Free Shelter of Hope by Margaret Daley Page A

young lady who’s going to have to take a bath before we go to see Kim and Zane tonight.”
    Carly sat straight up, cupping one wiggly puppy against her chest. “I don’t want to give any of them away.”
    “What did I tell you about becoming too attached to the animals we take in?” He’d had to learn that the hard way. Becoming too attached hurt.
    “Not to… But, Daddy, that’s hard.”
    He knelt next to her and cradled one of the mixed-breed puppies in his hands. “I know, pumpkin. I have a hard time with it, too, but we only have so much room here. I have to find homes for them so if another dog needs our help, we’ll have a place for it. It’s easier to convince someone to take a puppy.” He held the brown-and-white puppy against his cheek, wishing he had the money and space to take all the animals in. So many had been displaced by the hurricane.
    “Can’t I keep one?”
    “No, pumpkin. Whining will get you nowhere.” He forced a stern tone into his voice because this always happened when there was a new litter. If she had her way, it would be wall-to-wall animals at the farm.
    Carly looked each one over, a frown descending. “But I love them all.”
    “Sorry.”
    A car coming down the dirt road to their house filled the sudden silence that fell between Carly and him.
    She hopped up, saying, “Someone’s here,” and raced out of the barn.
    He put each puppy back in a small pen, then followed his daughter outside to a Mustang. A woman with short, spiky black hair and huge, glistening blue eyes climbed from the car. A tear ran down her cheek, then another. He hurried forward.
    “I’m Susan Fayard, Zane Davidson’s secretary. Kim told me about how you take in hurt animals and care for them.” She moved to the Mustang’s back door and opened it. “Someone hit her. Please help.”
    As the woman stepped back, Nathan leaned in and examined the dog. “I’ll try, but it doesn’t look good.”

Chapter Three
    Story:
    Biting on her thumbnail, Susan paced outside the small building next to the barn where Nathan cared for the animals when they needed medical help. She checked her watch for probably the twentieth time in the past hour. Still no word if the dog would make it or not.
    Lord, she’s in Your hands. Please heal her.
    That was all she could do, because she was too chicken to go in and look for herself. She was thankful Nathan had insisted she stay in the waiting room while he did what he could to fix the dog. She’d readily agreed because she couldn’t stand seeing an animal hurting. The dog’s whimpers from the backseat on the way to the farm had produced so many tears that she’d nearly missed the turn into the place.
    “Daddy is the best. He’ll take care of her.” The girl who’d introduced herself as Carly, the vet’s daughter, sat on a bale of hay stacked against the barn, holding a white cat and stroking it.
    “Her hind leg was messed up bad.” Susan glanced down at her shirt and slacks, stained with the dog’s blood.
    “That happened with another dog we had, but Daddy fixed her right up. He can heal anything.”
    The door opened, and Nathan stepped outside. Nothing in his expression gave away the prognosis of the animal until his dark-chocolate eyes connected with hers. A softening in them eased the tension in Susan, and she came to a stop a few feet from him.
    “She’ll be okay?” Susan asked, unable to look away from the kindness in his gaze. It lit his whole face, especially when his eyes fell on his daughter.
    “I think so. I’ll know more after twenty-four hours. I’ve set her leg. Now we wait.”
    “I’m not very good at waiting.”
    “I’m not, either.” Carly hopped off the hay bale and placed the cat on the ground. “Can I see her now?”
    “Sure, pumpkin. I’ve given her something, so she’s sleeping.” As his daughter hurried inside, he swung his attention to Susan. “You can see her, too. It won’t be as hard on you now. She’s been cleaned