Sunset Bay Sanctuary

by Roxanne Snopek

  “Bless you,” said Olivia with heartfelt gratitude for both. It was ironic that after a lifetime in the crowds of New York and San Francisco, she’d found the love of her life in the tiny, windswept community of Sunset Bay.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Tyler?” Olivia shrugged. “Good, far as I can tell. It’s only been a week.”

  Olivia refused to think of herself as a foster mother, and she never took in kids young enough to be in need of nurturing, per se. Her specialty, if you could call it that, was the untouchable, difficult-to-place kids on the way out of the system. Bounced around, usually. Lost in the too-old-to-be-adopted jungle or orphaned on the brink of so-called adulthood, which is how it had all begun, in fact.

  “And you?”

  “I’m great.”

  “And Haylee?”

  She and Haylee had been together for a long time but still, it was one of the most important touchstones of her life and Gayle understood, better than most, how hard Olivia worked not to worry about her niece.

  “She’s good too. I think.”

  Olivia had come here for Haylee’s sake, but then she’d met Gayle and realized it might be a whole new life for her, as well. Sunset Bay had become a sanctuary for both of them, one she’d been searching for, without even knowing it.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  The twine bit into Tyler’s bare hand and he dropped the bale, stumbling backward with a yelp they could hear from the porch. The flash of dingy white grew larger as his denims slipped lower. “Sorry,” he added sheepishly.

  “That’s one.” Olivia’s policy on cursing was clear. Three strikes earned them extra chores.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

  The whole picture was painful but she had to give him credit for trying. She would be able to hire him on, once he aged out of the system. If he wanted. If he kept working like this. She’d have to see.

  “You look tired this morning,” said Gayle. “You okay?”

  “Just having a slow start today, that’s all. I’m fine, Gayle.”

  Silence.

  Then Gayle said, “You’re always fine. Fine, fine, fine, that’s Honch for you. Able to manage the barn, lead every trail ride, teach workshops, sit on committees, handle recalcitrant hoodlums with one hand tied behind her back, all with time left to fuss over her full-grown niece. That’s Olivia Hansen in a nutshell. When will you realize that you’re not superwoman?”

  Olivia put her arm around Gayle and leaned her head toward her. “I really am okay. You have to stop treating me like I’m going to break. And for the record, I never fuss.”

  Gayle arched an elegant eyebrow and flicked a wing of ebony hair over her shoulder but didn’t argue. She knew Olivia and Haylee’s history, how hard they’d worked to overcome the past.

  Olivia swallowed. They’d both struggled, but it had been so much harder for Haylee.

  “Hey, Honch.” Duke, another boy with exhibitionist Under Armour, called to her from across the yard. “Tyler says Dancer is showing signs. Wanna take a look?”

  Olivia got to her feet and handed Gayle her empty mug.

  “Gotta go. With any luck, we’ll have a new foal soon. What’s your day look like?”

  “Fully booked until noon. Then a team meeting.” Gayle stood up and grimaced. “Wish me luck. Therapists can be such whiny babies.”

  Olivia laughed. “Better you than me.”

  “Honch!”

  “Coming, coming, keep your shorts on.”

  “Take care of yourself, Livvie, okay?”

  She gave Gayle a quick kiss of reassurance. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

  * * *

  Haylee was at the main house the next morning with a whole minute to spare. She needn’t have rushed. The long plank table used for staff meals was empty, the kitchen was in chaos, and Olivia was nowhere to be seen.

  “Good morning, Daphne,” she said to the cook.

  “It’s morning,” Daphne replied, wiping her hands on her apron. “Can’t comment on the goodness, yet. Just when I think Jamie’s turned a corner, she pulls something new. Today it’s potato mutation.” She leaned toward the cellar steps. “They’re sprouting, you ninny!”

  Jamie’s voice floated up. “They’re squishy and gross. It’s a root cellar horror show down here.”

  “Kids these days,” muttered the cook. “No life skills.”

  “She’s hardly a kid, Daphne,” said Haylee.

