If the Devil Had a Dog

by T. K. Lukas

  He took the scenic route, his tour-guide-worthy description of the flora and fauna impressive in its thoroughness. The road twisted and turned past rocky outcroppings and stands of spiny green and red ocotillo before landing them on the western edge of town. Markus eased his Jeep onto Holland Avenue, and then took a side road over the Amtrak rails to Murphy Street. On this side of town, the art shops and cafés were smaller, quainter, the facades grittier. Here, the bars, porches, and patios were stuffed with more locals than tourists.

  “Edelweiss?” Sidney shot Markus a wry look as they pulled into the parking lot.

  “Would an alpine setting be complete without edelweiss?” Markus hopped out of the Jeep, Rex on his heels. “I thought we could have lunch. I’ll introduce you to some friends. Then, I’ll take you to the store for whatever supplies you need.”

  “Sounds good.” Stepping out of the Jeep, she eyed the number of cars and trucks in the lot. “It must be a popular place. Good food?”

  “Authentic German cuisine and the best kirschwasser money can’t buy.”

  “Kirschwasser? Can’t buy?”

  “Cherry water. But don’t let the name fool you,” he said as he opened the screen door bearing a sign announcing that well-behaved dogs were welcome if their owners were equally well-behaved. He stepped aside for Sidney to enter. “It’s a secret family recipe that’s not sold in stores. If we’re lucky, there’ll be a bottle hidden behind the bar.”

  The interior, decorated in the traditional blues and whites of the Alps, was light, bright, and cheerful. With no more than a dozen tables plus a row of stools pulled against the long mahogany bar, Edelweiss was a cozy hangout. Opposite the dining area, three pool tables and a jukebox shared space with a small dance floor and bandstand.

  Markus waved to a few people sitting at the dining tables as he guided Sidney to the back of the room. “You should recognize her,” he said, nodding to a lady at the bar.

  “Ah. A friendly face.” Sidney visibly relaxed. “Hello, Ruth. It’s nice to see you again.”

  Ruth twirled around on her barstool to face Sidney. Her gray jogging suit and glittery running shoes were similar to those she sported the first day Sidney had pulled into Alpine and inquired at the Maverick Inn about a room.

  She took both of Sidney’s hands in hers. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you again, too. And I’m glad to see that my map helped you find your way to Yeager’s Stables.” Turning to Markus, she said, “You’re taking good care of her, I hope. The Maverick was booked solid, otherwise I’d have kept her myself.”

  “Yes, ma’am. How are you, Miss Ruth?” Markus gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’m well, thank you. Y’all having a late lunch—early dinner? Care to join me?

  “Late lunch. We’d love to join you.” Markus pulled a stool out for Sidney next to Ruth. He leaned his elbow against the crowded bar, waiting for another seat to become available. Rex curled up on the floor at his feet and rested his nose on his paws.

  A set of double doors opened outward from the kitchen. A tall, voluptuous, dark-haired beauty wearing a tight fitting, low-cut dirndl emerged. Singlehandedly, she carried a tray over her head, the tray laden with steaming plates of spaetzle, schnitzel, red cabbage, and a variety of sausages. As she passed Markus, she slapped him on his buttocks and planted a quick kiss square on his mouth.

  “Ja, I think another twenty pounds you should gain. Then you’ll be suitable.” Her German accent and deep, silky voice gave a seductive quality to her words. She flashed a winsome smile and nodded at Sidney, saying, “Hello,” before hurrying off to deliver lunch orders to waiting customers. Her round, well-formed derrière drew admiring stares and suggestive remarks from the males sitting at the bar.

  “Hello to you.” Sidney called back to the woman with the hourglass figure who bore German delicacies to appreciative diners. She turned to Markus, amused at the embarrassed look on his face. “I’m guessing she’s the person—the reason—that brought you to Alpine. She’s very pretty. What’s her name?”

  “Heidi.”

  “Of course, it’s Heidi. I should have guessed.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Alpine

  Sidney forced a thin smile. The tiny pang of jealousy knotting her stomach made her feel ridiculous, as if she were a silly, young girl. Although, she admitted to herself, that was exactly how she felt. The psychologist in her quickly analyzed the situation, labeling the feelings something akin to the Stockholm syndrome. Though she wasn’t technically a captive, and Markus wasn’t holding her hostage, she empathized with him on some level close to that. She was under his armed protection.

