Cowboy Take Me Away

Chapter 11


On Monday morning, Russell went to the kitchen at his clinic to get a cup of coffee. Cynthia was grabbing a Diet Coke from the fridge, and Velma was washing her hands for the sixty-seventh time that day even though it was only nine o’clock. All weekend Russell had thought about how Luke was around Shannon every day and he wasn’t. He’d tried to stop obsessing about it, but it was a battle he was losing miserably.

Russell filled his mug with coffee. “I was at the shelter the other day,” he said nonchalantly. “While I was there, I met Luke Dawson, Shannon’s new caretaker.” He inserted a well-placed shrug of indifference. “He seems like a nice guy.”

Velma’s head swiveled around, her hands still dripping over the sink. “Nice guy? Luke Dawson?”

If either of them snapped at his bait, he’d expected it to be Cynthia. But Velma?

“So he’s not a nice guy?” Russell said.

“If you think he is, you obviously haven’t heard anything about him.”

“Well, I hear he does have a reputation…”

“He was one year ahead of my daughter in school,” Velma said, grabbing a paper towel and drying her hands. “One time he took shoe polish and painted curse words on the windows of the cars in the church parking lot on bingo night. The church parking lot.”

“Oh, my,” Cynthia said. “That’s terrible.” But for some reason there didn’t seem to be a lot of conviction in her voice.

“After that,” Velma went on, “I heard my daughter tell her best friend that Luke Dawson was all kinds of sin wrapped up in a smokin’ hot bod, and if he was going to hell, she might just skip heaven and go with him. I washed her mouth out with soap and grounded her for a month.”

Truth be told, Russell didn’t care about the cars and the shoe polish. It was the “smokin’ hot bod” thing he couldn’t get out of his mind.

“It was that father of his,” Velma said. “How could a boy raised by a man like Glenn Dawson turn out any other way?”

Velma tossed the paper towel into the trash and walked out of the room, her orthopedic shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Those might have been the most words she’d spoken in one stretch since she’d gone to work for him. What was it about Luke Dawson that drove even a semi-mute person to talk?

“Well, I can’t say what he was like back then,” Cynthia said. “But he sure is fun now.”

“Fun? What are you talking about?”

“I was at the City Limits on Friday with Shannon and Eve and Tasha. Wow. That man can really dance.”

Russell froze. “Luke was there?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And you danced with him?”

“I think every woman in the place danced with him.”

Russell started to ask if he danced with Shannon, then bit his tongue. He couldn’t think of a covert way to say it without looking as if he was jealous.

“Except Shannon, of course,” Cynthia said. “She doesn’t dance. But I guess you know that.”

Relief surged through him. Actually, he didn’t know that because he didn’t dance himself, but it was only one more piece of proof that he and Shannon were made for each other, wasn’t it?

But he still couldn’t get Luke Dawson out of his mind.

Sooner or later, that man was going to be a problem. Russell could feel it in his bones. The more he thought about that, the more his stomach turned over with apprehension. Didn’t it always happen like this? Always?

No. Not this time. This time Russell was coming out on top. Wasn’t he the one who could take Shannon to elegant places like the Majestic? He doubted Luke even knew a Pinot Noir from a Pinot Grigio. And Russell was hedging his bets by sponsoring the petting zoo. Let Luke Dawson try to pull that off on a caretaker’s salary.

He grabbed his coffee and went into his office. Right away he smelled something funny. Lavender?

“Cynthia!”

After a moment, she came to his office door, a Starlight mint clacking against her teeth. Damned candy. She was going to have a mouthful of cavities before she turned thirty.

“Yes?”

“Why do I smell lavender?”

“Well, Jessie had another…issue.”

“Issue?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I thought I told you to use the pine carpet cleaner.”

“Pine? Really?” She blinked those Betty Boop eyes. “I’m sorry. I could have sworn you said lavender.”

“Lavender sounds nothing like pine.”

“I’ll use pine next time.”

“Next time?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with Jessie.”

“A word with her? She’s a cat.”

“Hmm. I see what you mean.” Cynthia smiled brightly. “So I guess that’d be kinda pointless, wouldn’t it?”

Before he could say anything else, she left his office, closing the door behind her.

