Fatal Burn Page 3

  This had once been a nice kennel, she realized.

  The pens were spacious, constructed of ten-foot-high chain-link panels. Through the few pens that weren’t filled with junk, she could see dog doors leading outside to what must have been individual exercise runs flanking the full length of the building on both the front and back, though those facing the cabin were gone and the ones at the rear had been reduced to a tumbledown mess.

  Pools of ice glittered like miniature skating rinks under places where the roof probably leaked. It was musty and cold and dreary, probably a haven for untold numbers of mice…or worse.

  Just sorting and moving out all of this stuff would take more work than she could imagine. And the repairs…

  Not only did the house need a lot of work, but the outbuildings did, too, if the place was to be listed at a good price.

  And just like that, Kris’s dreams of sprucing the place up for a quick sale dissipated.

  “Helloooo—are you out here?” Carrie’s familiar voice drifted through one of the broken windows.

  Kris whistled to Bailey and opened the door. “Over here,” she called. “In the kennel.”

  The sun had broken free of the clouds while she’d been inside, and now she blinked at the blinding glare of the snow. As her eyes adjusted, she drew in a sharp breath at the stunning vista in front of her.

  Last night it had been too dark to see anything, and until now low-lying clouds had obliterated the view.

  Massive, snow-capped granite peaks soared skyward, filling the entire western horizon, too stunning, too beautiful to be real. With the curve of the meadow, it was as if they were close enough to touch—so breathtaking that she couldn’t look away.

  Awe enveloped her, leaving her speechless and dazed.

  “I realized that I didn’t have your cell number, so I came back to give you this.” Carrie rounded the corner of the barn, a piece of paper fluttering in her hand. “It’s the name of a Realtor I know, and—”

  She pulled to a stop a few yards away, a knowing smile on her lips. “Ahh. You’ve seen the view.”

  Kris nodded silently, unable to break the spell that enfolded her.

  Carrie turned to face the Rockies and backed up slowly until she reached Kris’s side. “This spot has the most perfect view of any place I know,” she murmured. “I think Thalia must’ve painted it a hundred times, but said she never tired of it. She thought every season and every moment of the day had its own unique beauty—like God was painting His own incredible picture each time.”

  “There are no words,” Kris whispered.

  Carrie offered the sheet of paper. “Karen is a seasoned Realtor. She’s done a lot of the multimillion-dollar resorts, but some of the small properties, as well. I called her on my cell a few minutes ago and told her about you. She said real estate is really tough right now, and that a lot of places are staying on the market for a year or more. But she can give it a try if you just want to get rid of the place.”

  The words sounded raw, almost blasphemous. As jarring as the screech of chalk on a blackboard. “Get…rid of it?” Kris said faintly.

  “You did say you wanted to sell out so you could do something else, didn’t you?”

  “I…I guess.” Kris shook her head to clear her thoughts. “My ex-husband had quite a bit of legal trouble, and he ran us into a lot of debt—in my name as well as his. I’ve struggled ever since, with trying to pay off that, plus my college loans.”

  And she’d spent even more on private investigators while trying to find Emma, though she tried not to dwell on that. One false lead after another had finally ended with no leads at all…though she was still paying a monthly bill from the last investigator she’d hired.

  Carrie gave her a sympathetic smile. “Bad situation.”

  “I figured I could clean this place up a little and sell it, clear all of my debts and finally go back to college.” She sighed. “But it’s going to take a lot more time and money than I thought. I’ve only got a few thousand dollars in savings.”

  “So why doesn’t your ex chip in on those debts?”

  “He isn’t responsible enough to feed a goldfish, and my name was on those papers, too. I don’t even know where he is from one month to the next. Unless he calls begging for ‘a little loan.’ I did that once years ago and never again, but he still doesn’t quite get it. He somehow figures I ‘owe’ him.”

  Carrie nodded with complete understanding. “I’ve been there, believe me. So what would you major in if you got this place sold?”

