Winter at Mustang Ridge Read Online Free PDF

couple of feet away.
    The dog’s eyes locked on it and his body vibrated with the force of his anxious whine. Jenny didn’t say anything, just stood there, looking off into the darkness like she had all the time in the world. She was aware of everything, though—the cold that had seeped into her bones, the tug of hunger in her own belly, her sick anger at the poor creature’s condition, and most of all, the dog’s slow progress as he edged closer with one eye locked on the brat, the other on her.
    Come on
, she urged silently as she closed her fingers on the soft cotton rope.
You can do it. Just a few more feet . . .
    And then she heard a low vibration in the distance.
No!
She kept the word to herself, but a pit opened up in her stomach as the noise became an engine rumble, that of a heavy truck downshifting to start up the incline on the other side of the ridge.
    Another minute, and it would be right on top of them.
    Her pulse thudded in her ears, fast and urgent.
Rock meet hard place
. If she chased the dog out of the street, she’d shatter his fragile trust. But they couldn’t stay where they were, and—
    The dog lunged forward and grabbed the sausage. Jenny’s body moved before she was aware of making the decision, tossing the lead over his head with a quick, practiced flick, and then yanking back to set the loop, like she was roping a steer.
Gotcha!
    Yelping, he exploded, lurching up and away from her, pulling the rope even tighter.
    “I’m not going to hurt you.” She said it automatically, not that he would believe her as she hauled him back and got him by the scruff, dodging teeth as a pair of headlights crested the hill and started toward them. “Come on, we’ve got to get off the road!”
    Grateful for her heavy clothing, she lifted the panicked animal partway off the ground and started for the driveway at a shambling run. She could feel his bones beneath her gloved hands, but even emaciated, the dog weighed enough that his struggles nearly knocked her off her feet.
    “Hang on!” she shouted over the climbing engine noise. “We’re almost there.” Just a few more steps and—
    The truck’s horn blasted, like she didn’t already know she needed to get the heck out of the way, and the air brakes kicked on with a thunderous racket that hammered at her eardrums. The dog let out a howl, lunged forward and then yanked back, throwing her further off balance. She stumbled and went partway down, banging one knee on the pavement, and the dog tore free.
    “No!” she cried as the lead whipped from her gloved fingers, her cry barely audible. She flung herself up against the snowbank as the dog bolted across the road. He slipped, skidded, and—
    VAROOM!
The truck and tandem trailers blasted through. Running lights flashed past in amber blurs that didn’t light the trailer logos, and all she saw was a HOW AM I DRIVING ? sign with the phone number scratched off. Then, engine howling, the truck flew off into the night.
    When it was gone, Jenny shoved away from the snowbank, moaning, “Oh, no.”
    The dog lay on the other side of the road, unmoving.
    •   •   •
     
    With Ruby gone for the day and no overnight guests of the small or large animal variety, the clinic was dead quiet by six. After a quick phone call to his father—their usual “Yep it’s cold; nope the fish aren’t biting; how’s the clinic?” routine—Nick focused on banging out the last of the day’s paperwork.
    “Want some?” He broke a corner off his pizza slice and held it out to Cheesepuff.
    The fat orange tabby gave the offering a suspicious sniff, then turned away with a sidelong look that said
Hypocrite.
    Okay, so maybe he’d given Ted Dwyer a lecture on not feeding his lard-ass hunting dogs so many table scraps not an hour ago. And, yeah, the Puffmeister wasn’t exactly svelte.
    “No? Your loss.” Nick ate the last of the day-old DiGiorno’s, washed it down with some root beer, and let out a satisfied sigh.