“How did he hurt himself?” she asked.
“We took in a couple of porcupines before passing them on to a specialist rescue center,” Rylan explained. “Jekyll got into an argument with one of them.”
“Will he let me pet him?” Bree asked Dinah.
“Oh, yes. He loves people. Just hates other animals, especially dogs.”
“He has small-dog syndrome,” Rylan said. “His life would be a lot easier if he just got along with the other canines.”
“Poor little guy.” Bree tickled Jekyll’s ears. The dog, clearly sensing sympathy, shuffled forward until he could rest his chin on her knee.
“I have no sympathy for anyone who thinks they can win a fight with a porcupine by sitting on it,” Rylan told Jekyll in a scolding tone. “It took the veterinary nurse an hour to pull all the quills out of his butt.”
“It’s dinner time.” Dinah got to her feet. “The mob are in the exercise yard, but they’ll be getting hungry.”
Bree helped Dinah fill bowls with dried food, then went with her to the area behind the kennels. Although the dogs were allowed to roam free at various times of the day, Rylan had created a space to encourage socialization and problem-solving skills. With ramps, hoops, tunnels, steps and mounds, it provided the dogs with a different environment, and prevented them from becoming bored.
When they saw the two women, most of the dogs—and Merry the sheep—charged toward the gate. Rylan’s prediction was proved correct. Although they remained boisterous, the dogs were generally well behaved and responded to commands.
“Let’s do this nicely, shall we?” Dinah opened the gate and, to Bree’s surprise, the pack left the exercise yard in an orderly line.
As they reached the kennels, she sensed a change in their manner. A few of the leaders sniffed the air and started to hang back. When they got inside, the reason for their reluctance became obvious. Each of the dogs glanced in Jekyll’s direction, before skirting cautiously around his bed. They were definitely subdued as they headed toward their dinner.
“Wow.” Bree shook her head. “They really don’t like him, do they?”
“He doesn’t make it easy for them.” Rylan sighed as he stooped to stroke Jekyll. “Each one of them has been on the receiving end of his bullying tactics.”
“Why don’t we take Jekyll to the house to recover?” Bree asked.
“He has a self-inflicted sore butt,” Rylan said. “He’s not dying.”
“I know. But that way, the others will get a break from him. Maybe we could reintroduce him gradually and teach him some manners at the same time.”
He looked at the pitiful little dog. “I thought I was supposed to be the soft touch where animals are concerned?”
She grinned. “You just met your match.”
“Thanks for the warning.” He scooped up the dog bed with Jekyll inside it. “But I already knew.”
* * *
The following evening, Rylan was sitting on the porch, trying to complete some paperwork. Far too much of his attention was taken up with pausing to watch Bree as she fussed over Jekyll. The dog seemed much happier now that he was being treated like a royal baby instead of an ornery canine.
All three of them looked up in surprise when Rylan’s cell phone buzzed.
“It’s the app I use for the gate security.” He checked the image on the screen. “Hey, Trey.”
Rylan typed in the code to release the gates, watching on the screen of his cell as Bree’s brother drove through them. Since Trey had visited them once before to deliver Bree’s dress for the gala, he didn’t need directions to the house, and his car came into view a minute or two later.
The sheriff exited his vehicle and came to join them, sinking gratefully into one of the comfortable chairs.
“You sure have some weird pets.” He nodded toward Jekyll.
“Don’t be mean.” Bree covered the dog’s ears. “How are Mom and Dad?”
“Fine. They said hi.”
“Coffee or a cold drink?” Rylan asked.
“Just soda,” Trey said. He took off his Stetson and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. “I just stopped by for a chat, but I really need to get home and catch up on some sleep.”