The Troublesome Angel. Valerie Hansen

stand still. He whined and lunged against the restraint of the leash, then began to run in circles around the man who was holding him back.

      Looking down the hill, Graydon saw Lewis and Stacy in the distance. The dog had taken off again, pulling his leash taut and making Stacy run to keep up. He must have struck the trail!

      Gathering the braided nylon lead in his hand, Graydon kept Clark on a short tether so he could extricate himself from the tangled loops the dog had made around the calves of his legs.

      “Okay, okay. I get the idea,” he grumbled. “Just a minute, stupid. You’re the one who got us all fouled up like this, not me.”

      As he bent to step out of the last confining coil of nylon, Clark lunged. The leash tightened. Graydon hit the ground with a thud, feet in the air!

      The enthusiastic dog immediately jumped atop his chest, licking his face with delight.

      “Stop that! Down!” Spitting dry, crumbled leaves and muttering under his breath, Graydon pushed the friendly pup away and scrambled to his feet. Thank goodness Stacy Lucas hadn’t been close enough to see him knocked down!

      Anxious, he peered down the hill. She and her dog were still in sight!

      “Okay, you dunderhead,” he told Clark. “Let’s get going before we lose your mommy.”

      The dog wagged his plume of a tail and looked up at the man as if he understood every word.

      Stacy glanced over her shoulder to make sure her so-called partner reached the bottom of the steep hill safely. Clark was casting left and right, sniffing the air, just the way a rescue dog was supposed to. Would wonders never cease! Maybe she’d been right to keep training him after all.

      Shouting, “Over here,” and waving her arm wildly so Graydon could see where she was going, she plunged into a thick stand of oak and cedar, following Lewis. The dog immediately began whining and scratching at a pile of dried leaves and twigs beneath the largest tree.

      “Good boy, Lewis! Good boy!” He began to dig more frantically. Brown refuse flew. Stacy got a glimpse of bright pink. The jacket! It had to be.

      “Oh, please Lord, let her be here,” she prayed softly. “And let her be all right.”

      Approaching, she tightened up the leash and ordered Lewis to sit. “Melissa? Is that you?”

      There was no answer.

      Stacy crouched down, reached out her hand, and brushed off the exposed arm of the jacket. “Melissa? It’s okay, honey. I’ve come to take you back.”

      The child bolted out from under the leaves and clambered away with a shriek. Startled, Stacy rocked back on her heels and nearly fell over backward.

      She was alive! Stacy’s breath left her in a whoosh of pure relief. She sank to her knees, her arms around Lewis, her prayers of thanks so heartfelt they were wordless. Tears blurred her vision.

      “It’s okay, Melissa,” she said, fighting to speak calmly. “We won’t hurt you. The dog is real friendly. He helped me find you. Isn’t that nice?”

      The tremulous reply came as a sobbed, “No!”

      That surprised Stacy. She’d had disoriented adults try to refuse a rescue but she’d never seen a child do it. They were usually so glad to be found they were no trouble at all.

      Melissa faced her, blue eyes wide and frightened, long, strawberry-blond hair matted with twigs, leaves and dirt. Tears left muddy streaks as they trickled down her cheeks. “I don’t wanna go back. Never ever.” Sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve, she started to inch away.

      “Wouldn’t you like to pet my dog?” As hoped, that offer stopped the child’s retreat. “He’s very nice. Aren’t you, Lewis? Would you like to shake hands with Missy?”

      The little girl’s tears ceased. “Wh-what?”

      “I said, Lewis would like to shake hands with you.”

      “You called me Missy.”

      “Isn’t that right?” Stacy knew she could always grab the child and take her back forcibly but she didn’t want to traumatize her any more than she already was. The best thing to do would be to drag out their conversation long enough for Graydon to arrive. Then the poor, scared little girl wouldn’t have to trust a stranger.

      “I like people to call me Missy,” she said softly.

      “Then that’s what I’ll do,” Stacy vowed. She held out her hand. “Friends?”

      Before she could answer, Clark and Graydon broke through the thick stand of trees at a run, startling everyone. The instant he spotted the child he let go of the leash and opened his arms. “Missy!”

      Squealing, she ran into his embrace. “Uncle Gray!”

      He scooped her up and spun around in circles. Pure joy filled the clearing. The sight of the usually formal man hugging the dirty waif brought fresh tears to Stacy’s eyes. This was what her job was all about.

      He spoke lovingly, without reproach. “Where have you been, Missy? I was worried sick! We all were.”

      “I don’t wanna go back to Mark’s.” She buried her face in his collar.

      “You don’t want me for an uncle?” he asked.

      “Course I do.”

      “Well, I can’t be your uncle if you aren’t Mark’s daughter.”

      She raised her head and studied him. “You can’t?”

      “Nope. That’s how it has to be.”

      Stacy could tell from Missy’s expression that she was thinking hard. There was no telling what kind of temporary living conditions the motherless child had been subjected to. It was natural for her to be afraid. Of everything.

      Approaching them slowly, Stacy patted Missy on the back and spoke soothing words while Gray continued to hold her.

      He gazed down at Stacy over the child’s shoulder and mouthed, “Thank you.”

      “You’re quite welcome.” Stacy stepped away and reached for the handheld, two-way radio she carried. “I’m going to call in the good news and get everybody headed back into camp.” She glanced at the sky. “We’d better get a move on, too. It’ll be dark soon.”

      She saw Graydon close his eyes for a moment as he nodded acknowledgment. Clearly, he cared about this child. Finding her so quickly had been the first miracle. Realizing that any Payne had a loving bone in his or her body had been the second. The third would probably be getting Clark to walk calmly back to camp without taking off to chase squirrels or rabbits.

      She watched her two dogs tussling while she used the radio. Lewis usually put up with Clark’s exuberance with stoic grace until the pup got too pushy. Then he simply growled a warning and the younger dog backed off. Too bad people weren’t that smart.

      Stacy smiled to herself as she considered her impromptu helper. For a stuffy businessman in a silk suit and Italian loafers, he’d conducted himself quite well.

      Of course he did, she countered. He wanted something from me. “Something I was more than happy to give,” she whispered. At least this time, Graydon Payne hadn’t asked her to walk away from love.

      Other ecstatic searchers mobbed them as they entered the campground. Nearly everybody was shouting and cheering. Some wept.

      Graydon still carried Melissa. Stacy fell back and let him precede her into the camp.

      Lanterns glowed everywhere. News cameras with blinding lights illuminated the area as brightly as a summer day. Mark Payne stood in the center of the circle of well-wishers. His arm was around the shoulders of a woman who looked as if she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Every dark hair was in place, her nails were long and polished, her makeup