Page 4 of Fairest of Heart

“He came out from behind the woodpile, growlin’ at me. What was I supposed to do? Just let him attack?”

“The critter’s still breathin’,” Hoffman said, his tone thick with disapproval. “Wasn’t sure if I should put him down. Thought you oughta take a look first.”

Ever since Titus had brought a mutt to headquarters and nursed him back to health after finding him half-starved during a scouting mission, the Rangers of Company B treated Titus like some kind of animal expert. Seeking his opinion on everything from horse ailments to cat conniptions. One fella even asked for advice on fowl feed after getting a letter from his mother bemoaning the fact that her favorite laying hen had stopped producing. Titus really didn’t know more than the average rancher or farmer, but he’d always had an affinity for God’s creatures, and they seemed to sense that about him, finding peace in his presence, just as he did in theirs. And now one of those creatures might be dying thanks to a situation he’d orchestrated.

Titus rushed through the house and out the back door. He spotted the fallen dog immediately, its black fur dark against the dusty brown earth. Not wanting to frighten him, Titus slowed his step and circled around to the front, so the animal could see him coming. Its ribcage rose and fell in ragged, shallow pants.

“Easy, boy.” Titus held out his palm as he approached.

The dog tried to lift his head, but barely managed to elevate his snout. His glossy black eyes radiated pain and confusion, tearing a hole in Titus’s heart.

He crouched beside the dog and gently stroked a floppy ear. Light brown fur marked the nose, chest, and belly, reminding Titus of a black-and-tan coonhound, though he was likely a mixed breed.

“It’s all right, boy. I’m here to help.” He ran his hand over the dog’s neck and down its side. A soft whine sounded when his hand skimmed over the dog’s left front leg. Moving carefully, Titus slipped his hand around to the dog’s underside and felt the warm wetness of blood.

Titus didn’t know much about canine anatomy, but he figured he could treat him like he would a human and at least give the dog a chance to pull through. He rolled the dog onto his back to expose his belly, then Titus pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and pressed it against the hole where Carson’s bullet had entered.

Movement flashed above him, and Titus discovered a red bandanna dangling above his head, Hoffman on the other end.

“Here.”

Titus accepted it with a nod, then glanced over at Percy Buchanan, who stood scowling at Hoffman’s side. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“Ain’t our dog. Just some stray Ted’s been feedin’ since we came here.”

Titus turned back to his patient. “No one looking after you, huh, boy? Well, that’s about to change. You got me now. I’ll see to it you get patched up. You just gotta hang in there for a bit.”

He twirled the bandanna into a rope, placed it over the handkerchief, then wrapped it up and over the dog’s back and tied it off.

“Easy now,” he coaxed as he scooped the dog into his arms and pushed to his feet.

The small pool of blood that remained behind didn’t bode well for the dog’s chances, but his chances would be zero if Titus didn’t try.

“Where you gonna take him?” Hoffman slung the confiscated gunnysack over his shoulder and reached out a hand to pat the dog on the head. “Ain’t no doc in Walnut Springs, and I doubt he’ll make it much farther.”

“I know a place. ’Bout ten miles north of here.” He leveled his gaze at Hoffman. “I’ll need you to take charge of the Buchanans for me, though. Get them to the sheriff in Meridian.”

“Consider it done. I’ll keep an eye on Carson, too. Make sure Ted gets to a doctor.”

“Thanks.” Titus strode toward his horse. “Tell Captain Bill I’ll report to headquarters in a day or two. He can dock my pay for the missed time if needed.”

Hoffman ambled along at his side, dragging Percy with him. “If docking is needed, it’ll come from Carson’s pay, not yours,” the Ranger grumbled.

As they approached the horses, Carson looked up from where he’d been digging around in Titus’s saddlebag for bandages. He scowled at the load Titus carried.

“You oughta just put the thing out of its misery and leave it be. We’re commissioned to uphold the law and protect the citizens of this state from theft and violence. Animals ain’t our jurisdiction.”

Titus leveled a glare at him. “I think the good Lord might disagree. I seem to recall him giving man dominion over the beasts at creation. That puts them under our protection. And I aim to protect this one as best as I am able.” The last pup Titus had rescued was living out his days on the Kingsley family farm, chasing rabbits and coons to his heart’s content. This one deserved the same chance, but it was gonna take more than food and a bath to set this fella to rights. “Step aside, Carson. I got a man to see about a dog.”

Hoffman held out his arms. “I’ll hold him while you mount.”

In a matter of minutes, Titus was settled in the saddle with his patient draped across his lap.

“Hang in there, boy.” Titus wrapped an arm around the dog’s body as he nudged his mount into a slow canter. “Doc will fix you up.”

If they got to the Diamond D in time.

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