arm circled Brynnaâs shoulders, and she took a deep breath. When she continued, she sounded calmer.
âIf your dogs attacked a person, you could be looking at jail time, Linc. If they should go feralââ
âThey wonât,â Linc promised. âTheyâre valuable dogs.â
So what? Sam thought. What did price have to do with anything? If the dogs had escaped once, they could do it again.
âTheir names are kind of common, but theyâre bred and trained in Louisiana,â he bragged. âAnd they cost me a pretty penny, let me tell you. Gator, heâs the bluetick, kind of a speckledy one?â Linc looked at Sam and she nodded. âThen thereâs Bub. Heâs the pointer, and Shirley is the boss of âem both, sheâs the black-and-tan Walker hound.â
âIf they turned feral,â Brynna continued coldly, âthey would be exceedingly dangerous. Theyâve been trained to hunt, you say, so thatâs what theyâll do. Feral dogs donât have the natural fear of man that wolves and coyotes do.â
Brynna was right. The dogs had scattered only when Jeep had fallen on a member of the pack.
âIâll alert the Elys, Trudy Allen, and Sheriff Ballardââ Brynna began.
âAw, now, thereâs no sense doing that,â Linc said.
âIt would be negligent not to,â Brynna insisted. âTrudy Allen has that blind foalââ
âI just donât think theyâll bother the horses. I think thisââLinc motioned toward Dadââwas a one-shot deal. I mean, horses are just like big dogs, arenât they? I donât see any reason they canât get along.â
Although Brynnaâs face flushed even darker at Slocumâs statement, she didnât bother educating him. She just finished her sentence.
ââand her grandchildren come to visit, too.â
Brynna crossed her arms in a rigid bar at her waist, waiting.
âI promise my dogs wonât get out again.â Lincâs voice overflowed with mock patience. He raised his right hand as if swearing in court.
âHuntinâ dogs want to hunt,â Dad said.
âIâve got a dog handler,â Linc protested. âHis nameâs Karl.â
Sam looked over in time to see Brynnaâs eyebrows arch in surprise.
âHe wasnât around today,â Linc said, shrugging. âBut Karl keeps them in line.â
Sam had to call Jen. Thatâs all there was to it. Jen lived on Gold Dust Ranch where her dad, Jed Kenworthy, was Slocumâs foreman. Theyâd know the dogs and their handler, Karl. If he even existed.
Judging by Dadâs and Brynnaâs expressions, theyhadnât heard of a newcomer, either.
âIâm going to take this inside, okay?â Sam said, holding up the plant.
âYeah,â Dad told her, then nodded at Linc and said, âThanks.â
Sam hurried toward the house. Sheâd caught Linc Slocum lying more than once. This time it should be easy.
Â
Samâs nose tingled at the aroma of the sauce Gram was stirring.
âOh, yum,â Sam said as she placed the potted plant in the middle of the kitchen table.
âBurritos for dinner,â Gram said. âI should be making better use of that cooking class I took in New Mexico. What do you think?â she asked as Sam stared into the dark-red chili sauce.
âI think I may start drooling if I donât call Jen right now.â
As she dialed, Sam summed up Lincâs conversation with Brynna and Dad for Gram.
Gram shook her head. âThat manâs more irresponsible than a teenager.â
Sam felt her mouth curve in a lopsided smile, but just then Jen answered the phone.
âHave you dried out yet?â Jen teased.
âOh yeah. Youâll never guess what happened on my way home.â
After she told Jen about Dadâs accident, Sam asked Jen to tell her all she knew about the
George Simpson, Neal Burger