Talking with Cynthia was like playing Whack-A-Mole. Just as he followed the conversation in one direction, she whipped around and took it in another. Drove him nuts. And he knew for a fact she’d heard him say pine and not lavender, because she told him the lavender smelled better.

Insubordination, plain and simple.

But when it came to organizing his practice, at least she was competent. Because competency was a hard thing to find in a town the size of Rainbow Valley, he gave her some latitude. But if she pushed him too far, she’d better look out. He’d find himself another office manager pronto.

Russell sat down in his desk chair, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to engage in one of his favorite activities, which consisted of closing his eyes and imagining the day he’d propose to Shannon. Jerome would clap him on the back and tell him he was the son he’d never had. Loucinda would tell all her friends what a wonderful match her lucky daughter had made, then plan a wedding that would be the biggest social event Rainbow Valley had ever seen. Other men would secretly be jealous that he’d married such a beautiful and accomplished woman. And when their kids came along, they’d be the smartest, best-dressed, most well-behaved progeny anyone in this town had ever given birth to.

Then he envisioned the day he’d tell his parents he was marrying a beautiful, intelligent woman from the best family in Rainbow Valley. He imagined his mother in the midst of selling high-priced real estate to multimillionaires, and his father reaching for a scalpel to save somebody’s life. But for once they would stop what they were doing. They would turn around, look at him…

And smile with approval.

Russell sighed with satisfaction. He was going to marry Shannon. No doubt about that. And then his life was going to come together exactly as he’d always dreamed it would.



That afternoon Luke stepped into one of the dog runs, and three of the four dogs converged on him. He gave each of them a scratch behind the ears and a pat on the ribs. It took Angus longer to come over than the rest of the dogs, and Luke gave him a little extra attention. He was an old Scottish terrier with some health problems and had been there for several months. Angela told Luke somebody had just dropped him off by the front gate one day, so they took him in. Luke couldn’t imagine that. Had somebody just looked at the dog one day and said, Okay, we’re done with you now. Time for you to go?

Luke accepted the fact that Angus might be around for a while. At least at this shelter, even if he was never adopted, he had a home for life. But as for the rest of them, they seemed like perfectly normal dogs. Why hadn’t somebody adopted them?

A few minutes later, Luke looked up to see Shannon coming down the path with a little brown dog on a leash. She’d just brought the pooch back from the vet, and now she released him into an adjoining run. Luke stepped back inside the kennel with her.

“Walt said the skin thing isn’t contagious,” she said. “He just needs a bath every few days with some special shampoo.”

She held out a bottle, and Luke took it from her. He should have been thinking about bathing dogs. Instead, he thought about standing in the parking lot of a small-town honky tonk kissing the daylights out of a woman who was way hotter than her rigid, all-business body language was telling him now. She didn’t seem inclined to bring up the issue, which was exactly what he would have expected. He doubted there was an uncomfortable, foolish, or ill-advised moment of her life she couldn’t put into a box, then close the lid, tape it shut, and stick it on an out-of-reach shelf so she wouldn’t have to deal with it. He wondered just how thick a layer of dust was on the box that contained that summer they’d worked together. The hinges were likely rusted shut.

He decided he’d stick with the all work and no play thing, at least during business hours. But he’d meant what he’d said last night. After business hours, all bets were off.

“Question,” he said.

“What?”

“I get why you still have a few llamas hanging around, and horses may be hard to place, but the dogs and cats? What’s the deal there?”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of these dogs seem perfectly nice. Why haven’t they been adopted?”

“Well, let’s see. Samson has his skin condition. We’ll get it worked out, but until we do, it’s hard to get people to even look at him.”

“But he’s a great dog.”

“People won’t look past that. And Ginger, the Chihuahua, barks. And barks and barks and barks. Lots of sound comes out of that tiny package. If you’re in here and not paying attention to her, she’s usually going at it.”

Luke was learning to tune her out, but Shannon was correct. Right then she was definitely going at it.

“Then she needs somebody who’ll pay attention to her,” he said.

“A lot of people work during the day. She’d probably tear a sofa to shreds if you left her alone too long. And has it escaped your attention that Barney, that little mutt over there, is missing a leg?”

“So what? He runs faster than most of the dogs in this place. Throw a ball and you’ll see just how handicapped he is.”

