The puppy lapped at her hand with her little pink tongue, let out a familiar squeak of hunger and began to squirm.
Smiling tenderly, Ally tore her gaze from Hank’s. She glanced down, then gasped. “Oh my gosh, Hank! Look at this!”
Chapter Twelve
“Her eyes are open!” Ally cried in amazement. She had grown used to seeing the puppies in constant play, with their eyes shut tight. Being able to look into Gracie’s dark eyes forged yet another unexpected yet highly emotional connection. To the point that Ally knew leaving her was going to be excruciatingly hard.
For Hank, too, judging by the depth of affection on his handsome face. He came closer and leaned in for a better look. “Right on schedule, too.” He grinned triumphantly, then turned to Ally, his warm breath brushing her face. “I told you that Gracie might be little, but she’s mighty.”
Ally glowed with pride, knowing that just ten days ago the pup nearly hadn’t made it, and now she was leading the pack in development. Except…Ally frowned. “She doesn’t seem to be focusing.”
Hank brushed a gentle hand over Gracie’s soft head and scratched her lovingly behind the ears. “She won’t be able to track an object for another two weeks, but between now and then, she’ll see a little more every day.”
Ally’s spirits took a nosedive as the realization hit. “Unfortunately, I won’t be with her when she can see more than a blur when she looks at me. I’ll be back in Houston. With or without a job…trying to put together my life there.” Ally’s face crumpled as another wave of sadness moved through her. “Gracie will never really get to know me.” She blinked back tears. “Not the way I’ve come to know-and love-her.”
Hank wrapped a comforting arm about Ally’s shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and flashed her a consoling smile. “She knows and loves you.”
Ally luxuriated in his tenderness, even as she questioned his assertion. “How? Puppies’ ears are closed when they’re born, too. It takes several weeks before they can hear a loud noise. According to the handouts your cousin gave us, their lack of vision and hearing is Mother Nature’s way of insuring they get enough sleep in the newborn phase.”
Hank’s eyes glimmered. “But their other senses-touch, smell, and taste-are there from the outset. Trust me on this, Ally.” He tightened his grip on her protectively. “Gracie knows you, same as she knows her mama.”
Ally supposed that was true.
Which made leaving the tiny puppy all the harder.
Ally blinked back a tear as Hank knelt beside the box. The other puppies were beginning to waken, squeaking and swimming and rolling around in the search for their mother. A few more were trying to open their eyes, too.
His expression unbearably sweet, Hank lifted them one by one and put them next to Duchess to nurse. Reluctantly, Ally settled Gracie against Duchess, too, then went to prepare a supplemental bottle of puppy formula.
Not that Gracie seemed to need the extra calories as much anymore, as she was able to nurse alongside her littermates, with nearly as much vigor…
Hank held the last puppy to wake up, cradling and petting him while he awaited his turn to nurse. Duchess lay contentedly, keeping one eye on the puppy Hank held, and watching over the others snuggled at her side.
“It’s amazing how fast they’re all growing,” Ally murmured. Or how content she felt, watching them. She had never thought of herself as much of a ranch person. This experience was changing her mind. She liked being around animals more than she had thought.
Hank nodded agreeably. “In another week they’ll be standing. A week after that running and scampering about.”
Ally sighed. “Sounds lively.” And she would miss that, too…
The doorbell rang.
Ally looked at Hank. “Expecting anyone?”
He shook his head. “You?”
“No.” She went to get the door. Seconds later, she returned with Kurt McCabe. He had his vet bag in one hand, a file folder in another. Encompassing them both with a friendly grin, Kurt told them, “I thought I’d stop by and check on Duchess and the puppies while I was out this way. And give you the news while I’m here…”
THAT, HANK THOUGHT, could not be good. Trusting his cousin to be objective, in a situation where he might not be, Hank asked, “Did you hear something about Duchess and her puppies, and who they might belong to?”
“Maybe.” Kurt set his bag on the table. “I had a call at the clinic a while ago that sounded a little sketchy. It was from a lady in Wichita Falls named Frannie Turner.”
“That’s two hundred miles from here!” Ally said.
Kurt obviously shared their consternation. “Anyway, Ms. Turner said she had agreed to watch Duchess for her sister-in-law, Talia Brannamore, who had been called off on an emergency with her great-niece’s family in Nashville, Tennessee. Something about a house fire and Christmas and all the presents going up in smoke, and the family having small children and nowhere to go but a hotel, and it all being very short notice. Apparently, there was a lot of confusion, both before Duchess was dropped off with Ms. Turner, and during the first day Duchess was there.”
Ally’s eyes took on a cynical glint. “Kurt, this sounds like a hoax!”
Hank agreed.
“That’s what I thought.” Kurt knelt next to the whelping pen, stethoscope around his neck. “Except for one thing. This woman who claimed she was keeping the female golden retriever named Duchess, knew the retriever was pregnant and about to deliver eleven whelps. We didn’t put that information in any of the flyers we sent out.”
Ally blinked. “Why not?”
Hank explained, “The dogs are valuable. It’s Christmas, and the demand for puppies-even those not quite ready to go home yet-is higher than at any other time of year. And these are purebred, show quality dogs. They’re worth a lot.”
Kurt started examining the puppies one by one. “So the fact that Frannie Turner in Wichita Falls knows that we have a golden retriever named Duchess is great. The fact she has no proof of ownership-no papers, or pictures of this dog-gives rise to a lot of question. She says it’s because Duchess isn’t hers, and she was just doing a favor. And that the dog got out of her house accidentally and ran away.”
Ally pressed her lips together, clearly skeptical. “We’re two hundred miles from Wichita Falls, guys. That’s an awfully long way.”
Hank draped a consoling arm across Ally’s shoulders. “Duchess was pregnant, about to deliver. She could have been trying to make her way home to San Angelo to deliver her puppies, and ended up here.”
Her expression thoughtful, Ally turned into Hank’s embrace. He squeezed her, then let her go.
“You hear about that sometimes,” Ally murmured. “Dogs surmounting impossible odds-and doing whatever they have to do to get home.”
More than one movie had been made about this kind of true life event, Hank knew.
“And it could have happened in this case,” Kurt said as he checked Duchess. Finding everything in order, he put his stethoscope back in his bag. “Pregnant dogs have a desire to nest, and a lot of them instinctively go off in private to deliver. But it’s also possible Frannie Turner could have gotten the information elsewhere. Everyone in the community is talking about it. And they’re all telling their friends and family. So it’s possible this woman is trying to pull a scam on us.”
Ally’s brow furrowed with emotion. “So now what?”
Kurt sighed. “Apparently, Frannie didn’t tell her sister-in-law the dog was missing, because she had enough to deal with and Frannie didn’t want her to get upset with her. The sister-in-law is a very serious professional dog breeder, she claims. Now that Frannie knows we found the dog and that the puppies are all okay, she’s not afraid to tell Talia Brannamore.” He locked eyes with Hank and then Ally. “So Frannie told me she would call Talia in
