Something gave—for a moment, I thought it was the rope—but with a horrible sucking sound, Buster’s hindquarters lifted from the mud, and the tractor lurched ahead, pulling the old horse forward and out of the pit. I let the line go and dropped to a crouch, fighting the wulf, forcing it back before anyone saw the beast.
Todd backed the tractor to put slack in the ropes and jumped down, turning to me as I straightened. “God, Liam, that was amazing. Are you okay? You have blood on your lips.”
I wiped it away and smiled. “I’m fine. Bit my tongue.”
Buster lay on his side, but when I stepped close, his large nostrils flared wide. He snorted and with a wild scramble of his old legs, he stood. Barb, her tears flowing, stroked his face, no doubt believing he trembled with exhaustion, but I recognized his fear. He danced away as I ran my hands over him. Bruised and covered in small cuts, but he would live.
I shook as I walked to the SUV to get a bottle of antiseptic wash. I patted Keen, who sniffed me and sneezed. I scrubbed my hands and arms, patted the antiseptic on my face, and even sprinkled some on my coveralls, before I grabbed supplies and went to tend to Buster. The horse snorted at me, but he no longer smelled wulf through all the antiseptic, so he let me wash the wounds and treat them. For what he’d been through, he was in good shape. I finished by administering an anti-inflammatory and antibiotics. The immersion in the rank, stagnant mud would require them to hose the cuts daily.
“Truth be told,” Todd said, shaking his head in amazement, “I didn’t think that would work.”
“We got lucky,” I said.
He walked me to my SUV, where Keen hung out the open window, her tongue lolling. Todd looked at her and back to me. “Do you want another dog?”
I smiled. “One’s enough, thank you. Why?”
He shook his head. “Barb picked one up off the highway. He’s just a pup but has no sense around the cows. He’s going to get himself killed, and I don’t have the time to put into him, to be honest. If you know of a good home for him, I’d be grateful.”
Todd didn’t realize he had me at “picked him up off the highway.” I also knew far too well what happened to dogs on farms if they weren’t well behaved around the livestock. Working farm dogs were difficult to find. Some breeds that had once filled that niche had become too specialized by sports such as agility and fly ball. The high drive necessary to compete became a liability when a canine needed to accompany its owner during the daily chores and help only when asked. Most livestock farmers searched for herding-breed crosses because with minimal training, the animals relied on ingrained instinct and brains to figure out how to be useful and stay safe.
Todd led me to the back of the house where I was confronted by an enormous dog bouncing four feet in the air on the end of a chain. I admired the huge paws dangling from bones at least twice the diameter of Keen’s, his massive head with a big nose and small pendulous ears, and his long neck and body—some kind of hound in it, something giant, like wolfhound or Dane. I petted the speckled hide pressed to my thigh and agreed with Todd—not the likeliest of farm materials.
“He’s already big,” Todd drawled. “Kids are afraid of him, although he hasn’t a mean bone in him. Just too damned large for them.”
I estimated the dog to be only six months old, despite the fact he had inches on Keen’s height. He’d run well with wolves, I thought, right before I realized I was taking him home.
Keen was unimpressed with the arrangement as I attempted to tie the ginormous, wiggling animal down in the back seat. She finally barked at him, and he stopped leaping to wag his tail at her, the two-foot length slapping between the bench and the backside of the front seat. I appreciated her effort. I didn’t have the energy to pull out the wulf again and wished to avoid the puddle on the cushions that would result if I did.
In fact, my entire body ached as though it had been pulled apart at the joints—which it almost had—and I could barely keep my eyes open. Covered in mud and reeking of antiseptic, the hair I’d shed while reverting to human prickled within my coveralls, driving me to distraction.
I checked my watch and called the clinic to book off the rest of the day, then disconnected with relief and hit another button on the phone. A smooth, quiet voice picked up.
“Josh? You sound tired.”
“Was asleep. Must not have slept well last night.”
Considering what had happened with Peter, no surprise there. “Hey, at least you got sleep. I’m running on empty. Anyway, you up for company in about an hour?”
“That’ll give me time to get dressed.” He sounded more alert. “What’s up?”
“I have a present for you.”
“Will I like it?” Suspicion carried over the airwaves.
“I think so. If not, no biggie, I’ll cope.” I winced as the puppy, still in the backseat, whipped his tail between the front seats and clobbered me across the face—an impressive feat.
“Chris is coming home.” I heard the grin in Josh’s voice.
“Yeah, I know. The present is for him too.”
“Okay. Now I’m really worried.” His voice had switched to cheerful but resigned. “I’ll see you soon.”
I dug into my glove compartment for my emergency stash—I often ended up missing lunch or dinner when out on calls. I found three granola bars, grabbed one, wolfed it down, and reached for the other two. Peeling the wrapper with my teeth, I glanced back to the whimpering puppy. He strained against his ties and licked his lips. Mine peeled back and I growled.
The pup lowered his head and
