Читать книгу Trained To Protect - Linda O. Johnston - Страница 15

Like the rest of the house that she’d seen, the kitchen seemed utilitarian yet attractive to Elissa. A tiled floor and counters, too, lent themselves to being scrubbed clean despite the abundance of dogs undoubtedly brought in here. The metal sink and refrigerator were large, and the stove, with the microwave attached to the wall over it, was more moderate in size.

Sitting on a stiff chair at the round kitchen table with Peace lying on the floor near her, Elissa made herself look over the paperwork Amber had left for her to review. It described the Chance K-9 Ranch, its history and goals, as well as the contract she would be expected to sign if she was hired.

Interesting stuff, but she couldn’t help wondering how the conversation in the living room was going.

She assumed they were all analyzing her therapy dog demonstration as well as the brief training lesson she’d provided. That was expected since they were considering hiring her.

Or at least Amber, her mother and their lead trainer were.

But what was Doug Murran doing there? A K-9 officer didn’t necessarily know anything about therapy dogs. Nor had Elissa thought he or his sister would attend today, but there he was.

She hadn’t anticipated seeing him again anytime soon, if at all. Of course, if she was hired and spent more time in Chance, there was always that possibility.

A thought struck her. He was a cop. He knew dogs. Maybe she could ask him...

“Hi, Elissa.” Amber strode into the room with Lola at her feet. They were followed by Sonya. Both women sat at the table, facing her, and Elissa felt her heart speed up. Would they make her an offer—or would they thank her and usher her out the door?

It was the former and she was thrilled! “We understand you have a nursing job in San Luis Obispo,” Amber began, “and that works out fine with us as long as you don’t mind the commute. We’d like to hire you part-time, for about eight hours a week, at least to start. That means you could spend four hours a day here for the two days you’re not at your hospital each week. If you’re okay with that, we’ll work out the schedule, how we’ll bring in students and other details.”

“That’s great,” Elissa said. “I’ll give you the general training parameters so you can decide which students might work best, and their dogs, too. We can start working with younger dogs and maybe take them to therapy venues for practice, but they have to be at least a year old before we can actually get them qualified.”

“Great. We’ll need your input on that.” Amber made notes in a folder she was holding. “I’ve already posted info on social media about plans for an upcoming class and received some nibbles from potential students, so we’ll be able to start quickly.”

“Another thing—do you have any contacts at the local hospital?” Elissa asked. “Before branching out to other facilities, I’ll want to see if Peace and I can do a little therapy work there, as well as use it as a potential teaching location once we get handlers in our classes trained enough to actually start therapy work with their dogs.”

“Actually, I do,” Sonya said. “One of the senior nurses on staff is a good friend of mine.”

“Excellent,” Elissa said.

“Now let’s talk some details like salary, timing, benefits and all.” Amber smiled at Elissa, who could only grin back. She wouldn’t get rich at this, she was sure, even with the grant that Amber had said she’d obtained. But Elissa had her other job to pay for the basics. The main thing was that this was something she really wanted to do.

Fortunately, those details as Amber described them worked well for Elissa. Today was Friday, and they determined that Elissa would actually start working there the following Monday.

That would give her time to put more hours in at the San Luis Obispo hospital. She had already arranged to be there over the weekend, partly because she was due to work then and partly to make up for the couple of days she’d just taken off.

She had looked over the contract and found the terms acceptable, so she and Amber both signed it.

Soon, they were done. They had a deal. But they both had provisions for getting out. Nothing was etched in stone, and Elissa realized she would be somewhat on trial here at first.

Which was fine with her. She’d also have to weigh whether this new part-time job would be worth it for her.

She felt certain it would be. She had loved the idea of the Chance K-9 Ranch for a while, and now she would be part of it. And the very idea of training therapy dogs and their handlers? Wonderful!

Amber soon stood, as did Sonya. Elissa did the same, smiling as both Peace and Lola, too, stood on the kitchen floor.

“Lola’s a sweetheart,” she said to Amber. “I think she’d make a good therapy dog.”

Amber’s smile broadened. “I look forward to your training her more, too.”

Soon, they were all outside on the ranch’s front porch—which was where Evan was with his dog Bear and Doug was with Hooper. They were sitting on a couple of the beige sling chairs, talking.

