Mac and Ali Timberlake’s yurt sat nestled against a mountain with a spectacular view of Murphy Mountain. Powered by a generator, its amenities included a wood floor, a full kitchen, indoor plumbing complete with a whirlpool bathtub built for two and a walk-in shower, a stone fireplace, and a king-sized bed.
Most nights, Chase slept outside beneath the stars. Though in truth, he did little sleeping. A guilty conscience kept him tossing and turning on a mattress full of the nettles of regret all night long.
He should have listened to his gut. He could have stopped it. He should have stopped it. He was as responsible as Lana.
His gaze drifted toward the boulder where she sat with a pen in her hand and a journal in her lap. After leaving him peacefully alone for the first five days of his time up at the yurt, Lana had shown up on the afternoon of the sixth. She stayed a couple hours, fixed supper for the two of them, then left. The following day, she’d arrived around the same time and stayed just about as long. Having her around hadn’t bothered him enough to take the effort to make her leave. She hadn’t interacted with him much at all. He quickly noted that during the hours of her visit, none of his family popped in. They arrived at other times. One or two quick visits every day.
He was being babysat.
Whatever trips their triggers, he thought. He didn’t care.
Today Lana sat in a lawn chair writing in a journal. Her fingers flew across the page as she filled it with words. It occurred to him that she wasn’t the same person as before, either. Before the Chizickstan trip, he rarely, if ever, saw her still. That Lana was flash—all motion and energy and intensity—like lightning from a summer thunderstorm. He’d liked that about her. He’d been attracted to it.
Now, the flash was … well … maybe not gone, but definitely muted. Nevertheless, she was not peaceful.
Dear God, right now, he craved peace.
Lana sat not ten feet away from him. Just when she’d started talking to him, he couldn’t say. He hadn’t noticed. However, when she said his mother’s name, it caught his attention.
“… a house in town. It’s a cute cottage with lots of potential. It has good bones. You must know Shannon Garrett? She wasn’t at your homecoming gathering because she’s just had a new baby. Anyway, I met her when I went to lunch at your mother’s restaurant yesterday. She remodeled the darling little red and white house in town called Heartsong Cottage. Do you know the one I’m talking about? It’s so cute. Anyway, she’s not doing that sort of work herself anymore, but she told me she knows all the subs to recommend if we decide to tackle it.”
“What are you talking about?” Chase asked.
Momentary surprise flashed across her face. Obviously, she hadn’t expected a response from him. “Our house in town, darling. We can’t keep living with your parents after we get married, and your mom says the yurt is rented for hunting season. We need to get our own place.”
Chase simply looked at her. Was she seriously talking about living in Eternity Springs? Now?
Whatever. He didn’t have the mental energy to engage in conversation about it. He didn’t have strength to even think about it. After all, the question had been part of the argument that god-awful day, had it not?
“No. I am not going to move to Eternity effing Springs and I am not going to cancel the shoots at Markhor Pass and if you don’t like it, you are welcome to take yourself home to your cozy little mountain burg. I am going to save this show with you or without you!”
The show. Always, the show. What was she doing about the show now? Had anyone mentioned it to him? He couldn’t recall. He certainly hadn’t cared enough to ask.
“I told your mother I want to be part of the wedding planning this time around,” Lana continued. “She says it won’t take too long to put together. We just need to pick a date. I think she and I and your sister are going to make a quick trip to Denver tomorrow and shop for a wedding gown. I’m really excited.”
Noise. It was all babble and noise with a measure of desperation.
“You should go,” he told her.
Lana brightened. “All right. I will!”
Chase frowned. He hadn’t meant she should go to Denver to shop for a wedding dress. He’d meant she should leave here. The yurt. His parents’ house. Colorado, entirely.
Before he’d worked up the words to clarify, she’d scrambled off the boulder and was walking in his direction. She threw her arms around him and pulled his head down to hers for a kiss.
Chase stood as still as Murphy Mountain. It was the first advance of any kind that she’d attempted since he’d failed to return her embrace when she’d arrived at the base during his debriefing. Like then, today he didn’t push her away, but he didn’t respond to her, either. He had nothing inside him to give to Lana or to anyone.
She stepped back, then pasted on a bright smile just shy of sincere. “Your family has been so nice to me. It’s especially nice of your mother to have taken me under her wing. I’m so glad I’ve had this time to get to know everyone better.” Giving a little laugh, she added, “Even Caitlin has warmed up to me.”