  And those gray eyes captivate me.

  “And that,” Markus pointed to a robust, muscular man walking toward them from the pool tables. “That is Dieter, Heidi’s fiancé.” The man wore leather lederhosen, a blue-checkered shirt, and red suspenders embroidered with edelweiss. He appeared as if he’d magically tumbled into Alpine, Texas, directly from the Black Forest.

  Sidney’s eyebrows darted upward. “Fiancé? I see.” Her face relaxed in an easy grin. She understood how this handsome man with the mahogany colored hair and the bright blue eyes would attract a girl as striking as Heidi.

  Dieter, who towered several inches over Markus, shook his hand and clapped him on the back. The two spoke in German, and they shared a brief conversation and a hearty laugh before Markus made introductions.

  “Sidney is a guest at the stables, and of course, you know Ruth.” Seeing that her tray was unloaded, Markus waved Heidi over and restarted the introductions.

  “Heidi and Dieter moved here about six months ago from Achern, in the Black Forest region of Germany. Heidi is the great-grandniece of Otto Webber. Otto is the owner of this fine establishment. I’ll connect more dots later.”

  Both Heidi and Dieter embraced Sidney and air kissed both cheeks, their European greeting and welcome to Edelweiss. Stepping behind the bar, Dieter brought out a bottle of crystal clear liquor and five shot glasses. The bottle bore a simple white label declaring it “Webber’s Wasser,” with a realistic sketching of two plump red cherries on stems with bright green leaves.

  Dieter gave Sidney the first glass, then passed one to the others. “This is how we toast to new friendships back home.” His lively eyes sparkled as he raised his drink. “Prost.”

  “Prost,” was toasted all around as glasses clinked together. Sidney took a shy sip, barely touching her lips to the rim of the glass. Her eyes watered as the warm liquid bathed her throat.

  “I was expecting sweet,” she said, making a bitter face. “This… is not sweet.”

  Markus laughed. “You’re not a lightweight, are you?”

  “No.” She tried another sip. “It just took me by surprise.”

  “It’s fermented complete,” said Heidi.

  “Complete?” Sidney sniffed the liquid in her shot glass and took another small sip.

  “How do you say in English?” asked Heidi. “Um. Not undone without the inside, um, stone.”

  “She means the cherries are completely whole—the pits aren’t removed before fermenting. That’s what gives kirschwasser its bitter almond, cherry flavor.” Markus poured both Dieter and himself another shot glass, clinking and prosting again.

  “Bitter almond cherry flavor. Perfectly described.” Sidney pushed her glass away. “I like it, but one’s plenty for me.”

  “Me, too,” said Ruth, handing her shot glass to Dieter. “I’ll have a glass of that red monkey wine, though, if you have it.”

  “Coming right up.” From under the bar, Dieter pulled a bottle of wine that had a label with a golden monkey clinging around the neck of the bottle. “Affentaler pinot noir for Miss Ruth. Sidney? Heidi?”

  “Monkey wine? Sure, why not?” Sidney’s expression was a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

  Dieter poured the wine, explaining as he did. “Affental means monkey valley, though Germany’s Black Forest is not known for its wild monkeys. The word
‘Affental’ originally came from Ave Tal, meaning Ave Maria valley—for the pilgrimages that occurred there. But that was way back in the thirteenth century. I guess the Germans drank so much wine that they confused the spelling of Maria with monkey, hence the name change.”

  Sidney, Heidi, and Ruth clinked their glasses. “Prost,” they all said as they sipped their red monkey wine before Heidi hurried off to tend to a beckoning customer.

  Sidney turned to Markus, prepared to ask him a question, but she hesitated. The look on his face caught her off guard. It was a look that said he wasn’t embarrassed she caught him staring at her. It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts.

  “Yes?” Markus inquired. “It appeared you were ready to ask me something.”

  “I, uh, yes…” she stammered. “The way you were staring at me, I forgot my question.”

  “I have that effect.” Markus grinned, seeming to enjoy the moment.