“You’re not being realistic,” Shannon said. “People want perfection. And that usually means puppies. They like to get them before somebody else has messed them up.”

“So convince them otherwise.”

“That’s a hard sell.”

“It shouldn’t be. That little brown dachshund, for instance,” he said, pointing to one of the dogs. “No problems there that I can see. And the other two with him? Perfectly sane and adoptable.”

“Sometimes it’s just supply and demand.”

“Yeah? Maybe it’s more than that. What about that family that came through here a few days ago looking for a dog?”

“What about them?”

“Did they go home with a dog?”

“Well…no.”

“They were interested in that boxer over there,” Luke said. “Why didn’t they adopt him?”

“Nobody would have been home with him on weekdays. He’s a little neurotic to start with, so—”

“They said they have a huge backyard. He would have gotten along just fine.”

“I didn’t think Dad was too thrilled about getting a dog.”

“Dad wasn’t the type to be thrilled about anything. You need to stop second guessing everybody’s motives.”

“It just wasn’t a good match.”

“So which one would have been a good match? God knows we have plenty to pick from.”

“They weren’t interested in any of the other dogs.”

“Hell, no, they weren’t. You were so serious about it that you sucked all the fun out of it. Do you even want these animals to get homes?”

“Of course I do!”

“Uh-huh. As long as it’s Mother Teresa who adopts them.”

Shannon glared at him. “She’s dead.”

“Even better. The dogs would get to live with her in heaven. I hear they’re pretty responsible up there.”

“Listen, Luke,” she said. “My job is to move animals through here. Get one adopted before the next one shows up. And I do a damn fine job of it. So why don’t you just do your job and let me worry about everything else?”

With that, she turned and walked out of the kennel, leaving Luke frustrated about the whole situation.

He remembered back when he was just a kid working there, watching the more disadvantaged animals. He never would have told a solitary soul, but the injustice he felt when nobody seemed to want them had been overwhelming. He remembered an old cocker spaniel, a lot like Angus, who’d been abandoned there because of a host of health problems and ended up a permanent resident. He’d been well taken care of. Rita had made sure of that. But had he been loved the way a family would have loved him?

As a teenager, Luke had been way more screwed up than all of the animals put together, so helping them had been a burden he hadn’t been able to take on. But he wasn’t that kid anymore. He was convinced a lot of these animals were adoptable if the problem was approached the right way. And he just might be the guy who could pull it off.



When lunchtime came, Luke hopped into his truck and headed downtown. He parked on the square two doors down from Tasha’s shop. He saw her through the window sweeping up after her last customer. He remembered her as the girl in high school who spent hours reading fashion magazines and drawing faceless ultrathin models, wearing weird dresses, all over her notebooks. Now she was a hair stylist who wore ridiculous clothes herself, dressing as if she’d gone into her closet in the dark and put on the first three or four things she touched.

When Luke came through the door, she turned around, those big eyes widening with surprise. “Luke? I don’t have any appointments today. In fact, it’ll be Wednesday before—”

“I don’t need a haircut.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

He walked over to Tasha’s chair. “Do you have a dog?”

“Uh…no.”

“Why not?”

Tasha blinked with surprise. “I’m just not a dog lover. Or a cat lover, for that matter.”

“This is Rainbow Valley. All the downtown businesses have shop pets.”

“I have shop pets.”

“Where?”

“Over there,” she said, nodding at an aquarium sitting on a counter near the front desk.

Luke glanced over his shoulder. “Hermit crabs?”

“Hey, they’re pets. You know. Technically.”

“You need something a little more interactive than crustaceans. Come to the shelter this afternoon. I have the perfect dog for you.”

“No. I told you I don’t want—”

“Tasha. Trust me. When is your last client today?

“I won’t be finished until six thirty.”

“That’s perfect.” With luck, Shannon would be gone by then and he could implement his plan without her logical, rational, irritating interference.

“But I don’t want a dog,” Tasha said.

“I know. But I have a dog who wants you. I’ll see you at the shelter at seven tonight.”



That evening Luke figured he had about a fifty-fifty chance of Tasha showing up. Fortunately, Shannon had left the shelter ten minutes before Tasha might be arriving, which gave Luke time to hurry down to the kennel and grab Ginger. She barked her little head off right up to the moment he picked her up. Then she relaxed in his arms and enjoyed the ride back up to the office.

