A Steadfast Companion, page 1
Maddie pivoted to face him.
“You need a place to live that allows dogs. I need a maintenance person. I can’t afford to pay much, but I can offer you the barn loft and three meals a day.”
Witt’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure about this? Because you barely know a thing about me, and—”
“I know you love dogs, and I saw yesterday how hard you’ll work to finish a job.” She hesitated, the tiniest flicker of doubt making her glance away briefly. Then she hiked her chin. “Please. Say yes before I realize what an absurd idea this is and change my mind.”
Kneeling, he called his dog over and pressed Ranger’s face between his hands. “What do you think, boy? Should we accept this lady’s kind offer before she comes to her senses?”
Ranger yipped and licked Witt’s nose.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He stood and extended his right hand to Maddie. “You’re an answer to my prayers, Ms. McNeill. In more ways than you can possibly imagine.”
Award-winning author Myra Johnson writes emotionally gripping stories about love, life and faith. She is a two-time finalist for the ACFW Carol Award and winner of the 2005 RWA Golden Heart® Award. Married since 1972, Myra and her husband have two married daughters and seven grandchildren. She and her husband reside in Texas, sharing their home with two pampered rescue dogs.
Books by Myra Johnson
Love Inspired
K-9 Companions
A Steadfast Companion
The Ranchers of Gabriel Bend
The Rancher’s Family Secret
The Rebel’s Return
The Rancher’s Family Legacy
Rancher for the Holidays
Her Hill Country Cowboy
Hill Country Reunion
The Rancher’s Redemption
Their Christmas Prayer
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com.
A STEADFAST COMPANION
Myra Johnson
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And forget not all his benefits: Who redeemeth
thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee
with lovingkindness and tender mercies;
Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things;
so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle’s.
—Psalm 103:2, 4–5
For dog lovers everywhere, especially those who offer loving sanctuary and a forever home to displaced or unadoptable senior canines. Also with gratitude to my Montana daughter, Johanna, for her insights and research assistance.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from His Alaskan Redemption by Heidi McCahan
Chapter One
She couldn’t put it off any longer.
Not with eight inches of snow predicted and the kennel roof damaged from a broken tree branch. Twenty-plus dogs were counting on her, most of them seniors, others with chronic ailments that had rendered them unadoptable.
“Hi, yes, it’s Maddie McNeill. Thanks for returning my call.” Cell phone pressed to her ear, Maddie gazed out the kitchen window of the old farmhouse as a pewter sky closed in. Those were definitely snow clouds. “Do you know Elk Valley?”
“Out Interstate 90 northwest of Missoula, right?” The kindly male voice belonged to a handyman named Witt. First name? Last name? Maddie wasn’t sure. She’d found him on the hire-a-repairman website her veterinarian and closest friend, Julia Frasier, had recommended. He was the soonest available at the lowest rate.
And she needed both.
“Yes, pass Frenchtown, then take the Elk Valley Road exit. Go about six miles north, then take a right at the Elk Valley mini-mall.” She gave him a couple more turn directions, then told him to watch for Eventide Dog Sanctuary. “The sign’s not very big, and we’re off the road about a quarter mile. Follow the lane to the kennels. I’ll be watching for you.”
“Yes, ma’am, see you in...” He paused, probably checking his GPS. “About forty-eight minutes, give or take.”
Disconnecting, Maddie breathed deeply in an attempt to settle her jittery stomach. She didn’t like depending on other people, least of all strangers. But one thing she’d been forced to admit since inheriting the sanctuary from her late grandmother was that she couldn’t do it all herself.
She twisted her long mop of strawberry-blond curls beneath a knit winter hat and donned her grandmother’s faded denim barn coat. The plaid flannel lining still carried the scent of Nana’s handmade lavender-and-lemon soap. Eyes closed, Maddie inhaled the calming fragrance and wished for one more day with the woman who’d raised her.
No use dwelling on the past when the very real present awaited, along with all its inherent problems. Not that she considered the dogs a problem, or Nana’s two gentle horses either. The difficulty lay in how to manage everything. Food. Vet bills. Facility maintenance. Utilities. Insurance. One expense after another, and so little sanctuary support coming in, mainly from the grants and donors Nana already had in place. When those ran out, or if people stopped giving, then what? The animals deserved better. They deserved the same loving care Nana had given Maddie when her own mother couldn’t be counted on.
She stepped out the back door into a biting north wind. Not unusual for April in Montana, but Maddie was ready for spring. A real spring, with abundant sunshine and myriad flowers in bloom. Living in Southern California for fifteen years while teaching English at a small private university, she’d been spoiled by the milder climate. Here in the foothills of the Northern Rockies, springtime highs could fluctuate anywhere from the thirties to the eighties, and only the hardiest blossoms dared to show their pretty faces. Maddie’s childhood favorites had always been the sunny yellow buttercups and the dazzling pink shooting stars.
