Page 8 of Beauty and the Beastmaster

Maybe he could ask Cindy. Then again, women seemed to stick together, like a tribe of some kind. He probably wouldn’t get anywhere with Cindy, or any of Gabi’s other friends.

At the corner, he stopped. “I’ll head home and get that dog food…”

Gabi spun on him. She looked a little bit maniacal. “No. Not yet. Maybe I can get Mia settled in her own bed, and dig out some of her favorite toys, and while I distract her you and Judge can sneak out. She’s a baby. She’ll forget all about this weird… whatever.”

He didn’t think so. “We can try.”

“That’s not at all encouraging,” she said, her voice tight as she forced a smile at Mia.

Her house was the second one past Mike Benedict’s place. The house in between was vacant, like so many homes in town. He was just old enough to remember when this had been a healthy and decently populated place to live. The houses on this street, and others, had been filled with families. Downtown Mystic Springs had been a busy place with few, if any, empty storefronts. Still a small town, but not like his. Too many Springers had moved on. The magic had begun to fade. Did that mean it was time to embrace the isolation so many had avoided to this point? Would that move save what was left of Mystic Springs?

Gabi and Mia lived in a red-brick single story house. Azalea bushes which had budded but not yet bloomed had been planted on either side of the front steps. The porch was too small for a rocking chair, was really not much more than a square of painted wood as a floor and a moderate overhang that might protect someone from the rain if it wasn’t coming in at an angle.

“I can come back,” he said.

Gabi tossed a sharp glance his way. “Don’t you dare.”

The rest of that thought was unfinished. Don’t you dare leave me alone with these two.

“If I can get her to sleep,” Gabi said, “you and Judge can sneak away. Mia doesn’t always sleep this late in the afternoon, but Cindy said she didn’t nap after lunch so it’s possible she’ll go down.”

Mia in her arms, Gabi walked toward the bedrooms. Judge followed. “No, no,” she said gently. “You stay with Silas. Go, Judge. Go to Silas.”

The bloodhound didn’t pay a bit of attention to the words, but stubbornly stuck by her side.

“Come on, dog, give me a break,” Gabi said.

Silas lowered himself to the sofa in the living room, which looked to be furnished with whatever had been left behind because it hadn’t been worth moving, along with a few mismatched pieces she’d probably picked up at the antique store. Junk store was more appropriate, but to each his own.

He said, “Judge,” once, and the bloodhound came to him. Silas not only saw the dog’s displeasure, he felt it. It was strong, stronger than it should’ve been. Unhappily, Judge settled at Silas’s feet.

Mia started to scream again. The sound carried through the small house. That noise was downright piercing; it distressed Judge, who was torn between his new friend and his alpha.

How could something so small make so much noise? Now and then, mostly disguised by the racket the kid was making, he heard shushing sounds from Gabi. Soothing words that did not soothe. Sighs. Maybe a curse word, or two.

In minutes, Gabi and Mia returned to the living room. As soon as they appeared, Judge relaxed.

“I can’t stand it,” Gabi said. “I can’t stand for her to be so miserable.”

She put Mia down with caution, making sure the kid was steady before letting go. The sniffling child shook off her distress, squealed in delight, and ran to Judge to plop down not beside the dog but on him. Little arms wrapped around Judge’s neck.

It took no special abilities to realize that these two were now content.

Gabi sat down in a chair across from Silas and kicked off her shoes. Feet tucked beneath her, she relaxed visibly. She was resigned, it seemed.

Mia rested her head on her new friend and slept. Judge lowered his head to the rug and closed his eyes, too. Yes, they were content. Silas felt their bond, it washed over him like a wave. If he wanted that kind of commitment, that kind of connection, he might be jealous.

He listened as best he could for another hint that the kid was a Springer. Another mine; a word of happiness; anything.

Nothing.

“It appears I’m the proud owner of a bloodhound,” Gabi said.

“It appears so.”

“I’ll need a list,” she said sensibly. “Dog food, what kind, how much, and how often. Are there any meds? Shots? Is Judge an inside dog or an outside dog? How old is he? Does he need to be, you know, fixed?”

Judge narrowly opened one eye and glanced up at Silas.