Barbara Samuel by Dog Heart Page A

“Good boy,” she said. He sniffed her hand and wrist, and Jessie sat down next to him, keeping her body slightly angled away. “Is he afraid of everything, or certain things in particular?”
    Marcus started to kneel, but a stiff leg stopped him and he straightened again. With a slight burst of shame, Jessie said, “I’m sorry—we can go inside soon, but I want to make him comfortable first.”
    “That’s all right.” He rubbed his thigh, an absent gesture. “I keep forgetting. Just doesn’t bend the way it did.”
    Jessie offered Thor another cube of chicken. He accepted it delicately, then moved his nose along her wrist and up her arm, snuffling, gathering information, eyes trained on her face. She saw vast intelligence there, and exhaustion. Her heart surged toward him, the same hunger she always felt toward wounded dogs—to heal them, love them, protect them. “I can help you,” she promised quietly, offering another treat. “If you let me.”
    He gazed at her steadily. Warily, but with curiosity, too. Dogs usually could sense that she had their well-being in mind.
    Marcus said, “He’s afraid of going inside buildings for the most part. I can get him into a house, but not a building like this. He’s afraid of crowds. And lightning. And the smell of gasoline.”
    “Poor guy.” She grazed the side of his shoulder with the back of her wrist. He looked at her with all the sorrow in the world. “Let’s see if you’ll go inside, shall we?”
    She stood, putting herself on a level with Marcus. His eyes were more guarded than Thor’s, but still troubled. “How is your relationship with him?”
    He shrugged, looking away. His jaw and cheekbone were hard chipped, the angles sharp. Jessie wanted to ease the tension across his mouth, and suddenly remembered all too clearly how it felt to kiss those lips. “He wishes it was me who died, instead of Sean.”
    “And you? How do you feel toward him?” She inclined her head. “Truth. I can’t help if I don’t know the real story.”
    “Maybe I wish it had been Thor instead of Sean.”
    “I guess you’re starting even, then,” she said.
    His jaw tightened. “I guess we are.”
    Jessie crossed her arms. “Can you love him? Can you be good to him even if you don’t?”
    “Yes. I made a promise,” he said. “I will give him the home he deserves.”
    “Do you blame him for Sean’s death?”
    “No,” he said, and faced her clearly. “Thor’s a good soldier. An honorable soldier. He did his best.”
    “And you?”
    A beat. A flash of something across his brow. “I could have done better.”
    She doubted that most earnestly—in football, in love, in raising horses on his father’s ranch, he always gave 100%. She softened toward him ever-so-slightly. “Well, let’s get started.” She gave Marcus a few treats. With anyone else, she would have explained how to reward the dog for each step, but Marcus already knew. They had been drawn together over their love of animals. All animals. “Let’s see if we can get him to come inside.”
    Marcus eyed the building. “This is a bad structure, for the dog.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s all cinderblock. It’s like a building he would have entered on patrol.”
    “We won’t push it, then, but I would like to see how he reacts.” Jessie also wanted to observe the relationship between man and dog. “Offer him a treat and let’s move toward the door.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Marcus tugged on the leash. “Come on, buddy,” he said, offering the treat. “Let’s take a walk.”
    Thor looked at his handler apprehensively, but stood up, taking the treat. They walked a few feet, and Thor stopped, panting. He sat down.
    “That’s a warning,” Marcus said. “There’s danger ahead.”
    “What’s the command to release him?”
    “All clear.”
    Thor disagreed. He looked up at Marcus, then at the cinderblock building, and shifted slightly but kept his dark nose pointed at Trouble Ahead. His ears were up,