A Temporary Arrangement. Roxanne Rustand

Come, on.”

      At the back of the cage, a medium-size dog had pressed itself as far into the corner as it could. Possibly a springer-golden retriever mix, Abby guessed, given its dingy gold-and-white-spotted coat and the freckles.

      Drew’s favorite glowed with good health, its coat and eyes gleaming. This poor fellow, with one bandaged leg, was covered in mats and burrs. His thin sides were heaving as if he’d just run a long way. Pneumonia, maybe?

      “This is the saddest one here,” Tyler whispered. “This is the one you should take. He needs you.”

      “He does look sad, but I can’t choose one just yet.” Abby rested her hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “I need to find a new place to stay—and there aren’t many options. I might not be able to find one that allows pets.”

      “That almost happened when we moved here. We had to get permission before we could keep our dog Scout. Maybe you could ask?”

      The dog in the corner lowered its head and painfully eased onto its belly to crawl forward a few inches. Its sad brown eyes were fastened on hers as it moved, and its timid approach drew her more than any of the bouncing, excited tail-wagging in the neighboring pens. “I wonder what happened to this one.”

      At the sound of footsteps, Abby turned to see the attendant coming down the aisle. “Stray. She’s not doing too well, though.”

      “So it’s a girl, then.”

      “Yep. Looks like she had puppies a couple months ago, but no one has seen any sign of them. Maybe the owner found homes for them and just dumped her off in the country.”

      Outrage burned Abby’s stomach. “That’s horrible.”

      “The jerk probably figured it was cheaper than paying to have her spayed.” The middle-aged woman shrugged. “Happens all the time, and we end up with whatever survives. This one got hit. I’d guess she was out on some road, trying to follow her owner’s car after he dumped her.”

      Abby’s stomach churned. “Someone who didn’t even care if she starved.”

      “She’s still starving. Won’t eat. Barely drinks. I’d guess she’s homesick, in addition to her injuries.”

      Sure enough, full pans of food and water in the pen appeared to be untouched.

      “But she’ll find a good home, here. A second chance?”

      The woman glanced briefly at Tyler, who was still staring at the dog. She shook her head. “People want young and healthy dogs. Outgoing, playful animals. This one’s so scared and nervous, we haven’t even been able to brush the knots out of her coat.”

      The dog stopped at the center of the cage and rested its chin on the concrete between its outstretched front paws.

      The pain and sadness in its huge brown eyes seemed to wrap around Abby’s heart. “I wish I could have a dog where I live now.”

      “Don’t worry about it.”

      “I just moved here, but I’ll be looking for another place to live. Do you think she’ll still be here at the end of the month?”

      “There’ll be other dogs. Young, healthy, low-maintenance dogs.”

      “And I work full-time, so a dog would be alone…”

      “Then you should get a cat. Me? I prefer cats. No worries about letting them in and out.”

      “But…” The pager vibrated at her hip. Abby looked down at the text message and sighed. “Hey, guys, we’ve got to go.”

      “Aw, can’t we stay longer?” Drew had ventured to the other side of the aisle, where he’d started fondling the silky ears of a cocker. “Please?”

      “I’ve got to get to the hospital.” Abby fingered the shoulder strap of her purse before meeting the woman’s eyes. “How much time?”

      “Time? Oh, you mean for Belle.” The attendant lifted a page on the clipboard fastened to the front of the run. Her expression turned sympathetic. “Tomorrow, I’m afraid.”

      “If I paid…” Abby hesitated, then plunged ahead despite the warning bells in her head. “Like a deposit, or something. Would that save her for a while?”

      “We can’t do layaways, ma’am. The manager says its strictly cash and carry.”

      “You can’t hold her? For just a while?”

      “People walk out and forget to come back, leaving us wondering what to do.” The woman held out her hands, palms up. “We’ve had animals in limbo for months that way. Our budget is so tight we just can’t afford it.”

      This clearly was not meant to be. Abby didn’t have a home herself, much less one for the sad creature staring up at her. There’d be vet bills—maybe huge ones. And the pager at her hip was buzzing again, so she had to leave now.

      “How much does adoption cost?” Abby said as she herded the boys toward the door.

      “Eighty, with spay, worming and shots. But, ma’am—”

      “What if I pay that, plus her daily board until I can take her? I’d give you my phone number and come back every day to check on her. Deal?” Abby spied Lily studying a canary in the Small Pets room and motioned for her. “But right now, I’ve got an emergency at the hospital and I’ve got to leave.”

      The woman frowned. “A rushed decision isn’t always a good one. Come back tomorrow morning and I’ll make sure she’s still here. Okay?”

      “Perfect.” Abby handed her a business card, then followed the kids out the front door. “I’ll be back!”

      “THE DOCTOR will be here in just a moment, Mr. Matthews,” murmured the ER nurse as she took his vitals.

      Ethan winced and looked away when she lifted the edge of the blood-soaked bandage on his forearm. Keifer’s voice filtered down the hallway from the receptionist’s desk, where the woman had promised to keep an eye on him. “Where’s my dad? I want to see my dad!”

      An indistinct voice responded and his son quieted, but Ethan knew this ordeal had to be terrifying for him.

      Hell, the boy’s mother had just dropped him off last night for the summer, and at this very moment she was flying out of the country. And then on his very first morning here, the poor kid had seen his dad nearly lose an arm in the power-take-off mechanism of a grain auger.

      The stuff of nightmares, surely, and the irony was almost as painful as Ethan’s injury.

      He’d wanted the next three months to be a wonderful adventure. He only saw his son for part of each summer and on alternating holidays.

      From the lobby area, Ethan heard kids arguing over something. He frowned, remembering the icy blonde who’d walked into the hospital just ahead of him with her three children.

      She’d breezed through the lobby with an offhand, “Keep an eye on these three, Beth!” And then she’d disappeared down the hall.

      Some people, like his ex-wife and that presumptuous blonde, certainly showed little interest in motherhood, far as he could tell.

      A woman in a white lab coat with a stethoscope draped around her neck hurried into the room. “I’m Dr. Jill Edwards,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “I hear you had an argument with an auger.”

      “It won. The painkiller is really starting to kick in, though.” Ethan rested his head against the paper-covered pillow on the gurney and regretted every moment of this day as Dr. Reynolds carefully unwrapped his haphazard bandaging.

      She sucked in a sharp breath. “This is beyond the scope of a hospital this size, Mr. Matthews.”

      Startled, he looked up at her as she gently cleansed the edges of the wounds and then firmly wrapped the arm again with clean