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  Rescue Me

  Cheryl St.John

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  Copyright © 2021 by Cheryl Ludwigs.

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  Chapter One

  Spencer, Colorado

  March

  The sun had barely risen over the mountains when Natalie Jordan laced up her worn leather boots and set off toward the traps she’d set in the brush. The dogs in the outdoor kennels paced nervously as though sensing her purpose. In the dusky hours of early morning, the trees and undergrowth edging her property held deceptive shadows. So far, with stacked cow chips and rotten eggs for scent, she’d caught and released half a dozen raccoons and an opossum.

  The neighboring ranchers thought she was nuts for asking permission to take cow patties from their pastures. Over the past few weeks, she’d been offered small birds and rabbits for bait and every last person had suggested a rifle. Instead, she’d learned everything there was to know about trapping coyotes. She was determined to humanely catch the one harassing her dogs. She’d gone to the game and parks commission, studied regulations and methods of capture, spoken with the game and parks officials, and set her plan in motion.

  As she approached the second trap, movement caught her attention. To the right of a fallen log, a pair of pointed ears and a long nose separated from the gray oblivion, startling her heart into overdrive.

  There he was. Beautiful. Lethal.

  Warily, a gray coyote about the size of a medium dog watched her approach. Its right front foot was caught in the padded jaws of the steel strap. The coyote made a desperate attempt to run, only managing to drag the trap and dart in a circle as far as the securely-staked chain would allow. At the creature’s desperation, a sob caught in her throat.

  From a hundred yards away, a dozen dogs barked in a frenzied chorus, no doubt having smelled the predator. Natalie reached for her phone. Her hands shook as she scrolled her call list and pressed the number she’d programmed. She’d done what needed to be done to protect her dogs, but the deed didn’t feel good. She pulled up her collar against the brisk March wind.

  Game and parks wouldn’t step in, so she’d made prior arrangements with the Nature Sanctuary in Littleton. The coyote would be examined by their medical team and evaluated before being added to their native population exhibit.

  After making the call, she retrieved a piece of meat prepared with a sedative, tossed it to the coyote with an apology, then set about calming her dogs. She referred to all of them as her dogs, even though most were only with her until homes could be found.

  “He was only doing what came naturally.” She let herself into the run and apologized to the outdoor canines in defense of the coyote by petting each one. “And he’ll be safe at the sanctuary.” That last part had been to reassure herself. She was the only protector these previously abused and neglected pets had, and it was up to her to see to their health and safety.

  Inside the barn which had been turned into kennels and exercise pens, she opened a gate and let herself into a pen. Three yellow lab and golden retriever mixes she’d taken in as pups hurried to greet her. They were three months old already.

  She’d named them all, because how could a dog feel good about himself without a name of his own? Milo was the biggest of the remaining three from the litter, and he seemed to wear a smile each time she approached.

  “Hey, big guy.” She knelt and scratched his head and ears, then turned her face aside as he licked her. “You smelled that wily coyote, didn’t you? You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  Oscar and Grace vied for her attention and she lost her balance, falling to a sitting position. Her coat pocket rang, and she fished for her cell phone with one hand while holding a rambunctious pup away from her face with the other. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. “Puppy Love Rescue Center.”

  “Hello, this is Brad Sheldon from the Broken Bow Humane Society. Pam Harding gave me your name and number.”

  Natalie recognized the name of the woman who ran a shelter in a neighboring state. “Hi, Brad.”

  “We have a situation here,” the man began.

  “Okay,” she answered, anticipation putting her on alert.

  “We’re ready to shut down a puppy mill. From our investigation, there are at least thirty dogs. Some are pups, but several are breeders that have most likely been caged for years.”

  Her pulse humming, she stood and concentrated on his next words.

  “We don’t have room for them. We’re a small operation and yesterday we took a house full of cats and dogs from a home in Milburn. I’ve been calling around and finally Pam told me you were the only person she knew who might take this many at once.”

  Natalie’s heart thudded. She glanced at the rows of occupied pens and the pathetically few empty ones on the other side of the building. She could take the dogs, but they’d be crowded and she’d immediately have to find homes for these healthy ones. “Do you know their condition?”

  “They’re poorly fed and unexercised. One or two of the females can’t walk.”

  A knot lodged in her chest. Those would be the toughest to place. “What happens if I can’t take them?”

  “We have no means to care for them, Miss Jordan. They’ll be euthanized.”

  It was still Mrs. but she didn’t correct him. “How long?”

  “The paperwork is on my desk right now. I can stall another day or so.”

