Read Online BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game by Roxanne Rustand - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roxanne Rustand
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such sweet dogs.” Megan moved on to the next pen, where a German shepherd whined and pawed at the door of his run. He was massive, clearly in his prime. “This one looks like a good possibility.” When she started to pass by, he erupted into a frenzy of deafening barks. “A definite possibility.”
But even with all of the German shepherd’s ideal qualities, her gaze strayed back to the golden. He was staring at her with such a look of hopelessness and heartbreak in his eyes, that she felt her own heart melt into a puddle at her feet.
She studied him, taking in the abuse he’d suffered. The quiet dignity in the way he sat still, his eyes fixed on hers, while most of the others were going crazy for attention.
“I wonder if he’d even have the spirit left to be a good watchdog, or if he’d just be afraid and cower.”
“He’s terrified of men, but after surviving on his own, I think he’d be even more protective of his home than most. But he’d also be patient with children and any visitors he saw you welcome. Goldens are like that. My old Bailey has the fiercest bark you can imagine, and you know what a lamb he is otherwise.”
Megan moved back to stand in front of his cage, flipped the latch and opened the door. She hunkered down. “Here, buddy.”
He studied her as if searching her very soul, before he finally rose and limped toward her, slowly closing the distance between them. After a long moment, he solemnly sat down and lifted a paw to rest it on her knee, never taking his eyes from hers.
It was like a promise.
A promise that if she’d only love him back, he’d love her forever, with all his heart. That he’d give his life for hers and never think twice.
And in that moment, she knew that no other dog would do.
She cradled his head in her hands. “You’re it, buddy. You just found yourself a home.”
Scott hefted a quarter-bale of hay, judged the distance, and launched it over the fence. It landed dead center in the hay bunk in Attila’s corral.
The donkey waggled his good ear. Moved forward to sniff his dinner. Then he sidestepped around it to hang his head over the fence and stare longingly at the cabin.
After his first assault on the roses, he’d managed to escape almost every day, even after Scott had added a high set of planks on the fence.
One by one, the roses bloomed—and within twenty-four hours they each disappeared.
He was the most single-minded creature Scott had ever met.
“You and Officer Peters are a lot alike,” Scott muttered as he double-checked the chain on the gate.
The way his blood had chilled at seeing her in that seedy tavern still made him shiver. He hadn’t asked why she was there. It hadn’t been hard to guess. She was searching for leads in that murder case.
But to go into that place without backup within shouting distance was flat-out reckless.
Before he’d been in there five minutes he’d seen cowboys too drunk to know what they were doing—too drunk to remember anything the next day.
And he’d seen prison tats on a couple of guys with cold, hard eyes and six-inch knives on their belts. Maybe they were just passing through. Maybe they were lying low, working in the back of beyond on some ranch. But a pretty woman alone could be bait enough for them to take chances. No matter what she thought, Megan would have been in a vulnerable position if she’d caught their eye.
And the man she’d sat with in that booth had looked like pure trouble.
She’d made it clear that she didn’t want Scott’s help, and he’d left the world of law enforcement behind for good. So why did he feel this persistent compulsion to check up on her, just to make sure she was safe?
“Not my business,” he reminded himself aloud.
Attila looked at him and flapped his lips, making a whuffling noise that almost sounded like a chuckle. “Thanks, pal.”
The donkey lifted his head to look over Scott’s shoulder toward the lane, his good ear swiveled in that
But even with all of the German shepherd’s ideal qualities, her gaze strayed back to the golden. He was staring at her with such a look of hopelessness and heartbreak in his eyes, that she felt her own heart melt into a puddle at her feet.
She studied him, taking in the abuse he’d suffered. The quiet dignity in the way he sat still, his eyes fixed on hers, while most of the others were going crazy for attention.
“I wonder if he’d even have the spirit left to be a good watchdog, or if he’d just be afraid and cower.”
“He’s terrified of men, but after surviving on his own, I think he’d be even more protective of his home than most. But he’d also be patient with children and any visitors he saw you welcome. Goldens are like that. My old Bailey has the fiercest bark you can imagine, and you know what a lamb he is otherwise.”
Megan moved back to stand in front of his cage, flipped the latch and opened the door. She hunkered down. “Here, buddy.”
He studied her as if searching her very soul, before he finally rose and limped toward her, slowly closing the distance between them. After a long moment, he solemnly sat down and lifted a paw to rest it on her knee, never taking his eyes from hers.
It was like a promise.
A promise that if she’d only love him back, he’d love her forever, with all his heart. That he’d give his life for hers and never think twice.
And in that moment, she knew that no other dog would do.
She cradled his head in her hands. “You’re it, buddy. You just found yourself a home.”
Scott hefted a quarter-bale of hay, judged the distance, and launched it over the fence. It landed dead center in the hay bunk in Attila’s corral.
The donkey waggled his good ear. Moved forward to sniff his dinner. Then he sidestepped around it to hang his head over the fence and stare longingly at the cabin.
After his first assault on the roses, he’d managed to escape almost every day, even after Scott had added a high set of planks on the fence.
One by one, the roses bloomed—and within twenty-four hours they each disappeared.
He was the most single-minded creature Scott had ever met.
“You and Officer Peters are a lot alike,” Scott muttered as he double-checked the chain on the gate.
The way his blood had chilled at seeing her in that seedy tavern still made him shiver. He hadn’t asked why she was there. It hadn’t been hard to guess. She was searching for leads in that murder case.
But to go into that place without backup within shouting distance was flat-out reckless.
Before he’d been in there five minutes he’d seen cowboys too drunk to know what they were doing—too drunk to remember anything the next day.
And he’d seen prison tats on a couple of guys with cold, hard eyes and six-inch knives on their belts. Maybe they were just passing through. Maybe they were lying low, working in the back of beyond on some ranch. But a pretty woman alone could be bait enough for them to take chances. No matter what she thought, Megan would have been in a vulnerable position if she’d caught their eye.
And the man she’d sat with in that booth had looked like pure trouble.
She’d made it clear that she didn’t want Scott’s help, and he’d left the world of law enforcement behind for good. So why did he feel this persistent compulsion to check up on her, just to make sure she was safe?
“Not my business,” he reminded himself aloud.
Attila looked at him and flapped his lips, making a whuffling noise that almost sounded like a chuckle. “Thanks, pal.”
The donkey lifted his head to look over Scott’s shoulder toward the lane, his good ear swiveled in that
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