  “Vet school.” Kris managed a rueful smile. “I muddled around with different majors for way too long, and a pile of liberal arts credits with a lot of debt and no degree isn’t a particularly good career path. I finally went back to school and became a vet tech, so I could actually find a job.”

  Carrie pursed her lips. “How did you like that?”

  “I worked at a large clinic and volunteered at a shelter on weekends.” Kris shrugged. “I loved it, but now I want to do even more. I’m fascinated with medicine and surgery.”

  “So you need money to fix this place up, and it’s going to take time.”

  “Too much, on both counts.” Kris sighed. “I suppose I should just list it as is, but after seeing this view, I hate the thought of selling it below market just because I didn’t take the time to clean it up.”

  “There was an article in our little local paper, just last week. I wonder if you’d be interested.” Carrie trotted back to her pickup and foraged through a box of papers on the backseat. “I probably have it with the other recyclables, right here.”

  Kris followed her and watched as she searched to the bottom of the box, then carefully rechecked each magazine and newspaper as she put them all back.

  “Voilà!” She cried, holding a thin newspaper aloft. “Read this, and see what you think.”

  Kris accepted the Battle Creek Courier and scanned the front page, then the second. On the third, a photo of a forlorn dog caught her eye. “This article, about the dog?”

  “Read it!” Carrie’s eyes lit with excitement. “The county closed the humane shelter last fall because they didn’t have enough funding to maintain the old building and keep it running. But now they have to send strays clear over to the next county and pay boarding fees on them, plus all the transportation costs. Some of our local residents are irate over the whole deal, saying it’s a waste of taxpayers’ money.”

  Kris scanned the article. “Do they want to build another facility, then?”

  “I guess so.” Carrie peered over her shoulder at the paper. “I don’t see the details here, but apparently it’ll take at least a year for planning and fundraising. In the meantime, the county wants to temporarily hire someone with a kennel to operate a privately run shelter for them.” She waved expansively, her gesture encompassing the outbuildings and the entire meadow. “I understand there’d be a flat monthly salary plus daily fees paid for each animal being housed.”

  “Y-you’re thinking this place would work?”

  “You’ve got room for every kind of livestock here, as well as pets. You could use your salary for fixing the place up, then sell it later on.”

  Kris felt an ember of excitement flicker to life, then fade as she surveyed the property. “But this place is a mess. By the time I get it up to code for a shelter, someone else could nab the opportunity. I’d just end up deeper in debt.”

  “Call the county at least, and find out if they’ve had any nibbles. Maybe you could even apply for a provisional contract. I do happen to know some of the powers-that-be down at the courthouse,” Carrie added with a grin. “Maybe I can find out for you.”

  Kris felt that ember of excitement come to life again. “It wouldn’t hurt to try, I guess.”

  “Exactly. I can’t even imagine what this place will be worth once it’s back in shape.” Carrie gave her a quick hug. “Come to think of it, Trace is an old friend of the woman who managed the previous shelter, so I can make sure he
introduces you. I’ll bet she’d be a good source of information.”

  The possibility that Carrie’s brother might be willing to help Kris with anything seemed beyond comprehension, but what would it hurt to try?

  Trace called an hour after Carrie left to ask if Kris could meet him in town at eleven, proving that Carrie was definitely a force to be reckoned with—even with her cool, distant brother.

  Kris arrived a few minutes early and found him leaning against the hood of his pickup in front of the Polly’s Dandy Darlings pet salon.

  Even from a distance, she’d recognized his lean, chiseled profile beneath the brim of his black Stetson and the way his waist-length black down jacket accented the breadth of his shoulders and those narrow hips.

  If the silly flutter in her midsection was any indication, someone needed to hire the man for a Levi’s jeans commercial…or put him astride a horse on the silver screen as the epitome of a lean, laconic cowboy.

