Pete MacDougal. Do you really have nothing better to do than stand around and bug me? Dont you have a few hundred acres of apples that need pruning or trimming or something?
Ive got the orchards. Ive also got twins-two teenage sons-that Im raising without their mother. And even though everyone in White Hills think Im a farmer, Ive been doing translating work for Langley for a half-dozen years now, full-time. And then theres my dad, whos been as pleasant as a porcupine ever since my mother died. He didnt suspect she wanted to hear any of that, but he figured hed better give her a frame for his life. Otherwise she had an excuse for still treating him like a half stranger. All of which is to say, dont waste your breath being crabby with me. Ive got people who can out-crabby you any day of the week, so lets get back to our conversation-
Ive got the orchards. Ive also got twins-two teenage sons-that Im raising without their mother. And even though everyone in White Hills think Im a farmer, Ive been doing translating work for Langley for a half-dozen years now, full-time. And then theres my dad, whos been as pleasant as a porcupine ever since my mother died. He didnt suspect she wanted to hear any of that, but he figured hed better give her a frame for his life. Otherwise she had an excuse for still treating him like a half stranger. All of which is to say, dont waste your breath being crabby with me. Ive got people who can out-crabby you any day of the week, so lets get back to our conversation-
Were not having a conversation.
Oh, yeah, we are. Were talking about finding a solution for that twenty acres of lavender out there. One possibility-and the simplest one-is a bulldozer. I dont know if you knew Hal Wolske-
Im not looking for a bulldozer. Or for help.
Okay. He reminded himself that he came from strong Scots stock. Which meant he had no end of patience. He might have to kick a tree, soon and hard, but he could hold on to his patience until then or die trying. If you dont want to get rid of it, then you have to find a way to make it viable. I really dont think your sister could identify the front end of a tractor from the back-
Dont you start on my sister again.
But I do know your dad always kept two Masseys in the barn. The farmer your dad hired when he retired-Filbert Green, wasnt it?-he used to keep them well maintenanced, at least until your sis kicked him out of the job. If you want me to check them out-
I dont.
Yeah, I agree, theres only so much tractors can do for you in this situation. Im afraid what youve got is a ton of handwork. Ive got a crew trimming my apples, wont be done for a couple more weeks. And theyd have to be taught what to do with the lavender. They wouldnt have a clue, but theyre dependable, steady. If you want the bodies-
That wont be necessary, since I wont be having any strangers on the farm. I dont want your crew. Dont want anyones crew. Dont want anyones help or advice. Now, damn it, Pete, stop being nice to me!
She whirled around to stomp off, tripped on her sagging jean hem, yanked up her trousers and then stomped off.
Pete didnt grin-there wasnt a damn thing funny about what shape that woman was in-but he did stand there, thoughtfully stroking his chin.
Camille had to think he was the most obnoxious jerk to ever cross her path-since shed done everything but stand on her head to make him butt out. She didnt want help. That was obvious. She didnt want a friend. That was obvious, too.
But shed at least roused enough to snap at him. According to her sister, that was major progress.
When a man found a wounded deer in the road, he didnt just drive by. At least a MacDougal didnt. That woman was so wounded she was over her head, sick with it, sad with it, in a rage with it. And no, she wasnt his problem, but it had been so long since a woman touched him-much less snagged a feeling from his heart-that Pete was unwilling to walk away. At least not yet.
For her sake, but just maybe, for his, too.
Camille woke up to a damp pillow, sore eyes, mental flashes in her mind of a dark alley, her screaming, Robert, the blood, the three faces of drug-crazed kids, the sick feeling of terror
Same old same old.
She crawled out of bed and took her exasperated scowl into the bathroom. Shed just started to wash the sleep from her eyes when she suddenly heard an odd sound, coming from somewhere close to the front porch outside. A growl? Like an animal growl?
When she didnt hear it again, she assumed that shed imagined the sound. Still, once she tugged on a sweatshirt and jeans, she glanced out the murky window in the living room-and then almost dropped the socks in her hand. As fast as she could cram on shoes, she yanked open the door.
There was a dog, tied by a rope to the maple tree. The instant it saw her, the dog sprang to its feet and lunged, starting a teeth-baring, vicious, snarling and barking routine. If it hadnt been snugly tied, Camille was pretty sure it would have been happy to tear out her throat.
