“The dog is in pretty bad shape.”
Dean frowned. “He looks OK to me.”
Brody padded down the walk until he stood about fifteen feet behind the man. Matt gave him the hand signal to stay. He obeyed, but his focus was 100 percent on Dean. If Dean acted aggressively, Brody would take him down.
“He’s underweight. He’s covered in so many fleas he’s lost some of his fur.” Cady pointed to a bald patch on the dog’s hindquarters. “Your friend left him without any food or water. When did he leave?”
“Yesterday.” Dean’s gaze swept over the dog, as if reassessing him. “No food or water, huh?”
“No.” Cady reached into her pocket for a business card. “I run a dog rescue. You can give my card to your friend when he gets back, and he can contact me about the dog. We’re going to take him to a vet for treatment.”
Dean waved off her offer of a card. “Nah. I ain’t never really looked good at the dog, but I can see you’re right. He’s way too skinny.” He stepped back, his voice full of respect. “You go on your way. I’ll go back to minding my own business.”
“Thanks.” Cady led the dog toward the van.
Dean gave her a quick head bow, then turned back to his truck repair. He hesitated as he caught sight of Brody on the sidewalk. With his ears pricked forward and intelligent eyes riveted on Dean, the dog was intimidating.
“Brody, fuss,” Matt called.
Brody jogged past Dean and fell into a heel position at Matt’s side. Shaking his head, Dean leaned under the raised hood of the pickup.
Matt opened the cargo door and picked up the pittie. Cady opened the crate in the back, and Matt slid the dog inside and closed the door. The dog turned around once and curled up on an old towel.
Matt lifted Brody into the rear seat of the van. “You’re not supposed to jump in and out of vehicles since you hurt your shoulder, but thanks for backing us up.”
Brody wagged his tail.
Matt and Cady climbed into the vehicle. Cady opened a bottle of hand sanitizer. Matt held out a hand, and she squirted some into his palm. The pittie was covered in filth and fleas, and Matt was glad they’d brought Cady’s vehicle.
“Good thing one of us has people skills. That was masterful de-escalation,” Matt said as Cady pulled out onto the street. “You turned a potential confrontation into a positive encounter.” He had been ready to go all brawn, no brain.
Cady laughed. “I’ve done this a few times.”
“More than a few, I’m sure, and that worries me.” Matt glanced at his sister. Her profile was misleading. Her freckles made her look younger than thirty-three. But she’d been rescuing dogs for six years, since her disaster of a marriage and subsequent nasty divorce. Just thinking of that time made Matt’s hand curl into a fist as he remembered the satisfaction of plowing it into her ex’s face. But he didn’t bring it up. One, she didn’t know about that. She thought her ex had decided to stop stalking and harassing her on his own. And two, except for never dating, she seemed to have gotten past that terrible time.
“You sound like Dad.” Cady shook her head. “I can handle myself, and I try not to do stupid things.”
“I know.”
“I called you tonight, right?”
“You did,” he acknowledged. “And for that, I’m grateful, but you’re still my little sister.”
Cady barked out a short laugh. “I’m hardly little, and I rarely run into problems. Most people don’t like seeing a dog mistreated. I’ve encountered some pretty badass dudes who got weepy or angry over an abused dog.”
“But there are plenty of assholes who don’t give a damn, like the one who left him with no food or water.” Matt glanced over the back seat at the crate containing the little pittie. Through the holes, he could see the dog was still curled up. He reached over the seat to give Brody a head scratch.
Cady didn’t argue.
A short while later, she drove back to Matt’s house. “So, can I keep him here until I can place him with a foster?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Of course. There’s an empty kennel. Why not fill it?”
After Matt had recovered from his shooting, he’d bought the house and acreage and built the kennel with the intention of training K-9s, but his sister had immediately filled it with rescues. More than three years later, she was still keeping it full.
“Thank you.”