  He turned as she approached, a faint, lazy smile briefly touching the corners of his mouth. “You and my sister definitely operate on different schedules.”

  “Oh?” She glanced at her watch. “Am I late?”

  His smile kicked up a notch. “You’re on time.”

  The glimpse of his humor sent her flutters into overdrive. “Well, it’s a rare thing for me, too.”

  He motioned toward the shop. “After you.”

  She nodded and walked through the door he held open for her. Inside, a tall, rawboned woman, with silver hair twisted into a knot atop her head, looked up from unpacking a box of merchandise on the counter.

  Trace sauntered into the store. “Kris Donaldson, I’d like you to meet Polly Norcross. Polly managed the Battle Creek humane shelter for years.”

  “Until it went under.” Polly’s voice was filled with regret. “I just wish things had been different.”

  “Polly did a wonderful job.” Trace moved to the counter and leaned against it on one elbow. “But there were a number of shortfalls in the county budget, and then the local economy took a dive when gas prices fluctuated and tourism took a hit.”

  “True. That last year, we struggled just to keep going. By the end we couldn’t even cover the only two salaried positions, and the two of us were paying for dog food out of our own savings. Luckily, I had this business to fall back on, or I probably would’ve had to leave the area.” Polly nodded at Kris. “I hear you’re thinking about running the shelter.”

  “I am, but I could sure use more information and some advice. Do you have a minute?”

  Polly laughed at that. “An hour or two is more like it. As you can see, it’s not a busy day.”

  “I hear this is just an interim contract. How temporary do you think it will be?”

  Polly snorted. “Latimer County’s animal control has been in a mess since our facility closed. The fools on the county board let our own buildings fall to ruin and we lost the entire infrastructure that made our system work so well. Now, they’re talking about raising funds and starting all over with a new building. There’ll be feasibility studies, research on locations, architects, construction bids. They figure on a year or so, max. I’m guessing that’s incredibly optimistic.”

  “So the private contract could end up running longer.”

  “Definitely. With a nice, central location like Thalia’s place, they might even see the benefit of just continuing to contract with a private kennel—though that’s just a guess.” She sniffed in disdain. “They don’t always follow the soundest logic.”

  “Is the policy-and-procedure manual still available from when you were the manager?”

  Surprise flared in Polly’s eyes. “There’ve been a few folks interested in winning the shelter contract, but you’re the first one who asked about the old policies.”

  “I figure there’s more to opening a shelter than just the state and local regulations. I hear you ran a tight ship.”

  “All of the records are in boxes somewhere in the basement of the courthouse. But I did keep a copy of that manual, just in case any questions arose. I could run off an extra copy for you if you’d like to see how things were done.”

  “That would be fantastic.”

  “Running a shelter isn’t just about picking up strays, or welcoming loving families who are begging to adopt cute puppies and kittens.” Polly eyed her closely. “We held puppy training classes and workshops, and offered a variety of events. Over time, we developed quite a roster of volunteers, too. The local vets were good about working with us, so that’s a relationship you’d need to rebuild. And…not every citizen is pleasant. Working with the public can be difficult.”

  “I worked as a vet tech back home. I also volunteered for the past year at a no-kill shelter. I do know the realities…though of course the management side will be something new.”

  Polly braced her palms on the counter top and gave Kris another long, assessing look, then nodded at Trace. “She’ll do.”

  He cracked another brief smile. “Carrie is certainly convinced.”

  “There’ll be a lot of work to do before I can even take the next step, though.” Kris fingered her ring of keys, as her doubt started to grow. “It’ll take a lot of time.”

  “Go for it. We need a shelter in this county, and we need it soon,” Polly retorted. “If you get the job, I’ll see what I can do about helping you out, and maybe I can rally the old volunteers. For another thing, the shelter’s rescue truck is parked out behind the courthouse, and some of the cages are out at one of the county highway department sheds. If the board doesn’t offer that equipment to you, come talk to me.”