  “I’ll have to arrange for vans and drivers,” she told him. “I’ll need funding to pay the expenses and lab bills. I can’t bring them into my center until I know they won’t spread disease.” Her mind raced ahead, grasping for resources. Her facility operated off grants and donations, and to help with expenses, she trained dogs boarded. She didn’t have a cushion.

  “I can hold off until Friday,” he told her. “No later.”

  Four days. She looked at the pups playfully nipping each other at her feet. “All right. I’ll be there Friday.”

  The man on the other end of the phone released an audible breath. “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear you say that.”

  “I’ll get back to you with an exact time, and we’ll work out the details.”

  “Thanks, Miss Jordan.”

  She touched her screen, ending the call.

  Oscar stood with his front paws on her leg. She had just committed to more than she was equipped for. Panic increased her heartrate. She wasn’t going to be able to do this alone. She needed help—and money.

  A honk alerted her to a vehicle
on the drive, so she hurried outside, glad to see the uniformed man who had come for the coyote. Thankfully the predator issue was behind her, because she had an equally challenging dilemma ahead.

  * *

  That afternoon, Natalie drove her ’78 International Scout into Spencer, stopped at Pearl’s café for takeout coffee and three cinnamon rolls, then parked in the lot beside All Creatures Veterinary Clinic. She’d called ahead to make an appointment.

  “Hi, Natalie. Go on back to his office,” the bright red-haired receptionist told her.

  “It’s Emily, right?” At her nod, she set a foam cup and container on the office manager’s desk and juggled the rest on the way past.

  “He’s finishing up an appointment.” Emily opened the lid and her eyes widened. “Edith’s cinnamon rolls are my weakness. Thank you.”

  Natalie entered the new vet Jackson Samuels’ office, set down her load and hung her jacket. By the time she had their coffees arranged, the door opened.

  “To what do I owe this surprise?” Jackson removed the lid from a container. “I thought you were bringing in a dog. Or two.”

  “It’s not a bribe. I didn’t want to talk over the phone.” Natalie took a seat and opened her container.

  “I’m open to bribes like this.” He rolled his chair from behind his immaculately clean and organized desk to seat himself at the corner. “What’s up?”

  “I need your help.”

  He peeled the cellophane from a plastic fork and took a bite. “Okay.”

  Natalie explained about the dogs. “I know this is a huge ask,” she said. “But I had to take them. Will you do the exams if I find funding for labs and shots?”

  “My services are always at your disposal,” he assured her. “But lab-wise, you’re talking a big chunk of change. Besides the gas expense for several vehicles, the medical costs are unpredictable. Dogs left in cages for years need special diets and some have gum diseases or no teeth. They’ll need physical therapy. I’m guessing quite a few of the animals will stay here for a period of time, which means hiring a couple of students for overnight care. It’s possible to collect money in jars at the café and gas station, call on a few friends, but this...?”

  She gestured with a raised hand. “There’s no one else.”

  Jackson removed the lid from his cup, poured coffee into his oversized Aspen Gold Lodge mug and took a thoughtful sip. “We need a sponsor.”

  His easily spoken ‘we’ eased her mind. Natalie had spent the entire drive into town searching her brain for acquaintances and had come up with zero. “Who do we know with a lot of money and a heart to rescue dogs?”

  Jackson finished a bite and tapped the plastic fork against the edge of the container. “I might know someone.”

  Natalie wiped her lips with a paper napkin. “Who?”

  “I met a guy a couple months ago. I may have I mentioned him. It was when I went to the Canine Companions luncheon in Denver. I got his card.”

  “I don’t recall, but okay. Who is he?”

  “He’s interested in funding a project to train companion dogs.”

  “I don’t have experience with that.”

  “No, but you have dogs. Potentially a lot of dogs. I don’t know why I didn’t think of him before. He might be able to immediately train healthy young animals. Those labs you have now would be a perfect start.”

  “Do you think he’d be interested in rescuing those at risk or immobile?”

  “What have you got to lose?” Jackson moved to the other side of his desk, opened the top drawer and took out a business card. “Avery Sawyer. Call him now.”

  Natalie took the card. Sawyer Enterprises, Inc. A phone number and email address were listed under the company name. “Where does he live?”

  “Somewhere in Nebraska I think.”

  Natalie went to her jacket on the hook and got her cell phone. Expecting to leave voice mail, she was surprised by a male voice and the single name: “Sawyer.”

  “Avery Sawyer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi. This is Natalie Jordan. You don’t know me.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, my vet friend, Jackson Samuels, gave me your card. He met you at the—”

  “Canine Companions benefit. I remember him.”

  “Okay, good.” She glanced at Jackson. “I run Puppy Love Adoption Center in Spender, Colorado. I’m in a dilemma, and I’m looking for help. There are thirty dogs that will be euthanized Friday unless I raise funds and find volunteers to go get them and treat them. Jackson is volunteering his services, but there will be lab expenses, medications, vaccinations, food, more than I can take on alone.”

