She had; now that the weather was warm, snakes were coming out. She wasn’t optimistic about being able to actually hit a snake with a shot, so she also carried a walking stick, and kept Tricks closer to her.
“Common sense,” she said.
After she took Tricks for an extra-long walk in the fragrant spring evening that they both enjoyed—and, yes, she took her pistol—she made certain the guest bedroom and bath were ready for an occupant. His clothes were already hanging in the closet, so he’d not only taken everything upstairs, he’d had enough energy to unpack.
She went out on the balcony that ran the length of the upstairs and called down over the railing, “Have you been sandbagging?”
He was watching TV with his long legs stretched out and feet crossed at the ankle. Instead of turning around he simply tilted his head back. “How so?”
“You hung up your clothes. After climbing the stairs—twice—you should have been exhausted.”
“I managed,” was all he said, then he went back to watching TV.
Meaning he’d pushed himself, the way he’d been pushing since that first awful day, because that was what he did. Most people would rest when they got tired; he took it as a sign to do more.
She hid her antsiness by following her regular routine. Morgan had a beer, one of the six-pack of Miller he’d given her the money to buy to tide him over until her truck driver friend made another run through Alabama and could pick up some Naked Pig. After that first grocery run she’d made when he first arrived, he’d insisted on paying for all the groceries, and she’d let him. She liked that he’d thought about it.
She did some work, but she’d so devoted herself to staying busy these past several days that after an hour she finished the project—very early—and didn’t have another one ready to start yet. In the name of staying busy, she’d inadvertently worked herself into having some down time.
Now what?
She did some busywork. Then Tricks wanted to play her version of soccer, and after a minute or two of watching, Morgan took over the game, which freed her to do something else, meaning busywork in the kitchen, neatening the silverware drawer.
He played “soccer” with her for so long that Tricks finally called a halt and ran to her water bowl. Morgan said, “I guess she’s finished,” and resumed his seat on the sofa.
Tricks drank long and deep, then immediately trotted to Morgan. Bo was a few seconds too slow to react. She started to say, “Don’t let—” but it was too late. Tricks had held extra water in her mouth and taken it to Morgan, where she gave it to him right on his knee.
He jumped up with a muffled “Shit!” Tricks backed up a few steps and sat down, looking incredibly pleased with herself because she’d shown her new friend how much she cared for him by taking him some water.
Having been the recipient of Tricks’s water gifts many times before, Bo succumbed to a fit of the giggles. She tried to stifle them, but the look on his face was so funny and helpless she couldn’t help it.
“Why did she do that?’ he demanded.
She coughed and fought down any further giggles. “My best guess? She was thirsty from playing so long and thought you must be thirsty too, so she brought you a drink. She’s done it before, but only to me and a few other people she really likes.”
He looked down at his wet jeans, then at the dog sitting there beaming at him, if a dog could be said to beam. He muttered, “This better not be a joke.” Then he cleared his throat, leaned down to stroke her and rather gruffly said, “Thank you, Tricks. That was very thoughtful of you.”
She gave a doggy grin and wagged her tail, as if she knew how clever she was.
At bedtime, they all went upstairs together, which felt so weird Bo could barely say good night. If he’d gone upstairs ahead of her, or come along later, it would have been okay. The together thing was as if they were a family, which made prickles of alarm explode all over her body. They weren’t even friends. They were acquaintances who happened to be temporarily living together, emphasis on temporarily.
She firmly closed the bedroom door behind her and considered locking it, but she refused to be silly about the whole situation. He was now able to climb the stairs, so whether or not he slept on the sofa or upstairs in the guest room made no difference. If she’d thought he was a threat to her that way, she’d never have allowed him in the house to begin with.
She got ready for bed, petted Tricks and told her to go to bed, and turned out the lamp. She knew she was too edgy to go to sleep right away, but she could try.
Within a minute Tricks was whining, going from the bed to the door and back again.
“No. Don’t start this crap,” she muttered. “Tricks, go to bed!”
But Tricks had an eerie way of identifying the arguments she could win and the arguments she couldn’t because she persisted. Back and forth, from the bed to the door, back again to whine and poke Bo with her nose in case the whining hadn’t gotten the message across. She knew Morgan was upstairs, and that was something new and exciting. She wanted to go visit. If Tricks had done the same thing during the day, Bo would have been stern with her, but it was bedtime, she was tired and wanted to go to sleep, and the whining was annoying.
After five minutes of relentless whining and poking, she surrendered.
“All right!” she groused, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. The room was dark, but there was still enough light coming through the windows, and from the electric clock, that she could see Tricks bouncing up and down with joy that her hardheaded human had finally understood what she wanted.