Page 15

S ometime in the middle of the night one of the dogs woke Timber.

He sat up straight, his senses already on high alert, as he listened.

He heard sounds, some nickers from Sparky in the barn, a little bit of unrest but nothing too unduly.

From over where the doe was, there was nothing, but he would expect her to be hunkered down close to her fawn somewhere, and, if she were smart, she would have moved farther away, where people couldn’t get at her.

He wasn’t sure what he heard until it came again.

It was a hard crunch of a boot on the ground, but something was off. He got up, quickly pulled on his prosthetic, his jeans, grabbed his rifle, and, with the two bigger dogs, Philly and Kojack, he headed downstairs. Lucy and Bingo were both huddled in their baskets.

He just smiled at them as he walked past and whispered, “It’ll be fine.”

They just looked at him, the fear in their eyes already bigger than he wanted to see, but then what would you expect from animals that knew nothing but mistreatment, and now they hear something out there moving around? That was not cool.

As he moved downstairs and stepped outside into the night, he stilled, his senses widening as he used an old trick from his military days to seek out any intruder.

The sounds of the night echoed in his brain as he listened, until it came again off to the side, a little bit more toward where the doe was but still not close enough.

His eyes had slowly adjusted to being outside.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he heard, but definitely something was moving out there.

He waited a little bit longer, took several slow cautious steps in the direction of the sounds, then called out, “Hey, visiting hours are in the daylight.”

In the moment of silence that followed, he could almost sense the shock.

Absolutely nobody responded, not a peep, not anything, yet he heard the catch in the back of the throat, the breathing of somebody who didn’t expect to be seen or heard, somebody who didn’t expect to be caught out here right now.

He waited and then added, “Just so you know, my gun is loaded. I’ll count to three, then I’ll start shooting.”

Again no response.

Timber shot one bullet in the air. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would shoot blindly out into the wild, not when his whole goal was to help these animals instead of letting them get shot up by these assholes or getting injured in any number of other ways.

As he stood here, it was hard to suss out what was going on, but definitely something was.

He stepped into the night and slowly walked over to where the doe was, or at least where he’d last seen her.

He was pretty sure she wasn’t there now, which would be a good thing, considering what Timber was coming up against. He moved as silently as he could, but still the ground was dry.

Where it was hard packed, it would be fine, but where it wasn’t, the leaves would crackle underneath his feet.

He knew that whoever was out here was still as the night, deliberately not moving and hoping to avoid detection by staying still.

But Timber had played this game for a very long time in far more desperate situations, so he had learned a few tricks.

As he moved toward his adversary, he could almost sense the palpable fear.

“I don’t know who put you up to this, but they didn’t pay you enough for it,” he said in a conversational tone, “and, if you have any doubts about it, you’re about to get proven wrong. You shouldn’t have come out here. You shouldn’t have taken money for this job.”

And again, more shock came, more of a reverberation of shock. Nobody moved or said anything, but Timber could feel the shock reverberating all over his intruder.

He smiled as he sensed it. “If you come out now, I won’t shoot.”

Still no response.

“I might have a whole lot more to say to you, but I won’t shoot,” he explained.

“You’re on private property. You’re trespassing, and you’ve got yourself caught up in the middle of something ugly that’s already brewing.

So, depending on which side you think you’re on, you sure as hell better show yourself while you can. ”

Just then his eyes adjusted to the dark, and, out of the trees, a donkey bolted toward him.

He wasn’t sure where the hell it came from or what was going on, but he heard human footsteps running away.

He looked at the donkey and realized it was injured, bleeding from fresh cuts down its side.

He thought he saw older wounds as well, and it looked as if there was a rope around its neck and around one hoof.

He suspected somebody had ridden it in and then cut it loose. No way he would take it to go after whatever asshole had done this. Even now he heard footsteps racing away hard. He hopped onto the quad, the dogs joining him on the seat, turned on the engine, and raced down the driveway.

He got down to the corner where he figured he was probably just ahead of his intruder.

Then he called out to the dogs to go get him.

With that, the two bolted and worked toward flushing out whoever was in the trees.

He knew they would move fast, but he could only hope that whoever was out there didn’t understand that the dogs would corner him, and it would be up to them to try and talk their way out of this.

