Page 38 of Rescued By the Dog Trainer

"Buddy rides down with Danny." Wyatt sets the chart back on the desk. "Nadia packed his duffel by the door. I cleared it with the clinic."

"Good." I nod.

Relief washes across Danny's face as the painkillers take hold, heavy and warm. His eyes drift shut mid-grin, and he's out.

Maren straightens the blanket over his leg before we head out. Atlas thumps his tail twice against the floorboards, signalling his approval, on our way out the door.

The barn smells of sweet cedar shavings and fresh straw with sub-zero air leaking under the double doors.

In the main aisle, the service dogs stand at their wire gates with their tails thumping a steady cadence against the timber walls as we walk down the line.

Juno walks right at Maren's side. She doesn't scan the empty corners or pace the aisle. Instead, the Malinois takes her post at the end of the line where she has eyes on Maren and the main doors at the same time.

"She doesn't leave your side." I lean against the wooden post.

"She's impressive. Always alert and checking the perimeter. Keeping her pack safe." Maren drops to one knee to sink her fingers into the thick fur at Juno's neck.

Juno stays grounded. She presses her flank against Maren's thigh and leans her full sixty pounds of weight into the wool of Maren's pants. She lets out a long breath and closes her eyes as she yields to the contact.

"Nobody else gets that reaction from her." I lean back against the timber divider. "Neither Griff nor Sarah nor me. She picked her handler the day you walked into the yard."

"She was just looking for a steady post." Maren strokes Juno's soft brow.

"Or maybe she knows when someone's done running." I walk toward the feed room at the end of the aisle.

Maren stiffens. Her fingers pause in Juno's fur before she stands. She follows me into the feed room while her boots crunch on the stray kibble on the floorboards.

I grab two galvanized steel pails and scoop high-protein kibble from the wooden bin. The iron scoop clatters against the metal pail while I ration out the morning portions.

"Barnaby was worse than Juno when Jesse found him." I keep my focus on the feed scale.

"Wyatt mentioned Jesse Marsh built this place." Maren stands by the open door.

"Jesse built the foundation." I set the filled pail down. "He found Barnaby three winters back in a snowdrift past the old timber mill down on Creek Road. Three feet of powder with ten degrees below zero. Barnaby was a washout from a working line in Denver. Severe food aggression, fear-biting, ready to fight anything near his chain."

"How'd you get him out?" Maren steps into the feed room.

"Jesse brought a snow shovel and a canvas blanket." I scoop the second pail full. "He sat in the snow twenty yards away for two hours without moving. He stayed quiet and still. When he got up, he left half a loaf of bread and a slice of salt pork on a stump."

"And you?" Maren steps closer to the feed bin to watch Barnaby sit by my heel.

"Raw beef the next morning." I look up to meet her gaze. "Six hours on the frozen floor of that ruined mill. I offered no lead and no command. Just put my hand flat on the timber board between us and waited."

"Did he take the beef?" Maren leans forward against the wooden bin.

"Four hours passed before he took the first piece." I keep my voice steady. "He took it because he understood I wasn't pulling my hand back when he bared his teeth."

"And how did Jesse find you?" Maren looks down at Barnaby, then back up at my face.

"Behind the PickAxe." I set the iron scoop down on the wooden ledge. "Three winters back. He found me drunk in a snowdrift behind the tavern with frost caking my boots after the Army let me go. I had nowhere to go and no plan for the morning."

"Did he call for help?" Maren steps closer to the feed bin.

"He hauled me out of the truck bed and threw me into his cab." I look into her eyes. "Brought me up to this ridge, put a hot mug of coffee in my hands, and gave me a cot in the bunkhouse. Next morning at seven-thirty, he handed me a heavy shovel and told me the runs needed cleaning. He gave me a job, a cot, and a reason to be upright by noon."

"He collected strays." Maren rests her hand against the timber doorframe.

"He built a sanctuary for them. Saved everyone but himself."