Free Shelter Me by Catherine Mann Page B

over their kids growing up, but he’d soon realized she was passionate about her rescue work.
    And well organized.
    It appeared to Mike that only about three animals were in the kenneled areas. He’d seen some younger pups on the porch. The whole place was controlled chaos. He was more than a little surprised. This all had to come with so much work and expense for something he knew from talks with the Colonel didn’t bring any income to the family. Lacey managed the Second Chance Ranch Animal Rescue in a purely volunteer capacity. The organization ran off donations.
    Sierra blocked his hand before he could reach his fingers into a kennel with a Pomeranian curled up asleep on a pink bed. “Be careful. He bites.”
    His skin still hummed where she’d touched him.
    “Why is he here then?”
    “He’s detoxing. We won’t know what he’s really like until his system’s clean.”
    He scrubbed a hand over his beard-stubbled face. “You’re going to have to explain that one.”
    “The family he lived with had a teenage drug user.” She leaned back against the barn, one booted foot up. “The dog got hold of a bag of pot and ate a significant portion. The teenager tried to take it back and got bitten in the tug of war. Apparently the teen and his friends had given the dog drugs in the past. They thought it was funny to let the dog get high with them.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Hand to God, it happened. They called Animal Control.” The humor left her eyes. “Once a dog has bitten, the shelter’s hands are tied when it comes to adopting that animal out. Since this didn’t appear to be the dog’s fault, the shelter called my mom to see if Second Chance Ranch could take in Lucky . . . That’s his official name, even though I think of him as Doobie.”
    “Doobie.” He chuckled. “Cute.”
    “Yeah, but Mom says Lucky’s a more ‘marketable’ name.”
    “What happens if Lucky’s still a biter afterward?”
    Her cheeks expanded with a puff. “We’ve got a foster home that rehabs abused dogs, but sometimes the animal is too far gone to ever be safe around people . . . But we’re thinking positive for Lucky right now. Okay?”
    “Positive thoughts. Got it.” He realized in a flash that this place wasn’t just a second chance for some animals. It was a last chance. “So all of these animals came from the local shelter?”
    “Different shelters in all the surrounding counties. Others came from people who contacted Mom directly. And there are more in foster homes.” Her voice was filled with pride . . . and an exhaustion most wouldn’t have seen but he couldn’t miss. “My mother’s role as head of the rescue isn’t a paid position. She pours every cent of donations back into the rescue.”
    “How have you paid your bills since your father died?” He didn’t remember the Colonel talking about that aspect, but then they wouldn’t have discussed money. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”
    “It’s okay. I have my graduate assistantship. Gramps has his retirement. My mother still teaches through a virtual school online, high school classes year-round, and she’s able to work from the house. My living at home and helping with Gramps saves us money, too. We’re fine, better off than plenty of people.”
    Still, all the renovations converting the barn to a rescue facility could have bought a lot of repairs around this place. Did Sierra resent the money that went to animals rather than her education? “You used to dream of moving, getting an efficiency with thrift store refurbished furniture.” They’d talked about how she would be able to leave after her father finished this deployment and could help with the General. “You wanted to rent a writer’s garret, like that Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own .”
    He’d loved listening to her dream out loud. She had a way of painting pictures with words that let him see things differently. She’d once described her ideal space to him,