Cruel World(105)

Three.

Two.

One.

He yanked the door open as Alice snapped on the light mounted to the rifle.

The dog sat before them, its ears perked, head turning from one side to the other before it licked its chops.

Quinn lowered the handgun and looked into its dark eyes.

“You want to come in?” he asked.

The Shepherd rose immediately and trotted into the room, walking a straight line to the base of Ty’s chair where it sniffed once and then laid down, its head erect and watching them.

Quinn shut and bolted the door and crossed the room to the back of Ty’s chair. The dog’s eyes followed him.

“Well, make yourself at home,” Alice said, the rifle not at her shoulder but not at her side either.

“I think he might be,” Quinn said, taking in the dog’s length and deep chest. It was big and powerful, plainly at ease with itself.

“You mean it lived here?”

“I’m guessing. Maybe the guy who killed himself upstairs let it out before he did it. Couldn’t bear to do the same for his pet.” The Shepherd shot a look up the stairs and then back at Quinn as if confirming his assumption. “And then it led us here.”

“I think you’re giving it too much credit. It’s a dog, Quinn.”

“I know, but it definitely didn’t try to hide itself. If it wanted to, it could’ve let us pass right on by. It was like it was biding its time, seeing what kind of people we were.”

They watched the dog, and it stared back at them, blinking every so often. Finally it lowered its wide head onto its paws and sighed before falling asleep.

“That’s the damnedest thing,” Alice said, moving to her chair. “You think it’s dangerous?”

“No. Someone definitely cared for it. Look how heavy it is, how nice its coat looks.”

“What a traveling f*cking circus we have going here,” Alice said, getting comfortable in her chair. “If we meet a juggling clown, I’m shooting his ass.”

Quinn took the rifle from her to keep watch for the remainder of the night. He studied the dog sleeping soundly at the base of Ty’s chair. Strange how it had gone straight to him, like it knew he was the youngest, the most vulnerable.

Where did you come from? Quinn thought.

~

The night passed without incident, and the sun rose amidst gusting wind that flapped the blankets and stirred the coals of the fire into flame again. Ty had exclaimed with fear and then delight upon waking to the giant bed of fur slumbering beside his chair. The dog had gotten up without a sound as Ty’s feet grazed its back, and with Alice watching pensively, it began licking Ty’s hand and then his face.

“He’s nice, mom; he’s nice!” Ty said, running his hands over the Shepherd’s head and ears.

“Well, that remains to be seen,” Alice answered, hobbling close to the fire to warm her hands.

“Can we keep him?”

“How do you know it’s a he?” she asked.

“Mom,” Ty said, drawing out the middle of the word as if he were talking to someone much younger. “He’s too big to be a girl.”

Ty’s assumption proved correct when Quinn brought the dog outside. It lifted a back leg and sprayed the bottom of a highline pole beside the lodge before returning to the porch to sit and stare at him.

“So what’s his name?” Ty asked, coming outside, his cane tapping before him.

“I don’t know. You wanna think of one for him?”

“We can’t do that. He’s grown up. He’s already got a name.”

Quinn cocked his head. “I guess you’re probably right. So what is it, big guy?” he said, addressing the dog. “Is your name Jake?” The Shepherd mirrored Quinn’s head tilt and whined once in the back of his throat. “No? How about Zeke? Is it Zeke?”

“Zeke?” Ty asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really been around a dog before.”

“Me neither. Mom says they’re dirty.”

“Yeah, well Billy Bob here doesn’t look dirty.”

Ty giggled. “Billy Bob?”

“Sure. He could be a Billy Bob, right boy?” The dog whined and then let out a short woof.

“Just name him Flea Train and be done with it,” Alice said, coming out to stand on the porch. “That’s what they all are.”