The Perfect Match

“You were probably in danger of being licked to death!” Rowena scoffed. “He loves people.”

“Yeah. That dog adores me. About as much as I like him.”

“If Clancy caused trouble, I’m the one to blame.” Rowena thumped her chest with her flattened palm.

“If he caused trouble?” Lawless pointed to his injured eye.

Rowena swallowed hard. That was a really impressive shade of purple the deputy had going there. “What I’m trying to say is that Clancy’s behavior is my responsibility.”

“Then you should be damned glad it’s my eye that’s turning black and blue. If that little old lady had been walking into the dining room with those scones she’d just baked you’d have a hell of a lawsuit on your hands.”

“Scones?” Rowena gasped. “Oh, God. That must’ve been what he was after.” When she had researched the Newfie’s history, she’d cried over the report about how badly his first owner had neglected him. Clancy still went a little postal when his dinner was late.

She’d love to get her hands on the monster that had left him to starve. “Deputy Lawless, if you only knew about what Clancy went through before I got him—”

“I’m more worried about what almost happened at that tea shop,” Lawless cut in, judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one. “If that dog had bowled Miss Marigold over, he would have shattered her into a million pieces.”

Rowena paled at the image the deputy painted in her mind. Her hand clenched around the strap of the tapestry bag. “But he didn’t.”

“This time,” Lawless asserted grimly. “Now I don’t care how many aliases you and those bleeding heart animal lovers at the shelter give this monster. He’s a menace. And it’s my duty to make damned sure he doesn’t get another chance to break someone’s hip.”

“But you don’t have any legal recourse,” Rowena said with an edge of desperation. “He didn’t bite anybody. Besides, it’s his first offense.”

Lawless rolled his good eye. “And Charles Manson just crashed a few parties. Like I told you, Ms. Brown, Destroyer—”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This is just a case of mistaken identity. The dog in question isn’t this Destroyer maniac you keep running on about. The dog you picked up is my dog, Clancy. He’s had all his shots. All his registration stuff is filed. I’ll pay for whatever damage he did to Miss Marigold’s tea shop.”

“You sure will. You’re legally liable,” Lawless said. “Once you take a look and add up the cost of what Destroyer’s done you’ll probably be begging me to take the dog back to the shelter. Any sane person would.”

“And I’m not sane, is that what you’re implying? Because I think an animal’s life is worth more than—than a bunch of old china teapots?” Rowena craned up on tiptoe, peering around the room in an effort to find her dog. “I’ll buy the woman new ones.”

“She doesn’t want new ones. Some of those had been in Ms. Marigold’s family since the Revolutionary War. If you had seen that poor old woman picking up all those bits of broken china, crying her heart out…”

Rowena fretted her bottom lip at the picture Lawless painted, but a long, mournful howl from somewhere nearby drove back anything but fear for the animal in such danger. She edged around the deputy and tried to make a break toward the sound. But his hand closed around her arm, stopping her in her tracks. Rowena started at the feel of his callused palm against her bare skin, his fingers imbued with a more powerful authority than even the badge pinned on his shirt-pocket gave him.

“I know this is hard,” Deputy Lawless said. “But there are plenty of other dogs in the world who need homes. This one is hopeless.”

Rowena pulled her arm out of his grasp. “Even a dog that really attacks someone gets a second chance! This was a mistake! Just a mistake!” Like the ones you’ve been making lately? her older sister Bryony’s voice nagged in her head. “But then, I suppose you’ve never made one before, have you, Deputy Lawless?”

The man glanced away, something sparking in his eyes. Regret? Bitterness? It was gone before she could tell.

“Ms. Brown, I’ve had a very bad day.” He enunciated so carefully she could almost feel black ice cracking under her feet. “Ten minutes before I got off duty I was called to Miss Marigold’s Tea Shop to investigate a burglary in progress. I entered the premises with my gun drawn, and got a door slammed in my face. By a dog who proceeds to smear my uniform with the colored frosting for three birthday cakes. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I have to haul Destroyer—”

“Clancy.”

“Whatever. I had to haul that demon dog back to the station so that I could file a mountain of paperwork which made me late to a very important appointment.”

“An appointment for what? The Cruella de Vil Fan Club?”

