Primal Force

by D. D. Ayres

  He was all the way out of Law’s truck before he said. “You might want to keep an eye on the news over the next few days.”

  Law watched Wentworth wander across the street and slide into a car so nondescript it stood out like a sore thumb.

  He shook his head as he ruffled Sam’s fur. “We played nice. Now we have to sit it out and wait to see what happens. Waiting. The thing I hate most in all the world.”

  Sam licked his chin.

  “Yeah, I know. You hate egg-white veggie omelets. I guess we can’t have everything the way we want it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jori looked up from reading her notes at a table in the main room of Warriors Wolf Pack. A woman in jeans, a man’s oversized pink golf shirt, and black puffer coat came in leading a dog. She recognized her as Sarah, the wife of Mike Williams, a veteran of the Gulf War, the first war in Iraq in the early ’90s. Mike’s service dog was named Yuki, a shepadoodle who had been placed with them before she came to work here.

  The Williamses had become a bit of a legend at WWP. They’d requested three individual home visits since the placement six months earlier. And had been back here once, since Jori joined the staff, for extra training. Kelli had taken them on as her personal crusade.

  But to judge by Sarah’s mouth, crimped into a tight line, and the determination in her sneakered stride with Yuki in tow, there was new trouble in the wind.

  “Good morning.” The volunteer of the day at the reception desk greeted the woman with a smile.

  The woman didn’t smile back. “I want to speak to the person in charge.” Her Arkansas hill country drawl emphasized the weight of her life. “Somebody needs to take this here dog off my hands.”

  Jori stood up and came forward, hand extended. “Good morning, Mrs. Williams. How may I help you?”

  Sarah looked her up and down, wariness in her washed-out blue gaze. “You’re one of the trainers, right? I need a higher-up.”

  “I’m sorry, but Kelli’s out seeing about another dog right now. I’m sure she’ll be glad to talk with you when she returns. We expect her back in about twenty minutes. Would you like a bottle of water? Or maybe coffee. It’s awfully cold today.”

  Sarah shook her head, mouth working impatiently. “I just came to deliver your dog back to you. We can’t use him no more.”

  “Is that so?” Jori looked down at Yuki. “May I pet him?”

  The Sarah looked startled. “I guess so. He’s your dog.”

  And that’s the problem, Jori thought as she knelt down. Sarah hadn’t bonded with Yuki. Kelli had just done a workshop for trainers about the wives and mothers of veterans, longtime caregivers like Sarah who had trouble adjusting to the help that a service dog could provide.

  As she rubbed Yuki’s head with both hands, she sought a casual tone. “How’s Mr. Williams?”

  “Mike’s fine.” She glanced back at the door. “He don’t want to come in. And I can’t stay. So if you’ll just…” She extended Yuki’s leash to Jori.

  Jori stood up, pretending not to understand the gesture. “Why don’t you and Yuki come with me?” She turned and began walking away, gambling that Mrs. Williams wouldn’t just abandon the dog in the middle of the room.

  Once inside the privacy of Kelli’s office, Jori waved her hand toward one of the chairs. “Have a seat and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Like I told you, I can’t stay. Mike’s in the truck.” Sarah sat down, pushing her fingers through short silver hair that Jori was almost sure was self-cut.

  “Yuki’s a nice dog, and all. Quiet, easygoing. And he don’t shed, just like you said. Only he’s interfering with my schedule. I can’t have that.”

  “Of course not. What’s Yuki doing?”

  Sarah’s combative expression eased a bit at the sound of Jori’s sympathetic tone. “He’s got it in his doggy head that he can tell Mike when his medicine’s due. I came in the other day from shopping to find Mike had already took his meds half an hour early. He said Yuki had brought the medicine organizer and put it in his lap so he thought it must be time.”

  Jori nodded, giving herself a moment to think about how to phrase her reply. Yuki was one of those dogs who was a self-starter, able to learn routines to the point where it seemed he could even tell time. Some saw that as a blessing. But other caregivers saw the service dog as being in competition for the attention and affection of the client.

