Chapter Nine

The hair on the ridge of Scout’s back was standing up as she snarled at the terrified skunk, who was backed against a thick log. Scout crouched low with teeth bared. Jim Hepburn stood at the edge of the small clearing with Eli, Paul, and Jack. He was a grizzled-looking man with ruddy features and a creased, wrinkled face. He held a muzzle and chain leash in one hand and what looked like a cattle prod in the other. He turned to the group, “Whose dog is she?”

Jack raised his hand and said, “Mine.”

“We don’t want to provoke that skunk any more than the dog already has,” the man said, “or we’re going to have a much worse situation on our hands. Let’s just sit tight for a bit.”

They watched as dog and skunk faced each other. Neither seemed ready to relent, and the dog’s barking only seemed to increase. Finally Scout snarled and took a step forward. That must have been the end of the line as far as the skunk was concerned, because it suddenly bit the dog on the snout, then turned and unleashed its nasty smell straight in the dog’s face.

“No!” Jack yelled as Scout yelped in pain and the skunk waddled off.

Paul had never heard a more pitiful cry of agony, either from the dog or its supposed owner. When Scout turned toward them, he could see that her eyes were closed and tearing badly. The smell of skunk was overwhelming. Paul had to fight to keep his stomach from turning on him. He clutched a hand over his face. Eli held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth, while Jack muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

“I’ll get her,” the dogcatcher said.

She was rolling on the ground now, pressing her face into the snow as if to wipe out the agitation and swiping her paws across her eyes. The old man moved forward cautiously, the hand with the muzzle held out to the side. “Good doggie,” he crooned.

When Jim was a few feet from her, Scout raised her head and growled loudly. “No no. You don’t want to do that.”

Finally Scout’s rescuer squatted down. “It’s okay,” he said.

Scout kept growling, her teeth a menacing warning as she pawed at her eyes, trying to remove the irritant. Letting the stick fall to the ground, the dogcatcher reached toward the dog. He leaned forward, his attention on the dog’s collar. He was within inches of his prize.

Then Scout turned on him.

She attacked full force, biting the old man first on his outstretched hand and then on his leg. She held the limb in her teeth and shook her head back and forth. Finally Jim grabbed her in his hands, practically hanging her by the collar, and pulled her off his bleeding leg.

Quickly he pulled the muzzle over her mouth and tightened it under her jaw and around her neck. Paul and Eli rushed forward to help hold the dog.

The man sat back in the snow in obvious pain. “I hate this job,” he said through gritted teeth. Then he looked over at Jack. “You need to keep your dog under control!” He lifted the hand that covered the wound on his leg. “Man, that hurts!”

Knowing Eli had Scout in hand, Paul moved forward to have a look. The cut was visible through the hole in the dogcatcher’s pants. The laceration was jagged, a good three inches long, dark purple in color, and deep.

“You’re going to need stitches, Jim,” Paul said. He reached into his coat pocket for a handkerchief and pressed it over the open wound. “This will help the blood clot. Hold it tight.”

The old man obliged.

“She wouldn’t have bit you if it hadn’t been for the skunk,” Jack said.

Paul was amazed at Jack’s lack of concern for the injured man.

Jim raised his hands. “Hey, I don’t care how we got here. All I know is I have a bleeding leg from your mutt! She better be up on her rabies shots.”

“She’s up on her rabies shots.” Jack rolled his eyes.

Paul sent Jack a look that told him to be quiet. Then Paul turned to the volunteer dogcatcher. “Are you up to walking down to your truck?”

Jim nodded and said, “I’m not going to sit up here all day smelling this way.”

Paul reached around the man’s thin shoulders and helped him stand. Jim gingerly placed some of his weight on the leg and winced with the pain, but then he straightened and released his grip on Paul. “I’ll be fine.” He waved Paul away.

Eli led the way down the steep embankment with a now-docile Scout in his arms. The dog whimpered and nuzzled into the crook of one arm. Paul and the old man slowly worked their way down the hillside together behind him. Paul wanted to be near the man in case his bleeding leg gave way, but the dogcatcher toughed it out despite the pain that arced across his eyes.

Brooding and sullen, Jack was last to return to the truck. Paul felt like spanking him, if he could have done such a thing to a boy who was no relation to him.

