Chapter Fourteen
The heavenly silence in the kitchen this morning was a welcome reprieve from the loud hum of the generator most of last night.
Though Josh did need to thank whatever power company had blown the grid long enough for him to be able to walk hand in hand with Katie in search of the panel box.
It was absolutely ludicrous how completely at peace and at home he felt with her hand in his.
The warmth, the smallness enfolded in his large palm, the rhythmic sway of their arms with each step.
He couldn’t remember feeling so… good, so right, about… everything.
Leaning against the counter, Josh pulled out his cell phone.
Alice and Clint had taken the truck into town early to pick up some much needed supplies.
Maybe the tendency for all things ranch and all things military to start so blasted early in the morning was why being here had come so much more easily than he’d expected.
From the corner of his eye he spotted Katie coming down the stairs.
Then again, maybe early morning ranch life had nothing to do with his good mood.
“Hey man, what’s up?” Kade’s voice dragged his attention away from his love life, or potential love life, and back to the matter at hand.
In only a few minutes, he’d brought his buddy up to speed on yesterday’s events at the pharmacy.
“I’m telling you, Kade, he didn’t even flinch.
Luke had his arms wrapped around that dog’s neck for so long I lost track of time.
The kid was rocking and squeezing him tight. Raider just laid there and took it.”
On the other end of the line, Kade let out a low whistle. “That’s the restraint test, Josh. Most military working dogs fail that one because they see being held down as a threat. If he cleared that with a stranger—and a stressed-out kid at that—he’s already ahead of the curve.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Josh straightened, testing his balance. Solid. No spin. “So, what’s next? If I want to prove to whoever matters that he’s therapy dog material, what do I need to determine?”
“Therapy dogs isn’t my specialty, but there are some basics that you should check.
First, recovery from startle. Drop a metal pan behind him.
See if he recovers or goes into defense mode.
And obedience transfer. He listens to you, and he listens to me, but a therapy dog has to listen to the handler in charge, even if that person changes. ”
“Got it.”
“Most important is to stay aware of him. He may have been great with Luke yesterday, but he’s trained to bite bad guys. Don’t set him up to fail.”
“I won’t.”
The floorboards creaked and Josh turned to find Katie stepping into the kitchen. Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, her hair pulled back in that messy ponytail, she somehow managed to look better than any woman he’d ever seen.
She smiled, pointing to the coffee pot.
“I’ve got to run, Kade.” Josh watched her pour two mugs. “I’ll call back later to keep you posted.”
“Roger that. Stay safe.”
Katie turned, extending a mug. “Black.”
“Thanks.” He smiled. Their fingers brushed briefly, reminding him once again of how right it felt last night in the dark. “That was Kade. I was picking his brain about Raider.”
“Does he agree with us about therapy work?”
“Could be.” Josh set the mug down on the counter. “Kade gave me a list of how to test his suitability for the job. We’ve already unintentionally done the hug test with Luke.”
Katie sipped her coffee, looking over the rim, and nodded.
“The testing is a two man job. Care to help me run him through his paces?”
Setting her mug down beside his, a smile bloomed. “I’d love to.”
Ten minutes later, they were out on the flat stretch of grass between the house and the barn.
He clipped a long lead onto Raider’s collar.
The dog stood instantly, shaking off his nap, his posture shifting from pet to soldier the moment the leash clicked.
“Okay,” Josh handed her the end of the leather lead, “take him.”
Katie reached out, grabbing the strap loosely in her fist.
“Not like that.” Josh moved behind her. “If he takes off, he’ll pull that right out of your grip.”
Determination etched on her face, she nodded.
He stepped in close. Reaching around her, he covered her hands with his own.
Swallowing hard, he forced himself to focus despite the hint of vanilla in her hair.
“Loop your thumb here.” He guided her fingers, feeling a slight hitch in her breath beneath his hands—or maybe that was his own. “Keep your arm relaxed but ready.”
“Like this?” she whispered, leaning back slightly against his chest.
“Perfect.” Josh forced himself to release her hands and take a much needed step back. “Now, stand tall. Shoulders back. Dogs read body language. Tell him heel and walk toward the fence. Low voice. Firm.”
Katie squared her shoulders. “Raider, heel.”
To Josh’s pride—and relief—Raider looked up at Katie, fell into step beside her and walked with a perfect, rhythmic gait.
“Look at that,” Josh called out, watching them move away. “He’s listening to you.”
Katie beamed. Turning her head to smile at him over her shoulder, she gave him a thumbs up with her free hand.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Josh jogged lightly to catch up. “Next test may be more of a challenge. The startle.”
“The startle. Do I want to know what that entails?” Her tone was half-teasing, half-concern and as adorable as all get out.
At the water trough he picked up an empty metal feed bucket. “Walk him away from me. When I drop this, don’t react. Just keep walking like the noise is no big deal. We’ll see if he can ignore a falling tray in a hospital or if he’ll respond to a threat in fight mode.”
Katie nodded, her gaze focused and intense. “Raider, heel.”
Josh waited a few moments, then tossed the metal bucket against the trough with a loud CLANG. In the quiet pasture the sound, as intended, was jarring. Raider spun around, ears pinned back, his body tense. Josh held his breath.
Katie slowed. She didn’t yank the leash. She just looked down at the dog, her voice calm and steady. “It’s okay, Raider.”
Raider stared in the direction of the noise for one second, two. Then his ears relaxed and he looked up at Katie, waiting for direction.
“Yes.” Josh punched the air.
Grinning wild and bright, Katie turned, dropped the leash, ran toward Josh, and reached out to high-five him. Their hands met with a solid smack, but instead of pulling away, Josh caught her hand.
