Heather by Chris Keniston

Author:Chris Keniston [Keniston, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indie House Publishing
Published: 2019-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

***

“Woof.”

Lifting his gaze from his laptop and still steaming cup of coffee, retired General Harold Hart took note of Lady at the edge of the porch. Sarge dutifully sat beside him, strategically situated so his hand would be at just the right height to scratch behind the dog’s ear if the urge struck. The sound of Sarge’s other half had the loveable golden on alert.

“Woof,” Lady barked again, her head turning from the distance to where he sat and then back. If the tail weren’t wagging rapidly, Harold would have been concerned something or someone unwelcome had breached the perimeter. Not that they had a fence enclosing the family land, but still, the dogs knew better than he did where his land ended and the neighbor’s started. When Sarge trotted away to join Lady at the railing, it was almost enough to make Harold pause his messaging on social media and get up to see if it was a squirrel or raccoon that had the attention of both animals, but the conversation was just getting interesting and he had no intention of giving it up for a night crawling critter.

“Woof,” Sarge sounded and turned his head from Lady to master. Apparently both dogs were bound and determined to have him come see whatever was lurking around for himself.

“Okay.” Harold posted TTYL, logged off, and stood, reminding himself dogs were man’s best friend, even at the climactic moment of a military thriller.

Almost smiling, Sarge panted and set his tail to wagging faster than Lady’s.

“All right. What critter has your…. Well, well.” If not for the moonlight it might have taken him longer to notice the silhouettes in the distance—dancing. “How about that?”

Lady woofed and moved around so the retired general was flanked by a dog on either side. Together the three watched the couple gently swaying in the distance. Harold smiled. Wouldn’t this make for interesting conversation next time he chatted with Gene.

Harold’s firstborn grandbaby was one helluva surgeon and he couldn’t have been prouder of her if she’d single handedly cured all heart disease, but even boots on the ground soldiers got some R&R. Setting a hand atop either dogs’ head, he gently patted them. “Glad someone around here still has sharp eyes.”

Before settling back into his favorite chair, he glanced from the dogs still staring intently at the shore, tails wagging double time, to the shadowed figures in the distance.

“Stall tactics?” His loving bride of decades came to stand beside him.

The woman always could read him like a book. “Just admiring the view.”

“You know you can’t put her off forever.”

Of course he could. He hadn’t made General in the Marine Corps by being soft.

“And if she corners Doc Wilkins…” her words hung.

That might be more of a problem. Unless he could drop chaff. Sometimes all a person needed to distract a dog after steak was a good bone.

His Fiona linked her arm with his. “They do make a nice couple.”

“That they do,” he agreed, “that they do.”

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