introduced them and explained why Kayla was here.
“Hope you’ll take the job,” Long John said. “We could use some help with the dogs.”
“And it’d improve the view around here,” Willie said, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth beneath the beard.
Finn cleared his throat and glared at the older man.
Willie just grinned and eased down onto the cabin’s steps. At eye level with Leo, he held out a hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, young man,” he said.
“Shake hands,” Kayla urged, and Leo held out his right hand.
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, and Kayla felt a surge of pride at his manners.
After a grave handshake, Willie looked up at her. “Wouldn’t mind having a little guy around here. Always did like to take my grandkids fishing.” He waved an arm in the direction of the pond she’d seen. “We keep it stocked.”
Kayla’s heart melted, just at the edges. Grandfather figures for Leo? A chance for him to learn to fish?
There was a low woof from inside the screen door and a responding one from the porch. A large black dog she hadn’t seen before lumbered to its feet.
“About time you noticed there’s some new folks here,” Long John said, reaching from his chair to run a hand over the black dog’s bony spine. “Rockette, here, don’t pay a whole lot of attention to the world these days. Not unless her friend Duke wakes her up.”
Willie opened the screen door. A gray-muzzled pit bull sauntered out.
“Duke. Sit.” Willie made a hand gesture, and Duke obediently dropped to his haunches, his tongue lolling out. Willie slipped a treat from the pocket of his baggy jeans and fed it to the dog.
Leo took two steps closer to the old black dog, reached out and touched its side with the tips of his fingers.
“One of our agreements, for anyone who lives in the cabins, is that they take in a dog,” Finn explained. “Gives them a little extra attention. Especially the ones not likely to be adopted.”
Leo tugged Kayla’s hand. “Would we have a dog?”
“Maybe.” She put seriousness into her voice so he wouldn’t get his hopes up. “It all depends if Mr. Gallagher decides to offer me the job, and if I take it. Those are grown-up decisions.”
“Sure could use the help,” Long John said, lowering himself back into his chair with a stifled groan. “Me and Willie been doing our best, but...” He waved a hand at a walker folded against the porch railing. “With my Parkinson’s, it’s not that easy.”
“Hardly anyone else has applied,” Willie added. “Don’t get many out-of-towners around these parts. And the people who live in Esperanza Springs heard we’re gonna have more guys up here. They get skittish.” He winked at Kayla. “We vets are gentle as lambs, though, once you get to know us.”
“Right.” She had direct experience to the contrary.
At first, before her marriage had gone so far downhill, she hadn’t translated Mitch’s problems into a mistrust of all military personnel. Later, it had been impossible to avoid doing just that.
When Mitch had pushed his way into her place well after their divorce was final—talking crazy and roughing her up—she’d gone to the police.
She hadn’t wanted to file a complaint, which had been stupid. She’d just wanted to know her options, whether a protection order would do any good.
What she hadn’t known was that the police officer she’d spoken with was army, too. Hadn’t known he drank with Mitch at the Legion.
The cop had let Mitch know that she’d reported him, and she still bore the bruises from when he’d come back over to her place, enraged, looking for blood.
Shaking off her thoughts, she watched Long John talk with Finn while Willie plucked at his guitar and then held it out to show Leo. The two veterans did exude a gentle vibe. But then, their wartime experiences were distant, their aggressions most likely tamed through age and experience.
“Let’s take a look at the kennels,” Finn said and nodded toward the barn. “Later, guys.”
Just outside the barn, Finn turned and gestured for Leo to stand in front of him. After a nod from Kayla, Leo did, his eyes lowered, shoulders frozen in a slump.
“I want you to ask before you touch a dog, Leo,” he said. “Most of them are real nice, but a couple are nervous enough to lash out. So ask an adult first, and never, ever open a kennel without an adult there to help you. Understand?”
Leo nodded, taking a step closer to Kayla.
“Good.” Finn turned toward the barn door and beckoned for them to follow him.
Much barking greeted their entry into the dim barn. Finn flicked on a light, revealing kennels along both sides of the old structure and more halfway up the middle. One end of the barn was walled off into what looked like an office.
Finn walked down the row of dogs, telling her their names, reaching through some of the wire fencing to stroke noses. His fondness for the animals was obvious in his tone and his gentle touch. “All of them are seniors,” he explained over his shoulder. “Which is about seven and up for a big dog, eight or nine for a little one.”
“Where do they come from?” she asked. The barking had died down, and most of the dogs stood at the gates of their kennels, tails wagging, eyes begging for attention.
“Owner surrenders, mostly. Couple of strays.”
She knelt to look at a red-gold dog, probably an Irish setter mix. “Why would anyone give you up, sweetie?” She reached between the cage wires to touch the dog’s white muzzle, seeming to read sadness in its eyes.
“Lots of reasons,” Finn said. “People move. Or they don’t have money for food and vet bills. Sometimes, they just don’t want to deal with a dog that requires some extra care.” He knelt beside her. “Lola, here, she can’t make it up and down stairs. Her owner lived in a two-story house, so...”
“They couldn’t carry her up and down?”
“Apparently not.”
“Can I pet her, too, Mom?” Leo asked, forgetting to be quiet.
Kayla looked over at Finn. “Can he?”
“She’s harmless. Go ahead.”
As Leo stuck fingers into the cage of the tail-wagging Lola, Finn turned toward Kayla. “Most of our dogs are really gentle, just like I was telling Leo. The ones that are reactive have a red star on their cages.” He pointed to one on the cage of a medium-sized brown dog, some kind of Doberman mix. “Those, you both stay away from. If the job works out, we’ll talk about getting you some training for handling difficult dogs.”
If the job worked out. Would it work out? Did she want it to?
Finn
