Let Loose (8 page)

With my husky-control equipment draped around
my right shoulder like a fireman’s hose, I shut Kiska in my
bedroom, loaded my pockets and hands with treats, and prepared to
face whatever dogs, Mountain Scouts and leaking plumbing the world
could throw at me.

o0o

When I pulled into my parking space behind my
shop, it was immediately apparent that all was not normal at Dusty
Deals. First, the back door was open even though, as Betty had
pointed out, the mercury hovered just a bit above zero. Second,
stacks of cardboard boxes with “Mountain Scouts” stamped on their
sides were scattered around the back door.

And then there were the firemen walking out,
sans hoses, but still looking way too official for my taste.

I gave Fluff her orders, to keep the crew in
check, and headed inside.

The scene there was not reassuring. Betty and
Phyllis stood in the middle of the store, faced off like two
heavyweight boxers. Three firemen stood to the side watching them
with a kind of shocked patience on their faces. The door to my
office was open, and I could hear someone inside yelling, “That’s
too many! Keep it small. No more than one every other week, I told
you.”

And then there were the Mountain Scouts, nine
little girls huddled shivering by the open front door with what
appeared to be a lifetime supply of cookies stacked in front of
them. No doubt as a barricade between them and the crazy that was
my life.

I separated the combatants first. Stepping
between them, I placed my right hand on Betty’s shoulder and my
left on Phyllis’. “What is going on?” I asked, sounding as official
and grown up as I could.

“She,” Betty began. “Has turned this place
into one juiced up joint.”

“You are the one who forgot to call the
plumber,” Phyllis retorted.

“And you’re the one who turned on the gas
instead of turning off the water!”

“Gas?” I inhaled. Sure enough there was a
lingering odor of gas. I glanced from the firemen to the Mountain
Scouts and back.

One of the men in yellow stepped forward.
“It’s fine. We had the kids outside, while we ran some checks,
but—”

“And it’s 10 below!” Betty bellowed. “Who
expects children to sit outside when it’s 10 below?”

Last I’d checked, we were a good fifteen
degrees above ten below, but I didn’t think Betty was in the mood
for details.

“We didn’t—” the fireman began, but Betty cut
him off again.

“Not you. Her.” She pointed at Phyllis, who
straightened and pulled her shoulders back in an
I’m ready for
a fight
stance. “She was going to set those little oboes up at
a card table outside!” Betty waved her green boa like a cat
slapping its tail.

Phyllis rolled her eyes. “They’re Mountain
Scouts. Surviving the cold will earn them an endurance badge.”

“And frostbit basses,” Betty replied.

“Betty!” Phyllis shook her head and grabbed
me by the arm. “I am glad you are here though. That Daniel from the
paper came by and he was claiming the strangest—”

“Ma’am?” One of the firemen I’d passed on my
way in stood by the back door with his helmet under his arm. “You
may want to get your dogs out of your car.”

Betty and Phyllis both turned to me. “Dogs?”
Phyllis beamed and Betty shook her head.

I walked to the closest wall and rapped my
head against it.

I kept smacking my head against the hard
plaster until one of the firemen grabbed me by the shoulders and
slowly pulled me away.

Betty took one look at my face and marched to
the phone to call in reinforcements, otherwise known as Rhonda.

Luckily, the firemen left before she arrived.
I had never seen my man-crazy best friend in a room with six
strapping examples of masculinity and herodom, but I was fairly
certain it wouldn’t have been pretty. Or productive.

But with them gone, she was a godsend. She
lined up the Mountain Scouts while I went to get the dogs.

My Jeep had seen better days, but the seats
were luckily still folded flat and thus, I assumed, intact, and
only Zef seemed to have suffered any visible signs of what might
have caused the fireman’s concern, and that was just a small,
somewhat bloody puncture in one ear.

I held him back while Betty came forward to
take the others off my hands. By this point, Rhonda had the girls
bundled up and ready to walk the dogs to a nearby empty store where
Rhonda assured me there would be plenty of space for kids and dogs,
minus Zef, to do what kids and dogs do without causing lasting
damage to themselves, others, or my merchandise.

