Don't Cry for Me (17 page)

“James has a little tractor and plow he uses to turn Julie’s garden spot. How about I have him come over and break some ground for you to plant?”

“But all the animals around here would be in it nonstop from the time the first shoots popped up. Not such a good idea after all.”

He slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“For a kiss, I’ll have him fence it, too.”

The smile on her face was a welcome sight, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, it was all he could do not to take her back to bed.

“I’ll call him on the way to work. Do me a favor and stay out of trouble today,” he said, and gave her a quick swat on the backside.

“Same goes for you, Mr. I-Can-Do-It-By-Myself Walker.”

He was still laughing when he drove away.

* * *

Quinn backtracked to where he’d found the last sign of the poacher, then began to search the area in ever-widening circles, but it was just as he’d feared. The rain had washed away the man’s tracks, and what was left of the deer’s carcass from the last kill had been dragged away by scavengers.

Back to square one.

He radioed in the update, only to learn another carcass had been found by a pair of workers from the EPA checking water samples. By the time he got the GPS coordinates and made it to the site, it was nearly noon.

Unfortunately, the kill was an old one. Animals had been feeding on the carcass for at least three days, maybe more. It was sickening to see the carnage and waste of such a magnificent animal.

He wanted to catch this man in the worst way, but he needed a break for that to happen. Disappointed that this kill site was too old for him to track from, he started hiking back. Although clear weather was predicted for the entire day, he didn’t trust spring weather.

He’d gone about three miles when he decided to stop beside a stream to rest and eat a snack. He shed his backpack, stepped into the ankle-deep stream to wash his hands, then climbed back up the bank and sat down on an outcropping of rock. He got a bottle of water and an energy bar from his pack, and kicked back to rest as he ate. He’d barely taken the first bite when he heard something moving in the brush. Instinctively he dropped his food onto the rock and grabbed his rifle.

As he waited, he heard a whimper, then a whine. Frowning, he scooted down from the rock, remembering the wounded bear and the poacher roaming the area, and wondered if something else had been injured the same way.

The whining grew louder, and the bushes continued to move, but now that the creature was closer, he could tell it wasn’t very big. Only the lowest branches were moving.

He squatted down and peered closer, trying to see what he was hearing, when all of a sudden a small, skinny puppy came crawling out on his belly. It was a little redbone hound and obviously starving. Quinn could count every rib on the pup’s body as he continued to crawl toward him.

“Lord have mercy,” he said softly, slowly offering his hand, uncertain whether the dog would bite.

The pup seemed so grateful for the kind tone of Quinn’s voice that he frantically licked every finger instead.

Quinn got another energy bar from his pack and broke off a small piece.

“I know you’re hungry, little guy. I wish it was steak.”

The pup wolfed it down so fast he didn’t even chew.

Quinn fed him the whole bar, then got the one he’d started to eat and fed that one to him, too. By then the puppy was all over Quinn, licking him and trying to climb in his lap.

“What the hell happened to you?” he said, as he picked the dog up and carried him to the rock to check him out.

The pup was a male, and he had cuts and scratches on the pads of his feet. Except for the fact that he hadn’t eaten enough in a very long time, he seemed healthy enough.

Quinn poured water into a natural indentation in the rock. The puppy lapped eagerly, licking Quinn between drinks just to remind him of his gratitude.

Quinn looked into the pup’s dark, mournful eyes, then at the thin, wasted body, and sighed.

“I know someone you’re going to like even better than me,” he said softly. “Her name is Mariah, and just so you know, my name is Quinn. But you, my little fellow, are nameless. Do you have a name? Did you just get lost and couldn’t find your way home?”

The pup sat while Quinn talked, tilting his head sideways as he listened.

“I don’t know where you were going, but I was going downhill when we met. Wanna come?”

The puppy stood, quivering from head to foot, as if afraid to be left behind.

“Oh, damn it, don’t look at me like that,” Quinn said, as he put on his pack and slung the rifle strap over his shoulder. “I’m not gonna leave you. This is your lucky day, buddy, because you’re coming home with me.”

He picked up the puppy, waiting until he settled in his arms.

“You okay now?”

The pup looked up and licked him on the chin.

Quinn grinned. By the time he got this dog home, they were both going to need a bath and flea powder.

He started walking, feeling good that the day hadn’t been wasted after all. Rocked by the sway of Quinn’s steps and his own weakened state, the puppy fell asleep in his arms.

It was nearly an hour later when Quinn reached the Jeep.

The puppy looked nervous when Quinn laid him in the seat but settled after Quinn got in beside him.

“I figured out what we’re gonna call you,” Quinn said, as he started the engine. “We’re gonna call you Moses, because I found you wandering in the wilderness. I think it’s a good fit. How about you?”

The puppy crawled across the seat, then laid his chin on Quinn’s leg, looking up at him with big mournful eyes.

Quinn grinned, put the Jeep in gear and drove away with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on little Moses’s head.

* * *

Mariah had been drawing diagrams all morning of how she might lay out the garden plot, scooting the packets of seeds around on the table and trying to remember how much different vegetables bushed out as they matured.

Dolly had heard through the Walker grapevine that Mariah wanted to plant a garden, which got her just as excited as Mariah had been. She gathered up some seed packets left over from the garden she’d just planted, packed up some leftover casserole and drove over unannounced.

She honked the horn as she pulled up to the house, then grinned and waved when Mariah came out.

“Hi, honey! I brought food. I hope you haven’t had your lunch.”

“Just in time,” Mariah said, and held the door open for Dolly, who came in with her arms full.

