Cornered In Conard County. Rachel Lee
it struck her: she had no way yet to care for Flash. No food, no bowls, no bed, no leash...wow. She needed to take care of that fast.
She mentioned that to Cadell as they stepped out back through his mudroom. “I feel silly for not taking care of it yesterday.”
He shook his head. “Every dog here has his own bowls and leashes, and they go with him. Same with his favorite toy. As for a bed...he’ll sleep just about anywhere you let him, but I’m warning you, if you invite him onto the bed, he may claim possession.”
That elicited another laugh from her, and amazement wafted through her again. She hadn’t felt this good since she got the news about George. Her spirits were up, her confidence was high—all because of one dog trainer and a dog named Flash.
She wondered how long that would last.
He paused halfway to the dog run and faced her. “You can love him, Dory. Just don’t spoil him. Remember, he’s a working dog, and working makes him happy. Keep his training fresh and establish your boundaries. Then you’ll have a great relationship.”
She nodded and followed him, thinking that was probably good advice for people, too.
Flash’s tail wagged fast, and she could have sworn he grinned at her as they approached. Excited or not, however, he didn’t misbehave, and when released from his kennel, he merely nosed her hand in greeting. Dory, however, was a little more exuberant, squatting to rub his neck and sides. “You’re a beautiful boy,” she heard herself saying. Talking to a dog?
But as she looked into Flash’s warm brown eyes, it suddenly felt right. She suspected this dog understood more than she would ever know.
She looked up at Cadell and found him smiling affectionately down at her and the dog. “Okay,” he said, “let’s go. Maybe you can take him home with you today.”
* * *
CADELL REALIZED HE was developing a problem. His attraction to Dory wouldn’t quit. Yes, she’d caught his eye with her almost ethereal beauty, but that should have worn off quickly. It wasn’t as if she was the only beautiful woman he had ever seen.
No, something about her was reaching deeper than mere superficial attraction, and that wasn’t good. He had years of experience in a lousy marriage to teach him that even cop groupies didn’t necessarily like being married to a cop. The endless complaints that had assaulted him after the first six months of marriage should have been lesson enough. If something kept him late and he missed dinner, an explosion would result. If he had to break a date because of his job, he found no understanding. Sometimes he’d wondered if the woman would be glad if he never came home from one of his shifts.
It wasn’t his safety that had worried her. No, she was annoyed that his job interfered with her life, and that was not a happy way to live, for either of them.
In the process he’d learned that love could die fast with the wrong person, and that was painful all by itself. Since his divorce, finally agreed to when the fighting became almost constant after a few years, he’d avoided entanglements. He didn’t know whether he was guilty of lousy judgment—although as a cop his judgment was usually pretty good—or whether he was just poison. Brenda had turned into a woman he didn’t recognize, and he wondered if that was his doing.
Anyway, even in his new job the unexpected happened. A search for a missing person could keep him from home for days, often without warning. And that was only one example. So...he judged it best to avoid long-term affairs. Maybe later in life, he told himself. Maybe when he retired from being a cop and devoted himself to the dog-training school he was slowly starting. Maybe after he got rid of those dang ostriches.
He enjoyed helping Dory run Flash through his paces, though. As the sun rose higher, with frequent breaks for Flash to lap water, he watched the woman and dog bond more securely. From his perspective, Flash had totally given his loyalty to Dory. He was already crazy about her.
There was no better protection than that. But there was still her brother. Unease niggled at Cadell. While a trained dog was great, it wasn’t a perfect solution. There were always ways around a dog if you thought about it—usually a bullet.
When they were done with training and Dory sat on the hard ground to play tug with Flash for a little while, Cadell dropped beside her and stretched out, propping himself on an elbow.
“You ever marry?” he asked, mainly because if she told him she’d had a lousy marriage he could hope she’d have as many reasons to avoid involvement as he had. One thing for sure—with this woman he was going to need a lot of protection for himself. Everything about her appealed to him.
“No,” she answered as she threw the knotted rope and Flash leaped into the air to catch it. Her reply was remarkable in its brevity. Interestingly, she didn’t ask him, which would have been the usual conversational flow.
He decided to plunge in anyway. An understated warning to both of them. “I was,” he said.
Her attention returned to him as Flash brought the rope back to her and dropped it in her lap. “Flash, down,” she said. All of this was coming naturally to her, and he smiled. Flash obeyed immediately, head still high and curious. “Not good?” she asked.
“Awful,” he said frankly.
“I’m sorry.”
He wondered if he should tell her more, then decided to go for it. She’d gotten his attention enough in so many ways that he was going to be checking up on her frequently. Officer Friendly, as long as George might be a threat.
“My wife, Brenda, was a cop groupie.” He watched her eyes widen. “Now, a smart cop knows that’s dangerous, that most of those women just want a notch on the headboard. But Brenda seemed different. Maybe she was. I never heard of her sleeping with any of the other guys. But she used to sit there in the bar with big eyes, encouraging us to talk, basking in as much of the camaraderie as we were willing to share with her.”
Dory nodded slowly. “I’m picturing it, but probably all wrong.”
“Probably not. Some women love the uniform, not what’s inside it. And some cops want brief affairs and one-night stands, just like the women. Consenting adults and all that. But Brenda seemed different. Unfortunately, she was.”
Dory looked down and scratched Flash behind one ear. “How so?”
“I felt drawn to her, so I started sitting with her more and more often. As we got to know each other better, I decided she was genuine and I liked her. So we started dating. Long story short, I fell in love, we got married, and six months later I started to learn how wrong I was.”
He plucked a blade of dried grass, shaking his head, then stared away from her out over the pasture to the nearby mountains. He’d had mountains in Seattle, but here...these were already special to him somehow.
“Anyway, it turned out she couldn’t stand my job. Irregular hours, broken plans. She started in on me for being unreliable, demanding I find a regular job.”
She drew an audible breath. “She called a police officer unreliable? Really?”
“In all fairness, from her perspective I probably was. I lost count of the times I missed dinner or a movie date with her. She wanted a very different kind of life, and I wanted to remain in law enforcement. So then it got truly ugly. No reason to rake it up. But I learned something.”
“Yes?”
He looked up and found her blue eyes on him. “That maybe I should just avoid marrying anyone. I sure as hell was doing something wrong, something I never seemed able to fix unless I gave up part of myself.”
Now it was her turn to look away toward the mountains. Whatever she was thinking, Flash sensed something and stirred a bit, raising his gaze to her face. Almost instinctively, she petted him.
“I never got that close to anyone,” she said after a minute or two. “I couldn’t tell you whether either or both of you were at