silky-soft red ears. The big wolfhound-setter mix didn’t wake up, but his long fringed tail swept the cobblestones with a happy thump-thump-thump . A headache that’d been building for the past few hours, gathering weight and strength behind Jesse’s eyes, made thinking harder than it should be. Than he remembered it used to be.
Petting Dog helped, usually. God, but he’d grown. Seemed like yesterday he’d fished a puppy out of the dumpster where he’d heard it crying. Good thing, too. He and Dog had saved each other’s lives. Helena called him a service dog to get around the rules for having animals in the tavern.
Jesse stroked the gentle slope of Dog’s back now, grounding himself. Strangers didn’t come looking for Jesse. Everyone who mattered—for now—already knew him. Maybe. He forgot, sometimes. Both things and people. “Should I look and see if I recognize him?”
“If you want,” Cade said with a casual shrug. He kept one eye on Jesse while he tied a knot in his new apron and stepped to one side, nodding at the door. “If you go just far enough to peek through the galley window, you’ll see him. He’s with that big group from the road crew.”
Jesse knew most of the road crew by sight. Decent guys, most of them. Rough around the edges but they wouldn’t hurt a fly, and they liked Dog. He patted Dog’s neck and murmured, “Stay.”
Dog yawned.
Cade laughed. Too loudly, but he meant well. “Somebody’s got to teach that hound how to relax,” he said as he crossed paths with Jesse and knelt by the big dog’s head, rumpling his ears. “Go on. I’ve got him.”
Jesse thought Helena must have given Cade the rundown on how to treat him. Handle with care . He’d be humiliated if he wasn’t grateful. He nodded a clumsy thanks to Cade as he slipped past him.
It wasn’t often that Jesse ventured even so far as the Hart and Hound’s kitchen. He wasn’t good with crowds, either, but as long as he stayed as far back from the noise and lights of the colonial-era tavern, he managed. It wasn’t far. No one saw him except the short order cook who did the burgers to go with the beers, a small man who shot Jesse one incurious glance, shrugged and visibly dismissed him.
The stranger amongst the road crew had settled himself at a good angle to be seen through the galley window. Smallish for a guy, but wiry. Dark hair, so dark it nearly shined blue under the low lights. Tanned from hard work.
He should be pale, Jesse thought. Clear as moonlight .
Why did I think that? I—
A throb of not-quite-pain, more than discomfort, pounded its fists behind Jesse’s left eye. He hissed and pressed the heel of his hand over that eye to block the light. It’d kept him awake the night before, and surfaced at the worst times during the day. Though given how mixed-up his body signals were after taking that lot of shrapnel, it might not have been pain at all. Might have been some sensation he no longer understood. “I don’t recognize him,” he said. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Cade said, approaching from the right side. “If you were hurting, you should have said.”
Jesse massaged his forehead, raised one shoulder, and said nothing. His wrist gave a twinge. Must have pulled it manhandling that keg. He chafed at the joint and shook his head.
Words wouldn’t come, but Cade understood him all the same.
“Don’t be a noble idiot, huh?” Cade scolded, kindly enough. As if Jesse were his brother. “There’s no need to suffer when you don’t have to, you know. Take some aspirin, take Dog, and get on home. Ah-ah-ah. Not a word.” He pointed firmly at the door. “I’ll tell whoever he is that you’re not selling what he’s buying, but don’t you worry about it. Understand?”
* * * *
“Whose round is it?”
“Not mine,” Daniel said, pushing the crew foreman’s shoulder as he leaned back in his chair. He’d worked two weeks for the man, and though he wouldn’t
Petting Dog helped, usually. God, but he’d grown. Seemed like yesterday he’d fished a puppy out of the dumpster where he’d heard it crying. Good thing, too. He and Dog had saved each other’s lives. Helena called him a service dog to get around the rules for having animals in the tavern.
Jesse stroked the gentle slope of Dog’s back now, grounding himself. Strangers didn’t come looking for Jesse. Everyone who mattered—for now—already knew him. Maybe. He forgot, sometimes. Both things and people. “Should I look and see if I recognize him?”
“If you want,” Cade said with a casual shrug. He kept one eye on Jesse while he tied a knot in his new apron and stepped to one side, nodding at the door. “If you go just far enough to peek through the galley window, you’ll see him. He’s with that big group from the road crew.”
Jesse knew most of the road crew by sight. Decent guys, most of them. Rough around the edges but they wouldn’t hurt a fly, and they liked Dog. He patted Dog’s neck and murmured, “Stay.”
Dog yawned.
Cade laughed. Too loudly, but he meant well. “Somebody’s got to teach that hound how to relax,” he said as he crossed paths with Jesse and knelt by the big dog’s head, rumpling his ears. “Go on. I’ve got him.”
Jesse thought Helena must have given Cade the rundown on how to treat him. Handle with care . He’d be humiliated if he wasn’t grateful. He nodded a clumsy thanks to Cade as he slipped past him.
It wasn’t often that Jesse ventured even so far as the Hart and Hound’s kitchen. He wasn’t good with crowds, either, but as long as he stayed as far back from the noise and lights of the colonial-era tavern, he managed. It wasn’t far. No one saw him except the short order cook who did the burgers to go with the beers, a small man who shot Jesse one incurious glance, shrugged and visibly dismissed him.
The stranger amongst the road crew had settled himself at a good angle to be seen through the galley window. Smallish for a guy, but wiry. Dark hair, so dark it nearly shined blue under the low lights. Tanned from hard work.
He should be pale, Jesse thought. Clear as moonlight .
Why did I think that? I—
A throb of not-quite-pain, more than discomfort, pounded its fists behind Jesse’s left eye. He hissed and pressed the heel of his hand over that eye to block the light. It’d kept him awake the night before, and surfaced at the worst times during the day. Though given how mixed-up his body signals were after taking that lot of shrapnel, it might not have been pain at all. Might have been some sensation he no longer understood. “I don’t recognize him,” he said. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Cade said, approaching from the right side. “If you were hurting, you should have said.”
Jesse massaged his forehead, raised one shoulder, and said nothing. His wrist gave a twinge. Must have pulled it manhandling that keg. He chafed at the joint and shook his head.
Words wouldn’t come, but Cade understood him all the same.
“Don’t be a noble idiot, huh?” Cade scolded, kindly enough. As if Jesse were his brother. “There’s no need to suffer when you don’t have to, you know. Take some aspirin, take Dog, and get on home. Ah-ah-ah. Not a word.” He pointed firmly at the door. “I’ll tell whoever he is that you’re not selling what he’s buying, but don’t you worry about it. Understand?”
* * * *
“Whose round is it?”
“Not mine,” Daniel said, pushing the crew foreman’s shoulder as he leaned back in his chair. He’d worked two weeks for the man, and though he wouldn’t
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