  “Do you have the staff and facilities to care for the dogs once you get them?” he asked.

  “The center will be overcrowded—” She paused, but plunged on. “But only temporarily until I place the healthy dogs I have right now. I have a couple of retirees who help and a few high school volunteers. And I will arrange for more before Friday.” The other end of the line was silent, and she waited without breathing. She’d made plenty of requests for donations, but this time there was more at stake. “I don’t know an exact amount right now, because even the number of dogs is estimated until the authorities get in there and seize them. We’ll need several thousand dollars. I know that’s a lot, but—”

  “You’ve got my attention,” he told her. “I’d like to look into this more.”

  “Great.” She gave Jackson a thumb’s up. “Sure. Anything.” She rattled off the name of the humane society in Broken Bow and that of the man who’d called her. She gave Avery her pertinent information and location.

  “Why don’t we talk again tomorrow?” he asked.

  Waiting didn’t settle well. Every passing hour was another hour closer to the end for those dogs. She’d have to continue searching until she had a concrete commitment. “Thanks for considering this, Mr. Sawyer.”

  “Tomorrow,” he added.

  “Yes.” She hung up and looked at Jackson.

  “Well?”

  “He said we’d discuss it tomorrow. I hope this guy comes through.”

  “Me, too. Let me know what I can do. I’ll have Emily juggle my calendar so I can drive a van on Friday. Will that help?”

  “That would be a huge relief, especially if you can transport the frailest.”

  “Sure.” Jackson picked up their empties and stuffed them into the paper sack. “Let me know how it goes when he calls.”

  “I will.” Natalie grabbed her jacket. “I have a lot to do between now and Friday.”

  Chapter Two

  Abby had been Natalie’s first personal adoption. Shortly after moving to the farm, she’d taken in the skittish White Swiss Shepherd found running loose with a collar imbedded in her neck. Three years later Abby’s bark was still hoarse and she didn’t use it much. The previous vet said her vocal cords were damaged and it was a miracle she hadn’t starved or suffered permanent damage to her throat and esophagus. Abby was Natalie’s gentle giant, a calm, loving companion.

  Goliath, a half-Chihuahua, half-toy poodle that looked like something from a Muppet movie and barely weighed four pounds with a full belly had been her next project. General consensus was that Goliath’s combination of salt and pepper hair mixed with tufts of gray and his pointy ears made him too ugly to be adoptable, but to her he was adorable. It had taken weeks of patience to correct his bad habit of lifting his leg wherever he smelled an interesting scent. Now he spent his time watering the entire outdoors.

  Her third house dog was a brown and white Russell terrier she’d lovingly named Daughtry. Rollie Weston had discovered the canine tied to a trash can behind his gas station. Malnourished and filthy, he’d lost his fur due to a skin disease. With medication and adequate diet, his coat had filled in, and he was an alert and friendly fellow, though he had an awkward gait due to a past leg injury.

  She released the three
from their run and brought them into the house. As she closed the door against the evening chill, her phone rang. Her sister. “Hi, Camille.”

  “How are things going?”

  She briefly explained the situation. Camille was more interested in Natalie’s passion than their parents were, but even she had her limits, so Natalie left out most of the details.

  “Well, I hope that works out for you.”

  “Thanks. How’s your family?”

  “Josh got a swimming trophy last weekend. First in his division. Bryson is competing this coming Saturday.”

  Camille’s children were as perfect as she was, successful, ambitious, all the things the Morris family admired and expected. “Sounds great. I’ll have to arrange to come see a meet.”

  “You always say that, but you never come. I’m calling about Easter. Mother and Daddy are hosting dinner, and they want you there. We all do. You can’t say no. You can find someone to take care of your dogs for a couple days.”

  Just call someone to come over on a holiday and take care of the forty or fifty dogs she’d have by then. As usual, Natalie was expected to drop her own life to meet their demands. And as usual, her father hadn’t contacted her directly. Actually, he hadn’t called her since she’d made the choice to live on the farm. He’d wanted her to join his firm after her estranged husband’s death. This was her punishment for not bending.

  She’d still been struggling with the fact that Tyler had left her when he’d died. She’d been grieving and in shock and her father immediately began pushing her. Saving pets didn’t fit the Morris profile for success.

  “Natalie?”

  “I’m here. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “The family isn’t complete without you,” her sister said.

  “The family is a hundred percent complete without me,” Natalie argued. “Besides, what’s the point? They don’t approve of anything I do.”

  “Daddy’s just concerned for you,” her sister defended their father yet again. “He only wants the best for you.”