of food and a clean, dry place to lay your head. You don’t want go back to sleeping in culverts and eating out of garbage cans.”
The dog was still tense and ready to run, but he was listening to Nick’s voice. Did he remember the other night? In the surgery, he’d obeyed an order to sit, and just now he stopped dead at “No.” Maybe he had been trained somewhere along the line. If so, giving him a few familiar commands might help get him under control.
Nick dropped his arms to his sides, lowering his tension, though not his alertness. He waved the grateful volunteer back and took a couple of steps toward the dog, where he paused, making his posture relaxed and confident.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
First command: “Sit.”
As in the surgery, the shepherd just stared at him, every muscle taut. Then he added the hand motion, the snap of a fist up against his shoulder. After what seemed like forever, the dog sank onto his rear haunches, a coiled spring ready to release at the slightest provocation.
Nick nodded, thinking of other commands they had used while on deployment. The shepherd watched him as he began to walk the perimeter of the exercise yard. Scent was the quickest way to familiarize a dog with a human, so he walked by the dog, keeping a few feet between them and not looking at him, but close enough for him to get a good whiff. Interestingly, the shepherd didn’t move; he just watched and processed the scent. Nick wondered if he would remember it from their contact the other night and if he would respond.
“Stand.”
If dogs could frown in confusion, this one did. Nick glanced back and saw the hesitation. He stopped, turned and added a hand signal for “stand”: arm curled toward the biceps and then punched straight out to the side, where he held it for a moment. The dog came alert and stood.
Nick smiled.
“You know your commands, tough guy. Silent ones anyway. Let’s see what else you can do.”
The shepherd did indeed know a range of nonverbal commands: stay, down, fetch. Every order delivered and executed helped the shepherd relax a bit more, until one last command—where he refused to bring the stick back and veered toward the fence.
“Come here,” Nick ordered with as much authority as he could muster. The shepherd caught the edge in his voice, and after a pause brought the stick back. It took some serious negotiation to get him to understand a “let go” command, but he finally dropped the stick and backed away.
This time, Nick picked up the stick and said, “Break.” That was a nonstarter. He tried “sit” again and the dog obeyed. After a few moments of toying with the stick, Nick held it up and said, “Finished!” The dog stood, tail twitching, watching Nick. He threw the stick again and this time the shepherd retrieved it and bounded around the yard with it like a puppy with its first toy.
* * *
NANCE EVERLY HAD just pulled her old Chevy truck into the gravel parking lot of the shelter when she spotted a big man in jeans and a T-shirt bursting out the office like his hair was on fire. The guy rushed to the grassy area at the side of the exercise yards and bent over as if he were going to hurl. She bolted from her truck to see if she could help, but before she got close enough, he straightened and stood with his hands on his belt, taking deep breaths. She halted as a look of relief came over him.
This was a first: somebody getting sick over a visit to the shelter.
He seemed to be recovering. She watched as he headed down the greenway. There was something familiar about him. Shaking her head, she turned back to the office and was surprised moments later to find Kate ensconced in the puppy room with a young boy who was as cute as a bug and alive with enthusiasm.
She paused just outside the doorway to watch her granddaughter teach the boy about puppies. There was a light in Kate’s eyes that Nance hadn’t seen for a while. She broke into a wistful smile. Her granddaughter deserved a family of her own and a lifetime of loving and being loved. If only she would cooperate and open herself up to possibilities around her.
“We’ve got quite a crew today,” she called as she entered the room and headed for the sink. “Who’s your friend, Kate?”
“Hey, Gran.” Kate’s face bloomed with a 50-megawatt smile as she put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Ben Stanton. His dad is the trooper who brought in those two dogs the other night. They dropped by the office to check on the golden and then came here to see about the shepherd. I twisted Ben’s arm into helping with the puppy play this afternoon.” She laughed when Ben reddened and grinned.
Nance replaced the towel, then joined them in the puppy pen and stuck out a hand.
“Hey there, Ben. Nice to meet you.” The boy gave her a very adult handshake, and the sense of what she’d seen outside struck her forcefully. His dad, the state trooper, had been about to empty his stomach on the grass outside.
* * *
KATE HAD OBSERVED Nick standing in the doorway watching his son with the puppies, and she’d been jolted by what she saw. Pride, tenderness and what could only be called longing had bloomed in his face, until something more haunting took over. What made him leave the puppy room with such a devastated expression? It was as if he’d closed a door on all the tender feelings she’d glimpsed. And why had he refused to come inside with his son to play with the puppies in the first place? What kind of person backed away from the chance to play with puppies?
At least Ben hadn’t seen him go.
The joy on Ben’s face edged those thoughts aside as she told him about the various stages of puppy development. Socialization with people, she explained, was critical to puppies being able to form bonds with their future families, and socializing with other dogs was important so that they would behave well when they met dogs in the future.
The boy absorbed every word. She caught the sparkle of discovery in his eyes and warmed inside.
“I want a dog,” he revealed, surprising no one. “A puppy would be great—but I’d like a dog of any kind.”
She smiled. “And what does your dad say about that?”
“I didn’t ask him yet. He’s busy...saving people...and dogs.”
There was a wistful pride in his tone that sent a pang of longing through Kate. Ben sensed his father’s ambivalence toward this whole dog business, so he wasn’t begging or pushing like most eight-year-olds would. He really was a wonderful kid, a remarkable mixture of curiosity, enthusiasm and sensitivity. And those eyes. Big golden pools of wonder rimmed by thick, dark lashes...just like...
Her next free thought was for the boy’s mother. Was she responsible for the attentive, respectful tone Ben displayed toward adults? As Kate tried to imagine the woman who had captured Nick Stanton’s heart and produced such a bright, lovable boy, a knot formed in her stomach.
Not long after that, she heard Gran’s voice and looked up to find her grandmother smiling down at them. Soon they were watching Gran ply her uncanny magic on the little scamps.
“She’s famous for being able to connect with and teach even the most stubborn dogs,” Kate told Ben in hushed tones. “Puppies adore her. Watch this.”
One by one the puppies were lured to Gran by her special
