Read Online Christmas in Cowboy Country by Janet Dailey - Free Book Online Page A

sandwich and tossed the bag of trash into a tall can by the locked back door.
    Then he brought over the crate and stood on it to peer over the Dumpster’s side again. The dog came right to him, stretching up to sniff at the remains of the sandwich he held out.
    There were only a few shreds of roast beef and a glob of mayonnaise on the roll, but the dog seemed interested. More than interested. When it got a whiff of what he held in his hand, the tail really got going.
    â€œCome and get it,” Marshall coaxed.
    The dog made a jump and fell back. Its eyes fixed on the prize, it backed up a few steps and crouched, then sprang high enough for Marshall to catch it by the furry scruff of its neck.
    He wrangled it over the side of the Dumpster and let it jump down the rest of the way. Wonder of wonders, it sat right down without him saying a word. Maybe without knowing it, he’d given the animal some kind of signal it recognized. Someone had trained it. Maybe the dog hadn’t been abandoned. Some practical joker could have put it into the empty Dumpster.
    â€œWho taught you to do that?”
    The dog grinned, letting its tongue loll out. Marshall was about to reward it with the sandwich when he realized his hand was empty.
    â€œHey. That wasn’t polite.” The dog didn’t even bother to look guilty. If he got close, he would probably smell the mayo on its breath.
    â€œYou’re pretty slick.” Its tail thumped on the ground; the dog seemed to agree. “So. Now that you’re out, what am I going to do with you?”
    He patted his pockets, looking for his phone, and remembered that he’d left it in the truck. Marshall walked back to it and the dog accompanied him, heeling like a champion. “Good dog,” he said.
    It wasn’t that obedient. Before he gave it a command, it jumped past him through the door he’d left open and landed on the front seat. “Hold on. I didn’t say you could do that. Now get down.”
    The dog eased down into the foot well and popped up its head, grinning again.
    â€œNot quite what I meant.”
    It stayed there for a few more seconds, then clambered back up onto the seat and stared out the passenger window like it had important work to do.
    Marshall looked it over. It was clearly some kind of stock dog mix, male, probably smart as hell and too adventurous for its own good. He ran his hands along its sides, feeling definite ribs, but it wasn’t starved. Just hungry. He picked up a back paw, noting the worn pads and a split nail. It had to have covered a lot of miles lately. No identifying tattoo that he could find. He doubted it was microchipped, but a vet would be able to tell him that.
    â€œDo you have a name? Are you someone’s dog?”
    The dog turned intelligent amber eyes on him, as if the answer was obvious. Yours, pal.
    â€œAll right.” He sighed. “You need a bath and a collar, for starters. It’s late in the day, so you get a reprieve on the vet visit.” Marshall got into the truck and slammed the door.

Chapter 7
    A nnie had no luck finding Stone and didn’t particularly want to ask around. The gleaming black truck was nowhere to be found in Velde and she felt like a dope trying to play detective when she couldn’t find a man who was taller than anyone else in town and owner of a great big shiny new vehicle that had to have caused comment.
    By the next day, she sucked it up and contacted Nell.
    Not face to face. Annie could do without the tactfully phrased questions the saloon keeper was sure to ask. E-mail was preferable. She reached into her jacket pocket for her smartphone and scrolled through for Nell’s contact information, then typed a message that was too long to text.

    Hey. Do you happen to know where that guy is who came in the night we tested the Christmas lights? He left some surveying gear out at our place.

    Technically, that was true. There were neon pink ribbons