A Season For Grace. Линда Гуднайт

to forgive. I just don’t like thinking about it.”

      Maurice looked doubtful but he didn’t argue. The quiet acceptance was another part of the man’s character Collin appreciated. He said his piece and then shut up.

      “This social worker. Her name’s Carano, right?”

      Collin glanced up, surprised. His grip tightened on the metal door handle. “Yeah.”

      “She goes to my church.”

      Collin suppressed a groan. “Don’t turn on me, man.”

      He’d had enough trouble getting Mia Carano out of his head without Maurice weighing in on the deal. The social worker was about the prettiest thing he’d seen in a long time. She emanated a sincere decency that left him unsettled about turning her down, but hearing her smooth, sweet voice on his voice mail a dozen times a day was starting to irritate him.

      “Single. Nice family.” White teeth flashed in Maurice’s dark face. “Easy on the eyes.”

      Was she ever! Like an ad for an Italian restaurant. Heavy red-brown hair that swirled around her shoulders. Huge, almond-shaped gray-green eyes. A wide, happy mouth. Not too skinny either. He never had gone for ultra-thin women. Made him think they were hungry.

      “I didn’t notice.”

      “You’re cool, Grace, but you ain’t dead.”

      “Don’t start, Johnson. I’m not interested. A woman like that would talk a man to pieces.” Wasn’t she already doing as much?

      Maurice chuckled and moseyed off toward his car. His deep voice echoed through the concrete dungeon. “Sooner or later, boy, one of them’s gonna get you.”

      Collin waved him off, climbed into his SUV, and cranked the gas-guzzling engine to life. Nobody was going to “get” him. Way he figured, nobody wanted a hard case like him. And that was fine. The only people he really wanted in his life were his brothers. Wherever they were.

      Pulling out of the dark underground, he headed west toward the waning sun. The acreage five miles out of the city was a refuge, both for the animals and for him.

      His cell phone rang again. Sure enough, it was the social worker. He shook his head and kept driving.

      The veterinarian’s dually turned down the short dirt driveway directly behind Collin. The six-wheeled pickup, essential for the rugged places a vet had to traverse, churned up dust and gravel.

      “Good timing,” Collin muttered to the rearview mirror, glad not to be in back of Doc White’s mini dust storm, but also glad to see the dependable animal doctor.

      If Paige White said she’d be here, she was. With her busy practice, sometimes she didn’t arrive until well after dark, but she always arrived. Collin figured the woman worked more hours than anyone he knew.

      The vet followed Collin past the half-built house he called home to the bare patches of grass that served as parking spots in front of a weathered old barn.

      A string of fenced pens, divided according to species, dotted the space behind the barn. In one, a pair of neglected and starved horses was slowly regaining strength. In another, a deer healed from an arrow wound.

      To one side, a rabbit hutch held a raccoon. And inside the small barn were five dogs, three cats and ten kittens. He was near capacity. As usual. He needed to add on again, but he also needed to continue the work on his house. The bank wouldn’t loan money on two rooms, a bathroom and a concrete slab framed in wood.

      Booted feet first, the vet leaped from the high cab of her truck with a whoop for a greeting.

      “Hey there, ornery. How’s business?” she hollered as Collin came around the front of his SUV.

      “Which one?”

      “The only one that counts.” She waved a gloved hand toward the barn, and Collin nearly smiled. Paige White, a forty-something cowgirl with a heart as big and warm as the sun, joked that animals liked her faster, better and longer than humans ever had.

      One thing Collin knew for sure, animals responded to her treatment. He fell in step with the short, sturdy blond and headed inside the barn.

      Without preliminary, he said, “The pup’s leg smells funny.”

      “You been cleaning those wounds the way I showed you?”

      “Every day.” He remembered the first time he’d poured antiseptic cleaner on the pup’s foot and listened to its pitiful cries.

      Doc stopped, stared at him for a minute and then said, “We’ll have a look at him first.”

      Paige White could always read his concern, though he had a poker face. Her uncanny sixth sense would have bothered him under other circumstances.

      The scent of fresh straw and warm-blooded animals astir beneath their feet, they reached the stall where the collie was confined.

      From a large, custom-cut cardboard box, the pup gazed at them with dark, moist, delighted eyes. His shaggy tail thumped madly at the side of the box.

      As always, Collin marveled at the pup’s adoring welcome. He’d been cruelly treated by humans and yet his love didn’t falter.

      Doc knelt down, crooning. “How’s my pal today? Huh? How ya doin’, boy?”

      “I call him Happy.”

      “Well, Happy.” The dog licked her extended hand, the tail thumping faster. “Let me see those legs of yours.” She jerked her chin at Collin, who’d hunkered down beside her. “Make sure this guy over here’s looking after you.”

      With exquisite tenderness, she inspected one limb and then the other. Her pale eyebrows slammed together as she examined the deep, ugly wound.

      Collin watched, anxious, when she took a hypodermic from her long, leather bag and filled it with medication.

      “What’s that?”

      “More antibiotic.” She held the syringe at eye level and flicked the plastic several times. “I don’t like the way this looks, Collin. There’s not enough tissue left to debride.”

      “Meaning?”

      “We may have to take this foot off, too.”

      “Ah, man.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, heard his whiskers. He knew Paige would fight hard to avoid another amputation, so if she brought up the subject, she wasn’t blowing smoke. “Any hope?”

      “Where there’s life, there’s hope. But if he doesn’t respond to treatment soon, we’ll have to remove the foot to save him. Infection like this can spread to the entire body in a hurry.”

      “I know. But a dog with two amputated feet…”

      He let the thought go. Doc knew the odds of the pup having any quality of life. Finding a home for him would be close to impossible, and Collin only kept the animals until they were healthy and adoptable or ready to return to the wild. He didn’t keep pets. Just animals in need.

      Doc dropped the empty syringe into a plastic container, then patted his shoulder. “Don’t fret. I’ll run out again tomorrow. Got Jenner’s Feed Store to donate their broken bags of feed to you and I want to be here to see them delivered. Clovis Jenner owes me.”

      Warmth spread through Collin’s chest. “So do I.”

      Doc was constantly on the look-out for feed, money, any kind of support she could round up for his farm. And she only charged him for supplies or medications, never for her expertise.

      “Nonsense. If it wasn’t for me and my soft heart, you wouldn’t have all these critters. I just can’t put them down without trying.”

      “I know.” He felt the same way. Whenever she called with a stray animal in need of a place to heal, Collin took it if he had room. He was stretched