Lee McClain - The Soldier's Redemption

“Sure could use the help,” Long John said, lowering himself back into his chair with a stifled groan. “Me and Willie been doing our best, but...” He waved a hand at a walker folded against the porch railing. “With my Parkinson’s, it’s not that easy.”

“Hardly anyone else has applied,” Willie added. “Don’t get many out-of-towners around these parts. And the people who live in Esperanza Springs heard we’re gonna have more guys up here. They get skittish.” He winked at Kayla. “We vets are gentle as lambs, though, once you get to know us.”

“Right.” She had direct experience to the contrary.

At first, before her marriage had gone so far downhill, she hadn’t translated Mitch’s problems into a mistrust of all military personnel. Later, it had been impossible to avoid doing just that.

When Mitch had pushed his way into her place well after their divorce was final—talking crazy and roughing her up—she’d gone to the police.

She hadn’t wanted to file a complaint, which had been stupid. She’d just wanted to know her options, whether a protection order would do any good.

What she hadn’t known was that the police officer she’d spoken with was army, too. Hadn’t known he drank with Mitch at the Legion.

The cop had let Mitch know that she’d reported him, and she still bore the bruises from when he’d come back over to her place, enraged, looking for blood.

Shaking off her thoughts, she watched Long John talk with Finn while Willie plucked at his guitar and then held it out to show Leo. The two veterans did exude a gentle vibe. But then, their wartime experiences were distant, their aggressions most likely tamed through age and experience.

“Let’s take a look at the kennels,” Finn said and nodded toward the barn. “Later, guys.”

Just outside the barn, Finn turned and gestured for Leo to stand in front of him. After a nod from Kayla, Leo did, his eyes lowered, shoulders frozen in a slump.

“I want you to ask before you touch a dog, Leo,” he said. “Most of them are real nice, but a couple are nervous enough to lash out. So ask an adult first, and never, ever open a kennel without an adult there to help you. Understand?”

Leo nodded, taking a step closer to Kayla.

“Good.” Finn turned toward the barn door and beckoned for them to follow him.

Much barking greeted their entry into the dim barn. Finn flicked on a light, revealing kennels along both sides of the old structure and more halfway up the middle. One end of the barn was walled off into what looked like an office.

Finn walked down the row of dogs, telling her their names, reaching through some of the wire fencing to stroke noses. His fondness for the animals was obvious in his tone and his gentle touch. “All of them are seniors,” he explained over his shoulder. “Which is about seven and up for a big dog, eight or nine for a little one.”

“Where do they come from?” she asked. The barking had died down, and most of the dogs stood at the gates of their kennels, tails wagging, eyes begging for attention.

“Owner surrenders, mostly. Couple of strays.”

She knelt to look at a red-gold dog, probably an Irish setter mix. “Why would anyone give you up, sweetie?” She reached between the cage wires to touch the dog’s white muzzle, seeming to read sadness in its eyes.

“Lots of reasons,” Finn said. “People move. Or they don’t have money for food and vet bills. Sometimes, they just don’t want to deal with a dog that requires some extra care.” He knelt beside her. “Lola, here, she can’t make it up and down stairs. Her owner lived in a two-story house, so...”

“They couldn’t carry her up and down?”

“Apparently not.”

“Can I pet her, too, Mom?” Leo asked, forgetting to be quiet.

Kayla looked over at Finn. “Can he?”

“She’s harmless. Go ahead.”

As Leo stuck fingers into the cage of the tail-wagging Lola, Finn turned toward Kayla. “Most of our dogs are really gentle, just like I was telling Leo. The ones that are reactive have a red star on their cages.” He pointed to one on the cage of a medium-sized brown dog, some kind of Doberman mix. “Those, you both stay away from. If the job works out, we’ll talk about getting you some training for handling difficult dogs.”

If the job worked out. Would it work out? Did she want it to?

Finn had moved farther down the row of cages, and he made a small sound of concern and opened one, guiding a black cocker spaniel out and attaching a leash to her collar. He bent over the little dog, rubbing his hands up and down her sides. “It’s okay,” he murmured as the dog wagged her tail and leaned against him. “You’re okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Her cage is a mess. She knocked over her water and spilled her food.” He scratched behind her ears. “Never has an accident, though, do you, girl?”

Kayla felt her shoulders loosen just a fraction. If Finn was that kind and gentle with a little dog, maybe he was a safe person to be around.

“Could you hold her leash while I clean up her cage?” he asked, looking over at Kayla. “In fact, if you wouldn’t mind, she needs to go outside.”

“No problem.” She moved to take the leash and knelt down, Leo hurrying to her side.

“Careful,” Finn warned. “She’s blind and mostly deaf. You have to guide her or she’ll run into things.”

“How can she walk?” Leo asked, squatting down beside Kayla and petting the dog’s back as Finn had done. “Mom, feel her! She’s soft!”

Kayla put her hand in the dog’s fur, shiny and luxuriant. “She is soft.”

“She still has a good sense of smell,” Finn explained to Leo. “And the sun and grass feel good to her. You’ll see.” He gestured toward the door at the opposite end of the barn. “There’s a nice meadow out there where the dogs can run.”

She and Leo walked toward the barn’s door, guiding the dog around an ancient tractor and bins of dog food. In the bright meadow outside, Kayla inhaled the sweet, pungent scents of pine and wildflowers.

“Look, Mom, she’s on her back!” Leo said. “She likes it out here!”

Kayla nodded, kneeling beside Leo to watch the little black dog’s ecstatic rolling and arching. “She sure does. No matter that she has some problems—nobody likes to be in a cage.”

A few minutes later, Finn came out, leading another dog. “I see you’ve figured out her favorite activity,” he said. “Thanks for helping.”

The dog he was leading, some kind of a beagle-basset mix, nudged the blind dog, and they sniffed each other. Then the hound jumped up and bumped her to the ground.

“He’s hurting her!” Leo cried and stepped toward the pair.

“Let them be.” Finn’s hands came down on Leo’s shoulders, gently stopping him.

Leo edged away and stood close to Kayla.

Finn lifted an eyebrow and then smiled reassuringly at Leo. “She’s a real friendly dog and likes to play. Wish I could find someone to adopt her, but with her disabilities, it’s hard. Willie and Long John can only handle one dog each. I have one of our problem dogs at my place—” He waved off toward a small house next to a bigger one, in the direction of the lodge. “And Penny—she owns the ranch—has another at hers. So for now, this girl stays in the kennel.”

If she and Leo stayed here, maybe they could take the black dog in. That would certainly make Leo happy. He’d sunk down to roll on the ground with the dogs, laughing as they licked his face, acting like a puppy himself. He hadn’t smiled so much in weeks.

And Kayla, who always weighed her choices carefully, who’d spent a year planning how to divorce Mitch, made a snap decision.