When they reached their vehicles, the dogcatcher said to Jack, “You’ll need to get that dog to the vet right away. The skunk bit her good on the nose.”

“I can take care of my own dog,” Jack snapped.

The man raised his hands, then clapped them in an “I’ve said my piece, the rest is on you” sort of gesture. He climbed into his rusty pickup, turned the key, and drove toward town. Eli and Jack were already in Paul’s pickup by the time he got there. Scout was on Eli’s lap, near the passenger-side door, the smell of skunk in her fur unbearable. A low growl lingered in her throat as she looked toward Jack.

“Knock it off,” Jack whispered, though not loud enough that the dog seemed threatened. She stared at him for a long moment, then stopped growling.

Paul took his seat behind the wheel and started the pickup. As they made their way back into town, Paul realized he was getting a headache. He never got headaches.

He pulled up to the vet clinic on the corner of Smoky Mountain Road and Ashland and glanced over at his partners in crime. Both men looked exhausted—their eyes were red, and neither of them could drag a smile out of a pocket.

They climbed out and made their way into the squat brick building. The receptionist raised her dark curly head. She was younger than Paul had first thought, probably in her early twenties, though she still had braces on her teeth. And her nametag bore the name Ashley.

“Can I help you?” A look crossed her face as the scent of the men followed them in. “Ewww!” she said, waving her hand in front of her nose. “What in the world?”

“Skunk,” the three said in unison.

“I can tell that!” She plugged her nose. “That is so nasty!”

“Imagine how we feel,” Eli added.

The vet came around the corner from a long hall of examination rooms. He was a short bald man with sharp black eyes. “What in the—? Oh!” he said, pinching his nose. “Which one of you got sprayed?”

All three pointed to the dog.

Paul said, “Dr. Milt, she got it right in the eyes, and the skunk bit her nose. See.” He pointed to the small tear on the dog’s nose. The vet reached for the stinky pooch and lifted the dog up to eye level. She bared her teeth at him. “She bit the dogcatcher too,” Paul added while the vet sized up the growling dog.

“Oh,” Dr. Milt said to Scout. “So that’s how it’s going to be, is it, girl?” Then he turned to Jack. “When was her last rabies shot?”

Jack shrugged. “You’d know better than I would.”

“I’ll look it up in her file. If she isn’t up to date, we might need to keep her for a while. You didn’t happen to bring the skunk along too, did you?”

The men exchanged incredulous looks.

“If her shots aren’t up-to-date, it could be quite a stay,” he explained. “At least without the skunk to test.” He waved a hand across his nose as the smell intensified. “Getting that smell out will take some work. Seems you’ll have plenty to do just to get the smell off your own bodies. I’ll take care of this one.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Jack.

“She’s all yours,” Jack said. “When should I pick her up?”

“I’ll give you a call after I look in her file.” Then he took Scout down the narrow hallway to one of the exam rooms, disappearing from view.

When they climbed back into the pickup, the odor of skunk on their clothes was overpowering. Paul and Eli rolled down their windows despite the cold and drove the short distance to Eli’s and then to Susan’s house to drop Jack off.

“Tomato juice is supposed to take the smell away,” Paul said.

Jack nodded, his expression dour.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.

“I sure didn’t need a vet bill right now.” He shook his head.

“It’ll be okay,” Paul assured him. “Besides, the prize money will more than cover that, right?”

Instead of easing the stress in his face, as Paul intended, the statement twisted Jack’s brow even more. It made Paul wonder if he’d been taken for a ride, again.

THE TABLE WAS SET for a romantic dinner. The savory scent of roast chicken and wild-rice stuffing filled the Hanlon home. Kate had just finished transferring the mashed potatoes to a serving dish and placing it on the table, when the sound of Paul’s pickup in the driveway reached her ears.

“Perfect timing, Kate,” she said. She pulled a matchbook from her apron pocket and lit the two white tapers at the center of the table. They quickly caught, creating the intoxicating atmosphere Kate wanted. Lately she and Paul had been so busy with their various tasks—she with the Harrises and her stained-glass project, he with church work and those Wilson brothers—that they hadn’t taken time to be a couple. They liked to go on date nights often, either to a movie or dinner, or on some creative adventure that Kate enjoyed planning. But they hadn’t been out in several weeks. Tonight that was going to change, even if it meant enjoying a simple chicken meal at home by candlelight.