The man’s jaw clenched so hard, Rowena bet he could have snapped a bullet in two between his teeth. Keep your smart mouth under control, Rowena, she thought. Pulling the man’s chain more than you already have isn’t going to help. Deputy Lawless looked as if he’d gone terminal when it came to a sense of humor.

Rowena strained up on tiptoe, finally seeing a familiar mountain of black fur in what must be some kind of holding cell. Clancy strained to squeeze his muzzle through the bars in an effort to lick the stout man next door who was obviously sleeping off last night’s bender. Her heart twisted, eyes stung. Even here the Newfie was trying to take care of whoever was within reach.

“Ms. Brown, I’m responsible for protecting the people of Whitewater County,” Deputy Pompous said, as if she were a recalcitrant two-year-old. “I’ve called the shelter and told them Destroyer is coming.”

Her chin bumped up. “Well, you’ll have to call them back. This is my dog Clancy Brown, Deputy Lawless, and I’ll fight you for him in any court you can name to prove it. And what’s more, I’ll win. Microchips don’t lie.”

“Micro what?”

“Take him to any shelter in the country and they’ll wave their magic wand over him and—bingo!—my name will bleep up on their nifty little scanner screen. Any competent veterinarian can verify Clancy’s identity under oath. If you persist in persecuting my dog—”

“Persecuting?” Lawless scoffed.

“—you’re going to be spending an awful lot of time doing that paperwork you hate, preparing for a case you’re going to lose. Is this unfortunate little grudge of yours really worth spending the taxpayers’ money on?”

Rowena could see the deputy’s control slip another notch. Steely eyes held hers for a long moment in a wrestling match of wills. She didn’t like confrontation, but damned if she was going to back down. Lawless blinked first.

“Fine,” he said at last through gritted teeth. “Take the damned dog. That is, if you’ve got enough nerve to take legal—and financial—responsibility for any damage he causes in the future.”

“Absolutely.” Rowena tried not to think about what her mother would have to say about her promise. But Dr. Nadine Brown’s features swam into Rowena’s consciousness, her mother’s brow creased with all too familiar exasperation. What are you thinking? That’s a legally binding document he’s talking about. You don’t even know how you’re going to pay for the tea shop debacle, let alone the next disaster!

But Rowena would have signed a deal with the devil himself to keep animal control from sticking a needle in Clancy’s vein. The moment she had glimpsed his big dark eyes from behind the bars of the cage in “doggie death row” half an hour before he was scheduled to be euthanized, she’d felt a shock down to her toes. A wild, desperate need to swoop him into her arms, save him.

And that would be different from the way you react to any animal in trouble exactly how? Rowena imagined her sister Bryony taunting.

But Clancy was different. There was something special about this dog. Rowena felt it in her bones. A life he needed to live, work he was destined to do, a future he had to have or else…

“Ms. Brown?” Lawless’ voice snapped Rowena back into the sheriff’s office to face yet another disapproving frown. “I’m beginning a new file on the dog. If he ever gets loose again, I’m going to have him legally declared a public nuisance. And from that point on, I’ll take every step the law allows to see that he’s off the streets permanently. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” She wondered if he was smart enough to know she meant it as an insult.

Apparently so. His cheeks darkened. “You’ll have to fill out some paperwork before I can release him.” He checked his watch again, an even deeper frustration darkening his face. “Which means I can pretty much kiss my appointment goodbye. They’ll be closed before I—”

“It’s an appointment,” Rowena fired back, her temper flaring. “People reschedule them all the time, Deputy.”

“Is that so?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. This isn’t the end of the world. You aren’t going to jail because of it. Small children aren’t going to die because of it.”

Whoa! Rowena took a step backward at the rage in Lawless’ eyes. What was she doing, poking him with a sharp stick? Clancy didn’t have his get-out-of-jail-free card yet. Did she want Deputy Whiplash to change his mind?

She swallowed the rest of her anger and reached for the firm tone she used to calm hostile animals. “Listen. Obviously we’re not going to agree on this. Just show me where to sign and Clancy and I will get out of your way.”

The deputy sat down at his desk.

“Couldn’t we let Clancy out first before you whip out his release papers? I hate the idea of him behind bars.”

“And I hate the idea of him back on the street. Looks like we’re both going to have to get used to disappointment. When I open that cell, all I want to see is the door hitting him in his backside. Give me any more time and I might just change my mind.”