  “You know, there’s another way to think about that. Yuki was taking care of Mike. What if you’d been delayed in traffic?”

  Sarah shook her head and frowned. “I learned a long time ago to shop at odd hours, after eight p.m. or before six in the morning. I got to know there’s no traffic so I can get back in a hurry.” The tension in her voice said more than her words.

  “You worry that Mike might not be able to get or do something he needs to while you’re out.”

  She jerked her head once in agreement.

  “So, in a way, isn’t it nice that Yuki has paid enough attention to realize then Mr. Williams needs his medication?”

  “The dog was half an hour too early!” To Jori’s surprise Sarah blinked back big crystal-bright tears. “Not that anyone cares, besides me. Mike thinks that damn dog hung the moon. Won’t even allow me to help him in and out of the shower no more. Tells me to leave him alone. He and Yuki can manage. After all I done all these years.” She bit her lip and dug in her pocket for a tissue.

  Jori offered one from the box at her elbow and waited for the woman to calm a bit.

  “Sorry about that.” Sarah offered Jori a small smile and, without seeming to realize it, reached down and began stroking Yuki, who had stood up to lean against her leg. “It’s just a bit much what with a dog to look after on top of Mike.”

  Jori almost jumped in, but Sarah looked like she had more to say so Jori sat on her impulse.

  The older woman looked at the floor. “It’s not been easy since Mike come home from the Gulf War. Never been able to hold down a job for long, on account of mobility issues. So, I worked and looked after him and the kids.” She looked up suddenly. “But I never minded that. The kids are grown up now and need their lives to be their own. Me and Mike have a routine.”

  Jori nodded.

  “Then along comes this dog.” She gave Yuki a sorrowful glance. “Yuki takes away from me the fun part of being with Mike. She makes him laugh.”

  She glanced at Jori, eyes red with the strain of holding back tears. “It sounds stupid. But it’s like Mike’s suddenly got someone else on the side. Don’t that sound crazy?”

  “No.” Kelli had said it wasn’t unusual for family members, especially wives, to resent the intrusion of a service dog into their lives. It was especially true for those who had done the caregiving for so long that to think of relinquishing any part of it seemed like failing or cheating.

  Sarah sniffed a couple of times then gave herself a little shake. “I can’t have that dog in my house. Not when Mike lavishes more affection on him than he does on me in a given day. Mike’s even talking about them going fishing in the spring. For years I couldn’t hardly get him outta the house for nothing. Even church. But give him a dog and he’s thinks he’s Huckleberry Finn!”

  So the problem wasn’t Yuki’s failure to bond with Mike, but his success.

  Jori watched the fissures form in the woman’s mask of resentment. Behind it lay years of worry and weariness, and neglect.

  Her instinct was to reach out and hug her. But she suspected proud and stubborn Sarah Williams wouldn’t welcome sympathy. Still, she took the chance and reached her arms toward the woman.

  Sarah surged into them, hugging her tightly as she broke into tight little sobs.

  Without letting go, Jori stretched out her leg and pushed the door shut.

  They held on to each other for a little time until Sarah let go first.

  When she had mopped up her face, Sarah stared off into space for a moment. “I told myself I wasn’t going to make a scene. Now
I’ve gone and made a first-class fool of myself. Jealous of a dog.” She glanced at Jori. “You must think I’m Looney Tunes.”

  Jori smiled. “I think you’re strong and hardworking. I think you love Mike. And I know you’re exhausted. You need some time for yourself.”

  “When am I supposed to do that?” The defiant Sarah was back in charge. “Where’s the hour in a week for me to do anything more than I’m doing?”

  Jori glanced down at Yuki. There were a dozen practical suggestions she could make, but she doubted that the exhausted and combative woman in front of her would hear them.

  “I’ve got an idea.” Jori stuffed two more tissues in the woman’s hands. “I’ll be right back.”

  Jori opened the office door and glanced around, hoping one of the men who worked or volunteered at WWP would be around. Maxine, who’d just come in from the back, intercepted her. “You got your hands full there.”