At exactly seven o’clock, Luke was relieved to see Tasha come through the door. In a ridiculous statement of fashion gone wild, she carried a huge orange handbag with designer crap all over it.

Perfect.

“Tasha, meet Ginger,” Luke said. “Ginger, this is Tasha. She’s going to be taking you home today.”

“Now, wait just a minute,” Tasha said, looking warily at the dog. “I told you I’m not a dog person. I’ve never had a dog before, and I really don’t want—”

“But this is not your average dog. She’s very smart.”

“That’s fine. But—”

“She’s friendly, and she barely sheds at all.”

“Yeah, but—”

“She’s housebroken. Spayed. Has all her shots.”

“But I told you I don’t want—”

“And Paris Hilton has a dog just like her.”

Tasha froze, her already-wide eyes springing open even wider. “Paris? My God, that’s right. She does have a dog.”

“Lots of them, actually. Tiny little dogs. All super-rich heiresses have them. Well, not all of them. Only the ones with fashion sense. And there’s no more perfect fashion accessory than a cute little dog. Check this out.”

Luke pulled Tasha’s bag off her shoulder, opened it, and slid Ginger right down inside it with her little bug-eyed head poking out. He handed it back to Tasha. Ginger looked up at her as if she’d found her new home. Tasha stared down at Ginger as if to say, There’s a dog in my gazillion-dollar handbag.

“Picture yourself walking down Rainbow Way with her head sticking up out of your handbag,” Luke said. “Tourists will swear they’re on Rodeo Drive. If Paris came along, she’d think she was looking in a mirror.”

Tasha looked undecided, and Luke was afraid he’d laid it on a little thick. Then she put her bag over her shoulder to try it out. Ginger looked up at her with a little doggy whimper. Tasha patted her on the head, and Ginger panted happily.

“The adoption fee is only fifty dollars,” Luke said.

“Fifty dollars?”

Luke waved his hand. “That’s nothing. You spent way more than a paltry fifty bucks for that purse you’re carrying.”

“Well, yeah. It’s Prada.”

“Of course it is. You’re on the cutting edge of fashion around here. Would your clients expect you to carry anything less? And they would also expect you to have exactly this kind of dog. It’s part of your persona.”

“My persona,” Tasha said, trying out the words. She clearly liked the sound of them.

Luke pulled the dog out of Tasha’s handbag, told Tasha to sit, and put Ginger in her lap. Tasha petted her tentatively, but there was nothing tentative about the way Ginger circled around twice and plopped herself down in Tasha’s lap. She stroked the dog’s head, and Ginger looked up at her adoringly with those big Chihuahua eyes.

“Hmm,” Tasha said. “She is kinda cute. I never really thought about having a dog, but maybe…”

“There’s no maybe about it,” Luke said. “You’ll love her.”

“Do you think she’d like it at my shop? Some of my clients are kinda grumpy.”

“They won’t be after they meet Ginger.” And with all that attention, she might think twice about ripping up a waiting room chair.

“I’m not really sure how to take care of a dog. If I’m going to do it, I have to do it right.”

“A little dog like Ginger is no trouble at all. I’ll fill you in on all of that.”

Luke kept quiet, waiting as the two of them bonded, and soon Tasha’s unsure expression was replaced by a decisive one.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to adopt her. But mostly because it’s good for my business. You were right. This is Rainbow Valley. People expect it.”

But judging from the way she was smiling down at Ginger, Luke knew it was only a matter of time before she figured out the truth. Ginger might be good for Tasha’s business, but she was going to be even better for Tasha herself.

Luke dug through Freddie Jo’s desk drawer and grabbed all the appropriate forms for the adoption. After he explained the forms to Tasha, she filled them out. He gave her an information sheet and talked to her about how to care for her new dog. He collected fifty bucks, then clipped a leash onto Ginger’s collar. When Tasha stood up, the dog put her front paws on her leg and let out a little yap.

“She’s telling you she wants to go home,” Luke said.

“Is he right, sweetie?” Tasha said, smiling down at the dog. “Do you want to go home? Huh?”

Baby talk already. A very good sign.