  “Another of your superhero powers?”

  “Perhaps. But, I promise to use it for good and not for evil.”

  “I like your friends, Heidi and Dieter,” she stalled. “Oh, I remember. I was going to ask you to connect more dots. Who is Otto Webber? Is he—?”

  “He is right there.” Markus pointed to the front door.

  An average sized elderly man entered through the front screen door. Yet, there was nothing middling about his presence. With the bearing of a proud soldier, Otto Webber strode across the room. A thatch of cropped gray hair stood thick on his head, and his clear, blue eyes took in every detail as they scanned the crowded café. He nodded as he smiled and greeted the regulars, stopping to say hello and welcomen to those he didn’t recognize. Otto wore Levis instead of lederhosen, but his Bavarian embroidered shirt and red suspenders matched those worn by Dieter. An enormous white wolf-hybrid stuck close to his side.

  “Markus, my boy. It’s good to see you,” exclaimed Otto. His thick accent enveloped every word. The two embraced, further greeting one other in German. Turning to Sidney, he asked in English. “And who is your lovely friend? Have I seen her around Alpine?”

  “The lovely lady is Doctor Sidney McQueen. She just arrived in Alpine yesterday and is boarding her horse at the stables for a while.”

  Sidney shot a quick glance at Markus, registering that his vague answer did not fully address Otto’s questions. They would need to come up with something better, other than just her name, for future nosy inquiries. However, she would worry about that later. Right now, her mind marveled at what a striking pair this gray-haired German gentleman and his white-haired German Shepherd/wolf dog made. She visualized a portrait of the two, painted by Ruth’s expert hand.

  “Sidney, this is Otto Webber. He was my father’s orderly when they both served in the German army during World War Two. They immigrated to Texas together, staying good friends until my father’s death a few years ago.”

  Sidney offered her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Webber. No formalities needed. You can call me Sidney.”

  Otto took her hand while at the same time kissing both cheeks. “The pleasure is mine. And please, call me Otto.”

  “Otto, it is.”

  He nodded his head and turned to Ruth, leaning in as he bussed both cheeks. “You look lovely. As usual.”

  “Thank you, Otto,” Ruth blushed. “I brought extra tickets for the rodeo tonight, if anyone wants to join me. Victor’s riding.” She turned to Sidney and Markus. “The two of you should come with me, too, if you don’t have any plans.”

  “I don’t have any plans,” said Markus. “I’d love to. Sidney?”

  “A rowdy rodeo, where the atmosphere can get a bit—spirited. And Vincent, the naturally gifted bull rider.” Sidney paused for a long moment while Markus and Ruth watched her struggle to come up with an answer. “Uh—all right. Let’s go to the rodeo.” She forced a smile.

  “Are you sure? We don’t have to go.” Markus shot her a puzzled look.

  “I’m sure. Let’s go. It might be fun.” Sidney waved a hand, dismissing the memory of her Maverick Inn welcoming committee.

  “Good,” said Ruth, handing Markus a pair of tickets. “I’ll see you there. Then we can meet back here for dinner and dancing? Let’s make a night of it. I feel like having fun. Otto, can you break away for a couple of hours to join us?”

  “I don’t know. Saturday nights are busy for the restaurant. I—”

  “You should go, Uncle Otto,” Dieter spoke up as he refilled the wine glasses. “Heidi and I can manage here for a few hours. Go. Enjoy.”

  “Well—” Otto shrugged and considered his options.

  “Go,” Dieter urged.

  “All right. If you force me to go, I go.” Otto winked at Ruth. “I’ll pick you up at the Maverick at five thirty.”

  Ruth, batting her eyelashes demurely, said, “I’ll be ready.”

  Turning to Sidney and Markus, Otto said, “Sidney, I hope to see you later. Markus, my boy, halten sie ohren steif.”

  “Halten sie ohren steif.” Markus and Otto hugged and then locked eyes in a shared private moment before Otto hurried away to the kitchen, disappearing behind the split double doors.

  “It’s such a lovely day,” said Ruth. “Let’s have our lunch out on the patio.”

  “I agree.” Sidney picked up her wine glass and followed Ruth. She turned to see Markus and the two dogs following close behind.