A sheen of moisture flooded her eyes and she blinked rapidly. Chase was no more moved by her tears than he had been by her kiss. If anything, the sight of tears only made him colder.
In his mind’s eye, he saw the tracks of tears on David Whitelaw’s face as his knees hit the ground.
“So,” Lana said, her voice crisp and way too perky. “I should probably get back to the house. You mother said she’d teach me to make Bolognese sauce, and I need to make a run to the grocery store. Can I get you anything while I’m in town?”
He shook his head. He wished she would leave. He wanted her to leave. Her voice today had a sharp note to it. Sharp like a knife blade.
“Okay, then. Well. I guess I probably won’t make it up here tomorrow. Ali said we’d leave early.”
“Drive safely,” he said, picturing his mother, sister, and Lana at the summit of Sinner Prayer’s Pass.
“I always do.” She blew out a little breath, then went up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “See you later, hot stuff.”
She’d taken maybe ten steps away, and he’d begun to breathe a little easier, when she suddenly stopped and turned around. “Chase, what should I say when your mother asks about our new wedding date?”
“I don’t care.”
Her smile faltered, then she lifted her chin and beamed her television-star smile. “Then I’ll tell her the Fourth of July.”
He didn’t protest. He turned his attention to the bubble and rush of the cold mountain stream. He’d always loved the sound of white water. The rush and crash and whoosh. Now he thought of the natural pool down closer to his parents’ house. Reunion Lake, they called it.
Still water didn’t make sound. Still water offered quiet. Peace. Peace and quiet. Oblivion. He imagined sinking slowly into Reunion Lake, cold water closing over his head. Deeper. Deeper. Quiet. Stillness.
Peace.
* * *
Lori had rented a two-bedroom bungalow on Fifth Street that had a porch swing in front where she liked to sit and drink an after-work glass of wine. The glider on the back patio was the perfect place to drink her morning coffee and read the national news on her tablet each morning. Twice a week, she took an extra ten minutes to peruse the Eternity Times. Bucking the national trend toward shrinking subscription rates, the little local newspaper was thriving. People here were not only slow to change their ways, they actively supported local businesses—and local gossip.
Today, Lori had company on her patio that distracted her from the New Books in the Library column she was attempting to read. Her golden-haired guest sat huddled between the back steps and a pot of red geraniums. He had to be most skittish dog she’d ever encountered.
“What happened to you, baby?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle as she set down her coffee on the patio table. She judged the mixed-breed pup to be three to four months old. He had some retriever in him, obviously, and maybe some bird dog. He had big paws and floppy ears. He’d be a large dog someday, but right now he was a needy little too-skinny bundle of cuteness.
Celeste had told her that one of Angel’s Rest’s housekeepers had found the stray hiding beneath a porch swing at the carriage house apartment. He’d worn no tags or collar, and Lori’s scan for an ID chip failed to turn up anything. Nor had inquiries around the resort and in town produced any clues about his ownership. What they had was another dumped dog who had probably been on his own for weeks. What’s wrong with people?
Just as she silently asked the question, his ears perked up. Seconds later, Lori heard the sound of her mother’s voice at the back gate. “Lori? Are you in the back?”
“Hey, Mom. Yes. Come on in.”
The gate latch clanged open and Sarah Murphy walked into Lori’s backyard carrying a paper cup bearing Fresh’s logo. “Good morning, love. Have time to share a cup of coffee?”
“With you? Always.”
“Oh my gosh. Is that the puppy Celeste brought to you yesterday?” When Lori nodded, Sarah added, “He’s the cutest thing ever. Now I see why you didn’t take him straight to the shelter. You’ll find a home for him right away.”
“Yes, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Lori set aside her tablet as Sarah took a seat beside her. She read both uncertainty and hesitancy in her mother’s expression, and since she knew her mom, she braced herself for unwelcome news. What now?
Apparently, Sarah had to work up to her subject because she said, “It feels good to sit down. We had a busier morning rush than usual. A big group of Campisis were taking a cycling tour this morning and they came in for cinnamon rolls.”
“Campisis?”
“The reunion family at Angel’s Rest this week. Anyway, your dad was in the bakery getting coffee, and he actually asked one of them who had recommended they carb-load with gut bombs before they exercised.”
“Gut bombs?” Lori’s brows arched. “He called your cinnamon rolls gut bombs? Does my father still live?”
“Yes, but it will be months—maybe years—before he gets to enjoy one of them again. I’m considering cutting him off from muffins, too.”