With the two German shepherds so close together, Elissa noticed even more the similarities and differences between them. Hooper was lighter in color and appeared thinner and, perhaps, younger. Bear had more black in his fur and his ears were more pointed and mobile.

Both appeared to be alert, caring and smart dogs. Which was a good thing, especially with Hooper, who had a K-9 job to do. But she wondered about Bear’s background—and his owner, Evan’s, too. Military maybe? The ranch website hadn’t said. But Elissa noticed that Evan sometimes seemed uncomfortable looking straight into people’s faces as he spoke to them, so perhaps he had a mild case of PTSD.

The men stood. “Everything work out?” Evan asked.

“Yes,” Amber said. “Elissa will start working here on Monday.”

“Great.” Evan strolled over and held out his hand for Elissa to shake, which she did.

She then glanced at Doug. He was nodding as if in approval, although he then aimed what appeared to be a long, questioning look toward Amber.

“It is great.” Her tone sounded stubborn and Elissa wondered what that was about.

“Well, Peace and I will be off for now, then,” Elissa said. “We’ll look forward to coming back here on Monday.” She turned to head down the steps toward her SUV and was glad to see that Doug and Hooper appeared to be accompanying her.

She quickly recalled the thought she’d had a while earlier. This guy was a cop. He was involved with dogs.

Maybe he would have an idea...

They’d reached her vehicle. She waited to open the rear door to strap Peace in, turning to Doug. Before she could ask him anything, though, he began talking.

“Hey, I have a couple of questions for you. Would you mind meeting me in town for coffee before you leave so we can discuss them?”

He had questions for her? Interesting. She had questions for him, too. “Sounds good,” she said.

But she wondered how good it really would be.

They drove separately, so that gave Doug time to consider his approach as he navigated first the winding roads then the busier ones into town.

He didn’t particularly want to hit Elissa over the head with the contents of that warning to her new employers. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d mention it directly at all. At least not yet.

But he wanted to talk to her, to get an idea why she’d decided to seek a job at the ranch—and whether there was something in her life, someone in her life, who’d known about it and didn’t like the idea.

He found a parking spot near the front of the coffee shop where he’d first met Elissa and pulled in, not needing to use the cop card to park in a spot regular citizens couldn’t. Since he saw Elissa pull into another space not far from him, he didn’t have to try to preserve one for her.

Once he got Hooper out of the back, he walked to the front of the shop and was quickly joined by Elissa and Peace. “I figure K-9s are allowed everywhere,” she said, looking up at Doug, a somewhat quizzical expression on her lovely face, “and I hope they’ll be okay with Peace joining me, too. She’s not a service dog with an identification vest or anything, although I could put on her scarf—but even so, therapy dogs aren’t always given the same respect.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Doug told her. “I’ve seen other dogs in this place, too. The owners seem to love them and look the other way even if the law isn’t on the side of canine customers.”

“And I assume that at least one particular lawman turns a blind eye to that kind of violation.” She stuck a solemn expression onto her face that quickly morphed into a smile, and he smiled back.

“Maybe so.” He held the front door open for her and her dog as Hooper followed his hand signal and sat beside him. Then he followed her in.

It was late afternoon and the Chance Coffee Shop always seemed to have a crowd. Today was no different but fortunately there were a few tables near the wall that they could choose from—good locations where their dogs wouldn’t get in the way of servers or other patrons. He allowed Elissa to lead the way then, as she sat, asked what she wanted.

“I’ll go get our stuff,” he said. “You hold this table—and Hooper will help you.” He told his dog to sit, which of course he did, near both Elissa and Peace, who immediately started wagging her tail eagerly and sniffing at Hooper.

Doug wasn’t surprised when Elissa requested he get her a café mocha. “But either let me pay for it or plan on getting together with me for coffee again when I can treat.”

He liked the latter idea—although he shouldn’t. But maybe they could get together again sometime soon to figure out the origin and meaning of that sign at the ranch, if she didn’t suggest a viable explanation to him now.

That would most likely be the only reason he’d allow himself to see more of her. Unless, of course, Maisie loved learning about therapy dogs enough that she convinced him to join her.

