Chapter Ten
Easy Prey
The minute Judge Greene walked through the clinic door with Julius, I tightened my grip on the edge of the reception desk. Dozens of bright white quills covered the dog’s face and head.
‘I swear to you, Dani, I’ve trained Julius better.
The ol’ boy caught the scent in the woods and took off before I could get to him.
When I heard the growl, the yelp, I knew it was bad.
’ His lips pinched together like he didn’t appreciate Bryce being a witness to his dog’s predicament.
‘Eric’s in New Orleans working at a Broncos game.
He’s not gonna be happy with me when he finds out this happened. Again.’
Poor Julius cowered at the judge’s feet. ‘Buddy, this is the third time this year. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?’
Julius let out a whimper in response. His tail whipped around and hit me in the legs, and a zap of dizzying heat shot through my bones, the shock of it making me stumble. Bryce’s hands flew out toward me, but I shook him off.
‘You know the drill. I’ll need to sedate Julius because this will be painful. Bring him back and we’ll get started,’ I said to the judge.
Once inside the main exam room, I turned to the cabinets above the sink and pulled out the supplies I needed for sedation, as well as drugs for pain management. I ordered the judge and Bryce to heft the dog onto the table. I shaved down the fur on Julius’s front right paw and inserted the IV line.
Bryce’s gaze stayed on me the whole time. Clocking me as I ran my hand over Julius’s back to see if the porcupine had struck any other place on his body besides his muzzle.
As soon as Julius was out, I said, ‘Judge, you helping? The more hands on deck, the quicker Julius will be pain-free.’
‘I, uh, think I’ll wait outside. Where’s Flora? She’s always a good companion.’
‘She’s up in my apartment with Bryce’s dog.’
‘Oh? What kind of dog do you have?’
‘Chocolate Lab.’
‘That’s a great breed. Had one growing up as a kid.’ For a moment the judge paused, his eyes going watery at the state of an unconscious Julius, before he shuffled out the door.
‘He comes off as a gruff old guy, but he’s a total softie, right?’ Bryce said.
‘Last time this happened, it was at one a.m. I forced the judge and his husband, Eric, to work beside me, because I didn’t have the heart to wake up my vet tech. The judge had a hard time getting through it. He really loves Julius.’
‘Even more of a reason to get this dog well. Where do we start?’ he asked steadily.
‘We need to wash our hands first, and then I’ll show you what to do.’
After we finished at the sink, I set out a clean surgical towel along with a set of needle-nose pliers, a few hemostats and two surgical basins filled with water. Bryce took the sterile gloves I offered, and I put on my own.
‘The tiny barbs on the shafts of the quills cause them to migrate inward and deeper into the tissues.’ I pointed to one of the needle-like tips.
‘You need to grip the quill close to the skin.’ I demonstrated on one lodged next to Julius’s nose.
‘Pull with slow and steady pressure to avoid breaking it.’
Once I had the first quill out, I dropped it into one of the kidney-shaped basins. Bryce grabbed a pair of pliers and went to work. We pulled and tugged in silence for a few minutes until he let out a pained yelp.
‘Son of a bitch.’ He shook out his hand. ‘Those damn things hurt.’
‘Oh, I forgot to mention. Try not to touch them.’
He arched a brow like my late reminder was payback for his lying, which I had to admit was not my intention, but a good payoff.
‘I didn’t realize porcupines were so vicious.’
‘They’re not.’ I handed him another glove.
Motioned for him to swap it with his punctured one.
‘This’ – I waved at the array of quills in Julius’s mouth – ‘is how porcupines defend themselves. Imagine being a small animal. Easy prey. You’re minding your own business when an interloper, who is all kinds of intimidating, enters your territory without any kind of warning.
Your first reaction is to protect and defend yourself. ’
He tugged out another quill. ‘Why do I think we are not talking about porcupines anymore?’
I ignored his comment and flipped up Julius’s tender lip. Five more quills were embedded in the soft tissue.
This dog. Hadn’t he learned that trying to bite the damn thing only inflicted more pain?
I grabbed a hemostat and focused on the job at hand.
Bryce paid attention to the area on Julius’s cheeks.
Every few minutes, his gaze slid in my direction.
A twitch of a smile lifted the corner of his mouth like he was admiring my technique and wanted to impress me with his own progress.
We went back to working in silence, the basins turning red as we added more bloody quills.