“Would serve him right.”
“So how was your trip to Durango?”
“We had a good time. It’s been a while since I made that drive. The views are simply spectacular. Brick bought three trail horses and I talked him out of two others. He’s determined to make this camp of his a raging success.”
“Well, I think he’s onto something. From everything I read, glamorous camping is hot. Heaven knows I enjoy our getaways to Ali’s yurt. If Brick’s facilities are going to be that luxurious, I predict a rousing success.” Sarah hesitated, visibly braced herself, then said, “Speaking of the yurt…”
Lori stiffened. “Is Chase okay?”
“As far as I know, he is. Based on what I’m hearing, he must be improving.”
“I’m not going to like this news, am I?”
Sarah winced. “Am I that easy to read?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Right. Stupid question. Okay, well. I thought I should be the one to tell you. Savannah Turner also stopped by the bakery this morning. She had some news. Lana Wilkerson shopped at Heavenscents yesterday. She told Savannah that she’s put her Manhattan apartment on the market, and she’s looking for a house in town for her and Chase to live in. She’s considering the old Carpenter place, but it needs a lot of work.”
Lori’s stomach did a slow flip. “Oh. That would be quite a change for her, wouldn’t it?”
Sarah’s teeth tugged at her lower lip. “Yes. But the last time I talked to Ali she did say that Lana is like a different person. She’s really being kind and patient with Chase and with the situation. As a result, Ali wants to be supportive of her. However, she—Ali, that is—is terribly worried about Chase’s state of mind. She says he won’t talk to anyone about what happened. He won’t talk to anyone, period, and he stays holed up at the yurt. So, I don’t know if moving to town is simply Lana’s wishful thinking or if Chase has had a breakthrough, or what, but after everything that happened when he was missing, I thought I should give you a heads-up that she’s apparently planning an extended stay in Eternity Springs.”
“I appreciate your concern, Mom, but you don’t need to worry about me. Chase is alive and that’s really all that matters.”
Sarah studied her with a long look, then nodded once. “Okay.” She drained the last of her coffee, then stood. “I should be getting home. Dad might try to sneak into Fresh and score a cinnamon roll if I’m not there to stop it. You have a good day, honey.”
“Thanks. I intend to.”
“Do you have a full slate of appointments?”
Lori carefully chose her words. “I have a full day.”
The puppy let out a series of whimpers, drawing the attention of both women. “What a little doll. However, since I’m your mother I have to caution you—”
“I’m not going to keep him, Mom. I know better.”
The years of working as Nic’s assistant before Eternity Springs established a city animal shelter had taught Lori the pitfalls of a vet practice being adoption central for the town’s lost and abandoned animals. Together with the best practices guidelines she’d learned during vet school, her experience made her determined to draw a definitive line between her clinic’s boarding facilities and the town’s shelter. She’d had every intention of performing an exam on this little guy, then delivering him to the shelter. Somehow, on the way there, they’d ended up at home.
Sarah gave Lori a quick kiss on the cheek, handed over her empty coffee cup for the recycle bin, then departed. Lori watched her mother go, then shifted her gaze toward the puppy. “I won’t think about Chase or Lana or love nests. I’ll think about you. What am I going to do with you?”
Oh, quit lying to yourself. You know exactly what you’re going to do with him. You’ve known it since the moment you looked from the puppy, to Caitlin, to Celeste, then back to the puppy. Mom’s news doesn’t change anything.
She was just working up the nerve to follow through on the idea.
Lori closed her eyes and surrendered. “Well, if we’re going to do this thing, Little Bit, I need to get my butt in gear. I have appointments this afternoon.”
She climbed the back steps and opened her screen door. The puppy bounded inside the house and went straight to her bedroom where he burrowed beneath the bed. He’d spent most of the previous evening in the same spot since last night’s huge fireworks show at Angel’s Rest. It wasn’t unusual for dogs to be afraid of fireworks, but her house was far enough away from the resort that it ordinarily wouldn’t be a problem. That wasn’t the case for Mr. Skittish. He was such a poor, pitiful thing.
She showered and took a little extra time with her hair and makeup. She pulled on jeans and reached for her yellow sweater, then hesitated and chose a purple one instead. She donned her hiking boots, then loaded up a box with the required supplies and carried it to the SUV. It took some coaxing to get the puppy out from beneath her bed, but finally they headed out.