  “And I’m an old woman, getting older by the second. Bring them up now, Jamie,” yelled Daphne, “or I’ll make you peel them, too.”

  Daphne loved Jamie like a daughter.

  A thumping, bumping noise sounded from the cellar, followed by the heavy wooden door slamming, then footsteps stomping up the stairs as the girl huffed her way into the kitchen, holding the plastic tub out at arm’s length.

  “They look like pale, starving fingers, reaching out for help,” said Jamie. “It’s bad energy.”

  Jamie had dabbled in reiki at one time. She’d dabbled in a lot of things.

  “It’s life force,” corrected Daphne. “If you put those in the ground outside, they’d turn into a whole garden of spuds.”

  Jamie tipped the tub of tubers into the farmhouse sink and turned on the cold water. “Then why aren’t we doing that?”

  “You know those green plants you spent three hours weeding yesterday? Potatoes. In another month or so, we’ll be eating them fresh. Until then, we finish last year’s crop. Quit being such a girl.”

  Jamie’s jaw dropped. “You can’t say that.”

  Haylee bit back a laugh and looked away.

  “Then woman up, girl.” She pointed at the butcher-block workstation. “Gideon and Huck will be done with the horses soon and they’ll be looking for hash browns. Ezra, too. You’re here to assist, so get to it.”

  “I thought the breakfast meeting started now.” Haylee glanced at her watch.

  “Your meeting starts now,” said Daphne, pointing a spatula toward the porch overlooking the valley, where Olivia sat reading her tablet. “The group meeting is in a half hour.”

  Theoretically, Haylee and Olivia made management decisions together. Practically speaking, as majority owner, Olivia ran the place and Haylee was happy to let her. But Olivia still insisted on giving Haylee a heads-up about business matters.

  “I’ll deal with the spuds,” she heard Daphne instruct Jamie. “You’re on fruit salad, bacon, and sausage.”

  “I object to bacon and sausage on humanitarian grounds.”

  “Noted. It’s that or the potato horror show, your choice.”

  Jamie rolled her eyes and went to the walk-in refrigerator to get the meat.

  Daphne lifted an eyebrow, shook her head and handed Haylee a carafe. “Here, bring this out with you. Mugs are on the table. See you in a few.”

  Olivia looked up as Haylee pushed through the sliding doors. “Oh good,” she said. “You’re here.”

  “With coffee, no less.”

  “Bless you.”

  “Bless Daphne.”

  Haylee sat down and poured them each a mug. “What’s up?”

  Olivia bit her lip and Haylee felt her pulse quicken. Good news or bad?

  “We just had a private party book for two weeks, possibly longer. Daemon Fiori, his wife, ten-year-old son and twelve-year-old daughter. They’ll be arriving in three days.”

  This was hardly worthy of a private meeting.

  During high season, Sanctuary Ranch was full of guests—families looking for the dude ranch vacation, corporate team builders, church youth groups.

  “Short notice, but we’ll make it work. The kids are a good age. What’s the problem?”

  “Probably nothing.” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Mr. Fiori wants to give his family the real ranch experience, the whole thing, no special treatment, so we’re going to get them dirty. They’ll help Gideon in the stables, he’ll teach them basic grooming and horse care, we’ll take them trail ridi
ng, I’ll take them on a campout. They’ll collect eggs, haul manure, weed the garden and Daphne will get them making chili, maybe teach them to bake bread. Can you use them in the kennels?”

  “Always.” The new dogs needed as much exposure to as wide a variety of people and situations as possible. Then she narrowed her eyes at Olivia. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Liv chuckled. “The wife may be a little . . . intense.”

  “No.” Haylee groaned. “Let me guess. He’s bringing her under protest.”

  “That’s my guess,” Olivia said. Then she bit her lip. “Her name’s Angel. I looked her up on Facebook. From her many, many selfies, it’s easy to see she’s not exactly the rugged sort.”

  Haylee thought for a moment. “Angel. And his name’s Daemon?”

