Wander Canyon Courtship. Allie Pleiter

took a minute for her fog to lift enough to name the back road she’d chosen instead of the highway.

      He peered through the window, which thankfully hadn’t been broken in the impact. Yvonne said a prayer of thanks that they hadn’t been in Pauline’s small sedan or hit one of the many elk that populated the area. “Okay.” The animal’s cries pitched higher. “I’ll go look for a mile marker up there. Got a flashlight?”

      “Just the one on my cell phone,” she admitted.

      With a glare, Chaz pushed the groaning driver’s-side door open to reveal a wall of leaves. Without hesitation, he stepped out into the thick foliage and began clambering toward the road and whatever lay injured on it.

      Yvonne knew this road well, but the dark of the night and the lack of any other cars on the road made it seem like the middle of nowhere.

      “What did we hit?” Pauline asked.

      “That animal up there and the tree in front of us.” Yvonne’s door practically fell open from the sharp incline of the van’s resting angle. One headlight sputtered and failed as if to announce the vehicle’s demise. Totaled, her mind assessed, though she couldn’t even see all the damage. “Are you two hurt at all?”

      “No,” Pauline said. “A bump or bruise I’ll feel tomorrow maybe, but nothing more than that. Hank, honey?”

      “Fine. And praise God, glad to be so. That was close,” he answered. He began to undo the seat belts and maneuver himself and Pauline up to get out of the car.

      “Okay, then.” Yvonne stepped out of the car and climbed the short rise to where Chaz was crouched over the animal. She walked closer to see him talking to what looked like a German shepherd mix dog gasping in short, shallow pants.

      Chaz pulled his belt from his jeans and looked back at her over his shoulder. “Find me two branches. Long and straight as you can manage.”

      “Is he okay?” she asked, noting the dog’s unnaturally bent leg.

      “No. But I think we only broke his leg. Branches,” he repeated. “Fast.” He turned back to the animal, stroking its head as the dog looked about with wild eyes. His voice held a caretaker’s calm assurance. “Easy there, big fella. We’ll get you out of this mess.”

      Looking for branches in the middle of the night with only one contact lens seemed a rather daunting task, but Yvonne began to look around. “Chaz, be careful.”

      “Bit late for that.” Despite the cool of the evening, Chaz pulled off his shirt and then the T-shirt underneath. Somehow he managed to look even larger than his already considerable height. Muscular, lean and strong. The dog gave a desperate whine as he wrapped the T-shirt around the bleeding leg. “I know it hurts. Just hang in there.”

      She managed to find two decent-sized sticks in short order, delivering them to Chaz. He’d pulled his shirt back on but otherwise stayed focused on the animal, talking in low and steady tones. With the practiced hands of someone who tended to animals, he lined the sticks up on either side of the wrapped injured leg and secured it with his belt.

      “You watch yourself there. You never know what an injured animal will do,” Hank warned as he and Pauline came up from the van.

      “It’s a dog, Dad, not a bear. No collar, but it could be chipped.” With an eerie feeling, Yvonne noticed he had placed himself between the animal and her, Hank and Pauline.

      Chaz’s calm control set all of them at ease. The dog tried to get up, but Chaz gently held it still. Yvonne watched regret and compassion battle in Chaz’s eyes. The accident showed her a different side of this man, one that tugged at her in ways that made little sense. There was more to Chaz Walker than just Pauline’s sourpuss label.

      By the time the thin, high wail of a siren finally cut through the silence, Yvonne could honestly say she was grateful Chaz was nearby.

       Chapter Four

      Chaz let out a breath of relief as he listened to the emergency veterinarian’s report. “Broken leg, skin lesions, but nothing that can’t heal in time.”

      “Can you contact the owner?” Yvonne asked. She looked beyond tired, and Chaz supposed that for a woman who normally kept the early morning hours of a bakery, 11:30 p.m. felt like the middle of the night. He’d found it a kindness that she’d stayed with him, even though Dad and Pauline had already gone back with the tow truck that had taken what was left of Yvonne’s van back home. He was pretty sure it was totaled, and she seemed to agree, but neither of them spoke of it.

      “It’d be the first thing I’d do, if I knew who the owner was,” the vet replied. “This guy’s got no microchip, and if he had a collar it’s long gone. The best we can do is provide a description to the sheriff and keep him here.”

      Chaz took one look at the bank of crates in the room behind them and felt his stomach tighten. “I’ll cover the bills,” he offered, “but then what happens?” This dog’s desperate eyes had hooked into him back there on the roadside and hadn’t let go since. He’d run a ranch for years. He was no stranger to the injury and even the death of animals. He couldn’t explain why this was different but it was.

      The vet shrugged her shoulders. “Shelter, most likely.”

      That wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. “And then what?”

      The vet gave a do you really want me to say it? look that made Chaz want to punch something.

      His response was instantaneous. “So he comes back with us.”

      That declaration woke Yvonne right up. “To the valley?”

      “Do you have a vet in town?” the doctor asked, her eyebrow raised.

      Yvonne pushed her hair back from her face. “Dan Mullins, but...”

      Chaz cut in, eyes steady on the vet. “Can the dog safely travel to...” The town’s name still felt silly on his tongue. “...Matrimony Valley?”

      The doctor’s gaze flicked to Yvonne as if they might be able to talk him out of this. Not a chance. Chaz had made up his mind. He’d wounded this dog. He wasn’t going to leave him to whimper in some cage. He wouldn’t let this dog be abandoned by whatever idiot had left him wandering a mountain roadside at night.

      “The leg’s cast. He’s in stable condition,” the vet replied. “It’s just painkillers, antibiotics, rest and regular meals from here. I can send the X-rays with you. Honestly, he’s likely to try walking in a few hours. If he can manage the cast, short walks outside for necessary business should be okay.”

      “Then he comes with us.”

      Yvonne rubbed her eyes. “Bruce Lohan’s coming with his truck to pick us up. I suppose there’s room...”

      “He’ll ride on my lap if he has to.” The practicalities of what he would do with the dog when he got back to the valley didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to have the final act of this terrible day be him abandoning a dog. Especially not one he’d injured.

      He’d never had a dog of his own because Wyatt’s dog, Rocker, was just plain mean to other dogs. He’d meant to get one of his own when Dad had given him the guesthouse on the ranch, but never got around to it.

      Before tonight, he’d thought of that guesthouse as a sign of independence, of Dad recognizing the need for his own space. Now it just felt like a demotion, as if he’d been put out of the big house where Dad and Wyatt lived. The way you put a dog out in a doghouse.

      The dog was going to be his, period.

      Yvonne had the good sense to recognize this was not open for discussion. “Okay, then,” she said cautiously as she pulled out her phone. “I’ll send a text to Bruce that he’s