The dog looked up at him, and Callan let out a sigh. “I think he’s mine now, but I would appreciate a ride so I dinna have to move from our camping spot.”
“Of course. Always happy to help a good samaritan.”
He followed her to her campsite, where there was an enormous RV along with a big SUV.
“Let me grab my keys and we’ll go. I need to pick up hamburger for dinner so I’ll drop you at the vet before I go to the store. If we call on the way, you’ll probably be done by the time I’m finished with my grocery shopping.”
People in this North Carolina were verra kind. “Most appreciated, mistress.”
He left the basket of clean laundry on a table in the woman’s campsite. She assured him it would be fine as her husband and kids were at the pool and knew better than to rummage in a basket of clean laundry.
“I’ll text them and let them know where we’re going. I don’t want my boys to see the dog or they’ll pester me all week to adopt him.”
The visit took longer than expected as there had been an emergency that had come in before him, so he had to wait. Before he knew it, hours had passed. The kind woman waited with him, content to flip through the magazines on the table, telling Callan not to worry. It was the first time she’d had any time to herself today, so she was glad for the break.
When he finally saw the doctor, he told him the dog was quite lucky as ’twas a sprain and not a break. He gave Callan medicine for the wee dog, along with a brace for his paw.
By the time the kind woman, Elaine, pulled into the campground, the sun was setting. He gathered up the laundry, the basket under one arm, and the wee dog tucked under his other arm.
He thanked Elaine and made his way to the van. Daisy would be worried that he’d been gone so long.
“Och, ye numpty,” he chided himself, quickening his pace, deciding he should give in to the lassie’s nagging and get one of the damnable cellphones. Then he could have done the text with her so she would not worry overmuch.
The scene that greeted him was one of panic. Daisy paced back and forth outside the camper van, Frankie sitting quietly nearby, her eyes red from weeping. Relief, confusion, and fear played across her face as she saw him.
“Where on earth have you been? It’s been hours. I thought you’d left.”
He put the laundry in the van, then carried the dog back to the chair with him, sitting and hoping it would calm her.
“Daisy, mo chridhe, I have told ye many times. I would never leave ye. I saw a wee dog in trouble and had to help.”
He patted the beast, explaining what had happened and why it had taken so long.
She slumped in the chair next to him. “I overreacted. Again. I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“I hope ye dinna mind, but I could not leave the wee beast.”
She blew her nose. “I’ve been wanting another dog, so Frankie would have a friend,” she said, sniffing.
Frankie came over, and the two dogs sniffed noses as Daisy held her breath. She’d noticed that for the first time Callan didn’t tell her not to worry, nor did he comfort her.
The little dog was a mix of border collie and beagle, with a black and white coat.
“We should come up with a name for this wee lad,” Callan said. “He’s not to run about until his paw heals.”
Daisy was quiet, her palms clammy as the tension rose around them. “You found him, so how about something Scottish?”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What about Brodie? It’s a good Scottish name.”
She tilted her head, considering. “Brodie... I like it.”
Brodie, upon hearing his new name, thumped his tail as he laid down next to Callan’s chair.
“Aye, Brodie it is, then,” Callan said with a smile, patting the dog affectionately.
No matter how she tried to engage him in conversation, Callan was quiet. Unable to stand it a moment longer, she stood.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