“I brought leftovers. They just need a little reheating. I’ll put this in the oven,” Dolly said.

“What is it?” Mariah asked.

“Just a casserole. A little bit of this, a little of that. Truth be told, it’s what we always did with leftovers. This one has chicken and vegetables with a biscuit topping. You’ll like it.”

Mariah grinned. “I’m sure I will.”

Dolly put it in the oven, then waved at the sack she’d put on the end of the counter.

“That’s for you,” she said.

“For me?”

“Yes, look inside. James told me he’s going to make a garden spot for you and fence it in. I’m so excited. I used to help Mama plant a garden up here every year. I know right where the soil is the best. I want to show you, so you’ll know where to tell James to plow, okay?”

Mariah nodded, then almost squealed when she saw the seeds Dolly had brought. Okra, two kinds of lettuce and some field peas.

“Quinn can get you some seed potatoes down in Boone’s Gap. Do you know how to cut them up to plant?” Dolly asked.

Mariah nodded. “Make sure each chunk of potato has at least one eye, but two is better?”

Dolly beamed. This girl was going to fit in just fine.

“Come with me, honey. I’ll show you where Papa had the garden when we lived here. The land is rich and loose, no clay, no rocks, and on just enough of a slope that it has good drainage.”

“That would be great. I’m not sure when James is coming, but I hope it’s soon.”

“I think he’s coming tomorrow, after he finishes his route.”

“What route?”

“The mail route. He’s the mail carrier for Rebel Ridge.”

“Oh, I think I heard Quinn mention that before.” Mariah thumped her head. “I’m having a difficult time retaining new information. The doctor said it would pass.”

“Eventually everything does,” Dolly said, and led the way outside.

Later, after they’d eaten and Dolly had left, Mariah couldn’t quit smiling. She was beginning to feel like she could actually fit into this family and this world.

* * *

It was just before sundown when Quinn pulled up to the cabin and parked. The pup immediately stood up in the seat, then jumped onto Quinn’s lap, once more making sure he wasn’t going to be left behind.

“It’s like this, Moses, after we cross this still-new-to-us bridge that you’re on, you’re gonna have to learn some manners.”

He gently rubbed the puppy’s frail, bony head and then opened the door. Moses jumped out behind him, then stumbled from weakness.

“Come on, little guy, I’ll give you a lift up the steps.”

He picked up Moses and had started toward the cabin when Mariah opened the door. She took one look at the puppy and met them at the top of the steps.

“Oh, Quinn! Oh, my Lord…what happened to him? He’s so thin. Who does he belong to? Where did you find him?” She turned her attention to the dog. “You poor little baby. Will you let me hold you?”

Then she held out her arms, and Moses went from Quinn to Mariah like a baby reaching for his mother. Feeling somewhat abandoned, Quinn managed a grin.

“Well, I thought I found myself a pup up in the high country, but it appears that what I found was
your
pup. He’s half-starved and as friendly as can be. He also has fleas and bad breath. Can you handle it? Oh, I named him Moses, because he was wandering in the wilderness.”

Mariah headed back into the cabin baby-talking the pup, leaving Quinn on the porch still talking to himself.

He watched her walk off with the puppy, loving her more at that moment than he’d ever loved her before, and then followed them both inside.

A couple of hours later Moses had been fed, bathed and doctored. Quinn cleaned up first, and then sat with the pup while Mariah showered.

The little dog had curled up at his feet, but with his eye on the door where Mariah had gone. Quinn continued petting and stroking him, telling him what a fine dog he would make when he got some weight on him, all the while knowing that when it came to the pup’s loyalties, he was going to be second best.

It was the peak of irony that Quinn had brought home the only competition he would ever have with Mariah, but a fact was a fact. Both the males in this house were in love with the same woman.

That night, when they went to bed in the loft, Mariah slept with one hand on Quinn’s arm and the other hanging off the bed touching the puppy’s back. As she slept, she started to dream, and as usual, the dream quickly turned dark. At first she suffered in silence, but as the dream evolved, so did her fear.

The first time she moaned, Quinn sat straight up in bed. Moses was already on his feet.

Mariah flinched, then kicked, like she was trying to run.

The puppy looked up at Quinn, as if expecting him to fix her. Just as Quinn rolled over to turn on the light, Mariah screamed.

Moses leaped onto the bed and began to bark.

Mariah woke abruptly to find the puppy straddling her legs and Quinn’s hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, my God! What did I miss?”

“I think we just found the alarm clock you need to yank you out of an episode.”

“What happened?”

“Moses barked. You woke up.”

Mariah sat up and put her arms around the little pup’s neck.

“Good boy, Moses, good boy.”

Quinn added to the praise with a soft pat on the head. “You’re my hero, little guy. Way to go.”

Moses didn’t know what he’d done. All he knew was that the bad stuff he’d sensed was gone and no one was mad. He dropped down onto the bed between their feet.

Quinn turned off the light, and then slid his arm beneath Mariah’s neck and pulled her close. She rolled over onto her side and threw her arm across his chest, taking comfort in the steady heartbeat beneath her ear, then closed her eyes.

Outside, the owl that claimed the roof above them for a perch suddenly hooted.

The pup’s head came up.

“It’s okay, buddy, he lives here, too,” Quinn said.

After that, peace came in increments.

A quiet sigh without an accompanying sob.

The soft flutter of the owl’s wings as it took off into the night.

The clock ticking on the wall downstairs.

And the little snort from a half-grown pup with a gallant heart.