  *****

  The covered patio was an oasis of mottled sunlight that filtered onto the graveled yard. Rows of wooden benches and picnic tables crowded together, making for a cozy atmosphere. A large banner hung over the entrance, declaring the patio to be “Otto’s Biergarten.” Colorful signs and placards in a variety of shapes and sizes advertising German brands of beer were strung on wire and hung around the perimeter walls. Twinkling lights crisscrossing the lattice ceiling made every night a starry night.

  “The phrase you and Otto shared, halten sie—” started Sidney.

  “Halten sie ohren steif. Literally, ‘hold your ears stiff.’ It’s a reminder to each other to stay strong…” He stammered, as if losing his train of thought. “…to, to stay strong, no matter what one must endure. I’ve heard that expression since I was a child. It’s what he and my father used to say to one another.”

  Markus felt a sudden churning in the pit of his stomach accompanied by a dizzying gray-out. Not a blackout where one loses consciousness—he was standing, and, by blinking rapidly, could still see his way through the fog. A word, a phrase, a thought—any of these things—might stir a buried memory.

  Halten sie ohren steif. Markus felt the old familiar pull that often accompanied these episodes—that pull toward darkness, toward aloneness, toward that dreaded place in his mind where buried memories threatened to surface.

  “Hold your ears stiff,” Sidney grinned. “I like that. So, is Otto’s dog one of your rescues that you rehomed? He looks like the negative image of Rex.”

  “Yes. That’s Noble, a littermate of Rex.” Markus fought to keep his voice and his breathing well-modulated. He sought for a task to focus on—to reframe his mind. He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. His hand trembled; a trickle missed the glass and puddled on the tablecloth. Ice cubes clinked against the tumbler as his hand shook, so he set the glass down. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He wiped them away with the embroidered napkin.

  The two massive dogs lay side-by-side under the wooden picnic table. Rex thumped his tail at the mention of his name. Noble raised his head, looking at Sidney with the same intelligent, expressive eyes that Rex had.

  “That’s a great name. He looks noble.” Sidney also poured a glass of water, giving each dog a cube of ice.

  “I had the honor of naming him,” Ruth said. “I’m teaching myself a bit of German, Sidney, and I learned that edelweiss means ‘noble white.’ Since he’s white and looks very noble, well, naming him after the noble white flower of the Alps and after Otto’s restaurant seemed the only choice.�
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  “Thank you for not naming him Flower.” Markus gave Ruth a forced grin. But the grin did not reach his eyes, where a storm quietly brewed.

  *****

  Sidney watched Markus as he walked around the front of the Jeep. She’d noticed a change in his demeanor during lunch, a darkening of his mood. There’d been nothing outwardly significant other than the trembling of his hands when he’d tried to hold a water glass, plus a few other minor behaviors. But adding them all up, Sidney understood something inwardly significant was occurring.

  With Rex loaded in the back, Markus settled into the driver’s seat. He fumbled with the keys, dropping them onto the floorboard. Twice he tried to insert the key into the ignition before the third attempt met success. He grabbed the gearshift in a white-knuckled grip, grinding the gears before easing into reverse.

  He glanced at Sidney who sat watching him with a penetrating stare that made him shift in his seat. He turned his attention to the road, clenching his jaw, grinding his thoughts like the gears on the Jeep. “I thought you’d like this place called Blue Water Natural Foods. You should be able to get everything you need there. Mostly organic shit—stuff. Sorry.”

  “You can say ‘shit’ around me. I won’t wilt.” She was hoping for a lighthearted reaction but got nothing in return.

  She continued to study the man in the driver’s seat. Her psychologist’s mind kicked in, noting the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the nervous bouncing of his left leg, and the brutal grip of his fingers on the steering wheel. She combined those behaviors with what she noted at the restaurant—the trembling hands, the sudden loss of appetite, the diminished eye contact, the stilted conversation, the stammering, blinking, perspiring episode. She’d bet her PhD that Markus was in the clutch of a panic attack.

  But—what triggered it?

  When they pulled into the parking lot of the Blue Water grocery store, Sidney turned to him. “Markus,” she said, reaching over and touching his arm as he reached for the key in the ignition. “May I speak frankly?”