  “You might have a little extra help before that, too,” Trace said, his eyes twinkling.

  Twinkling? Surprised at the flash of warmth in his expression, Kris stared up at him. “Really?”

  “Carrie wants to help you out in every way she can.” He laughed in a low and affectionate way that conveyed their close relationship. “She’s already let me know that I’ll be coming over to help you out as soon as I can—and so will my hired men. Believe me—no one stands in her way for long.”

  Trace shoved his hands in his back pockets and stared out the window of Polly’s store after Kris left, feeling as if he’d been run over by a truck. Carrie’s truck, to be exact. With all hundred and ten pounds of her in it…and maybe a Brahma in the back.

  For the past five years he’d been alone, and he’d carefully made sure things stayed that way. Yet twenty minutes with Kris and he felt like some teenage boy longing after the prom queen he’d never have. Had he actually flirted with her? Flirted?

  “You look a little stunned.” Polly gave a low laugh. “Did this new neighbor of yours turn out a tad different than you’d expected?”

  “I wasn’t even expecting a new neighbor.” He offered Polly a rueful smile. “The first time we met, I thought she was a prowler and tried to get her arrested.”

  “Really slick, Trace.” Polly’s eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Let me guess—Carrie came riding to the rescue, took Kris’s side and now she’s having you make amends?”

  He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “But I oughta help her out, anyhow. That’s what neighbors do up here, and she’s a woman alone.”

  “Well, she’s sure a nice gal,” Polly teased. “Pretty, too. Maybe you’d better start paying closer attention, or the other guys around here will nab her first.”

  Trace felt a cold fist tighten around his heart. “Just as well.”

  Polly silently studied him, then shrugged and went back to unpacking the box of merchandise. “Your loss, their gain, I guess.”

  It was a conversation he didn’t want to continue. Snagging his truck keys from his jacket pocket, he headed for the door. “Thanks for talking to her, Polly. I owe you.”

  On the way back to the ranch, he tried to concentrate on the calves he had to vaccinate today and the horses he needed to work. But instead his thoughts kept straying to his new neighbor.

  Polly was r
ight about her, no doubt about that.

  Kris’s gleaming, honey-gold hair made him want to touch it, just to see if it was as silky as it looked. Her delicate features made him wish he could please her, just to see her smile, though her obvious independence, courage and straightforward manner were what attracted him the most.

  But there was no way he was going to pursue a closer relationship with her or anyone else.

  Except for Carrie, no one here knew about what had happened while he’d been away on the rodeo circuit a few years back. A double nightmare—a friend’s terrible rodeo accident that Trace could’ve prevented, and a betrayal by another friend that haunted him still. He never wanted to risk that kind of heartbreak again.

  Developing a plan was one thing. Implementing it was another.

  After spending the rest of the day researching building codes and state regulations on shelter facilities, and contacting the county about her plans, Kris scheduled a preliminary inspection on Monday, then buckled down to work.

  On Wednesday morning she found a rusted trailer behind the kennel, hooked it to her SUV and began filling it with trash from inside the pens.

  But after taking four loads to the landfill by noon, she wearily dropped onto a wobbly bench by the door to the office.

  Bailey rose awkwardly from the bed of folded blankets next to the bench and came to rest his head on her lap, his wise old eyes searching her face.

  “What have we gotten ourselves into, buddy?” she whispered to him, leaning down to give him a hug. “Five hours, and I can’t even see any difference.”

  At a sharp rap on the door at the end of the aisle, she startled, but Bailey just wagged his tail and woofed. The door squealed open and Trace filled the doorway, brushing the snow off his shoulders.

  He flashed a quick grin. “Carrie tells me you need help today.”

  Surprised, she straightened and dusted off her hands, trying to ignore the sudden tingle of nerves dancing in her midsection at his arrival. “I didn’t really expect you to pitch in. I mean…you must have a lot to do at your own place.”