As she drove up Cemetery Road, Lori told herself there was no need to be nervous. She made her living diagnosing the health issues of animals. Animals who couldn’t talk to her to tell her where it hurt. Accordingly, she’d learned to trust her instincts.
Those instincts now were clamoring that this was indeed the right thing to do.
Twenty minutes later, she turned onto the private road leading to the yurt. “Okay, boy. Ramp up your cute meter. It’s time to shine.”
She switched off her engine, inhaled a bracing breath, and when the yurt’s door opened muttered, “Showtime.”
She stepped out of her SUV. Her heart gave a little twist at the sight of him. He hadn’t shaved in days, and though he wore the look well, the Chase she remembered had hated letting his whiskers grow. He’d always complained about the itch of anything over a three-day beard. He was tanned, shirtless, barefoot, and the red gym shorts he wore hung low on his hips. Lori drank in the sight of him, the woman in her appreciating the maturation of the young man she’d known and loved into a man in his prime.
There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His shoulders were broad, his abs cut, and his muscles chiseled. The Chase Timberlake glaring at her from the doorway of his parents’ yurt was all grown-up.
When he saw who’d come to call, his eyes narrowed. “Lori.”
“Hi, Chase.” She lifted her chin and pasted on a smile.
“What are you doing here? Who sent you? My mother? My sister? It was Caitlin, wasn’t it? She won’t leave me the hell alone.”
Okay, this is off to a good start.
Rather than respond, Lori opened the passenger side door and removed the puppy from the carrier in which she’d transported him. She set the dog down and was pleased to see that instead of scrambling under the vehicle and whimpering, he put his nose down and started to explore.
“Nobody sent me,” she told him honestly. “I’m here on a mission. You still owe me for the bet you lost for the Cotton Bowl. I’m here to collect.”
He blinked. Gave his head a shake. “Excuse me?”
“Our bet. I won. You lost. I had Alabama and you took Texas Tech. The Crimson Tide won thirteen to ten. The stakes were a favor to be named later. At the time I intended to make you help me move but then … well … it didn’t work out. So, now I need a favor and I’m calling in the bet.”
“Lori. That’s crazy. That was a million years ago.”
“You may have changed in a lot of ways, Timberlake, but you don’t squelch on a bet.”
His brow lowered and his eyes narrowed to slits. “So what’s the favor?”
She pointed toward the dog. “He needs a foster home. Celeste brought him to me yesterday, and he’s the most pitifully afraid dog I’ve ever seen. The immediate problem is that it’s tourist season in Eternity Springs, which means it’s fireworks season. The show last night at Angel’s Rest almost drove the poor thing insane. You’re the perfect solution.”
“Oh, no.” He held up his hands, palms out. “No. No. No. I am not adopting that dog.”
“I’m not asking you to adopt him. I need you to give him a foster home until we can find the perfect forever home for him.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Matter-of-factly, she continued as if he had not spoken. “Someone will want him. He’s a puppy. Puppies are easy to place. But right now he’s simply too skittish to qualify for adoption. He needs basic care and some time to grow up a bit away from the hustle and bustle of town.”
“Hustle and bustle. In Eternity Springs. Right.”
Lori ignored his protests. Strategically, her best bet was to get out of here ASAP, so she walked around to the back of her SUV. Hinges squeaked as he opened the door of the yurt. Before she’d opened the SUV’s back door and removed a wire crate from inside, Chase exited the yurt again. She quickly set the crate on the ground, and as she reached for the box of supplies, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet warned of his approach.
He’d added sandals to his attire.
Another man might look foolish dressed only in worn leather sandals and baggy shorts and wearing a scowl. Chase made Lori think of a mountain lion, sleek and graceful and dangerous. Without hesitation, she shoved the box into his arms. “Here’re food, bowls, a leash, puppy pads, toys, and a bed. Oh, and three boxes of treats. He’s partial to the bacon ones.”
“Dammit, Lori.”
He took a step backward, but he didn’t drop the box. Quickly, she slammed the SUV’s door shut. Wouldn’t do to give him the chance to redeposit the box in the back.
“He doesn’t have a name yet, so you need to choose one. That’s the way our system works. We will use the name you choose for tracking purposes.” The puppy scampered back toward them and weaved his way around her legs. Lori bent down and scooped him up. “Of course, the family who adopts him will be free to change it, though we’ve discovered that oftentimes they don’t. So choose wisely.”
