imbing barbed-wire fences, he’d have requested a more durable fabric. Kevlar, perhaps.
“Sorry.” She sounded genuinely contrite. And rather amused, as well, he noted in resignation. Again, he had the sneaking suspicion that she was secretly laughing at him. He really was going to have to do something about that—later.
The dog crouched low against the ground and scooted beneath the fence, then pressed close to Nicole’s side again. Nicole reached out to take Andrew’s hand. “Almost there,” she promised.
He closed his fingers firmly around hers. “Good.”
They’d taken only a few more careful steps before a man’s voice growled, “Stop right there.”
Andrew froze. The dog whimpered and tried to hide between Andrew and Nicole.
Peering into the shadows ahead of them, Andrew saw what appeared to be a skinny old man in overalls and an oversize hat. Moonlight gleamed softly, menacingly, on the long, shiny barrels of the shotgun clutched in the man’s hand.
“Your uncle, I presume,” he whispered to Nicole.
She laughed softly. “Yes.”
And then she raised her voice. “Uncle Timbo, it’s Nicky. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”
To Andrew’s relief, the shotgun lowered. “Nicky? What the hell you doin’ out here in the middle of the night, girl?”
“It’s a long story. Are you going to invite us in and let us tell you about it?”
“Well, come on, then. No need to stand out here in the cold.”
Nicole tugged at Andrew’s hand to pull him forward. “You’re going to love him,” she assured him.
Andrew only made a noncommittal sound in his throat.
Timbo’s house turned out to be a two-room shack mostly hidden in a thicket of towering shrubs. It was surprisingly neat, if Spartan. Shelves of tattered paperbacks covered one wall. A battered couch, a wooden rocker, and a small round table with three straight-backed chairs around it were the only furnishings in the main room. The back wall served as the kitchen, consisting of a few cabinets hung above a sink, an antique-looking refrigerator and a two-burner gas stove. Through the open doorway to the other room, Andrew spotted a narrow, unmade bed, a chest of drawers and another wooden rocker.
Two cats dozed beneath the table. Neither looked up when the stray dog slithered into the cabin behind Nicole. Nor did the dog seem interested in them. It seemed to be trying to fade into Nicole’s shadow, making Andrew suspect that the dog had learned to expect abuse if it drew attention to itself.
Nicole’s uncle, who could have been anywhere from seventy to a hundred for all Andrew could tell, set his shotgun against a wall, tossed his hat onto a hook beside the door, and turned to study his visitors. Andrew studied him in return. The old man’s shiny head was thinly covered with gray hair that matched the stubble on his lean cheeks and jutting chin. His eyes were dark and piercing in their deep hollows beneath his thick gray eyebrows. Andrew got the impression that Nicole’s uncle didn’t miss much around him.
He’d spotted the ragged tail visible behind Nicole and Andrew. “What’s that? A dog?” he asked, his voice reminding Andrew of a sharp bark.
“Yes. She’s a stray,” Nicole explained. “She seems to be healthy, though she’s been neglected. I didn’t have anywhere else to take her, Uncle Timbo.”
The old man nodded. “Let’s look at her, then.”
Nicole shifted to reveal the huddled animal behind her.
To Andrew’s surprise, the stern old man took one look at the pitiful mutt and melted. Andrew almost winced when it occurred to him that he must have looked much the same way when he’d first spotted Nicole at the country club.
Timbo knelt with surprising ease for a man of his age and clucked at the dog. “C‘mere, girl. Come meet ol’ Timbo.”
The dog whined, trembled, and inched forward, her anxious eyes darting from the old man to Nicole and back again. Patient, Timbo held out his hand. “C‘mon, darlin’. I won’t hurt you.”
The dog sniffed the man’s hand, then his face. And then she licked him, her tail wagging tentatively.
Timbo laughed, revealing teeth too white and straight to be natural. “Hate to tell you this, darlin’, but you stink.”
The accusation was made with affection. The dog didn’t seem to take offense.
“She’s very sweet-natured,” Nicole said, watching the bonding process with a smile.
Her uncle nodded. “Seems to be. Needs a bath and some attention.”