Page 8 of Sweet Courage

Turning toward the sound, Alice found Sarah Sue framed by the wide barn doors, one hand braced on her hip, the other still holding her truck keys. Dust clung to the hem of her jeans. The look on her face carried equal parts disbelief and concern. “What are you doing?”

Alice set the pitchfork aside and pushed a loose strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist. “I could say we’re getting ready to put on a show, but I think it’s exactly what it looks like, I’m mucking stalls.”

“I went to the house first.” Sarah Sue stepped farther inside, her gaze moving from the wheelbarrow to the half-finished stall and back again. “No one was there. I came here in search of Clint.”

A low scrape sounded from the next stall over.

One section of the half door swung wide and Cassie stepped out backward, tugging a muck tub behind her. “Seems every man within five miles is down with the flu.”

Sarah Sue blew out a breath. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough.” Alice shrugged then flashed a toothy grin. “Want to roll up your sleeves?”

“I can talk and work.” In jeans and boots—the standard west Texas uniform—Sarah Sue shoved at her sleeves.

“I’m kidding.” Alice held out her hand.

“I’m not.” Sarah Sue took a few steps and reached for a pitch fork. “I got a call from Aaron.”

Leaning both hands on the pitchfork handle, Alice waited.

“Male German Shepherd. Six years old. Good health for the most part.” Sarah Sue paused, as if sorting through what she’d been told and what she already suspected. “Years of deployment. Helicopters, gunfire, demolition training. All the noise that goes with the work. Somewhere along the line he lost a good part of the hearing in one ear, maybe more. The handlers had no choice.”

Alice’s mouth tightened. “So they retired him.”

“They had to.” Pitchfork in hand, Sarah Sue moved to the stall beside the one Alice was mucking. “He’s still willing. Still trained. Still wants to work. But too often he can’t make sense of where the command is coming from. It’s clear he’s confused when several voices are going at once. Startles if someone comes up too quickly on the deaf side. Not mean. Not aggressive. More… lost than anything.”

“Poor baby,” Alice murmured.

“That was Kade’s reaction.” Sarah Sue glanced toward the stall where a mare had lifted her head to listen. “A dog like that has spent his whole life doing exactly what was asked of him. Now he just can’t process the world the same way he used to.”

Silence settled over the three women for a moment.

Cassie broke the quiet first. “What’s his name?”

“Valor.”

Alice smiled faintly. “Well, of course, it is.”

The faint smile on Sarah Sue’s face didn’t hold. “Aaron wanted to know if we’d take him.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I needed to talk to you first.”

That earned her a look.

“Oh, don’t start.” Hanging on to the pitch fork with one hand, Sarah Sue raised the other at her mother-in-law. “We both know you’re going to say yes. I just figured it was polite to ask before another German Shepherd landed on your porch.”

Setting the pitch fork aside, Alice rested her hands on the top rail, her gaze settling steadily past them toward the sunlit yard outside the barn before she slowly nodded. “Of course we’ll take him.”

Sarah Sue bobbed her head once, as if she’d expected nothing less.

“We’ll need routine,” Alice continued, already thinking ahead. “Quiet where we can get it. One person at a time to start. No crowding. No shouting commands from six directions. Let the poor boy figure out where he is before everyone starts telling him what to do. He needs to find purpose.”

“Aaron said much the same.” Sarah Sue shifted closer. “And heaven knows there’s plenty of purpose to be found on a working ranch. For what it’s worth, Valor responds beautifully to hand signals.”

From outside came the faint sound of boots crossing the yard. Not hurried. Not dragging either. Measured steps, one after the other, drawing closer. A moment later Hanson appeared in the doorway. Blue jeans replaced the khakis. A worn pair of boots had taken the place of loafers. Sleeves rolled to his forearms, he almost looked like he belonged. Almost. It was still clear to anyone who could see the man was no longer comfortable in his own skin and certainly not so in Kade’s old clothes and boots.