by Deb Kastner
“The whole thing. But I know we’re not ready for some of the obstacles yet.”
“Oscar is especially talented at jumping. Do you want to try sending him through that hoop over there?” She pointed in the direction of the obstacle, a vertical circle through which Oscar would leap.
“Awesome,” he said, walking Oscar toward the obstacle. “It looks just like a circus trick. How do I get him to do this one?”
“Same idea as before. Gesture and tell him hup. He knows what to do.”
“Oscar, hup,” Aaron urged, swinging his arm toward the circle.
This time, Oscar didn’t take a run at the obstacle, as many dogs would have had to do to get the height he needed. Two steps and then he stretched and effortlessly flew through the hoop, gracefully landing on the other side without so much as a single hair touching the equipment.
“Wow,” Aaron said, crouching beside his dog and giving him not one, but two pieces of liver treat. “Good boy, Oscar. That was incredible.”
Ruby beamed with gratitude. For once, Aaron wasn’t complaining about his froufrou dog. He actually looked thrilled.
“Are you ready for a real challenge today? Something even bigger than the agility course?” She decided she’d frame today’s encounter in as positive a light as possible.
“Always.” He stood up and met her gaze. “Whatcha got for me?”
“I thought it would be fun and relaxing for us to take a little hike into the Rocky Mountains. We’ve got many lovely trails in the area that are absolutely beautiful—lofty trees, colorful wildflowers, babbling streams. Some of my favorite trailheads even start right here next to Winslow’s Woodlands.”
In truth, Ruby knew perfectly well it wasn’t going to be a relaxing day, especially with a marine who expected so much out of himself physically. Aaron didn’t know it yet, but hiking was going to require all the new skills he’d been learning with Oscar and then some. But Ruby didn’t want to start out on a sour note, so she didn’t mention that part.
She slipped on a backpack filled with water, snacks, medical supplies and typical hiking paraphernalia and adjusted the straps to fit her small frame.
“Where’s mine?” he asked, frowning again. Always frowning about something. Sometimes Ruby wanted to take him by his broad shoulders and shake him just to get a smile out of him.
“Your...?”
“Backpack.”
She raised her brows. “Oh, we don’t need two. This is a relatively simple half-day hike, and I’ve got everything we need in this one pack. I want you to focus on working with Oscar unencumbered. You’ll be doing a lot of new things today.”
His expression hardened, and there he was again, the tough, stubborn marine with whom Ruby would just as soon not have to deal.
“Look, Ruby, I’ve spent the last however many years of my life toting backpacks way heavier than whatever you’ve got in there. I used to wear one everywhere, even in the hottest climates. Everything I did, I did with seventy-five pounds of gear on my back. I promise you I can take it.”
Ruby sighed. “It’s not about taking it, Aaron. And I have no doubt you’re perfectly capable of carrying a backpack no matter how heavy it is.”
A heavy backpack was exactly what he didn’t need right now with his balance problems. Why wouldn’t he just admit to the truth?
Probably because he hadn’t yet accepted the truth. And somehow, within the next three weeks, Ruby was going to have to get Aaron over that mountain, which was much higher than the one they’d be facing today.
Ruby sighed. “It’s just not necessary right now. Don’t fight me on this. I need you to fully concentrate on working with Oscar.”
“I’m not moving one inch until I have that pack on my back,” he insisted, locking his gaze with hers. His brown eyes were almost black, matching his mood.
Stubborn man!
She paused, trying to think of another way to talk him out of it, but in the end, she couldn’t think of any other reason for her to keep the backpack than those she’d already mentioned. Clearly, she hadn’t convinced him.
And she supposed he was right. As a marine in Afghanistan, he would have been toting a much heavier pack around as he completed his missions. This little thing couldn’t weigh more than fifteen pounds and was nothing compared to that.
She loosened the shoulder straps and dropped the pack to the earth.
“Fine. You want it so bad, it’s yours.” Frustration seethed from her tone, but he didn’t appear to notice.
He jerked his chin in a brief nod and picked up the pack, quickly adjusting the shoulder straps to match his much larger frame. “Good. Now, point the way to the trailhead and let’s be off.”
A few minutes later, they were hiking along a trail barely wide enough to fit two people side by side along with their dogs. Ruby had purposefully selected this intermediate trail because it had some incline, which was important to the lesson she intended to teach today. She also liked it because of known obstacles—tree roots, small streams to ford, loose stones and the occasional fallen tree over which to crawl.
It was agility for humans—or perhaps vaguely similar to a marine boot camp obstacle course—and it was physical therapy for Aaron. Despite his balance issues, he shot ahead with his long strides and then turned around to face her, grinning, his breath coming in quick gasps and sweat beading on his forehead.
It was nice to see him smile. She’d suspected he would enjoy being out in nature, but he looked like a different man. His scruffy face appeared fresh, and his eyes glowed with pleasure. A cluster of butterflies burst from her stomach, and she had to swallow hard to push back the emotions flooding her.
The fresh air and enjoying God’s creation were working as she’d hoped they would, but Ruby knew the most difficult part of the hike was yet to come.