  “I’m guessing that’s not what their birth certificate’s say. And that’s not the best part.” She grinned. “The kids are Athena . . . and Xerxes.”

  Haylee was getting the picture now. “Who does that to a child? Daphne and Huck are going to have a field day with that.” She sighed. “Okay, let’s go prep the team.”

  Olivia put out a hand.

  “There’s another thing.” Her eyes weren’t sparkling now. “There’s a new girl arriving today from Eugene. Ran away from her group home. She requested placement here.”

  “New guests and a new foster kid at the same time. That’s a little much, isn’t it?”

  “We’ve got the staff. Tyler and Duke are doing well. And she’s . . . I think she’s special.”

  They were all special to Olivia.

  She gave them manual labor, a safe place to stay and as much tough love as they could stand. She loved the challenge they represented.

  Haylee, having been Liv’s first challenge of that kind, knew how lucky these kids were. “Then we’ll make it work.”

  Olivia smoothed a stray hair off her forehead. “Her name is Sage.”

  Haylee froze, then reached for her mug. Coffee sloshed dangerously close to the edge, but didn’t spill. Lots of kids were named Sage. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t her. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “Good.” Olivia stood up and the legs of her chair made a rough screech against the deck surfacing. “Let’s go update the others. I could eat a mule.”

  * * *

  Haylee believed in love at first sight. She should; she stepped, skidded, and fell into it regularly. She’d done it five times last year alone.

  She was doing it right now, huddled against the doorway of the animal shelter in Roseburg, Oregon, peering out into the grassy yard where a chiseled specimen of male perfection stood casually inspecting the chain-link fencing.

  “What did I tell you?” whispered Jamie, who was responsible for three of the last five falls. “Is he gorgeous, or what?”

  Jamie had finagled them a ride with Gideon, who’d been headed this way to pick up supplies from the feed store. Haylee figured it had been another ploy for Jamie to spend time with the head wrangler, but seeing the dog now, she understood that Gideon’s extended cab truck was the best means of transport for a dog of this size.

  Jamie danced from foot to foot behind her, peering over Haylee’s shoulders, devil one moment, angel the next. Which pretty much characterized their relationship.

  “Looks like ten miles of bad road to me,” said Haylee.

  “Rugged,” said Jamie. “Tough.”

  “Baggage,” countered Haylee. “History.”

  “Come on, tall, dark, and scarred? I thought of you the second I saw him. He’s just your type.”

  “You too?” What was it with everyone these days. “I don’t have a type.”

  Although the handsome new doctor gave her pause for thought on that point. If she had a type, for men, at least, he’d be it.

  “We still talking about dogs?” Jamie eyed her slyly.

  “Of course. Unless you’d like to discuss a certain tall, silent someone.”

  Jamie curled her lip and tossed her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Haylee turned back to the dog. “Anyway, looks aren’t everything. It’s what was inside that counts. And we have no idea what’s going on inside that big, hard skull.”

  Many pit bulls were gentle, intelligent, stoic, powerful family defenders, and energetic companions, but there were always some who’d been used as tools of intimidation, or even as weapons, by people who stomped out any signs of softness.

  Given enough abuse, any creature could become a psychopath. Haylee had seen too many shelter dogs with dead eyes that stared unblinkingly, watching every move, trusting no one, ruined past what she could salvage.

  It broke her heart but she trained dogs for a purpose. She had to be as certain as possible that every animal she placed was sound in mind and body.

  “He’s got a great personality,” said Jamie. “He’s friendly. Gets along with everyone.”

  Therapy dogs like Jewel visited schools, libraries, assisted living homes, hospitals, and hospices. Service dogs like the shepherd cross she’d just trained for a boy with autism, also had to be well socialized, but their focus would always be a single person. Friendly and social was essential, but was he smart? Trainable?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” said Jamie. “There’s a brain behind that pretty face.”

  Jamie was relentless.

  “Too smart can be difficult, too.” She knew she was losing the argument.

  “You can be difficult.” Jamie shimmied in irritation behind Haylee. “Why don’t you save time and admit he’s adorable? Someone out there’s looking for a big dog just like him. He needs you to get him ready for his forever home.”