With them gone, I collapsed onto my horsehair
love seat. Something wet dripped onto my hand. The wound in Zef’s
ear had reopened.

Great. Just great.

I roused myself to find the first aid kit I
thought I’d left in the bathroom.

Phyllis called out, stopping me. “I wouldn’t
go in there.”

I pursed my lips and weighed the
responsibility of being a business owner and knowing exactly how
bad the damage was with the bliss of ignorance.

Phyllis held out a roll of paper towels.

Choosing bliss, I took it. After blotting at
the drips, I pressed the paper to Zef’s ear and waited for the
bleeding to stop.

Phyllis crossed her arms over her chest and
watched me with clear disapproval. “If the girls don’t get to sell
their cookies, the shop will have to buy them.”

No, “Sorry I almost blew up your store.” No,
“Sorry, you got stuck with eight dogs.” Not even a, “By the way I
ran an ad I didn’t tell you about in today’s paper.”

I squeezed Zef’s ear a little harder than I’d
intended. He yelped and gave me an accusing stare.

I sighed and dropped onto the love seat. “Red
is dead.”

“Red Benson?” Ethel Monroe stepped out of my
office. Her cane tapped on the floor as she walked closer. “I just
talked to him a few nights ago. He was all excited about his
fund-raiser.”

I’d forgotten that Betty had said Ethel was
here waiting for me to take her... somewhere. I’d also forgotten
about the voice I’d heard coming from my office when I first
arrived.

“Fund-raiser?” Phyllis prompted, switching
from bullying business “partner” to Southern belle in one tap of
Ethel’s cane.

“Red was the head of the Silver Sledders.
They had the fund-raiser, where Betty won the poster contest,” I
replied.

“Betty won?” Ethel’s baby doll lips curved
and her eyes sparkled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Phyllis looked less impressed. “Yes, well,
that’s another thing. Betty ordered—”

Ethel hobbled forward and motioned for me to
make room for her on the seat. “What happened to Red?”

Her eyes were warm and soft, and suddenly the
impact of everything I’d been through that day hit me. My shoulders
collapsed and I swallowed hard. “Someone shot him. I found him when
I went to return his dogs.” I explained then how I had found the
dogs running down the road and had to return them.

Ethel patted my hand. “Of course, you did.
Any loving person would.”

Her praise made me feel a little better. I
shot a look at Phyllis. Her expression was blank, which was an
improvement over the perpetual disapproval I’d endured lately. I
turned back to Ethel and kept talking.

When I’d finished telling everything, up to
the point of walking into Dusty Deals an hour earlier, I leaned
against the back cushion and prepared for some sympathy.

Phyllis picked up a notebook and flipped it
open. “So, you’re watching the dogs for the Humane Society? Does
that mean they accepted our application? I heard there was an
opening on the board. If they are trusting you with this many dogs,
surely they would consider you for that.” She scribbled something
down. “There are still the Mountain Scouts and their cookies, and
the posters Betty ordered. It would look terrible if we defaulted
on those. So you are going to have to find a way to sell them. And
I saw Betty’s rough...” She shook her head. “Still, this could all
be good. It could be just what we were hoping for.”

I didn’t know what she’d been hoping for, but
sadly I didn’t think it was the new stove with four working burners
that I’d been dreaming about lately, or the flat screen TV,
or...

“I can buy the cookies.” Ethel tapped her
cane on the floor and stood up. “We get no decent snacks at that
home. The girls will love them.”

“Are you sure—” Phyllis began, but I cut her
off by leaping to my feet and jumping in front of her.

“I’m sure the Scouts will appreciate it.” As
would I. Peter’s recent absences already had me feeling more than a
little insecure. Being saddled with 300 boxes of cookies right now
would not be a good thing for my thighs and, thus my self-esteem.
After all, if I paid for them, I would have to eat them. How could
I live with myself otherwise?

The front bell rang and a delivery man walked
in pushing a handheld trolley loaded with poster-sized tubes in
front of him.

“The posters,” Phyllis murmured.

“How many?” I asked, quickly scanning the
tubes bungee corded to the two-wheeler.

“Fifty here,” he said, glancing at his
clipboard. “And... another hundred and fifty in the truck.”

