four

The shed turned out to be a little art studio, maybe ten by twelve feet. An easel stood next to a small wooden table that held a palette, a ceramic pot blooming with paint brushes, and a dozen or so tubes of paint lined up like colorful little soldiers. The interior smelled of linseed oil. The window let in a little light and revealed a chintz-covered armchair by the back wall. A cat was stretched across the upholstered seat, her back to us, tail hanging limp off the edge of the chair. I signed Jay to lie down, held my breath, stepped to the chair.

“Oh, no” I turned toward the sound and watched Alberta slide down the doorframe. I could barely hear her wheeze, “Is she … ?”

Something in my chest folded in on itself and froze me in place for a moment, but I shook it off and forced myself to step to the chair and lean over. Gypsy tilted her head back and squinted at me. She opened her mouth in a silent meow and I felt my shoulders loosen and my chest reopen.

“She’s fine.” I sniffed, blinked hard, and started to laugh. “She’s really fine.” I ran the back of my finger along a tiny black back, then a tabby, then a calico marked just like her mama. All three were firmly attached to the food bar. Gypsy pushed her face against my hand, and I leaned in for a nose bump. “But we’re going to need a carrier to get them all home, Grandma.”

“What?” Alberta grabbed the doorframe and pulled herself upright. She smoothed her jacket down and crossed the space between us. “Oh.”

Gypsy mewed at her.

“Oh, well done, my dear.” Alberta’s face looked the way I felt.

We stood in silence for a moment, and then Jay shifted and I felt as much as heard a barely audible growl. I turned around just as the little shed exploded in light and a voice boomed, “What the hell do you … You?”

“Charles!” Alberta stood up and looked at the figure in the doorway.

Jay leaned into my leg, filling the space in front of me and watching the man. The door frame was almost entirely filled by the body behind the big voice, but now he looked more perplexed than threatening. “What are you doing in my wife’s studio?”

“Look.” Alberta moved to the side and swept her hand toward the chair. One step and Charles was looking down at Gypsy and her brood.

“Oh, great, more of them,” he growled.

Jay echoed him and I signaled my dog to lie down and stay.

The man pulled a plastic grocery bag from a shelf and moved a big hand toward the kittens. Gypsy and Alberta both hissed at him and I shoved my body between him and the chair. Everyone started yelling at once.

“What do you think you’re doing?” said Alberta.

“Get out of the way,” said Charles.

“Stop that!” said I.

Jay grumbled but stayed put.

Charles put a hand on my arm and started to push me. Apparently deciding that my “stay” command was now void, Jay stood and took a step toward Charles, the hair of his ruff and mane puffed out like a lion’s and a hard glare fixed on the man’s face. He barked once, then let a low growl roll from between curled lips. Charles pulled his hand away and retreated a step.

“Get out! Get off my property and take your damn dog with you!”

“Happy to, but you’ll have to wait while we get a carrier for Gypsy and her kittens.” I was pleased that my voice came out as steadily as it did, and I kept going. “Alberta, can you go get a small carrier?”

“Right, yes.” She glowered at Charles and said, “Don’t you dare touch those kittens, or my cat!”

“Or what? You’ll get an injunction?” Charles sneered the final word. He pulled out a cell phone and punched it three times with a thick finger. “I’m calling the police. You’re trespassing.”

“Now, Charles, dear. I’m sure there’s a misun … Alberta?” A tightly coiffed blonde worked her way past the big buffoon. The top of her bouffant might have reached his rib cage if she had been wearing heels instead of glowing pink ballet flats. She glanced from Alberta to the little family in the chair and squealed. “Ohmygoodness! How absolutely adorable! Aren’t they adorable, dear?” She giggled at her husband but he seemed to be impervious to cute kittens or gushing wives.

“Louise, what are you doing out here? And how many times have I told you to close the window and lock the door?” To the phone he said, “Yes, I want to report a trespasser, you know, breaking and entering.” He thrust the phone away from his face and said, “Now don’t touch them, Louise. They’re those wild ones. Carrying God knows what diseases and parasites.” Then to the phone again, “Yes, they’re here now … No, I don’t think we’re in imminent danger but I want them to leave and they’re refusing … I don’t think they’re armed but they have a vicious dog … How many?” He leaned forward and stared at the cats. “Five. No, seven. There are seven of them. Yes, I’ll be careful.”

Alberta looked at me and rolled her eyes. I shrugged back at her.

Louise knelt beside the chair and addressed Gypsy. “Oo have booteeful babies, yes oo do, yes oo do.”

Charles shoved the phone back into his pocket. He wrapped a hammy fist around his wife’s bicep, pulled her onto her feet, and guided her toward the door. “Stop that nonsense. Bad enough that dinner is late because of these people, and you’re going to have to change clothes and scrub up before we can eat. Now go clean yourself up and put those clothes in the wash. They’re contaminated.”

My lower jaw nearly dislocated itself at that and I started to say something, but the plea in Louise’s eyes stopped me. She turned to leave, her shoulders drooping and her face a crimson mask, and Alberta followed her out the door, calling back, “I’ll get a crate.” The two women could have been sisters, they were so well matched in size and age. They walked together toward the back of the house and, after a quick hug, separated at the steps to the long, multi-leveled deck that ran the length of the house. Alberta hightailed it back the way we came in. I watched Louise stalk up the steps to the back door and wondered what Alberta had said to her. The woman’s shoulders no longer drooped. Her posture and movement were stiff, as if all her muscles had tightened into a knot of pure anger. I couldn’t be certain at that distance, but her hands seemed to have balled into fists.

Not for the first time, I was happy to have Jay at my side for reasons beyond companionship. Like most Australian Shepherds, he tends to take his time assessing people he doesn’t know, but occasionally he makes a snap judgment. The first time he met Tom, he turned himself into a pretzel—his way of saying Hail fellow, well met! Now he had his gaze fixed on the man with the big voice, and his expression was not friendly. No one who didn’t know Aussies would have noticed that his hackles were up, but I knew that his coat doesn’t usually stand away from his body that way. I also knew that he had made another snap judgment, and that gave me the freedom to ignore the ogre in favor of Gypsy and her mewling brood. Jay had my back.

As I knelt next to the chair to admire the little family, a whisper of regret blew through my mind. If I had taken Tom up on his offer to join us, I wouldn’t be here almost alone with a belligerent boor. Oh please. Devilish Janet drowned out the whisper. Who saved whom last August, eh, girlie? That thought, too, was short-lived, because what mattered was not who did what, but that neither Tom nor I had been seriously hurt. But that was months earlier.

That line of thought led my mind to an article I’d read not long before on how to survive a back-country encounter with a large predator. They meant, of course, a mountain lion or bear, but some of the moves would probably work on human bullies. The memory was interrupted when Charles took a loud couple of steps across the plank floor behind me. Jay’s hip was pressed into my back and his muscles were vibrating. I whispered “Down” and he oozed to the floor, his body still touching mine.

“You’ll be sorry you ever got involved with that woman.” The man’s voice was pitched low, almost a snarl, and I fought the urge to stand and face him. In the silence, I recalled what I had read. Face the animal. Expand, the article advised. Grow large. Raise your arms. If you have a jacket, raise it over your head like bat’s wings. Yell.

“You’re trespassing and I intend to press charges. Police will be here soon. I have friends …”

Keep your wits about you. Don’t run, whatever you do. Don’t run.

Even if I had wanted to run, I didn’t have time.