Before they finished for the day, Aaron would have to make use of Oscar whether he wanted to or not, and she wasn’t at all sure how that was going to go.
* * *
This was more like it—treading down a dirt path carved into majestic Colorado mountains and breathing in the sights and sounds. It was impossible not to believe in God when he viewed meadows of colorful wildflowers and burbling streams, heard birdsong and watched a red-tailed hawk soaring in the breeze.
They stopped to admire a hidden waterfall they’d found, and Ruby pulled well-stacked hoagie sandwiches out of the backpack.
“I always get hungry when I hike,” she said, passing him a sandwich and a bottle of water. “Something about the fresh air, I think. I feel as if I could walk on forever when I’m out here on the trails.”
“Me, too,” he agreed, biting into his sandwich. He was worried, however, that what he’d agreed to wasn’t completely true. While he was definitely enjoying the scenery and the mountain hike, he was starting to feel it in his limbs and lungs. He had to consciously think about his balance in order to stay upright and not drag his left leg.
Anger flooded through him, and he turned to look out at the waterfall so Ruby wouldn’t see his expression. It wasn’t her fault he was half a man who couldn’t even handle a simple day hike. What had the war turned him into?
A weakling?
No way was he going to let Ruby know how he was feeling. She was so full of joy she looked as if she were about to lift off and fly through the rest of the hike like that hawk soaring above them. Her enthusiastic smile was contagious, and he tried to grasp on to that feeling.
He’d been trained to make it without showing emotion. He’d done it before and he would do so now, no matter what it took on his end. It was all about self-discipline. She’d given him a gift today. The cool breeze and fresh mountain air were so much better than any of the long, tortuous marches in baking heat he’d endured in the past.
He could do this.
But when they finished their sandwiches and started
hiking again, they turned a corner, and he was suddenly faced with a fairly steep incline—one he wasn’t certain he could conquer. Oh, he’d vanquished much tougher situations, but that was before his accident, and he hadn’t been with Ruby then.
What if he couldn’t handle the incline? He’d be humiliated beyond measure if his lack of balance sent him woozily to the ground or if he had to back off because the trail was too steep.
He pressed his fingers to his eyes, concentrating. As he’d learned in boot camp, beating whatever obstacles that were in front of him was as much or more about his mind as it was his body. He needed to pull himself together and conquer this mountain.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
“It looks steep, right?” Ruby asked, pressing one fist to the small of her back and making no move to start up the mountain.
“Yes, ma’am.” He refused to say more than that, afraid he would give himself away if he kept speaking.
“It is. And I brought you here on purpose. This is where Oscar is going to step in and make your life easier.”
Oscar?
“And how’s he going to do that, exactly?” he muttered as heat filled his face. As if a dog was going to help him climb this mountain. What was Oscar going to do, drag him forward? He was going to be so glad when these four weeks were over and he could go hide out in his small apartment in the suburbs of Kansas City. If he could give Oscar back to Ruby without messing up her opportunity for the military contract and hurting Ruby’s feelings, he would. He really didn’t need the poodle, though he knew Ruby would never agree.
“He’ll lend you extra forward motion and help you with your balance.”
Ruby paused and he gritted his teeth and waited for her to continue.
“Aaron?”
“What?” He realized only after he’d spoken that he’d barked back at her. “Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, but he doubted Ruby could hear him.
“If I can feel your anxiety, Oscar definitely can.”
“I’m not anxious.”
“I can clearly see you’re a big ball of nerves right now. Your muscles are so tight I doubt you would be able to turn your head. You can either keep telling yourself you’re not anxious or we can conquer this mountain together.”
Together.
How she put up with his nonsense was beyond him. There was a good reason he was a loner. Most people would have written him off, if not the day she’d met him then definitely now, with the kind of attitude he’d displayed in the last ten minutes.
But not Ruby.
She was willing to keep reaching out her hand to the dog who bit her—and he wasn’t talking about any of the service dogs in her program.
“Okay,” he finally agreed. “How, exactly, is Oscar supposed to help me?”
“It’s going to be easier for you to experience what I’m talking about than for me to try to explain what I mean. Grab the handle of his vest and start hiking up the hill. Don’t worry about how fast you’re going. Oscar will adjust to your stride.”
“Fine.” He slipped his fist into the handle on Oscar’s leather vest and strode as fast as he could up the mountain at about the pace he’d done when he was in marine training.
It only took a couple of minutes for him to discover what Ruby was talking about. He hated to admit it, but Oscar was helping him with continued forward momentum, and there were a couple of times he was glad the poodle was with him when his balance went wonky. He probably would have fallen down had Oscar not been there.
“What do you think?” she asked when they stopped for a break.
At first, he considered pretending he didn’t understand what she was asking, but he knew perfectly well her beautiful blue eyes had missed nothing. She’d seen him pause. She’d probably seen the times he’d leaned on Oscar to regain his balance and for support on more than one occasion. She’d heard his breathing increase along with the incline. She’d no doubt watched him stumble and nearly fall if it weren’t for the dog by his side bolstering him up.