In the kennel, the dogs greeted her with happy barks. While she waited for the handyman, she freshened water bowls and handed out homemade sweet-potato treats. After several belly rubs and ear scratches, she gave each dog an extra blanket. The underfloor heating system was usually sufficient on even the coldest nights, but the arthritic dogs especially welcomed a bit more warmth and comfort. On the other hand, if the handyman couldn’t fix the roof in time, Maddie might end up taking all the dogs into the house with her tonight.
The rumble of an engine drew her outside, where a rusty off-white vehicle pulled up in front of the kennel. It was one of those mini-trucks some city folks chose just so they could claim to drive a pickup. This one looked—and sounded—like it had seen better days.
An average-looking, fiftyish guy in a baseball cap and tan corduroy coat emerged from the cab. He lifted a hand in greeting. “Ms. McNeill? I’m Witt, from Happy’s Helpers. So you’ve got a roof problem?”
Nodding, she gestured toward the near left corner of the kennel roof. “It was damaged by a tree limb. With the amount of snow they’re predicting, I’m worried about my dogs.”
“Absolutely. Let’s go take a look.” His genuine smile matched his voice on the phone earlier. “Do you have a ladder, or should I bring mine from the truck?”
She glanced at the shiny aluminum ladder peeking over the tailgate. It looked a lot sturdier than the rickety wooden contraption that was Nana’s. “Better bring yours.”
The man wanted to check the underside of the roof first, so Maddie showed him inside the kennel. He set up his ladder beneath the small, square attic door and hoisted himself through. Cautious footsteps overhead and the occasional sweep of a flashlight beam across the opening traced his path.
He returned to the opening and knelt to peer down at Maddie. “Besides the tree limb damage, it looks like you’ve had some roof leaks. A couple of these rafters show evidence of wood rot and should be replaced. Some of the insulation, too.”
This was turning into a much bigger—and more expensive—job than she’d hoped. “Can you maybe just patch it for now, enough to get me through till summer?”
Heaving a sigh, Witt lowered himself through the opening and descended the ladder. “Ma’am, that wouldn’t be wise or safe.”
“I know. It’s just...” Arms folded, she worried her lower lip.
He nodded thoughtfully, then knelt and reached through the wire mesh kennel gate to scratch Joey’s chin. The scruffy white German shepherd mix slitted his eyes and groaned with pleasure. “Aren’t you a handsome boy?”
“Well, now you’ve made a friend for life.”
Witt gave a soft, sad chuckle. “They don’t call ’em man’s best friend for nothing.”
He straightened, and for the first time since his arrival, she looked directly at him. His dusky brown eyes held a story, one she guessed would take a long, long time to tell, and much of it, not unlike those of some of the dogs in her care, would probably be hard to hear.
Abruptly, she tore her gaze away. “How much can you do before this weather front blows in? Because if the kennel isn t safe, I’ll have to figure out something else for my dogs, and—”
“I’ll get you through tonight’s snowstorm, at the very least.” Jaw firm, he scanned the water-spotted ceiling. “I’ll need to run to the builders’ supply for a few things. Unless you have any scrap wood you can spare. I’ll likely need to replace some shingles up top, too.”
“There’s wood and leftover shingles in the barn, I think.” She motioned toward the door.
He maintained a polite distance as he followed her across the driveway to the big white barn. Inside, Sunny and Sage nickered from their stalls. After pointing Witt to the storeroom where odds and ends got stashed, Maddie found a couple of Starlight mints in her pocket and gave one to each of the horses.
Shortly, Witt emerged from the storeroom with a stack of shingles and an armload of graying two-by-fours in various lengths. “These’ll do fine. I’ll get started, if that’s all right with you.”
“Yes, please.” Anxious to get the repairs underway, Maddie held open the barn door for him. The shingles were from when Nana’d had the barn reroofed a few years ago, so it was in good shape. The house roof, too, or so Maddie hoped. She couldn’t afford more repair bills.
Outside, the wind gusted, and the sky had darkened even more. She shivered and tugged her collar close around her neck. Tiny white flakes were already speckling her coat sleeves. She hoped Witt could finish before the snow began in earnest.
He sidled through the kennel entrance and laid the supplies in the aisle. “I’ll be working directly over the two dog runs on this end. You should move those fellas till I’m done.”
“There aren’t any empty runs. I can put them in the kitchen.” She nodded toward the small adjoining room where she prepared the dogs’ meals.
Witt searched for something in his toolbox. “So your sanctuary’s full up?”
“It pretty much stays that way. Dogs come here without much hope, so I do my best to give them a happy and comfortable forever home. Usually the only time there’s a vacancy is when...” She finished with a shrug.
He gave an understanding nod, then cleared his throat roughly. “Well, it’s a fine and decent thing you’re doing here.”
“I’d expand if I had the wherewithal. But as it is, I can barely afford to stay open for these guys.” An aching lump formed in Maddie’s throat as she glimpsed the curious furry faces peeking through the gates on either side of the aisle. “And I can’t—I won’t—give up on them.”