She heard the pickup door slam, so she quickly took off her apron and hung it on its hook alongside the refrigerator. Then she went to the front door to greet her husband with a kiss.

But when he opened the screen door, the last thing she wanted to do was kiss him—the scent that accompanied him was overpowering.

“What did you do?” She covered her nose with her hand. “You smell like...like skunk!”

Paul touched the end of his nose. “Bingo,” he said. “And my head is screaming. I think this smell is giving me a headache.”

He lifted a foot to step into the house, but Kate pushed him back onto the stoop. “No, you don’t!” she said. “I don’t want my house contaminated with that smell.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Kate placed her hands on her hips and thought for a moment as the cold outdoor air chilled her. “Come through the garage,” she said. “You can strip down there. I’ll bring you your robe. And you can go get a bath.” Then she paused. “Will a bath take that smell away?”

“I always heard it was tomato juice, but I didn’t want to go into the store smelling like this.”

“I’m sure the public is grateful. I’ll have to go get some, I guess. Do they sell it by the barrel?” She lifted a teasing brow but quickly put a hand over her nose and mouth again as another gust of winter air brought the scent back to her. “How could you—?” Then, “At least go soak in the tub while I run out to the store. And don’t touch anything!”

“I won’t,” he said sheepishly.

She shut the door on him and went to get his flannel robe from the back of the bathroom door. When she opened the door to the garage, Paul was ready for her. He slipped the robe on while Kate pinched her nose. “So much for my delicious-smelling meal,” she moaned. “All I can smell is...you.”

Paul shrugged. “It’s not as if I planned this.”

He went into the bathroom just off their bedroom and turned on the hot water, while Kate blew out the candles, turned the oven on warm, and set their meal inside. Then she reached for her car keys and went to get her coat.

As she was leaving the house, she called out, “Now don’t move until I get back!”

“You don’t want me rolling around the carpet?”

“Don’t even joke!”

BY THE NEXT MORNING, most of the skunk scent was gone from Paul’s person, though Kate decided to throw away the clothes he’d been wearing for fear that the scent would permeate her washer and dryer. He’d left early for the church, saying he needed to get caught up on his sermon preparations since he’d been scouring the countryside the day before in search of that dog.

Kate sat in her favorite rocking chair in the living room, enjoying the quiet of the morning as chickadees and blue jays fought over the seed in the birdfeeder outside in the backyard. She’d been praying and reading her Bible as she usually did before she took up whatever tasks the day held. She’d found over the years that when she didn’t stop for those moments of peaceful contemplation and time alone with God, the worries of her day often overtook her and put her on a treadmill that went nowhere.

She’d been praying for Marissa and Patricia, that now that her chemotherapy treatments were coming to an end, Marissa would find energy to do the things she enjoyed, and that when the test results came back, she would be cancer-free.

Kate lifted her face toward the ceiling and closed her eyes. Lord, she went on, give me wisdom to help, to show Patricia that she doesn’t have to lean just on herself. That’s been so exhausting for her. She needs your peace. She really does. Amen.

When Kate lowered her head and opened her eyes, she saw that a male cardinal had landed on her feeder. He tilted his bright red head with its black mask, then dipped down for a taste of the black-oil sunflower seeds. A blue jay returned and chased him away. Kate didn’t mind, however. Any birds were welcome to come, red or blue...

Blue. The word stuck in her brain. She rolled it around, wondering at its significance. Blue was a color—so what of it? But the color of what?

Then it struck her. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Of course. She’d learned about genetics in high school.

She rose from her seat as excitement welled. Padding into the kitchen, she placed her cup and saucer in the sink, quickly rinsed them, and set them in the drainer. Then she dried her hands on a dishtowel. Grabbing her cell phone and purse, she went to the hall closet, put on her warmest winter coat, and made her way to her car.

She had to talk with Livvy. She had to. All her niggling thoughts hadn’t been for nothing. She knew that now, but she had to make sure before she accused Patricia of lying.