Phyllis turned to stare at me. Her expression
was not amused.

Ethel reached for my hand and stood. “Oh my!
We are late! My dentist appointment was five minutes ago.”

Caught up staring at the delivery man who was
walking back outside for another load, I didn’t reply.

Her cane poked me on the top of the foot. “My
appointment?” Her eyebrows rose.

“Yes, yes. Your appointment. I made a
commitment.” Or at least people seemed to think I had. “Can’t be
letting you down again.”

o0o

Two days later, Red’s sled dog team was still
calling my little acre of land home.

I’d given up the idea of leaving the team
outside after the first day. It was too cold and they were too
loud. Even my mind-their-own-business neighbors had started to
complain. And I couldn’t blame them. The howls of nine dogs caught
between two mountains tended to carry.

I’d also give up on small niceties like
pillows and clean floors. I’d thought Kiska carried in dirt, but he
had nothing on this crew. Every trip outside, one or more of them
found something, usually decayed and disgusting, to bring back in
with them.

After the second half-eaten pack rat made it
onto my bed, I’d set up a check point at the door.

I’d just caught Zef smuggling what appeared
to be a frozen boot circa 1801 in the front, when my phone
rang.

I had gone two days locked in my house trying
to keep the dogs from destroying my home. I hadn’t seen nor heard
from another human with the exception of my neighbors calling to
tell me my dogs were making a racket. Like I couldn’t hear that for
myself. My blue hair was stiff and unwashed. My pillows were empty
cotton sacks. And my floors were covered with fur, feathers, and
pack rat debris.

I had, thanks to Martin, food for the dogs,
but I was getting short on Diet Pepsi and chocolate. When those
staples ran out, I didn’t know what I would do.

Anyway, when the phone rang, I ran to answer
it. The dogs were quiet at the moment, so I didn’t think it could
be a disgruntled neighbor, which meant it might be good news, in
the form of someone calling to tell me that the Humane Society had
approved whoever the poor sap was who had applied to take care of
fosters for them. Or maybe even Peter. He had told me he’d be back
by the weekend.

“Lucy Mathews? This is Shelly from the Humane
Society. I have some good news.”

My heart flittered. I could feel my shower
running, followed closely by the soft joy of new pillows under my
head.

“You’ve been approved.”

“Approved?”

“Yes, as a foster. Normally this takes a
little longer, but these are such unusual circumstances, and since
you already have the dogs anyway, this was pretty much a
formality.”

“A formality?”
Wait
. She was talking
like what she was saying was a good thing, but... “Are you saying I
have to keep the dogs?”

“Yes, you’re approved. I called the Police
Department and let them know that you would be their permanent
contact. I’m just so glad this worked out so easily, with you
applying when you did and the paperwork already going through the
channels.”

“Applying?” I didn’t apply. I didn’t want to
apply.

“Yes... is there a problem? You sound
upset.”

Upset? Was I upset? Of course I was. I opened
my mouth to tell her exactly how upset I was.

“Because I can’t tell you how hard it is for
us to find good fosters. Especially ones willing and able to take
care of the number of dogs that you have, but if it’s a problem,
I’m sure we could do... something.”

Her tone said that was a complete lie. I
looked at Fluff who was staring at me with an eerie unwavering
look. Then I looked at Kiska. He was staring too, but at Fluff with
such complete awe and adoration I knew I couldn’t face telling him
I’d shuffled her off to wherever dogs with no place to go went.

Still, I asked, “So you’d have another
place?”

“Uh...” There was some fumbling and rustling
of paper. “Well, yes, but it would mean putting down an equal
number of dogs here.”

Putting down? As in killing? As in I would be
directly responsible for some poor homeless dogs’ deaths?

“We try to avoid that as much as we can, but
we can only house so many animals, and the huskies are evidence, so
it would have to be dogs we already have, and then when more dogs
came in...” She let the sentence trail off. Like it mattered; I
knew where this was headed.

I thought I was going to throw up. “No, no.
No need for that. I’m thrilled to be a foster.”

Her sigh of relief wasn’t just audible. I
could feel it reverberating through the air waves. It did nothing
to lessen my nausea.