* * *
Witt felt bad he couldn’t promise more than a patch job before the snow arrived. But one look at the sky as they’d crossed from the barn to the kennel and he could tell they were on borrowed time. The woman’s dedication to the dogs touched something deep inside him, and he’d do as much as he could to help her protect them. If only he could believe his longtime pal Ranger had ended up with someone as caring as Maddie McNeill.
Last time he’d seen the sweet old mutt was more than two years ago. Delirious with fever from a near-fatal bout of pneumonia, he’d watched helplessly from the back of an ambulance while an animal control officer wrestled the whining, anxious dog into a crate. Once Witt was out of the hospital, then completed a stint in rehab, enough time had passed that if Ranger hadn’t been adopted by someone else, he’d probably been put down. As it turned out, the men’s transitional home where Witt had been accepted didn’t allow pets anyway.
While he measured and cut boards to shore up the damaged section of roof, his gaze continually drifted to Maddie. Wisps of pale copper curls had escaped her nubby knit hat. She had a fair complexion, lightly freckled across the bridge of her prettily turned-up nose. When the light caught her eyes just right, they shimmered like an azure summer sky.
He wasn’t a good judge of a woman’s age, but the crinkles around her eyes made him think fortysomething, possibly only a little younger than his fifty-one years. Her concern for the dogs was enough to make him like her, even if she did seem kind of skittish. If she lived alone this far from town—and he hadn’t seen signs of anyone else around—he could understand her unease about having a strange man on the premises. Which was why he’d done his best to appear friendly and nonthreatening.
She’d gone to the house for a few minutes and returned with a thermos and a chipped mug. She filled the mug with a dark and aromatic brew, then offered it to Witt as he measured a board. “Thought you could use something hot to drink.”
“Thanks. I never turn down coffee.” Taking a careful sip, he eyed the dusting of snow on her cap and shoulders. “How’s it looking out there?”
“Not good. How much longer till you’re done?”
He wished he could say soon, but the roof was in worse shape than he’d first thought. He replied with a grimace and a shrug.
Obviously not the answer she was hoping for. Mouth tight, she closed her eyes briefly. “I can’t ask you to keep working. The roads will be getting worse by the minute, so you should head home while you can.”
“But the dogs—”
“I’ll take them to the house.”
Witt had counted twenty-four runs. Which meant twenty-four dogs in various stages of declining health and ability. He cast her a doubtful frown. “All of them?”
“I’ll manage. It won’t be the first time.”
He gulped the rest of his coffee, then set down the empty mug and reached for his hammer and another piece of wood. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep at it. If it doesn’t look like I can finish in the next couple of hours, I’ll help you get the dogs to the house before I leave.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. You really should—”
“Ma’am,” he said as pleasantly as possible, “it’s not up for debate. I’m not deserting you or these dogs, and that’s final.”
He couldn’t fix what he’d done wrong in the past, but he’d made a promise to God and himself that he’d never let anyone down again. Least of all a pretty, red-haired woman with a heart for the forgotten and undervalued creatures of this world. He’d been there himself not so long ago. If someone hadn’t had compassion for him, if they hadn’t looked beyond the brokenness of a derelict living under a bridge and seen something in him worth saving, he might not be around today to mend this roof. And who knew if Ms. Maddie McNeill would have found anyone else willing to make a forty-mile trip to practically the middle of nowhere with an April snowstorm threatening?
He’d done what he could in the attic. With the rafters and roof panels reinforced, now he had a bit more confidence climbing onto the roof to replace the damaged shingles—provided the moaning north wind cooperated. Teeth chattering, he dropped through the attic opening and climbed down the ladder into the much warmer kennel aisle.
Maddie turned from peering out the narrow window in the door. “You stayed too long. You’ll never make it out to the road, much less all the way back to Missoula. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let you—”
“It was my choice, one hundred percent.” Fingerless gloves made gripping tools and nails easier but didn’t protect icy fingertips. Witt refilled his mug from the coffee thermos and let the warmth seep into his hands. The ham-and-cheese sandwich he’d had for lunch was wearing off, but it might be all he got until he made it back to town. At the rate it was snowing out there, whether that would be tonight or tomorrow or two days from now was anyone’s guess.
Yep, he’d made his choice, and now he was stuck with it. They both were.
After several swallows of coffee, he’d begun to thaw out. Which made the idea of leaving this cozy kennel and venturing onto the roof extremely unpleasant. Just a few shingles replaced, though, and the dogs would be good for the night. That’d make it all worthwhile. Then maybe Ms. McNeill wouldn’t mind him camping out in one of her barn stalls. Horses gave off quite a bit of body heat, after all.
Steeling himself, he stocked his tool belt with hammer and nails, then stowed the ladder under one arm. With the other, he hefted the stack of shingles and started for the door.
Maddie’s jaw dropped. Hands raised, she blocked the way. “You can’t go up there now. It’s too dangerous.”
