Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) (5 page)

O
N THURSDAY, I RETURNED DOW
n the red dirt road to see Wyatt and Charlie. As I turned off the motor, he walked out of the kennel building, wearing the exact same outfit as last time with the exception of his shirt. Today it was brown.

He didn’t seem happy. He didn’t seem happy at all. I didn’t really expect Wyatt to come running out and sweep me up in a big hug. A smile would’ve been courteous with the dimples being a bonus. Instead, Wyatt had a glare of uncertainty. He still regretted inviting me back.

I got out of the car, wearing cutoff shorts and a tiny V-neck T-shirt. My hair fell down in blonde, shiny curls I’d styled with my curling iron. As I walked over to where he was standing, his piercing eyes never looked me over. If Wyatt had a choice, I think he would’ve shoved me back in the car and pointed it toward the silver gate. Yet his grouchy attitude didn’t make me nervous like it did the first time.

“Hi, Wyatt.” I smiled up at him. His eyes squinted a bit without a response. I was too close, and he had to look down to see me. “I came back.”

“So you did.”

“Ok. So . . . do you want me to just go see Charlie or did you want me to do something else?”

“Like what?”

“You tell me. You need help with anything?”

“No.” He shuffled back a few steps, putting more distance between us.

“You sure? I could help you . . .” I trailed off, not sure what to suggest. I smiled up at his hard face and shrugged.

“I don’t need your help. Just go see Charlie. That’s why you came. Then you can go.”

“Okay then.” Ignoring the sting of his dismissal, I walked past him inside the kennel. Slower this time so I could take in each animal. Some of the dogs pressed against the gates with open mouths and tongues, hanging out like they were smiling.

I stopped next to a medium-sized, brown dog. Bending closer to the ground, I scratched his face through the gate. My heart felt something awful inside as I noticed his ears were cut to the scalp, jagged and uneven, almost like a dull knife had sawed into the skin. And the scars. They were everywhere. The gray scars wrapped around and around his mouth like a person . . . no way. That couldn’t be possible.

“That’s Chewy.” I heard Wyatt’s voice behind me. I waited to see if he continued, but he didn’t say another word.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw his tight, sealed lips. So this is how it was going to be with him. “And?” I prompted.

He let out a loud breath. “Chewy had his mouth wired shut when Diana found him on the side of the road. He could open his mouth just enough to get a sip of water. The more he tried to work it free, the deeper it embedded into his skin.”

I swallowed hard, running my fingers over the raised scars. “Why would someone do that?”

“Why does anyone do any of this stuff?” His hand gestured out toward the other dogs.

I got up from my spot and walked slowly past the next few kennels. I was speechless. Each animal peered out with big eyes, grabbing me like a fist inside my chest. Each had some form of brutal injury that marred them for life. Each had the remnants of torture; a product of some selfish desire to own what couldn’t be owned. So they broke them physically until the poor animal had no choice. The whole place was ten times worse than Charlie. I froze, feeling the burn in the back of my throat.

“I had the same reaction the first time.” His voice was soft and scratchy. I looked over toward Wyatt. His arm was resting on the metal gate. Our eyes held for a moment before he looked at the ground. He seemed more relaxed than when I’d first arrived today. I wanted to ask him questions. Hundreds of them flew through my head all at once. But he was talking and he seemed to work better if I allowed it to happen on his own terms.

“So I guess that means it gets easier seeing them?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I still have to remind myself the scars are there, but nobody’s hurting them anymore. We are giving them a better life than where they came from.” His face twisted up as the deep words floated between us. They came from a person who was filled with more on the inside than the mask he wore on the outside. He was a good apple, just a bruised one full of compassion for his animals.

The invisible pull was there again. The invisible fingers tugged at my hands, my heart, and my feet. I moved closer to where Wyatt stood by the next kennel. His body visibly tensed, but I didn’t let it affect me.

“What about that one?” I pointed to the rat terrier with a pink scar shooting across his back hip instead of a leg. He bounced around on tripod feet.

“Ricky Bobby.” Wyatt reached over the kennel fence, scratching behind the dog’s ears. He smiled faintly as the rat terrier licked the palm of his hand. The animals seemed to melt the granite wall, surrounding this broken guy. I saw it every time he touched one.

“What’s his story?” I whispered.

Wyatt glanced at me as the smile lingered on his lips. “This guy thinks he can outrace cars. Got hit by one. His owner wanted to put him down instead of amputate. The vet called Diana, and he came here.”

“Why would someone just put him down for that?”

“You shouldn’t ask why in this place. There is no why for them. Some people are just selfish bastards.” His eyes lifted up, catching mine for a brief moment.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask it that way.”

“I told you. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know I rescued Charlie, but I haven’t seen a place like this before. There’s so many of them.”

Wyatt didn’t respond that time. I let out a deep breath, moving toward the next pen, but it appeared empty. Looking toward the back, I saw a black shape huddled in the corner. The more I looked, the more it pressed back as far as it could get from the gate.

