“No,” I called. “Come back here.”
Did he think this was a game? It was late and dark and cold. Archer was worried sick.
The thought of Archer turned my haste into a run, feet slapping over the frozen ground as I darted after Marlowe. My breath puffed out before me in big, white clouds as I bolted around the trunk, hoping to see the dog.
He was a few yards away, at the edge of the oak’s reach.
He barked again and took off, so I started running too.
Moments later, I collided into something hard, flying back and landing so that the sky was a blanket above me. Breath knocked out of me, I coughed as my arms flung out to the sides.
A warm, wet tongue scraped up the side of my face, the slobber cooling instantly and making me shiver.
“Marlowe,” I panted, reaching up to bury my fingers into the fur at the dog’s neck and realizing just how cold I felt, even with the gloves.
If he hadn’t made me wear them, I’d be frozen.
Archer appeared above his dog, scowling. “Toby.”
“I got him,” I said, tightening my fingers into his fur.
“I think he got you,” he rebuked and then nudged the dog aside.
“Wait, he’ll run,” I protested, trying to keep hold of the Aussie.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Archer informed, reaching down to grab my arms and haul me up.
“You’re not the one who’s been chasing him,” I muttered, brushing the snow off my coat.
“You were chasing him?”
“It’s like he wanted me to come here,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at the tree. “How did you find him?”
“I heard him barking.”
“Right.” I agreed. “Well, I’m glad we found him. I’ll check his paw quickly, then look at it better once we get back to the barn.”
I turned to see the dog beating his tail against the ground as snowflakes sprinkled in his fur. “Good boy,” I said, leaning down to pet him. His tail beat harder, and his ears wiggled with excitement.
“Can I have a light?” I asked over my shoulder. Then to the dog, “Paw.”
Marlowe lifted his paw into my waiting hand.
“Good boy,” I praised as I lifted his leg, and Archer angled the light. The bandage was gone, probably part of the land now, but there didn’t appear to be any bleeding, so that was a positive sign.
“Seems okay,” I said, lowering Marlowe’s paw and standing.
“Your pants are soaking wet,” Archer announced, shining the light on my lower half as though he was going to interrogate my khakis.
I shrugged. “It’s snowing.”
“On the ground,” he bit out. “So why is it on your pants?”
“I fell.”
His brow dipped low over his blue stare. “Did you roll around in it too?”
“Thank you for helping me find my dog, Toby,” I parroted. Geez, he was a grump.