He had to wait in line for about three minutes. During that time, he turned back often to look toward Elissa, only to discover she was watching him, too—with one hand on each of the dogs’ heads.

What was she thinking?

And how was he going to approach the questions he needed to ask her?

So what was this really about? Elissa wondered. She did find Doug appealing and thought that he, too, might feel some attraction between them—but she didn’t think that was why he’d asked her to have coffee with him.

What were his questions?

He soon returned to their table and placed a medium-size cup of mocha in front of her. As far as she could tell, he’d chosen the same size black coffee.

Plus, he’d brought a bowl with water in it, which he placed on the floor near the dogs.

He was a considerate guy, then, including as far as dogs were concerned.

When he sat, he looked at her as he took a sip from his cup. The expression in those hazel eyes of his looked particularly intense, especially since his brow was furrowed, arching his thick brown eyebrows even more.

Even more curious now, Elissa thanked him for the mocha, took a sip of the rich brew and then waited for him to speak.

“So what made you decide to apply for the job at the K-9 Ranch?” he finally asked. “Especially on a part-time basis, so far from your home and regular job?”

Why did he want to learn that? She didn’t ask, though. Instead she replied, “Impulse, of sorts—though I’m not really an impulsive person. But the Chance K-9 Ranch has such a wonderful reputation. At least it did when its original owner, Corbin Belott, was there. And now I’ve seen all sorts of praise online about how it’s coming back, how so many police K-9s are being trained along with their handlers—and even great pet training, too, despite its rather remote location. I love its website and the demonstrations shown there, too. When I saw they were looking for someone to work with therapy dog handlers, I thought, ‘Hey, that’s me,’ so here I am.”

She smiled at him. That wasn’t really all of it, of course. She’d worked with some wonderful therapy dog trainers and handlers before but had been looking for a different direction, something even more special as an adjunct to the part of her life devoted to nursing and helping ill and injured people medically...and psychologically, which really appealed to her. And what was more psychologically helpful to those in need than therapy dogs?

If she could help a lot more caring people to gain appropriate credentials with their dogs in a setting like the K-9 Ranch, well, then, she had to do it. Providing ongoing classes sounded wonderful.

“I see,” Doug said, though his expression was now somewhat blank, as if he didn’t see at all. “And are all the people where you work as a nurse on board with you doing this?”

Puzzlement flooded through her. Why would he ask that? “Those who know about it seem fine with it.” Would they continue to when she had to negotiate more about the days and hours she’d be available? That was unknown, but she’d deal with it.

“That’s good. So all’s well with you, and Peace, and you are both fine with your becoming trainers here in Chance?”

“Yes.” She knew her response sounded short and frustrated—but maybe it was because his questions had started a stirring in her, a reminder of yesterday and her return home to find Peace acting so strange.

Not that it had ever really left her thoughts.

“Yes,” she repeated. “Although...” She let her word trail off, knowing she should only act completely sure of herself. But heck, she was in the presence of a cop, a dog-loving one at that. Maybe he would have some ideas about how she could figure out what had bothered her dog yesterday.

“Although what?” he prompted.

“Look, this probably has nothing at all to do with my interviewing for a job here, but the problem is that I don’t have a clue about the reason. Yesterday, when I returned home after interviewing for the job with Amber, my usually sweet, calm, loving dog Peace acted really strange.”

Interest and concern seemed to take over Doug’s expression. Did he really give a damn? “Strange how?”

She described how Peace had behaved, from her barking to roving from room to room and not even acting completely calm after they’d taken their walk and gone to bed. “I didn’t see anything unusual to cause her to act that way. But it was so uncharacteristic. I wondered whether, if I brought another dog in, I’d get any similar reaction, if there was some scent in my home that was causing it, but I didn’t want to alert any of my friends to something that probably meant absolutely nothing.”

“Or maybe it actually meant something.”

Then Doug believed her? Gave a damn?

Was his interest part of some kind of flirtation?

She didn’t think so. He seemed too serious, too professional as a cop.

“I just wish I knew,” she responded.

“Well, how about if Hooper and I accompany Peace and you back to your home and I let my very special K-9 have a sniff around?”