Stopping in Lonely Places

Stopping in Lonely Places

by Mary Lee Tiernan

Copyright 2013 Mary Lee Tiernan

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be copied or reproduced in any format without the prior written consent of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents or events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or persons, past or present, is coincidental.

Mahoney and Me Series

Book 1 Stopping in Lonely Places

Book 2 Mahoney and Me

Book 3 Caught in Lies

Book 4 Santa’s Naughty List

Book 5 Broken Hearts, Broken Bodies

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 1

We never know what’s around the next bend in the road. I was driving north along a two-lane highway which maps refer to as a scenic by-pass. Woods lined the highway on either side. With the windows down, I breathed in the fresh scent of the pine trees and watched the patterns of light dance across the windshield as the sun filtered down through the tree branches. When I’m RVing, I much prefer traveling along these back roads and avoiding the congestion of freeways. Zooming down a freeway negates any real chance of enjoying the beauty of the Western landscapes or savoring the flavor of small towns along the way. Other women often look at me horrified and ask if I’m not afraid to travel by myself. In my years of RVing, I’d never had any trouble traveling solo. That was about to change.

Spotting a turnout just ahead, I slowed down and pulled over. At the edge of the turnout, a mountain stream glittered in the sun as the water cascaded over the rocks. The babbling water and birds singing to one another broke the silence of the remote spot. My favorite kind of lonely place. It was time to stretch my legs and grab a bite of lunch.

I took my sandwich and bottle of water and perched on a boulder at the stream’s edge while I ate. I had just about finished when a rather mangy-looking black and white border collie ambled out of the woods. One look at his thin frame and matted coat told me the dog needed help. When he was about ten feet away, he lay down, stared at me with his large sad brown eyes, and whined softly.

What’s a matter, boy? I asked. Are you hungry too?

My tone must have reassured him, and he tentatively began to wag his tail.

I held out my hand. Come here, I said.

Neither one of us really understood what the other intended. He crawled forward a foot or so, stopped, and whined again.

I won’t hurt you, I assured him. I held out the remnant of my sandwich. Would you like this?

If eyes could talk, he said, I sure do.

I continued to coax him as he cautiously crawled forward. When he was within arm’s reach, I gently laid the sandwich down. Keeping an eye on me, he reached out, grabbed the sandwich in his mouth, and wolfed it down. Assured I hadn’t meant to betray him, he sat up.

Woof, he said. Thank you. Then he lay back down and whined softly. Any more?

I rose slowly so as not to frighten him. You wait here, I said and walked back to my van-camper.

I scrounged through the refrigerator for something he could eat, put the food in a bowl, and added some cat food. Okay, so I know cat food isn’t the best thing to give a dog, but I didn’t have any dog food, and I didn’t think at this point that he would be too fussy. I grabbed another bowl and filled it with water. Juggling the two bowls, I climbed down the van stairs. The collie had waited. I put the bowls down and backed away to let him enjoy his meal.

While he was eating, I heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled into the turnout and stopped behind me. Bummer, I thought. There goes my solitude. Bummer was right.

The figure of a lanky young man appeared around the corner of my van. In his hand he held a hammer. He looked at me a bit surprised, as though I was the one intruding on his space. He raised the hammer threateningly but didn’t say a word.

The dog did though. He stood poised ready to strike and snarled menacingly at the stranger. The man glanced at the dog and took a step sideways away from him. That told me all I needed to know.

If you want to leave here with your skin intact, I said, I’d put that hammer down right now and back slowly away to your car and get out of here.

The collie, bless him, seemed to understand what I said. He stepped forward and let out a growl that even scared me. While the dog was thin and not so imposing in size, his mangy coat made him look a bit deranged.

The man dropped the hammer, but forgot the back slowly away part. He turned and ran. When his car door slammed shut, I walked toward the front of my van so I could see him as he pulled away. I noted the color and shape of the car, but concentrated on the license plate number. I repeated it over and over until I could get to a piece of paper and pen to write it down. I made two copies, just in case.

The collie waited patiently. I squatted down and praised him for his bravery. Good boy, good boy, I kept saying as I held out my hand to him. This time he came to me willingly. I pet him and hugged him, and he licked my face and hands.

Well, I finally said, I think we better get out of here. I rose and walked toward the van door. Hearing a whimpering behind me, I turned around. The dog sat where I’d left him.

Oh, no, I told him, I’m not leaving you here after what you did for me. Come on. I gestured toward the door. Come on. Get in the van. If dogs can smile, he did so and bounded up the stairs into the camper.

Van-campers are fairly small, so the two of us did a little dance while he figured out where to go, and I tried to get around him to lock the doors. Before we took off, however, one item loomed large on the agenda. I sat down on a built-in chair opposite the wardrobe with the dog at my feet. I had no idea how he got along with cats, but I did know what my cat was going to think of him.

I’m going to introduce you to Charlie, I told him. I held his head and looked directly into his eyes. You’ve got to be good with Charlie. I then reached over and opened the wardrobe door.

Charlie likes to sleep in the wardrobe during the day or when we’re traveling. She can access it at will through a small door on the bottom side of the closet. It’s also her favorite place to hide if she’s scared. It’s her safety place.

When I opened the door, Charlie peered out between the clothes. She’d backed away as far as she could to the rear of the wardrobe. The size of her tail attested to what she thought about this dog invading her territory. She hissed.

The collie, fortunately, sat still. He simply cocked his head sideways and looked at her. I breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t lunge forward. I closed the door. That was enough for their first glimpses of each other.

We’d only driven to the edge of the turnout when I spotted a state highway patrol car coming toward us. I switched on my emergency flashers, honked the horn, and turned off the engine. The patrol car made a U-turn and pulled up beside me.

After explaining what had happened, the officer had a few questions. Did I know the make and model? Cars aren’t my thing, so I could only tell him that it was an old, beat up American car, one of those big gas-guzzlers. Color maroon. He wasn’t too happy with such a general description until I reached into the van, grabbed the piece of paper with the license number written on it, and handed it to him.

Could I describe the driver?

Thin, maybe 5’10", dressed in jeans and a dirty white T-shirt. In his 20’s, perhaps. Brown hair, long enough to stick out from under his baseball cap. Between the cap and dark sunglasses, I had little to say about facial features.

What about the hammer? Did you leave it? he asked as he scanned the area.

No, I picked it up. It’s in the van. He winced as I said I picked it up.

Don’t worry, I said. I watch a lot of CSI shows. I used a plastic bag and picked it up at the top part of the handle, just below the head. Then I put it into another plastic bag.

He laughed. Guess those shows do some good.

I retrieved the hammer and gave it to him. He excused himself for a minute while he radioed in the report.

By now, the collie had managed to climb up into the driver’s seat. He followed the patrolman with his eyes and emitted a low warning growl. He obviously didn’t like two strange men around the van in such a short period of time. I assured him I was quite all right.

That the dog? the officer asked.

Sure is. I couldn’t just abandon him. But he sure needs a bath, I said wrinkling up my nose, and I need to stock up on some dog supplies. Do you know if there’s a pet store and a pet grooming place in the next town?

The patrolman paused before answering. You know, he said, old man Haggerty’s been lookin’ for a border collie that ran away. Been pestering us every day to keep on the lookout for ‘im.

Oh, if he already has a home…

The patrolman raised his hand to silence me. "Returning that dog to Haggerty would be the same as returning him to Hell. The smart ones run