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He belonged to a life I left behind a long time ago.

I turned away from the window.

Less than a hundred yards away, inside the Last Stand Tavern, Max barked.

I didn’t hear him.

5

MACE

By five o’clock, I had learned three things about working at the Last Stand Tavern.

People became friendlier after two drinks.

Trigger became louder after one.

And nobody respected the sign taped beside Max’s tip jar.

DO NOT FEED THE DOG.

Max lay behind the bar with a piece of bacon between his paws.

I looked at Trigger.

He lifted both hands. “Wasn’t me.”

I looked at Rylie.

She shook her head. “I gave him steak.”

“Why?”

“He looked hungry.”

“He ate an hour ago.”

“He looked emotionally hungry.”

“That isn’t a thing.”

Rylie crouched and rubbed Max’s ears.

“He’s been on the road for three years. He deserves steak.”

“So do I.”

Trigger leaned across the bar. “I’ll rub your ears if you want.”

“No.”

“You rejected that too quickly.”

“Not quickly enough.”

A customer at the end of the bar laughed into his beer.

I picked up another glass and dried it with a towel.