilot.” No one would ever take that away from her. “I may never serve on active duty again, but I will fly.”

Warmth filled his eyes and bolstered her confidence. “We’ll see to it, Abi.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I won’t get lost down by the river, will I?”

“Nah.” He motioned toward Magnus. “He runs it daily and has worn a definite path. Do you have a phone?”

She nodded and slid it out of her pocket. He gave her his number. “If you get lost, which you won’t, just give a holler and we’ll come find you.”

With a nod, she tucked the device back into her pocket and bid them farewell. Though the sun shone, the chill lingered in the air as she made her way passed the cottages. A small track led off the gravel drive and she followed it southwest. It dropped down an embankment, the descent testing her thigh until the terrain evened out beside a rapidly flowing river that meandered its way south.

The path Hollywood talked about had been cleared and signed well enough that she found herself settling in to a steady pace. It seemed her choice to spend the coming summer here at theSanctuarymight very well be the best decision she’d made in a long time.

~

Ray Wells schooledhis voice into a commanding tone. “Bruce, sit.”

He waited.

The six-month-old Australian Shepherd stared up at him with a big doggie grin and wagged his tail, as if completely oblivious that he disobeyed the command. Everything was a game to this dog. Ray took a deep breath, the icy morning air stinging his nostrils.Come on, pup, we’re on show.

“Sit.”

Two pale blue eyes blinked at him but the pooch’s butt remained in the air, his tail swinging from left to right happily. Ray became acutely aware of the human eyes watching him, and Bruce, fail miserably at puppy school. When it came to playing fetch, the dog was a rockstar. Basic commands? Not so much. Only food rewards seemed to have any sway, but even then, they didn’t work every time. Ray reached into the small bag clipped to his belt, filled with liver treats. Bruce’s eyes followed his hand, his intense focus on the promise of food.

“Remember, use food treats sparingly,” the dog trainer reminded him.

Ray let his hand linger at his hip. “Sit.”

The dog swallowed, glancing back up at Ray, before settling his rump on the dewy grass. The main arena of the Wills Crossing Showground had started to thaw. A month into spring, they’d seen the last of the snow and were finally waking to mornings minus the deep freeze.

Seeing the pooch finally obey washed off some of the embarrassment but it lingered. The sense of failure was unfamiliar to him and sat like lead in his gut, far too heavy at this early hour of the morning. He removed a treat from the bag and gave it to the dog.

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