“I have to admit Oscar is useful on a hike,” he finally said, clenching his jaw as humiliation washed over him.
“That’s it? That’s all I get?”
“Yep.” If she was expecting a long, drawn-out monologue on the benefits of a service dog, she was waiting on the wrong guy.
He didn’t want to talk about it.
Nor did he want to think about what he’d become, that he needed a dog for a simple mountain hike.
She studied him for a minute before a radiant smile graced her face. “Okay. I’ll take it.”
And then she hiked off ahead of him without another word.
Chapter Six
It was Saturday, and Ruby’s weekend was full, as it always was. She tended to ignore household chores during the week while she was training her dogs and their new handlers. Then she’d make up for it on Saturday. Sunday was busy with church and spending time with her family.
She and several of her siblings still lived in the large Winslow cabin so they could split duties in caring for her grandfather. Today it was her turn to tidy up the house—sweep and mop the hardwood floors, dust the furniture and give the kitchen a good, thorough cleaning. Everyone was responsible for cleaning their own bathrooms. Since both Winslow’s Woodlands and A New Leash on Love were located on the Winslows’ properties, there were still four adult children living at home—Ruby, both her brothers Sharpe and Frost, and her sister Felicity—along with their aging grandfather, whom they all took care of. This may have appeared odd to some, but they’d always been a close family, and for right now, at least, it worked for them.
Her other two sisters, Molly and Avery, had flown the nest when they’d married, each pursuing their own dreams with their new life partners and their families. Ruby now had two nephews and one niece whom she fiercely loved. After Daniel had come home so troubled and their relationship had fallen apart, she’d been more than a little gun-shy when it came to trust issues. Ruby had always assumed she’d find her person and leave the nest at some point, but it wasn’t as if a line of potentially perfect life partners were queuing on her doorstep.
Not that she believed in long lines of prospectives, anyway. She was one of those hopeless romantics who believed in one true love, a man she would immediately recognize as God’s gift to her—which was probably why she was going to end up a lonely old spinster, an elderly cat lady—although at present she didn’t have any cats.
Elderly dog lady?
That could happen.
She chuckled at the thought as she swept and mopped the hardwood floor in the family room, singing and dancing like Snow White as she worked. She was way too busy trying to figure out how she was going to get one particularly stubborn marine to the finish line to worry about romance. Love would have to stay on the back burner for now.
Even though Aaron was clearly trying harder to succeed in the challenges with which she presented him, he still balked at having to use Oscar the poodle, especially on those days when she brought Tugger along. How many times could the man complain about a froufrou dog before it became nothing more than an annoyance?
Get over it already.
And that was nothing to say of his utter unwillingness to admit to his weaknesses. Most of her clients started there so they could immediately move forward rather than being stuck at the starting line. They didn’t depend on Ruby to prove anything to them but were perfectly aware of why they’d sought her help in the first place. They were looking for the assistance Ruby knew she, her dogs and her program could provide.
And then there was Aaron...
She sighed. This was the weekend—her two days off to catch up with her chores and possibly find a little time to relax. So why couldn’t she get Aaron off her mind?
She finished mopping and scrubbed the kitchen counters with extra vigor until everything s
hined, but she still felt restless. Maybe relaxing out on the back porch with a cup of coffee and a good book would help.
Or not.
After reading the same paragraph over and over for fifteen minutes, she scoffed and shook her head, slamming the book closed.
There was no getting out of it. She was going to have to go over to the bed-and-breakfast and put herself out of her misery—since Aaron was the direct cause of her misery.
As if that made any sense.
Deciding to walk to negate some of the energy charging through her, she put a vest and lead on Tugger, who enjoyed hiking almost as much as he enjoyed loving on people. It was a mild, cloudy day for August, and she relished the fresh air and exercise.
When she reached the B and B, she thumped up the stairs two at a time. Avery’s gregarious Texan husband, Jake Cutter, opened the door for her before she could even so much as reach out a hand to knock. In his free arm, he held nine-month-old baby Felix, who pumped his arms and legs in excitement and babbled cheerfully at Ruby.
“Well, hey there, Ruby. Nice day for a walk,” Jake said in his Texas accent and offered her a toothy grin.
“Hi, Jake. Hey, Felix, you chubby-cheeked sweetheart,” she said, reaching out a finger for the baby to clasp. He promptly pulled it into his mouth, and both Ruby and Jake laughed.
Now that Ruby was here, she wasn’t at all sure she should have come. It wasn’t just her weekend she was exploding by this interruption—it was Aaron’s time off, as well. He deserved a couple of days a week when she wasn’t hovering over him, barking out commands, didn’t he?
“You’re here for your marine?” Jake guessed, his eyes twinkling suggestively.
“He’s not my marine,” she said, scoffing at Jake and wishing he wouldn’t look at her as if there was something going on between her and Aaron. “I don’t really know why I’ve come. This was probably a bad idea. I don’t want to bother him on his day off.”
Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Bother him? Yeah, no. I don’t think so. He’s in the kitchen, in case you’re interested.”