  Haylee angled away from Jamie. “Your boobs are bouncing against my back. Do you mind? And I like a little boring. Boring is easy. I can work with boring.”

  “Liar. You hate boring.”

  Just then the big guy turned in their direction. His whole body stilled and even from this distance, even though she knew he couldn’t see them, Haylee could tell he knew they were there, talking about him.

  The vast majority of dogs ended up in shelters not because they were dangerous, but because they were unwanted.

  Throwaway dogs, they were called.

  Haylee didn’t see throwaways. She saw emotionally starved, neglected, untutored, desperate blank slates waiting for someone to write them into life.

  Haylee saw a challenge.

  “See how he’s just watching? He’s thinking. I’m telling you, Haylee, he’s the whole deal. You’ll love him.”

  Her interest was piqued. Powerful young males with impulse control were rare, in her experience. Good-looking and smart, too? Haylee felt herself slipping. As usual.

  “You ready to meet him?” Jamie nudged Haylee and waggled her eyebrows. “Come on, admit it. He’s perfect.”

  Smart, strong, gorgeous, controlled, it was a good start. But that ripped musculature didn’t come from good genes and exercise so much as pure testosterone.

  Which was problematic.

  As testosterone often was.

  Haylee sighed. “He’ll need to be neutered.”

  Jamie squealed, jumping out from behind the doorframe. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him. Come here, Hannibal! Someone wants to take you home and love you to itty-bitty bits and pieces!”

  The big dog trotted toward them, his wide Lab–pit bull head up, his small ears perked, a set of balls bouncing beneath his tail that would make a bull swagger.

  “Hannibal?”

  “Yeah.” Jamie cleared her throat. “Hannibal the Cannibal. It’s the name he came with. Not the cuddliest. But you can change it. If you decide to keep him.”

  Haylee winced. “Keeping him is not an option, Jamie. I’ll give him six weeks but if he can’t pass my preliminary testing at that time, you have to figure out what to do with him. Find him another home, or bring him back here, I don’t care. I’m already over my leg limi
t. I won’t be guilted into adding four more. If he doesn’t work out in the program, he’s not my responsibility. Got it?”

  “Of course, Haylee,” said Jamie, smiling brightly, her blue eyes as wide and innocent as a carnival huckster. “That’s our deal.”

  But they both knew that once Haylee was in love, she was in love. Game over. Nothing could change that.

  Hannibal the Cannibal pushed his bony skull under her arm and swiped a warm, wet tongue over her fingers.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said.

  And that was that. She was in love.

  Again.

  Chapter Three

  “Such wonderful memories.”

  —Alissa, rancher wanna-be

  When the main door to the town hospital whooshed open, Jewel stiffened, bracing all fours on the concrete sidewalk.

  “Seriously?” said Haylee. “That was years ago. You’ve gone through it a million times since then.”

  Jewel gave it the stink eye, apparently recalling the time it had almost caught her tail.

  “Fine. I can wait.”

  Olivia had already left with the horses when Haylee had stopped by the main house that morning. The sticky note she left beside Haylee’s mug read, “New girl arrives today. See you at supper. Have a great day!!!”

  The new girl, whose name was Sage.

  She tightened her grip on the leash.

  Don’t think about it.

  Jewel whined and looked up, her big face wrinkled with concern.

  “It’s okay, girl.”

  Soothed, the dog’s memory clicked into place and she stepped forward, activating the motion sensor. Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk.

  “Look who’s here.” A large black man stepped around the information desk and hunkered down with his hand out. “My two favorite girls.”

  “Hey, Duane. How’s the new hip?”

  Jewel’s nails slipped on the polished tile as she eagerly went to greet her friend.

  “It’s gonna outlive the rest of me. Who are you visiting today?”

  “Everyone we can,” said Haylee. “We’ll make the rounds.”

  Duane rubbed the dog’s ears, smiling at Jewel’s groan of pleasure. “She’ll make a lot of people smile today.”