“I’m not taking care of this dog!” Chase insisted. He set down the box. “I’m barely managing to take care of myself!”
Tough love, Murphy, Lori told herself.
“Then it will do you good to have someone else to think about, Timberlake. Have him sleep in his crate. He’ll feel safer, and you’ll sleep easier knowing he’s not getting into mischief.” She shoved the pup at him and let go. As she’d known he would, Chase caught him. “I’ll be back in a week to check on him. You two have fun.”
She hurried to climb into the SUV, and as a precautionary measure, she locked the doors. Just in time, too, because he tried the passenger door as she fired up the engine.
“Dammit, Lori!” he repeated. He banged on the window with his fist.
Lori grinned and finger-waved, put the van in gear, and spun her tires as she left. Just before she made the first curve that obstructed her view of the yurt, she glanced in her rearview mirror. Chase held the wiggling puppy out at arm’s length, and he appeared to be lecturing the dog. Even this far away, she could see the red scratches on his chest. “That’s what you get for parading around bare-chested where any trespassing female can see.”
She fastened her attention on the road ahead, though her thoughts remained on the man—and mutt—she’d left behind. All in all, it had gone better than expected. Maybe, just maybe, Celeste’s little found dog would prove to be the medicine Chase Timberlake needed.
* * *
What had just happened?
Chase stared from the wriggling puppy he held to the dust stirred up by Lori Murphy’s spinning tires. What the hell had just happened?
“She dumped a dog on me. That’s what just happened.”
Without taking his gaze from the curve where Lori had disappeared, he set the dog onto the ground. Anger flared like a match strike. That woman had more nerve than a root canal. Who did she think she was? What kind of veterinarian was she? Dumping puppies on unsuspecting men! Did she do this sort of nonsense often? What made her think it was all right to waltz in here like nothing was wrong, dump a dog on him, then give a little smart-assed finger wave and speed off?
Chase slowly straightened, his anger abruptly draining away. He absently rubbed the scratches on his chest. “She waltzed in here like nothing is wrong. Huh.”
She didn’t ask how he was doing. There’d been no questions about what had happened or why he was living at the yurt or why he refused to leave it. Huh.
She’d treated him … normally. Nobody had treated him normally since he had crossed paths with the Callahan search team while making his way out of hell.
Chase glanced down at the mutt, who had begun to climb his ankles. “The least she could have done was trim those razors that are attached to your paws.”
He gave his leg a gentle shake, dislodging the dog, and eyed the box she’d unloaded. He didn’t have to let this stand. He could carry the supplies and Captain Claw here to his parents’ house and return the whole enchilada to Eternity Springs within the hour.
Except, Lori had treated him normally. She didn’t spend long minutes searching his expression with eyes filled with worry like his father. Her voice wasn’t choked with emotion when she spoke to him like his mom. She hadn’t acted perkily out of character like Lana.
She’d trusted him to care for the mutt.
From Lori Murphy, DVM, that showed a phenomenal amount of trust.
Her stubbornness was the stuff of which legends were made, but then, so was her compassion. Lori had a gold-plated healing heart when it came to four-legged animals. She wasn’t Mother Teresa with the two-legged variety, but she was still more caring than just about any female of his acquaintance. With the exception of her response to her father during those early months following his return to Eternity Springs, Chase couldn’t think of anyone whom Lori treated with anything less than kindness.
She hadn’t been kind to him just now … or had she?
She’d believed in him.
He clung to the thought like … Captain Claw’s paws.
“A week,” he murmured. She’d said she’d be back in a week. He imagined it would be easier to keep the damned dog a week than to make a trip into town where he’d have to speak to people.
The dog scratched his calf. “No!” he said, giving the pup the stink eye. The little floppy ears perked up. A little pink tongue slid out of his mouth and his tail wagged a mile a minute. The cute factor was ridiculous.
With a heavy sigh, he picked up the supply box and carried it into the yurt. The puppy followed, right on his heels. The first thing he did upon entering the structure was pee on the wooden floor. It was a warning of things to come.
By noon, Chase was considering abandoning the name Captain Claw in favor of Captain Havoc. The puppy could give Lori’s dad’s dog, Mortimer, a run for his money. Right under Chase’s eye, he’d managed to chew up the grip of a fishing pole, pee on one of Chase’s running shoes, and rip a five-inch tear in the bedsheet. After a lunch of the leftover pasta primavera his mother had brought over last night, he put the pup in the crate and crawled into bed for his afternoon nap.