Considering she was afraid of almost everything these days, she wasnt sure why the dog didnt terrify her. Possibly it was because the poor thing just looked so pitiful. It had the look of a full-blooded German shepherd-but it had obviously fallen on disastrous times. Its skinny ribs showed. Its right ear had a nip. The eyes were rheumy, the golden-brown coat crusted with old mud.
Take it easy, take it easy, she coaxed. But the dog showed no inclination to take it easy and snarled even harder. Well, for Petes sake, how did you end up here? Who tied you to my tree? What are you doing here?
She couldnt think, the dog was barking too loudly and too fiercely. So she went back inside, shut the door, and then stared out the window. Once she was out of sight, the dog settled down. She could see a cut in its coat now, close to its right shoulder. The injury didnt appear too bad, but it was still another sign that the shepherd had been treated badly.
Unfortunately, whoever had tied it to her tree had given it enough room to run and lunge-a little-but hadnt left it food or water. How anyone had gotten close enough to bring it here to begin with, she couldnt imagine, but the mystery of the situation had to wait. She foraged in the kitchen cupboards and finally came up with a bowl. It was cracked and dusty, but it would hold water.
When she opened the door again, the shepherd leaped and lunged and did an instant replay of its snapping, snarling act. Camille hesitated, but then slowly carried the water closer. This is ridiculous. Quit having such a cow. Im not coming any closer than I have to-you can take that to the bank. But if you want water and food, youre going to have to shut up and relax. If you dont like me, dont worry about it. Believe me, you wont be here long.
Snarl, snarl. Growl, growl. The dog was so intent on trying to attack her that it tipped over the water bowl. Camille eased back, perplexed. What now? She couldnt free the dog-at least not without risking her life. She also couldnt leave the dog without food or water-but she couldnt seem to get water to it, and she didnt have food. Temporarily she seemed to be stymied-and confounded that this could possibly be her problem.
She trudged up to the main house, yanked open the back screen door and yelled for Violet. No answer. She tried upstairs, downstairs, the basement, then the front yard. No sister in any of those places, either. Finally she found Vi in the back of the second greenhouse, up to her elbows in potting soil and roots and plants. Shed look like an earth mother if it werent for the five pounds of bangly gold bracelets and wildly tousled blond hair. The place was a jungle of earthy scents and humidity and plants that seemed to be reproducing in every direction.
Cam! Violet said delightedly when she spotted her. You havent come out here before. I never thought Id get you to see all the stuff Ive been doing in the greenhouses-
And Im not here now, Camille said. Im here about the dog.
What dog?
Camille sighed. If Violet had to ask, then she obviously didnt know. Do you have any dog food around? Or anything I could use for dog food? And do you have last nights paper?
Camille sighed. If Violet had to ask, then she obviously didnt know. Do you have any dog food around? Or anything I could use for dog food? And do you have last nights paper?
Asking Violet was a mistake. Once she knew the details she immediately wanted to drop everything and come help. Thankfully, a customer showed up and occupied her sister, which left Camille free to raid the farmhouse kitchen. Vi had enough cat food to feed a zoo of felines. And three days worth of newspapers, none of which listed any reference to a lost dog.
She stomped out of Violets house, more aggravated than ever, carting a grocery bag full of dry cat food and a mixing bowl. How on earth had this come to be her problem? She couldnt care less about a dog she didnt know from stone and wasnt conceivably her responsibility.
Getting the bowl of food close to the shepherd was an uphill struggle, since it seemed to want to kill her even more than it wanted to eat. She ended up storming back up to Vis kitchen, slamming doors around, heating up some dadblamed hamburger and driveling it into and over the cat food, then storming it back to the worthless mutt.
It quit snarling and lunging when it smelled the ground beef. The tail didnt wag, the fur didnt stop bristling, the eyes didnt look any less feralbut at least the damn dog let her push the bowl within its reach.
Then it fell on the food as if it hadnt eaten in a week, looking up and growling every few bites-but still, gulping down the chow almost without stopping to chew. By then, Camille had managed to get the heavy mixing bowl of water secured within its reach, too. God knew why she was going to so much trouble. The dog was pitiful. Too mean to love, too ugly for anyone to care, and definitely not her problem. But pitiful.
She never meant to go inside and wash windows. She hadnt done a single thing to make the cottage more livable, and still didnt plan to. But because she had to keep glancing out to check on the damned dog, the filthy windows were distracting. And once she rubbed a spot clean, the rest of the window looked disgusting. And then once one window got cleaned, the others looked beyond disgusting.