Flamethrower - Maggie Estep [55]
“You know this puppy?” Ruby looked down at the dog in her arms. He licked her chin. He was getting heavy, and Ruby rearranged him in her arms.
“That’s Spike,” the old man said, as if it were obvious.
“He’s yours?” Ruby asked, resolving to rescue Spike from a life where he was left to his own devices in a parking lot at night.
“Ain’t nobody’s. Just turned up here a few weeks back. I feed him. Figure he’ll be a good guard dog.”
Unless he was going to ward off marauders by wagging his tail and licking their hands, Spike wouldn’t make much of a guard dog.
“I need a dog,” Ruby announced. She figured it was going to cost her, but she didn’t care. The old guy stared at her without saying anything, then shrugged.
“Well, you got one,” he said.
Ruby was ready for an argument and was stunned not to get one.
“Seems to like you,” the old man shrugged, “and I don’t guess he’d make such a good guard dog, what with licking people like he does.”
Ruby saw a flicker of tenderness come into the old man. It was as touching as it was unexpected. The old man got to his feet, opened a gray steel cabinet, and pulled out a bag of kibble.
“Here.” He proffered the bag. “He’ll be wanting breakfast in the morning.”
Ruby put Spike down on the floor and took the bag.
“Thank you,” she said, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“What are you gonna name him?” the old man asked.
“Nothing wrong with Spike,” Ruby said.
The old man beamed. “He’s gonna be a big one, you know,” the old guy said, reaching down and grabbing one of Spike’s paws. “Hundred pounds or so. Looks like he’s got some Rhodesian ridgeback in him and maybe some Great Dane too.”
Ruby nodded. Spike looked nothing like a Great Dane, but the last thing she wanted was to argue with the old guy.
“Well.” Ruby wanted to get back to her room before the old man reverted to his earlier crankiness. “Good night,” she said, turning and walking out of the office.
Spike happily trotted next to Ruby, and when she opened the door, he jumped onto the bed and curled into a ball. Ruby had no idea if Spike was house-trained but figured she’d find out soon enough.
She stripped off her clothing and got under the covers without even brushing her teeth. She looked at Spike one more time before closing her eyes. He lifted his head and thumped his tail. She closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.
16. SHOT
It took Ruby a few minutes to remember where she was and why there was a dog in the bed. She stumbled into the bathroom to pee, and Spike followed, tilting his head, trying to figure out what she was doing.
Ruby brushed her teeth, threw water on her face, and let Spike out onto the grassy area in front of her room. The pup spun around in a few tight circles and immediately took care of business.
Ten minutes later, Ruby had repacked her overnight bag and was ready to go. She put Spike in the backseat of the Mustang, but as soon as she pulled out of the parking space, the dog scrambled into the front and settled into the passenger seat, maintaining eye contact with Ruby as he did, making a statement.
“Okay, fair enough,” Ruby said.
Spike tilted his head.
Ruby made a right out of the motel driveway, heading for the town of Trout Falls, where she hoped to find a diner. She needed coffee, and Spike needed food since she wasn’t about to feed him the by-product-infested kibble the old man had given her.
Main Street, Trout Falls, was lined with wood-frame houses that looked as though they’d been built in the 1940s. Humble houses with plastic furniture and swing sets on front lawns. The town consisted of a decrepit five-and-dime, a gas station, a police station, and The Main Diner, a 1950s-looking silver diner. The parking lot was almost full. Either the place was good or, more likely, it was the only diner in town.
Spike tried to jump out when Ruby opened the car door, but she gently pushed him back and told him to stay. She wasn’t sure he understood the specific command, but he got the general idea and settled back into the passenger seat after giving