Sam walked stiff-legged into a back room, returning shortly with an oversized battered file folder. “Here.” He shoved it in my direction.

“One more.” Bram pointed at the drawing on the wall.

Sam took it down and shoved it into the file folder.

“There’s another two small drawings in the phone book.” Julia gave Sam a defiant look.

“Who said you—” Sam slammed his hand on the counter and glared at the clerk.

“She needed food, you were gone, and you know how she could become crazy-mad at the drop of a hat.” Julia put her hands on her hips.

Bram ignored both of them and stepped into the back room. He returned with an old phone book, which he handed to me.

Sam looked as if he was going to have a heart attack. He finally sputtered, “I’ll go hitch up the wagon.”

Bram grinned.

Crash!

I jumped.

Julia had dropped several cans.

Bram turned and headed toward her. The woman gave me a snarky grin.

I wiggled my fingers at her as I aimed for the door. “Vous avez de la saleté sur le nez, arkadaşım,” I said in French and Turkish. You have dirt on your nose, my friend.

Now I really am showing off. If Julia had her sights on Bram, she had nothing to fear from me.

The dogs were stretched out under a pine but rose when I appeared. I sat on the edge of the wooden sidewalk and let them approach and check me out on their terms. Holly, the Lab mix, wasted no time establishing her eagerness to become my dog. She sat beside me, leaned close, and wagged her tail in the dirt so hard she created a cloud of dust. Maverick stood back and watched.

“I don’t blame you, big guy,” I whispered. “I’m a bit wary of strangers as well.” Now that I could see him clearly, I noted a crumpled ear, healed scars across his muzzle, and a missing patch of fur on his side. “Looks like you’re as battered as I am. Well, we’ll do our work here, then we’ll head back home to Clan Firinn.”

The young deliveryman exited the store.

I concentrated on the dogs, hoping he wouldn’t come over.

“Hey there.”

No such luck.

Holly shot toward him. I turned. He’d parked his handcart beside the door and was talking to the dogs. Maverick stood back and watched. “Hi there, fella.” The Anatolian remained out of reach. The man produced two dog biscuits. Holly snatched hers from his hand and raced away. He placed Maverick’s cookie on the porch and moved backward. The dog kept his eyes on the man as he gingerly picked up his treat, then sauntered to a nearby tree.

“I’m Liam Turner.”

I nodded at him.