“Which is only what? Half an hour?” she said in a note of humor.
“Make it an hour,” Sandy said.
“Good enough,” she said, putting away her phone, as she relayed the message to Caleb.
He nodded and said, “That’s not bad. We’re maybe twenty minutes from there anyway?”
“Given the rush-hour traffic now, if we went straight there, we’d be lucky to make it,” she said with a wry twist. “El Paso is not exactly a small town anymore.”
“Not sure it ever was,” he said. “Let’s head over and see if we can get all the dogs into the truck as it is.”
She nodded. “You drive. I’ll take the three little ones upfront. Do you think Graynor and Beowulf would be all right to take over the back seat?”
“I think so,” he said. “You put Graynor in first.”
She walked around to the side and opened up the far passenger door, ordering Graynor up. The huge German wirehaired pointer hopped up lightly and settled on the cushion. She closed the door, loaded the three little ones into her front passenger area, two on their feet with Fancy in her arms, while Caleb slowly ordered Beowulf into the back. The dog had no trouble getting to the bottom footwell but struggled to get up on the seat. Gently giving him a hand, Caleb raised him onto the seat, lay the rifle on the floor and closed the door. He came around to the driver’s side, hopped in, and said, “Well, we got a houseful.”
“A ready-made family,” she said lightly.
“This kind I can handle,” he said with a grin.
She smiled at that and settled in for the drive.
She was right. The traffic was pretty rough. There was not only construction but also an accident. She wondered if she should phone and say they were coming, but she had been held up tending to the dogs, and then they pulled in just a minute late. As they slowly unpacked all the dogs, Laysha walked up to the front door, and Sandy saw her, now unlocking the door to bring her in.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it,” she said.
“So were we. The construction, the traffic, and then an accident caused quite a snarl,” she said.
The receptionist nodded. “It seems like there’s always something on the road these days.”
“I know. I’m just grateful I wasn’t part of the accident,” she said.
“It’s always that way, isn’t it? You get angry and frustrated at the beginning, and then immediately common sense kicks in and says, Hey, at least it wasn’t you out there.”
“And then you wonder if one day it’ll be you,” she said. She held open the door as Beowulf walked in slowly, dragging that back leg a bit.
Sandy looked at him and said, “Wow, he looks exhausted.”
“He’s run over twelve miles with me today,” Caleb said.
She looked at him sharply. “Why would you do that to an injured dog?”
“To save the dog’s life,” he said briefly.
Once again Laysha realized how little he expected or intended to explain himself. He did when he felt it was necessary, and, if she—or others—didn’t like it, that was just too bad. Laysha looked at Sandy, seeing the doubt on her face, and Laysha nodded. “Trust me. The dog was in a really ugly position. We were trying to save him before he was shot and fed to other dogs.”
The shock on the woman’s face helped to diffuse her initial anger a little bit. She immediately headed to the back room to let the vet know. Charlie came out on her heels, smiling that big affable smile that Laysha had become so accustomed to. He looked at her and grinned. “Brought me another one, did you? Keeping this one too?”
She chuckled. “Not sure I’m allowed to.” She stepped back, after introducing Charlie to Caleb.
Caleb quickly explained about the War Dog.
At that, the vet crouched in front of the dog with interest. “Haven’t seen one of these guys before,” he said. “I heard a couple of my cohorts have. How I always wanted to meet one too, though he looks like he’s been run through the mill and back.”
“Exactly,” Caleb said, “we also had to do a twelve-mile run cross-country to get away from bullets.”
“It’s never easy, is it?” he said. “Come on. Let’s get him into the back.”
And, with that, Caleb and Beowulf disappeared with Charlie. Sandy looked over at Laysha. “Seriously that dog ran twelve miles?”
“They’re both veterans,” she said with a sideways look at her. “Caleb has been medically discharged from the military. I believe that the twelve-mile run would have hit both of them pretty hard.”
“Jeez,” she said. She walked around to the front desk. “I have no idea what something like this will cost,” she said apologetically, “and I’ve pretty well shut down the system for the day.”
“Not a problem.” Then she added, “You know I’m good for it.”
“You do take good care of all those other dogs,” she said, “and I can’t believe Graynor is still doing as well as he is.”
“I hope I never lose him,” she said. “He’s very special to me.”
“I hear you, but at that one point in time …”
“I know. Everybody keeps saying that, but he keeps surprising me.”
“He could go another couple years,” she said.
“I hope so. He’s been a huge part of my life.”
“I hear that,” she said. “We have so many dogs through here, and we’re having to put down so many lately. It’s very distressing.”
“Do you give them to rescues?”
“We try to find a rescue that can take them. Believe me. Nothing breaks my heart more than to put down a healthy dog. So we work hard to place them,” she said. “But sometimes there’s just nothing we can do.”
“I’ve often wondered if I should open up a rescue myself,” she said, “but I’m afraid I’ll be inundated with dogs that I won’t want to give up.”
“Anytime you want to open your heart and your door,” Sandy said, “let me know. Because sometimes the stories are just enough to break all our hearts.”
“I have a home myself now,” she said, “and five acres.”
“That’s enough room to take in some strays,” she said, “but, when you think about it, we all need space and food to feed them too.”
“Exactly.” Laysha sat down in the waiting room with her four. They hated the vet’s office, like most animals. Graynor sat very close to her, but she kept a hand on his head and neck, gently stroking him. “It’s okay, buddy. We’re not here for you. It’s Beowulf that’s struggling.”
By the time Caleb came out, a serious look was on his face.
“I don’t like that look,” she said, hopping to her feet. “How is he?”
“Well, the bullet did a little more damage than I suspected,” he said. “They’ll keep him here overnight, and we’ll see what he’s like in the morning.”
“Stitches, surgery?”
“Both. We just got the bullet out, but we had to knock him out.” He showed her a small pill bottle with the bullet in it. “For the cops.”