  “Yes. I need you to do something for me. Find Jake. Tell him there’s a man in a truck parked outside. And could he take him somewhere, buy him a meal? Talk to him? Do whatever men do. I need at least two hours.”

  “Okay. But what are planning to do about Mrs. Williams?”

  Jori smiled. “Do you know a beautician who could work a client in ASAP?”

  * * *

  An hour later, Sarah Williams was laughing and gossiping with the other clients in the Cut, Curl or Dye Boutique as if it were a weekly experience. She didn’t seem at all fazed by the fact it was a black salon.

  “I just love all the pretty things in here. I haven’t been inside a woman’s salon in ten years.”

  Leila, the salon owner and Maxine’s cousin, met Jori’s gaze in the mirror. “Then shame on you, Ms. Williams. You been going to a barber, haven’t you?”

  Sarah nodded. “I take Mike. After the children grew up I just naturally found myself sitting in a chair beside him. Besides, a woman’s salon is expensive and I don’t have time to fool with hair.”

  “You gave up too much. When I finish this cut I’m going to show you how a handful of mousse, the right lipstick, and some mascara makes you good to go.”

  “No makeup. No time for it.”

  “Uh-huh.” Leila just kept snipping, shaping Sarah’s mannish mullet into a softer feminine style.

  Five minutes later Sarah was blinking at herself in the mirror. “Is that me?”

  “It’s you. Only better.” Leila held up three items. “For dress you use the same rosy lipstick for your mouth and cheeks. Dab it on the apples just like I showed you. For every day you use clear gloss to keep your lips soft and dab a little on your lids to give you a bit of shine. Apply mascara. Thirty seconds and you’re good to go. It takes longer than that to pee. Now give me your cell phone so I can take a few photos for you to show one of those grocery store haircut places what the cut is supposed to look like.”

  “It’s a miracle.” Sarah kept staring at herself in Jori’s passenger-side mirror on the drive back to WWP.

  “You know,” Jori began conversationally. “There’s another way to think about Yuki. He’s not just there for Mike. He’s there for your peace of mind, too. You’ve got backup. Let Mike fuss with her, brush her, feed her, play with her. That gives you time to do other things while Yuki keeps tabs.”

  Sarah shrugged. “You really think it’s safe to trust a dog with all that?”

  “I could put you in touch with a couple of our other veterans’ wives. They would be able tell you more than I can.”

  Sarah touched the hair feathered out across her cheek. “I wouldn’t know what to do with spare time.”

  “Time you found out, maybe?” Jori chuckled. “But don’t get too relaxed. We can’t teach our dogs to cook a pot roast or tell a joke. And they’ll never replace a good woman.”

  As they rounded a corner, Sarah turned to gaze wistfully at the box store they were passing. “Seems a shame not have a new outfit to go with this haircut.”

  Forty-five minutes later they entered the WWP building. Kelli, Jake, and Mike were drinking coffee and chatting.

  “Well now, don’t you look pretty.” Mike came to his feet on his braces and crutches, a big grin on his face for his wife. “Sarah, you look like a bride.”

  “You’re overdoing it, Mike.” Sarah took a friendly swat at her husband’s arm. Her smile was as wide as sunshine.

  Kelli winked at Jori. “Why don’t you both come into my office for a moment?”

  Within ten minutes, the Williamses were on their way home, Yuki happily stashed in the backseat of their truck.

  Kelli came up to Jori. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. I just took a chance. And I know what you’re thinking. A little makeup and a decent haircut won’t make her life any easier.”

  Kelli grinned. “Then you for sure can’t read my mind. I was thinking you pulled off a miracle. You’ve got a knack for dealing with people. Sometimes that’s harder than working with the dogs. Good job.”

  Jori basked in the glow of Kelli’s praise all the way home.

  It wasn’t until she was alone that she allowed herself to even think of how lucky the Williamses were to have each other. Even with the burden of his disabilities.

  Ten days and not a single message or phone call from Battise.

  He’d warned her. But then he’d called and asked for her to come to Springdale.

