Page 26 of A Furever Home (Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue #8)

“The judge is our uncle, my father’s brother.

” I sighed. “And even if he wasn’t, any local judge might side with my parents, at least in terms of sending a runaway home.

They’d risk losing the next election—as well as their standing in the community—if they didn’t do what the townsfolk expect of them.

The locals don’t overlook violent crime, but teens are expected to owe obedience and loyalty to the head of the house.

” Physically disciplining kids was considered a normal part of life unless bones were broken.

“I once heard the sheriff say, ‘If kids are acting up, sometimes you have to pop them one.’ Direct quote.”

“Well, that complicates things. Let me do a bit more research.”

“It’s appreciated.” I could only imagine what this legal bill would be. Maybe I could refinance my mortgage and take some cash against the equity? I also had a bit squirreled away for a rainy day.

Today it was fucking pouring.

Focus on the things you can fix. “Why don’t we feed Sadie?” The dog had been quiet in her pen since those few whines, but I imagined her smelling the chicken as we ate and felt bad. “Then we need to figure out what to do with her.”

Wynn scrolled on his computer. “Hm. You’re responsible for her for the next fourteen days.

If the owner turns up before then, you’re entitled to charge a reasonable amount for the care of the dog.

If the owner does not turn up, you’re required to spend ten days searching for a new home. Does she have a microchip?”

I blinked. “That never occurred to me.” I checked my watch. Seven-fifteen. The vet clinic would be closed by now. “I’ll take her to the vet tomorrow. Dr. Louisa can check her over and see if there’s a chip.” Except I had two dogs coming early tomorrow, whom I was responsible for.

This is getting out of hand .

“If the owner doesn’t show up by morning, see whether there’s a chip and go from there.

” Wynn eyed me. “No sense borrowing trouble. Right now, I’ll get started on your California guardianship petition.

The worst the court can do is reject it.

We can’t apply for an emergency measure till we have a case number.

” He patted the stack of my papers, with Cheyenne’s driver’s license on the top.

“I’ll let you know if I need info that isn’t in here.

I’m surprised, from what you say, that your parents let a teen have a license. ”

“Nah,” Cheyenne drawled. “Driving’s a useful skill. We’re all expected to get it the day we turn sixteen. Lots of us have been driving tractors and other equipment long before then.”

“Ah, of course.” Sadie whined and Wynn flapped his hand at me. “Feed that poor dog. Let me type and then we’ll go through things.”

Cheyenne rose. “I’m helping with Sadie.”

I was too tired to argue.

“Can I use this?” Cheyenne held up a can of tuna.

“Sure. Mix in a little leftover rice so it’s not too rich.

” I cleared the plates as Cheyenne prepared a bowl of tuna-mash for Sadie.

“We’ll need to buy her some proper canned food tomorrow.

All I have in client leftovers is some big-dog kibble that I don’t think she can chew.

” What I’d seen of her teeth was not pretty.

“Is there a good pet store in town?” Cheyenne eyed the food she’d prepared, then added shredded chicken on top.

I nodded. “There’s B&B. Bales & Bowls. They’re amazing.

” I’d acquired so many toys from them that they gave me a professional discount.

“I can ask them if they’ll take some of my new brochures while we’re there.

” I was impressed that I’d thought of my business, with everything going on. “Okay, let’s feed the pooch.”

We headed for the family room.

I held up a hand to stop Cheyenne. “I’ll take the bowl and go in.”

“I’m coming.” She clutched the bowl tight to her chest.

“The dog’s unpredictable. We don’t want you to be injured under my supervision. That’s a quick way to land you in someone else’s care.”

“I’m coming.”

God save me. Please . “At least stay back.” Because life was too short to stand and argue.

“Yep.”

Sadie had been pressing her nose to the mesh of the big crate I’d enticed her into as we approached the family room, but when I opened the gate, she backed into the far corner, her eyes tracking our every move.

We stepped inside the room, and once the latch was secured, I held out my hand for the bowl.

“I’ll offer this to her. Go sit in your chair. With your legs up.”

“You’re going overboard. She’s a lovely dog.”

Said dog growled.

I tensed.

Cheyenne crooned, “Poor baby,” and told me, “She’s hungry—you’ve got food. I’d be growling too.”

“Fine. Chair.”

Amazingly, she did as bade—sitting crosslegged in the chair I now thought of as hers.