“That’s Cye.” His voice grated on the words. “He’s a little timid. And he’s only got one eye. I think it scares him, not being able to see everything clearly.”

“What happened?”

Wyatt didn’t answer, and his jaw gritted up. He came over and stood just a few inches away, which surprised me. We both studied the sad creature in the back of the pen. Then he started to talk again. “The vet thinks he was beat with a hammer. It’s taking awhile for him to trust people.”

“Not even you?”

“No, and I’m not sure if he ever will.”

“How long has Cye been here?” I whispered.

“A year. I touched him the night he arrived. Diana had the poor guy sedated. Cye hasn’t let anyone touch him since.”

“I don’t know how someone could do that to an animal.” My throat burned as the scared eyes watched me from the back corner. The more I invaded his space, the more he hunkered to the floor. It felt wrong to even look at Cye. “Does he ever go outside to the other part of the kennel?”

“He’s like a ghost. I know he goes outside because I scoop it out of the grass. But I never see him do it though.”

“How do you do this, Wyatt?” I looked up at his face. “It’s just so sad.

His green eyes stayed guarded even though mine were close to tears from hearing the stories. Wyatt’s jaw tightened as he swallowed hard. “Some of their stories are worse than others. But I do my best to make it better for them.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “You’re like the keeper of the island of misfit toys.”

“The what?” He frowned.

“You know, from Rudolf—the movie?”

“Hmm,” he grunted.

The longer I stood in his personal space, the more I felt his hidden pain, weaving back and forth between us. I wanted to step even closer. I wanted to let him know that whatever was tearing him up inside would be okay.

Wyatt got fidgety and rubbed the side of his neck. I got a whiff of his scent. It wasn’t cologne. Not that I expected any. Wyatt didn’t seem like the type to wear something fancy. Instead he just smelled clean, like he’d rubbed dryer sheets into his skin.

“How long have you been doing this?” I let the question slip out.

“Awhile.” He squinted with that pained look again.

“Do you work here full time or do you go to school too?” I knew better, but I said it anyway. His face clamped down and he shuffled not one, but three steps away.

“Why don’t you just get Charlie? There’s a fenced area in the back. Take him out there.”

With that grand announcement, Wyatt ignored my question and walked back to his office. I went to the kennel that held my little dog. When I opened the gate, Charlie lunged toward my face, covering me with slobber. Just a few days away, but it must have felt like years for someone like him.

I carried Charlie down the aisle of sad eyes. I wanted to take each of them with me. Maybe I would later and Wyatt could just deal with it.

Charlie and I played for a good thirty minutes before I noticed Wyatt’s presence. He watched us safely in the shade to the side of the fenced area with his shoulder propped up against a storage shed. I thought Wyatt would leave once his cover was blown, but he didn’t. He stayed. He stared. He intrigued me even more by the minute.

I wanted more than anything to figure out Wyatt Caulfield. Hot and cold. Withdrawn and angry, and then a flash of dimples and compassion for his dogs, followed by pain. The poor guy needed someone or something. I looked back over to where he stood in the shade. Slowly. I had to remind myself to approach him slowly.

“Why don’t you come in here?” I yelled over in his direction. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t join us in the pen, but he didn’t leave either.

I left Charlie inside the fenced-in play area. My knee cramped as I returned to the kennel room. It had always held twinges of pain since my accident, but the fall this week opened up a whole new level of intensity. Every step gripped my leg as my shoes clicked against my heels. I chose to ignore it as much as possible.

Trailing down the long row, I stopped in front of Chewy. My chest tightened, seeing the wire scars around his mouth. The brown dog was bigger than Charlie so I looked around until I found a leash. I carefully opened his gate and latched it to his collar. His brown eyes lit up bright. I think he actually pranced down the aisle past the rest of the dogs.

Once again, I felt a sadness reach inside my body and wrap around my heart. It was a happy place. It was a heartbreaking place. Being here was a dose of reality. My problems felt insignificant compared to those of a creature who had survived the lashes of a hammer or had his voice taken away by a piece of wire.

Wyatt was still leaning against the shed when I came back out to the play area. The irritation flashed all the way over to where I stood with Chewy. Opening the gate of the fence, I released the latch on the leash. Chewy ran straight to Charlie. My stomach caught for a moment, imaging a giant fight of teeth and blood. But the two dogs ran around, chasing each other. It made me smile. Charlie wasn’t even close to the animal Kurt had tortured in his office.

“Chewy’s a good one for Charlie.”

“Huh?” I jumped at the sound of his deep voice, coming from behind me. “Do you have to keep doing that? Don’t sneak up.”

“Sorry.” A faint smile flashed on his lips like he enjoyed it. Wyatt had so many pieces of strange to his personality.

“I thought Chewy would be good too. There’s just something about him in there. He might become one of my favorites. Do you have favorites?”