“You’re not thinking there’s going to be some grand reconciliation, are you?”

“No. But maybe you can lay a few ghosts to rest. The brutal truth is, they’re your family, for better or worse.”

“You’re so wrong.” He began gathering up some of the junk that had fallen in the woods and tossing it into a pile. “The team is my family. It’s been that way ever since I started playing ball. If I pick up the phone and say the word, I know a dozen guys who’ll hop on a plane, no questions asked. How many people can say that of their relatives?”

“You won’t be playing football forever. What happens then?”

“It won’t matter. They’ll still be there.” He kicked at the axle of the truck. “Besides, I’ve got a lot of time left.”

Not so much, she thought. In football years, Dean was on his way to becoming a senior citizen.

A dog began barking, a high-pitched yipping sound. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see a filthy white fur ball scamper out of the weeds. The critter stopped in its tracks as it saw them. Its tiny ears drew back and its yipping grew more ferocious. Matted hair hung over the dog’s small face, and briars clung to its legs. To Blue’s trained eye, the stray looked like some kind of Maltese mix, the kind of dog that should be named Bonbon and have a pink bow in its topknot. But this little critter hadn’t been pampered in a very long time.

Dean went down on one knee. “Where did you come from, big guy?”

The yipping stopped, and the dog regarded him suspiciously. Dean held out his hand, palm up. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been eaten up by a coyote.”

The dog cocked its head, then came cautiously forward to sniff him.

“Not exactly your typical farm dog,” Blue said.

“I’ll bet somebody abandoned him. Tossed him out of a car and drove away.” He poked around in the grubby fur. “No collar. Is that what happened, killer?” He ran his hand along the dog’s side. “His ribs are poking through. How long since you’ve eaten? I’d like five minutes in an alley with whoever dumped you off.”

The critter rolled to his back and splayed his—her—legs.

Blue gazed down at the little trollop. “At least make Dean work for it.”

“Ignore Bo Peep. She’s sex starved, and it’s made her bitter.” Dean stroked the animal’s hollow, filth-covered tummy. “Come on, killer. Let’s get you something to eat.” With a last pat, he rose to his feet.

Blue set off after the two of them. “Once you feed a dog, it’s yours.”

“So what? Farms need dogs.”

“Shepherds and border collies. That is not a country dog.”

“Kindly Farmer Dean believes everyone deserves a chance.”