‘Do you consider this work your life’s purpose?’ he asked, trying to pull out a particularly tough quill near Julius’s right ear.
‘That’s an oddly intense question.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m trying to make conversation without you thinking I’m pumping you for info about the town.’
I went back to nudging out the quills, cautiously probing Julius’s mouth with my finger to make sure I didn’t miss one.
If all the quills weren’t removed they could do a lot of damage.
Migrate down through the throat, stomach, or intestinal tract, causing problems for the dog later on.
Julius was part of the first litter of puppies I’d helped deliver.
I’d be heartbroken if I hadn’t been thorough, and he got sick later on.
‘The animals in this community are considered family. It’s an honor when a neighbor brings their pet to me and asks that I care for them.’
His gaze softened the same way it had before he slid his hand behind my neck and pulled me into that unforgettable kiss. The memory of his low moan lit up parts of my body that hadn’t been touched in way too long.
‘Do you only work on domestic animals?’
His question snapped me out of my thoughts. Reminded me what a bad idea that kiss had been.
‘In a small, rural area like Harvest Moon, I’m the only vet for fifty square miles. That covers a lot of agricultural and farmland. I help with calving if a cow is having a birthing issue. Float horses’ teeth. Even castrate bulls when needed.’
He casually crossed one leg over the other, and I bit back a laugh.
‘Do you consider your job, your writing, to be your life’s work?’
He grimaced as he coaxed out another quill. ‘When I started working for small newspapers after college, I thought so. In the last couple of years, though, my commitment has wavered.’
‘Why?’
He rubbed the top of his wrist over his mouth like he needed a moment to consider how to answer.
‘I had two professors in college who wrote for several high-profile newspapers. One was embedded with a marine squad during the first Desert Storm. The other one worked for years out of the Washington, DC bureau, covering a variety of presidents. Much of their curriculum centered on ethics. What was considered the core of good reporting. How your own personal bias had to be left at the door when you’re telling a story.
I loved the idea of getting at the facts.
Laying the truth out for readers and letting them decide how to feel.
’ His jaw went tight. ‘Sadly, it’s not like that anymore. ’
Julius let out a small whine, and I worried the anesthesia may be wearing off. I moved to the counter, filled another syringe, and gave him a small top-off.
‘How has it changed?’ I said, going back to work on the rest of the quills embedded in Julius’s muzzle.
‘It’s all about clicks and likes now. The more shocking the headline the better.’ He plucked out another quill near Julius’s right eye. ‘There used to be a joke in newsrooms that “if it bleeds, it leads.”’
He blew out an agitated breath. ‘Facts don’t matter anymore.
Biases too often inform what is said, not only in print, but on air, too.
Now if you’re a hack on a cable news network, and you’re looking to make a quick buck, you write a scathing tell-all about a beloved president,’ he fumed.
‘It’s frustrating for those of us who are still dedicated to the ethics of journalism. ’
He shifted his forceps higher up to pull more quills from poor Julius’s forehead. ‘And don’t get me started on the billionaires buying up reputable media and then using it as their own moral and political platforms.’
‘Tell me how you really feel, Bryce,’ I said, trying to get him to take a breath.
The bitter laugh that slipped out of him was surprising. ‘That was a lot. I’m sure the last thing you wanted was a lecture about the demise of modern journalism.’
‘Honestly? I like hearing about what you do. What your beliefs are.’
Another smile curled up the corners of his lips. I didn’t want this with him. The easy banter. How the conversation felt too real and raw. Too much like the exchanges I’d had with Max.
I stayed quiet while we worked for another few minutes, making good progress with Julius, whose poor face would be swollen for days.
‘We’ve danced around the story you’re writing about Harvest Moon.’ I sighed. ‘Should we talk about it? Because it feels like the elephant in the room.’
‘Ask me anything you want.’
‘You didn’t answer my question up on the point. Why this town? It’s not your usual kind of story.’
‘So we’re back to that, are we?’
‘Like I said, enemies closer and all that.’
He pointed the pliers in my direction. ‘That is something I’m going to change. Mark my words.’
‘Stop tap-dancing. Why take an assignment about a sleepy Colorado town when you’re used to reporting on war-torn countries? Places facing a hunger crisis?’ I went back to pulling more quills as I added, ‘Does this have anything to do with your article in the LA Sentinel last May?’
‘Fucking Google,’ he said under his breath.
‘It is the first result that pops up for your name. Did that movie studio really sue you for ten million dollars?’