The dog moved two steps closer to me. I squatted so I’d be less intimidating and dug a cat treat from my pocket to hold out at arm’s length. “Hey, pretty girl.”
Zelda stretched out her neck, lipped the treat from my fingers, then backed up to stand beside her boy again.
“You see?” I said, straightening. “Zelda’s smart. You can’t fall for a good line of patter and a fish treat. I could be the biggest con man on the planet.”
“Are you?” Arthur’s clear blue-eyed gaze remained steady.
“Well, no.” I tried not to run any outright cons. “I stretch the truth sometimes.”
“Don’t we all? I think I have about four hours of work you could do. Ten bucks an hour and I’ll throw in some cat food.”
Kevin said, “It’ll be cool. I can introduce you to all of Arthur’s rescues.”
I’d made more money than that in fifteen minutes last time, but somehow, between the boy’s wide eyes and the man’s calm trust, I wanted to show them I could do honest work. “How many rescues do you have?” I asked, to not be a pushover.
Arthur chuckled and a hint of red mottled his neck. “More than the rules technically allow.”
“What’s the legal limit?” Now I was curious.
“More than three dogs or five cats, you’re supposed to get a kennel permit with inspections and everything. They want to block puppy mills.”
“Makes sense. So you’re stretching the truth too with your city bylaws?” I liked that this big guy wasn’t as perfect as he seemed.
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
I nodded. “Mimsy would have to come along.”
“She’s welcome. I’ll close the doors on the rooms she should stay out of.”
“Well.” I groped for excuses to resist how much I now wanted to do this. “Is it far? I don’t have a car.”
“Not too far, but I’ll give you a ride and drop you back here later.”
“Okay.” That would also solve my problem of finding the wine-tasting place again from his house.
“Great!” Kevin bounced on his toes. “Arthur’s house is awesome. He doesn’t have a wildlife permit, so I had to take the injured tortoise to a different rescue. And the hawk that got hit by a car. But he has cool cats and dogs. Come on!” He sprinted off up the path, the dog trotting at his heels. Mimsy burst out of the underbrush to swat at the dog’s tail going past, then ran after them.
Arthur said, “I guess we’re following him.”
“Is he going the wrong way?”
“No.” Arthur set out after the boy, carrying the trap as smoothly as he could, and I walked right behind him on the narrow trail. “Kevin knows this town well, especially the wilder parts.”
“Shouldn’t he be in school?” Or was it the weekend? I never knew.
“He homeschools. Keeps a regular classroom teacher from having to fit him into their lesson planning.”
“I guess I can see that. Latin names and all.” I’d been a reader at his age, because the library was a sanctuary, but not dry stuff like how you classify crabs.
We reached the top of the riverbank and followed a sidewalk half a block to a battered pickup. Arthur unlocked the doors with a fob as we approached and went around to open the back. The truck bed under the canopy was full of… stuff. Arthur slid the live trap in and used some straps to tie it down, to the disapproving yowls of the mama cat. He put a hand on the tailgate to close it, then asked me, “Do you have a car harness for Mimsy? Or would she prefer a carrier?”
“She can ride on my lap.”
“Not in my truck. Everyone wears a seatbelt.”
Kevin chipped in, “I put the seatbelt through Zelda’s harness so she’s safe.”
I was about to say we’d just walk. Or forget the whole thing. Except Arthur leaned in and came up with a tangle of straps. “Here. A couple of cat harnesses. One of them should fit her.”
