streaking on its breast. Hence the name barred owl. Its length was about twenty inches and its wingspan about forty inches. She’d named it Gomer for no reason she knew, except that he looked like a Gomer. She pressed the napkin against the sore spot where he’d nipped her and glared into the bird’s round face.
“I know you prefer field mice, but talk about biting the hand that feeds you!” She spat the words out, surprised by the level of dismay the creature had evoked. Most of the animals she tended expressed their appreciation for the care she gave them. Of course, they were in large part abandoned domestic animals that people had simply grown tired of.
“You OK?” Vanessa had come in just as Gomer had struck.
“Blamed bird bit me!” she fumed. She pressed a Dunkin’ Donuts napkin to her wrist. “Why aren’t you out cleaning the cages like I told you to?”
“I finished them,” the girl said quietly without looking up. Her drape of dark hair fell over her forehead as she edged toward the door. “I was just going to wash my hands.”
“Well, get me a bandage from the back while you’re at it. And hurry before I bleed to death!”
Carla turned her back to the teenager who had proved to be her best volunteer yet. She’d had a string of them. Most got tired of the hard work involved in handling shelter animals. They quickly got over being charmed by sweet little puppies and kittens, and left her in a lurch.
Vanessa Stevens worked hard and never made excuses for not coming in. She wasn’t lippy either. Not like most kids these days , Carla thought. She bit the inside of her lip, sorry for her outburst. She’d better watch herself if she wanted to keep the girl around. But she had to find a way to get more of the animals adopted. What she really needed was someone with computer skills. She needed a website to help find people willing to adopt her ever-growing menagerie. With her reputation around Stony Point, would anyone answer her ad?
“It’s a wonder anyone hangs around the way you badger them.” Ian Butler had minced no words when he’d stopped by recently. He’d welcomed her when she’d moved into the area and even facilitated her land-grant deal. He didn’t come around much, but she knew he kept an eye on her, like he did anything that had to do with his beloved Stony Point.
“I’m not running a personality contest here, Mr. Mayor,” she’d spouted back. “I’m just trying to help the animals your good people leave on my doorstep anytime they get tired of them.”
She knew abandoned animals didn’t always come from Stony Point’s citizens; more likely they were castoffs from summer visitors or area strays. And she knew he was secretly glad the animals were being taken care of. He hadn’t flung a bunch of rules about licensing and such in her face. He’d been very patient.
Mayor Butler had pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her. “Nobody’s holding a club over your head, madam. It’s your land.”
“You’ve got that right!” she had huffed and left the handsome mayor standing in the driveway of the country acreage she’d purchased with the last of the Henderson trust fund.
Carla sat down heavily at the makeshift desk with its scattered papers. She kept a log on every animal she took in, and it surprised her now to see how the pile of paper had grown—and how her resources had dwindled. When Vanessa told her she was part of a needlework club and that the group was going to raise funds for the shelter, she’d been even more surprised. What was behind their generosity? People always had ulterior motives.
She’d never intended to come back here, of all places. As a child she’d been taken to a lot of resort towns and dragged to places she didn’t want to go. Mostly she was left on her own or with one of the nannies charged with her care and keeping. Stony Point was just another vacation spot for her wealthy family, but here her life had begun. And ended! After
“I know you prefer field mice, but talk about biting the hand that feeds you!” She spat the words out, surprised by the level of dismay the creature had evoked. Most of the animals she tended expressed their appreciation for the care she gave them. Of course, they were in large part abandoned domestic animals that people had simply grown tired of.
“You OK?” Vanessa had come in just as Gomer had struck.
“Blamed bird bit me!” she fumed. She pressed a Dunkin’ Donuts napkin to her wrist. “Why aren’t you out cleaning the cages like I told you to?”
“I finished them,” the girl said quietly without looking up. Her drape of dark hair fell over her forehead as she edged toward the door. “I was just going to wash my hands.”
“Well, get me a bandage from the back while you’re at it. And hurry before I bleed to death!”
Carla turned her back to the teenager who had proved to be her best volunteer yet. She’d had a string of them. Most got tired of the hard work involved in handling shelter animals. They quickly got over being charmed by sweet little puppies and kittens, and left her in a lurch.
Vanessa Stevens worked hard and never made excuses for not coming in. She wasn’t lippy either. Not like most kids these days , Carla thought. She bit the inside of her lip, sorry for her outburst. She’d better watch herself if she wanted to keep the girl around. But she had to find a way to get more of the animals adopted. What she really needed was someone with computer skills. She needed a website to help find people willing to adopt her ever-growing menagerie. With her reputation around Stony Point, would anyone answer her ad?
“It’s a wonder anyone hangs around the way you badger them.” Ian Butler had minced no words when he’d stopped by recently. He’d welcomed her when she’d moved into the area and even facilitated her land-grant deal. He didn’t come around much, but she knew he kept an eye on her, like he did anything that had to do with his beloved Stony Point.
“I’m not running a personality contest here, Mr. Mayor,” she’d spouted back. “I’m just trying to help the animals your good people leave on my doorstep anytime they get tired of them.”
She knew abandoned animals didn’t always come from Stony Point’s citizens; more likely they were castoffs from summer visitors or area strays. And she knew he was secretly glad the animals were being taken care of. He hadn’t flung a bunch of rules about licensing and such in her face. He’d been very patient.
Mayor Butler had pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her. “Nobody’s holding a club over your head, madam. It’s your land.”
“You’ve got that right!” she had huffed and left the handsome mayor standing in the driveway of the country acreage she’d purchased with the last of the Henderson trust fund.
Carla sat down heavily at the makeshift desk with its scattered papers. She kept a log on every animal she took in, and it surprised her now to see how the pile of paper had grown—and how her resources had dwindled. When Vanessa told her she was part of a needlework club and that the group was going to raise funds for the shelter, she’d been even more surprised. What was behind their generosity? People always had ulterior motives.
She’d never intended to come back here, of all places. As a child she’d been taken to a lot of resort towns and dragged to places she didn’t want to go. Mostly she was left on her own or with one of the nannies charged with her care and keeping. Stony Point was just another vacation spot for her wealthy family, but here her life had begun. And ended! After
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