The dog looked a lot like an overgrown Benji…or might, if a person could see beyond the clods of dirt and burrs that matted its long, shaggy coat. At the moment, the animal was loping along the shoulder on the far side of the road, its tail a plume of tangled fur held high like a sail.
Lauren felt the familiar tug of her heart at the dog’s bedraggled state and quickly stiffened her resolve. She couldn’t take in a stray. She had all she could say grace over without adopting a dog that looked as if it could eat her out of house and home in a week’s time. And she couldn’t afford a vet bill, either, for the shots and checkup a stray would require.
No, she told herself, and forced her gaze away from the dog to the road ahead. She couldn’t take the dog home with her. Even if she could afford to, where would she keep it? She and Rhena had carved out living space for themselves at the hunting lodge, but there wasn’t room for a dog. Especially not for one the size of a small horse.
A truck pulled from a side road into the lane in front of her, snagging her attention. She slowed the car, her gaze going instinctively to the dog.
“Stay where you are,” she urged under her breath. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Oblivious to her concern or the danger that lurked only a few feet away, the dog chose that moment to dart out onto the road. Her heart in her throat, Lauren whipped her gaze to the rear of the truck, hoping that its lights would flash red, indicating that the driver had seen the dog and was braking. When the lights remained dark, she stomped on her own brakes and squeezed her eyes shut, praying the dog had made it across the road. When she opened her eyes, the truck was a good two hundred feet down the road…and the dog lay in a crumpled heap on the pavement.
She quickly parked her car at an angle to block the dog’s body, so that another vehicle wouldn’t hit it, then jumped out. Her legs shook as she rounded the hood of the car and dropped down to her knees next to the animal.
“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, laying a hand gently on its side. “You okay?”
The dog lifted its head and gazed at her with the most pitiful-looking brown eyes she’d ever seen, then dropped its head back to the pavement with a muffled whimper.
Swallowing hard, she scooted closer. “I’m not going to hurt you, buddy,” she assured the dog. “I just want to see how badly you’re hurt.”
Lauren winced, when she saw the pool of blood that was spreading on the road. She needed to turn the dog over in order to determine the severity of its injuries, but she was afraid to move it, for fear she would cause the animal more pain.
She glanced around, hoping to find a house nearby where she could go for help. But the country road stretched for miles in both directions, with nothing but pastureland lining its sides.
Hearing the sound of an engine in the distance, she scrambled to her feet and ran to stand in the middle of the road. She waved her arms over her head to stop the approaching truck. For a moment she thought the driver intended to speed right past her, but he finally slowed the truck, then drew to a stop and lowered his window.
“I need help,” she gasped breathlessly. “Please.”
Keeping his head down, the man snugged his cowboy hat lower over his brow, then opened his door and climbed down. “What’s the problem?”
“Dog,” she managed to get out, then shuddered, thinking of the blood, the pain in the dog’s eyes. She grabbed the man’s arm and tugged him behind her. “Over here. It’s hurt.”