When the dogs hadn’t returned, hadn’t barked either, just as he thought that maybe nothing was out there, they both set to barking, hard and fast.

They had cornered something. Timber didn’t know what, and maybe they didn’t either because there was definitely an odd sound to their calls. So he raced to them on the quad, his gun in hand.

As soon as he got around the corner, he stopped to see a man on the ground, the dogs snarling above him. Timber called out to them to heel, then cocked his gun and walked over, pointing the barrel at the intruder. “Who the hell are you?” he snarled.

The guy looked up at him with a snarl on his face.

“You again,” Timber said. “What in the hell are you doing back here? And how did that animal get hurt?”

“That thing’s been a pain in the ass for my family since forever. I should have killed it a long time ago.”

It was all Timber could do to not shoot him on the spot, but he’d seen assholes like this before, and sometimes there was just no other way to deal with them.

As he quickly pulled out his phone, the kid on the ground asked, “What will you do, call the sheriff?”

“Nope,” he said, and, with that, he made a phone call.

When Andy picked up, as if he’d come to from a long slow sleep, Timber said, “You better get your ass over here.” And he disconnected.

“What’s the matter?” the kid asked in a mocking tone. “You can’t do your dirty work yourself?”

“Not trying to,” Timber replied in a calm and collected tone. “I was hoping to bring this to a peaceful end, but I can’t be bothered about that now.”

“Oh, wow,” the intruder muttered in a mocking tone. “It’s not like anybody will give a shit. You’re nobody.”

“Apparently you think you’re somebody,” Timber murmured. “Just look at you, running around in the dark, injuring whatever you think you can hurt just because—”

“I told you, that donkey’s been a pain in the ass all my life.”

“Right, and that’s why you made a point of hurting it.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s taken way worse.”

“Then I guess I’m grateful that you brought it over to me,” Timber replied. “It will live just fine now, and that’ll be the irony of it,” Timber shared, with a laugh.

“You’re welcome to it. Jesus Christ, that thing just never shuts up.”

“It won’t now either.” He heard it in the background, braying in distress. “Only a coward hurts an animal like that.”

“I’m not a coward,” he snapped, snarling at him, “but I don’t like animals.”

“So, you kept this one for what, to torture it?”

“No. Hell no. I couldn’t be bothered.”

“So, whose is it?”

“It was my grandmother’s,” he said, “but she’s passed on, so I don’t know whose it is.”

“So, that would make it your granddad’s?”

“Yeah, I know it’s my granddad’s, but it’s not as if he’s looking after them very well now either.”

“And you are?” Timber asked, staring at him.

“Nope, I’m sure not, but somebody’s in between us.”

“Ah, you mean your father?” At that, the kid shifted nervously. “Your dad wouldn’t like your being out here, I suppose?”

“He might not like it, but not for the reason you think,” the kid said.

“What’s your name anyway?” Timber asked. “Brian or something?”

“Yeah, Brian,” he said, “don’t wear it out.”

“Wasn’t planning on it and hope I never have to use it again, but I’ll need it for the gravestone.”

At that, the kid stared at him, not sure whether Timber was joking or not.

Then Timber fell silent as he studied him, knowing that Andy would be hightailing it over, and it was a draw as to whether he would give a shit about this or not.

When a truck barreled in, the kid heard it and muttered, “Oh, look at that. The cavalry to the rescue.” But when he heard Andy’s voice, he paled and asked, “What the fuck? You called my grandpa?”

Andy spat, “Yeah, he called me, you little piece of shit. What the hell are you doing over here again? I told you to stay away from this man.”

“I don’t give a shit what you told me,” he sneered. “You’re nothing but an old man.”

Andy stared at him in shock, as Timber looked over at him. “You sure you want to save this one? Why bother? He’s already a lost cause.”

The old man sighed. “Yeah, but unfortunately he’s my lost cause.”

“He appears to be afraid of his father.”

At that, Andy winced. “That’s partly why he’s the way he is, I suspect.”

“No excuses, not now, not anymore.” Timber declared, staring at Brian hard.

“I almost didn’t find you,” Andy said at his back.