The past few days, Chase had indulged in long afternoon naps—following an extended morning nap. He’d had trouble getting out of bed at all during the day. For some weird reason, the nightmares didn’t plague him as much when he slept during the day.
He pulled his pillow over his head to drown out the pup’s whimpers and whines. It didn’t work. After a good five minutes of the nerve-grating noise, Chase jerked the pillow aside, lifted his head from the mattress, and glared at the mutt. “I’ll bet Edvard Munch used one of your ancestors for inspiration for The Scream.”
He rolled out of bed and decided to take the dog for a walk. “You can call me Drill Sergeant Timberlake. I’m going to march you until you drop.”
Despite the threats, that’s not what happened. After hiking for the better part of an hour, the dog continued to go strong. He made Chase tired just watching him.
The exercise did Chase good. Despite his weariness and the lack of sleep, when he took a seat at a spot with a nice view of the valley and Eternity Springs below, he felt more rested than he’d felt in weeks. When the pup climbed up onto his lap and settled down to sleep, a sniffy little snore coming from his snout, Chase absently scratched him behind the ears and let his mind drift.
Lori had sure looked pretty this morning. She’d always been appealing, but the girl-next-door look she’d had about her in high school had matured into a natural beauty that made a man think about snuggling in a sleeping bag at sunrise.
She wasn’t as in-your-face beautiful as Lana, and he couldn’t picture her wearing an evening gown and standing at a craps table in Monte Carlo. But honestly, that whole scene had lost what little appeal it had had for him in the past. Not that Lana had dragged him into it kicking and screaming. High-stakes gambling on the French Riviera was a thrill sport of its own, and Chase had enjoyed the experience. Once. He couldn’t imagine doing it again.
But then, he couldn’t imagine doing much of anything. Except maybe hiking over to Lover’s Leap and taking a running jump off the cliff. Or going for that swim in Reunion Lake that sounded so tempting.
It would be the easy way out. Too easy. He could never do that to his family and friends. He’d already caused them enough grief as it was. He’d assured his father of that just yesterday when Mac came by the yurt, rousted him out of bed to go fishing, and eventually confessed his concerns about Chase’s mental health.
Captain lifted his head, looked at Chase with solemn brown eyes, and licked his hand. Chase took a ridiculous amount of comfort from the little pup’s action. He realized that sometime during the past few hours something within him had started to thaw.
“Leave it to Lori,” he murmured. His little healer. Except, she wasn’t his any longer, was she?
The thought gave his heart a twist, which was downright sorry of him. After all, he was still engaged to marry another woman—on the Fourth of July, apparently. He’d better begin working up some enthusiasm for the idea. After all, she was ready to change her whole life for him, wasn’t she?
Because she feels guilty. Almost as guilty as I do.
That thought led him right back down the road to hell.
He awoke to a bloodred dawn and the certainty that he’d screwed up. After four days and three nights of near constant movement, he’d sat down and slept. Hard. Cautiously easing out from behind the boulder that had provided concealment, he looked around. It was quiet. The stillness was different. It was as if he were the only living being left alive.
They’d moved out during the night. He’d slept right through it. Oh, God, I’ve lost them.
On a mountainside in Colorado, Chase fought nausea that suddenly churned in his stomach. Abruptly, he set Captain down on the ground and stood. “We’ve sat on our asses long enough. Time to get back and chop some wood.”
Never mind that he already had a woodpile tall enough for three winters—long, bitter winters—he found that swinging an axe and sweating battled off the daylight nightmares as good as just about anything.
He ended up carrying Captain two thirds of the way back to the site of the yurt. The dog explored the clearing while he chopped his wood, and when Chase went inside to shower, he put him in the crate so that he wouldn’t emerge from the bathroom to discover he’d clawed his way through the yurt’s canvas.
The sound of the water almost drowned out the puppy’s cries. Almost.
The rest of the day and the next passed in a haze of puppy care, proving to Chase that his parents had always been right with the advice they gave to potential dog owners—get one that’s at least a year old. He solved the crate-crying problem by letting Captain sleep with him. The pup didn’t move once he snuggled up against Chase, who got the best night’s sleep that he’d had in weeks.
And his heart thawed, just a little bit.
Lori had included a couple of tennis balls in the supply box, and on the afternoon of the seventh day Captain’s retriever blood showed itself. He figured out how to play fetch.
The pup’s delight in the game was contagious. Something a little magical happened.
Chase laughed aloud.