He escorted them to the door, and Ginger trotted alongside Tasha as if they belonged together.

“Hold on,” Luke said. “One more thing.” He grabbed the camera from the credenza behind Freddie Jo’s desk.

“Wait.” Tasha scooped Ginger up and put her into her handbag, then struck a pouty Paris Hilton pose.

Luke clicked. “Perfect.”

A few moments later, he closed the door behind them and breathed a sigh of relief. He uploaded the photo, then grabbed photo paper to print it. As he tacked it to the Wall, he thought maybe he’d done a pretty good day’s work. Thank God he’d caught TMZ a couple of times over the years so he could spout all that Paris Hilton crap. And thank God it had kept Tasha interested long enough to decide she wanted to adopt Ginger.

Even better, Shannon was going to be thrilled.



“What the hell have you done?”

Luke stopped sifting poop from one of the cat boxes and looked over his shoulder. Shannon had just come into the cat cottage, and she didn’t look happy. In fact, she looked downright pissed.

“What do you mean, what the hell have I done?”

Shannon shoved the photo he’d taken of Ginger and Tasha in front of him. “I’m talking about this.”

“You’re mad that Tasha adopted a dog?”

“Yes! It’s a disaster in the making!”

Luke tossed the poop scooper aside. “Yeah? Why is that?”

“Because she told me Paris Hilton would love her. If that’s the only reason she got a dog, it’ll never work out.”

“Yeah? I heard Paris built a house for her dogs that cost three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Don’t you wish you lived that well?”

“How do you know Tasha will take care of Ginger the way she’s supposed to?”

“Tasha runs her own business. I’d say that makes her a responsible person. And she’s a friend of yours. If she doesn’t treat Ginger right, you’ll be all over her.”

“But what if she weren’t a friend of mine? You have to emphasize how much responsibility a pet is. Did you tell her that?”

“Seems obvious to me.”

“But it’s not obvious to a lot of people. They get all caught up in the fun of adopting a pet. Then they sour on the responsibility of having one. And then the pet becomes a burden instead of a member of the family. And people need to know that if for some reason they can’t take care of them, they must bring them back. Did you have her sign the paperwork that obligates her to that?”

“She signed all the forms.”

“But did you emphasize it?”

“She read them and signed them. What else was I supposed to do? Get a megaphone and shout it at her? I did get the fifty-dollar adoption fee.”

“This is about more than collecting money and moving animals. They’re not inanimate objects.”

“But they’re also not permanent residents. Not supposed to be, anyway.”

“We’re not trafficking in purse dogs.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe that’s why you have so many animals around here. By the time you get finished with people, they’re not sure they even want to adopt a pet.”

“It’s my job to make sure they know what they’re getting into.”

“So go talk to Tasha.”

“Right. After you let her adopt a dog, I’m supposed to drop by and say, ‘Hey, I’m not sure you’re responsible enough to keep her’?”

“Look. Ginger needs attention all day long or she barks her head off, which means she’ll be perfect as a shop dog. Tasha needed a reason to make the leap and get a dog, so I gave her one. All that Paris Hilton crap will go by the wayside in no time. The dog has a home. Isn’t that what you’re after?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m after. But if it works out, it doesn’t mean you knew what you were doing. It just means you lucked out. On top of everything, Tasha lives right above me. When Ginger starts in with the barking, guess who’s going to have to listen to it?”

“Well, I’m sorry it wasn’t a perfect match.” He walked over slowly and stopped in front of her. “I’d have found a different home for her, but Mother Teresa wasn’t available.”

Shannon drew back, her face all tight and angry, but he really didn’t give a damn. He knocked himself out to do something good around there, and this was what he got?

“From now on,” she said, “just do what you were hired to do and leave the adoptions to the rest of us. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause, and when he spoke again, he made sure he put a few icicles on his words. “Yes, ma’am. I understand completely.”

Instead of walking away, though, he simply folded his arms and held his ground because he knew it pissed her off. Finally she turned around with a huff and strode out of the cat cottage, leaving Luke standing there doing a little fuming himself. It was a shame so many animals were going to get stuck there because a good home wasn’t good enough, but what could he do? The boss had spoken. In her grating, frustrating, irrational way, she had spoken.

And he’d be damned if he’d try to help her again.