I placed the bowl of tuna on the floor just in front of Sadie’s crate, then I opened the door and stood aside.

The dog, with her ears back, glanced from Cheyenne to me and back to Cheyenne. Finally, she stepped out and made her way to her food. The first bite was more of a nibble as she tested the food. Almost like she thought we might be poisoning her. Slowly, though, she started eating bigger bites.

I let out the breath I’d been holding as she finished the entire bowl and then licked it. Okay, next challenge. I snagged a slip leash and gently reached toward her. She dodged back with a lifted lip.

For a moment, I wished Arthur was there.

I imagined how he’d coax her with that deep low voice that made dogs want to trust him.

And not just dogs. I imagined him using Chili—well, maybe not Chili, but Eb or Twain—to keep this scared little dog company and make her feel at home.

He should be here. My house felt empty, even with Wynn and Cheyenne and Sadie there…

I gave myself a mental shake. I’d known Arthur all of ten days. He wasn’t an essential part of my household. No matter how I felt . Focus on the job staring up at you with little brown eyes.

“You need to go peepee,” I pointed out. “So we’ll go outside now. Cheyenne will refill your water bowl and if you’re really good, I might have a treat for you.”

Sadie’s ears perked.

“Treat?” I dug in my pocket for the bites of soft beef treats I kept there and tossed her a tiny one.

Watching me with extreme caution, she extended her neck and lipped it up.

“Good girl. Treat?” I held out the next one on my palm, barely breathing. After a moment, she took two steps forward and ate it. Then backed up, but only one step.

“Treat?” After three more bites, when she’d stopped jumping back, I brought the leash out again. “Walkies?”

She tilted her head, one ear cocked higher than the other, but didn’t growl. I eased the loop around her neck and dropped a treat for her before she could panic. When she ate it and didn’t freak out, I straightened and used my happiest voice. “Good girl! Walkies! Go pee!”

She allowed me to guide her to the patio door.

I would’ve just let her loose to do her business, but if I couldn’t catch her, we’d have been in big trouble. Still, I did my best to keep as far away from her as I could, following with the leash loose as she wandered.

Sadie sniffed for a long time before doing her business.

I snagged a poop bag from my pocket—because I always had several handy—and scooped, then coaxed her step by step to where I could put it in the bin.

The dog gazed up at me, then stared off into the distance. A low whine came from her tiny throat. Another whine.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why she did this. But I’ll take care of you, I promise. Okay?”

She blinked. Then headed back to the house.

When I coaxed her into her crate, though, she started whimpering.

I gave her a chew toy with bits of treat in it but she ignored it.

“Why can’t she come and sit with us in the dining room?” Cheyenne stood near the gate, watching. “Or you could let her roam free in here. She doesn’t seem the destructive sort.”

The room was pretty well dog-proofed, but separation anxiety could make dogs do dangerous and destructive things. “We don’t know her well enough, yet. So, for now, she stays in the crate where she’s safe.”

Wynn appeared in the doorway. “I’ve come up with an idea.”

“Great.” I gave Sadie one final look before heading out of the family room, shutting the gate tightly.

Sadie whined again. More like crying.

She sounded like a human infant—which tugged at my heartstrings. That gut-deep instinct to soothe. “Sorry, girl.” I whispered, hoping she’d settle when we were out of sight.

Cheyenne glared.

I sighed. “We can only do what we can do. Let’s see what Wynn has up his sleeve, okay?”

After a moment, she nodded.

We retook our seats in the dining room, eagerly awaiting Wynn’s idea.

Well, eagerly might’ve overstated things.

I was filled with dread as I tried not to think of all the ways taking my parents to court could go horribly wrong.

Maybe we can just not tell them and pretend I don’t know where Cheyenne is.

But I wasn’t a child, to indulge in magical thinking.

I knew better. “What’s the thought?” I asked.

Wynn shot his gaze between Cheyenne and me.

“I think we need to get your parents on the record with the wedding threat.” He scratched his chin.

“I know a judge here in Gaynor Beach who is very focused on human trafficking—children in particular. If we give her proof that Cheyenne is being trafficked to her future husband, we might be able to circumvent the laws about jurisdiction and recording.”

I cocked my head. “What?”

“California’s a two-party recording state. Normally, we’d have to ask permission from your parents to tape the conversation, and then they’d never say anything incriminating.”

I opened my mouth.