He interlaced their fingers.
“We did it,” she nearly whispered, her face flushed from the excitement or his touch, but he had no clue which.
The warmth of Josh’s hand encompassing hers sent a sharp jolt of awareness straight to Katie’s toes. For a suspended moment, with heat warming her cheeks, she forgot about the training, the furlough, and the fact that Josh held her hand to celebrate a dog not attacking a bucket.
Apparently feeling left out of the team huddle, Raider nudged his weight against them, breaking the spell.
Josh chuckled and slowly—to her chagrin—released her fingers. “Okay. Valid point, Raider. We aren’t done yet.”
“What’s next?” Katie tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to give her hand something to do besides snatch his back.
“The crowding test.” Josh clipped the leash back onto Raider’s collar.
“Kade calls it the ‘Clumsy Stranger.’ A therapy dog has to be bombproof. People in hospitals or nursing homes move unpredictably. They shuffle, they trip, they drop things, and they encroach on personal space. Raider has to hold his sit-stay no matter what.”
“And I’m the clumsy stranger?”
“You’re the actress.” Josh’s eyes twinkled. “I need you to walk past him, but not in a straight line. Weave a little. Bump his shoulder with your leg. Maybe stumble toward him. We need to make sure he doesn’t interpret that physical contact as an attack.”
“So, basically walk like I’ve had too much of the punch at the Sweet family Christmas party?”
“Exactly.”
Josh reset the dog. “Raider, sit. Stay.”
The dog dropped his haunches, his gaze locked on Josh. The intensity of the animal straddled something between terrifying and beautiful. She just hoped beautiful won out when she bumped him.
“Action,” Josh called out.
Exaggerating her walk, she felt utterly ridiculous. Drifting aimlessly to the left and then correcting sharply to the right, she headed straight for the dog. Katie let her hip check the dog’s shoulder as she stumbled past. It wasn’t a hard hit, but enough to knock a smaller dog off balance.
Raider shifted his weight to absorb the bump, let out a huff of air, and looked up at Katie with an expression that clearly read, What the heck? But he didn’t growl. He didn’t break his sit.
“Good boy.” Josh praised, tossing a treat. He looked at Katie. “Again. This time come at him from the front.”
They ran the drill three more times. Katie stomped, swayed, and invaded the dog’s personal bubble. Every time, Raider held his ground, looking to Josh for reassurance and receiving it.
Watching Josh work was a revelation. In the kitchen, he was soft—gentle smiles and quiet conversation.
Out here, in handler mode, he was different.
His shoulders were squared, his voice dropped an octave, commanding but never harsh.
He moved with an efficiency that made her realize just how much effort he must have been putting into simply walking straight for the last two weeks.
“He’s solid,” Josh declared, scrubbing Raider’s neck with affection. “I think Kade is going to be surprised.”
“I think you are the one surprising people.” Katie walked over to join them.
Josh looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “How so?”
“Look at you.” She gestured to him. “You’ve been out here spinning, bending down, handling a powerhouse dog, and you haven’t reached for a fence post once.”
Josh paused. He looked down at his feet, then back at her, a realization dawning on his face. “I guess I haven’t.”
“You’re getting your sea legs back, soldier.”
“Maybe I just have a good spotter,” he countered, his gaze holding hers.
“Okay, flattery will get you everywhere.” She laughed, turning toward the house. “But I think this is more than enough for one day.”
“Agreed. Let’s head in.”
They started the trek back across the pasture. The ground here was rougher than the manicured lawn near the house—clumps of crabgrass, and uneven ruts from the ranch vehicles and cattle.
“So now what?” Katie asked.
“Now that we have power again, I’ll do a search on what steps are required for a therapy dog.”
“I wonder if Sara Sue would know?”
Josh bobbed his head. “I should have thought of that.”
“I’m sure you would have.” Paying more attention to the strong gait of the man and his dog—because whether he knew it or not, Raider was now his dog—the toe of her boot caught the lip of a dry rut.
It happened fast. One second she was walking, the next gravity took over.
Her ankle rolled, and she pitched forward with a sharp gasp.
“Whoa!” Josh’s voice was deep and low and before she could hit the dirt, a steel band clamped around her waist. Josh caught her, hauling her upright, pulling her flush against his chest to steady her.
Katie’s hands flew up, landing on his biceps. The muscle beneath her palms was rock hard. She waited for the sway. She expected him to stumble, for the sudden movement to trigger his dizziness. But he didn’t move. He was rooted to the spot, holding her weight and his own without a tremor.
His face was inches from hers, his eyes dark and intense. He didn’t let go. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she muttered. “You seem to be doing better yourself, I, on the other hand, think I failed the walking test.”
“I think you passed the trust test.”
He held her for a beat longer than necessary, the air between them charged. For a fraction of a second she thought maybe—hoped maybe—he was going to kiss her. Then slowly, regretfully, he loosened his grip, letting her find her feet and took a long step in retreat.
“Thanks.” She smoothed her shirt, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Anytime.” His voice was low and rough and made her skin tingle.
It took a moment for her to fall into step beside Josh and Raider; this time, she kept her eyes on the ground. She wasn’t sure she’d survive another rescue if she tripped again.
They’d just reached the back porch when Josh’s phone rang. “I bet that’s Kade checking up on how it went.” Instead of answering, his gaze narrowed on the phone.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Odd. It’s not Kade, it’s Alice.” Tapping the phone and hitting speaker, he took the call. “Hey, Ms. Sweet. What’s up?”