  She’d seen the real Battise. The lawman who set his own welfare aside to serve and protect others. And the troubled man who wanted desperately to hide his weaknesses. Seeing all that had made her want so much to be with this flesh-and-blood imperfect man. The trouble was, he didn’t want to acknowledge that man.

  Too bad. She was very much afraid she had fallen for him. Even with the dents and rust and mileage, he was more of a man than any other she’d ever known. So it might be hard, maybe close to impossible to be with him. But she was going to make him let her try.

  “It beats the hell out of being alone.”

  She was going to give him time, until Christmas Day. By then she might just dress up like that Dutch-girl elf he’d so admired in Eureka Springs, and show up on his doorstep. What would be the worst that could happen?

  She knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t turn her away if she started undressing. After that, well, one step at a time.

  Argyle jumped up in her lap, purring and pawing, looking for the perfect spot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Law was humming along to Johnny Cash’s version of “I Won’t Back Down” on the radio as he turned off High Sky Inn Road onto the paved strip of road that led to his cabin. It was raining and the forecast promised sleet then snow as the day wore on. Right now there was little to see beyond fine mist blowing in the beams of his headlights. Though the sky had shifted from navy blue to sullen gray, the hollows in the winding road were still pitch black. He’d worked a night shift at his desk. But he didn’t mind. Two things had him smiling.

  One, he’d be taking his physical the following morning. After he passed it, he’d be fully reinstated and ready for active duty.

  Two, the morning’s headline news story was fresh in his mind.

  NORTHWEST ARKANSAS DRUG SWEEP ARRESTS DOZENS.

  Even as he started to go over in his thoughts the details of the earlier newscast, the radio station news came on.

  “The Central Arkansas Drug Task Force, assisted by other local, state, and federal agencies carrying warrants, arrested sixty-seven people in the early hours of this morning. Warrants were issued as part of a sweeping federal investigation into corruption and drug trafficking. Several additional people were arrested in Missouri and Oklahoma. The Arkansas arrests include four law enforcement officers who are accused of accepting bribes to watch over drug shipments crossing state lines. Further arrests are expected. The major surprise of the drug bust is Harold Tice, majority shareholder and CEO of Tice Industries. Mr. Tice, sequestered in his home, is expected to turn himself in at the courthouse later today. Three other men an
d a woman are still at large as of this newscast. Their names will be released at a task force news conference scheduled for eight a.m.”

  Law turned off the radio. So Faded Blue Eyes was telling him the truth. Too bad he couldn’t have been in on that.

  He glanced over at Samantha, dozing peacefully on the seat. Since the major meltdown in Eureka Springs, he’d been feeling stronger. The daytime flashbacks were all but gone. Even the night terrors had lessened in frequency and intensity. He supposed he had Sam’s diligence to let him know that was true. That didn’t mean the worse attacks were gone forever. No one could promise that. Still, he couldn’t very well go back on patrol with a doodle as backup. He had a decision to make.

  He’d given it some thought. He didn’t want another K-9 assignment. Something had changed with the loss of Scud. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d thought it was anger and grief and guilt making him reject the thought. It was those things. They didn’t, however, entirely explain the reason he didn’t want to have another K-9 partner. Something inside him just felt … different.

  Images of Jori kept him company when he did feel—what did she call it? The blue devils. A sissy name for what he dealt with but, strangely enough, the name helped. Several counselors he’d dealt with in the early days had suggested he visualize pleasant memories to counteract flashbacks. They’d never worked for him. Perhaps because he had so few. Until lately.

  Imagining himself lying next to Jori, naked and sated from making love, gave him peace of mind, and a hard-on. Oh well, nothing was perfect.

  He glanced at his cell as it vibrated. Jori. This would be her fifth call of the morning, after a week of asked-for silence. She probably wanted to talk about the news, and ask him about Tice.

  He didn’t have anything for her yet. Until he did, he wasn’t going to risk talking with her. It would be their final conversation. He wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t at all ready to let go of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  Still, he knew how to sacrifice for the greater good. That good, being her. He’d be a burden. She deserved better. He wanted her to have the best. That wasn’t him.