Decoy Training
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Caridad Piñeiro
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Chapter One
The “Welcome to California” sign mocked him as it became increasingly smaller in his side-view mirror.
Shane Adler shot a quick look at the Lab/hound mix sitting in the bucket chair of his pickup. “What do you think about leaving Cali, Decoy? Are you excited, boy?”
Decoy looked at Shane and cocked his head, his brown-eyed gaze almost human. Questioning.
“Yeah, I’m not sure either, but what the heck,” he said and wondered if he was losing it by treating the dog as if he were human. But Decoy had been his constant companion since arriving in the States a few weeks ago from Afghanistan. He had befriended the stray pup while on assignment, feeding it scraps and letting it follow him around while he trained his fellow soldiers. They had become inseparable after Decoy had found him in the rubble left by the explosion of a car bomb.
Shane reached out to rub the dog’s head, but his shoulder painfully spasmed, making his hand shake violently, courtesy of the shrapnel from the blast, which had damaged his shoulder and ended his career as an Army sharpshooter trainer.
Upon his return to his home base at the Fort Irwin National Training Center, Shane had been at loose ends, and staying near the center only brought daily reminders of what he could no longer be: a soldier. It had been his dream since he’d been a little child and now that dream was done.
Deciding he needed a change of scenery, he’d packed up his things and bought an RV to transport him from his old life in the Army to somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
First stop: Boise, Idaho. In a little over twelve hours and nearly eight hundred miles, he’d visit an old Army pal who’d been honorably discharged a couple of years earlier. Shane hoped that with some time and distance from California, he could decide what he and Decoy would do with the rest of their lives.
The open road stretched out ahead of him, the white stripes on the black asphalt and sound of the wheels on the pavement creating an almost lulling rhythm. Between much-needed coffee and bathroom breaks, they didn’t arrive in Boise until dusk was settling over the area.
He had no sooner parked his pickup and the RV on the street when his friend threw open the door of his home and wheeled down a wooden ramp to greet him.
He slipped out of the pickup, bent to bro-hug his friend and gripped his hand tightly. When he straightened, Shane said, “You’re looking great, Gonzo.” His friend appeared fit with thicker muscle across his upper body, but more importantly, his whole attitude was relaxed. There was a happy gleam in his green-eyed gaze that relieved Shane of worry about how his friend was doing.
“Feeling great, Shane. You’re looking a little...tired,” Gonzo said, never one to mince words. As Decoy sidled next to Gonzo, he rubbed the gold-brown fur around the dog’s floppy ears. “Who’s your little friend?”
“Name’s Decoy. Saved my butt in Afghanistan so I couldn’t leave him behind,” Shane said and glanced at the dog, who barked and wagged his head as if to agree.
“No man or dog left behind,” Gonzo said with a broad smile, then executed a perfect 180 and wheeled himself back up the ramp.
Shane and Decoy followed him into the modest ranch home, and once inside, Gonzo spread his arms wide. “Welcome to my home. Mi casa es su casa.”
“Gracias, amigo. I appreciate you letting me chill with you for a little bit,” Shane said, his tone heartfelt. He and Gonzo, Gonzalo to his Lopez family members, had been teammates until the bullet that had nearly taken Gonzo’s life had stolen his legs and Army career.
“My pleasure. My mami is looking forward to seeing you, too,” Gonzo said and gestured to a nearby sofa.
“Please don’t tell me your mom is already matchmaking,” Shane said as he sat and Decoy circled around a couple of times before settling at his feet, head tucked onto his large paws.
Gonzo held his hands up as if in surrender. “I told her that you’re just here for a few days, but you know Mami.”
Shane did. Every time that they’d gotten together here in Boise, Gonzo’s mom had tried to find a girlfriend for Shane, hoping he’d settle down. Only Shane hadn’t been sure back then and he was even more unsure now about what his future might entail. Changing the subject, he said, “How are you doing?”
Gonzo shrugged. “Dealing, mano. Getting strong,” Gonzo said and flexed the hard muscles of his arms. “I’ve also been volunteering with a group that helps troubled teens. Demanding, but I understand them. The first few months after this were really hard to accept,” he said and slapped the arms of the wheelchair.
“I wish I could have been here for you,” Shane said, but he’d been deployed and unable to visit his friend until his short breaks between missions.
“You helped more than you know. I hope I can do the same, mano. How’s the shoulder?”
Shane did a little roll with his injured arm and held his hand out. Only a small tremble, but it was enough to make it impossible to handle a weapon precisely. “Working. Not much pain, but some moves are hard,” he said. It was the other things, like nightmares about the explosion and being trapped beneath the debris, that still rattled him more often than he liked. But he wasn’t ready to share that with anyone, even a good buddy like Gonzo.
Gonzo narrowed his gaze, clearly assessing him. “Calling you out on that, but not going to push ’cuz I know how hardheaded you can be. Are you hungry?”
In answer, his stomach rumbled, and he splayed his hand there to quiet it. “Starving. I’m hoping your mom loves me enough to have made her world-famous tamales,” he said, optimistic.
Gonzo’s smile was easygoing and lit up his green eyes with happiness. “She did. I just have to crank up the steam to warm them. How about a beer while we wait?”
“I’d love one,” he said and followed Gonzo to the kitchen, where he noted how the space had been adapted to make it more accessible for his friend. Counters had been dropped for easier reach and were free of any lower cabinets in many sections, allowing Gonzo to slip his wheelchair beneath to work. The upper cabinets were open-shelf mechanisms that pulled down for access.
“This is cool, bro,” Shane said as he looked around the kitchen, which had been remodeled since his last visit.
“It’s made my life easier, but my girlfriend finds it a little challenging,” he said as he took a pot and placed it on a cooktop whose height had also been adapted.
“Girlfriend? Is it serious?” Shane asked, surprised because Gonzo had always been a player before his injury.
His friend’s shrug provided an answer, but also questions. “I guess it is serious,” Shane said and got another awkward shrug.
“It’s tough, with me being like this and all, but she’s amazing. I’m a lucky man,” Gonzo said as he turned the heat up under the pot with the tamales.
Shane clapped his friend on the back. “If she’s amazing, don’t lose her, bro.”
Gonzo shot him a look over his shoulder, a broad smile on his face. “I won’t, but that’s funny advice coming from you.”
Shane dipped his head in acknowledgment. “It is,” he said because he couldn’t disagree. He had no clue about lasting relationships, so telling his buddy what to do was...ironic.
But he kept silent as the two of them worked in the kitchen to finish preparing the meal and set the table. While they ate, they shared beers and chatted about how Gonzo’s mother was doing, his girlfriend and his work with the troubled teens.
As he had before, Decoy took a spot at Shane’s feet and Gonzo didn’t fail to notice. “You guys are inseparable.”
Shane nodded and glanced down at his dog, whose gaze perked up with the attention. “We are. I owe him big-time,” he said and offered Decoy a treat from the table. Decoy eagerly snapped up the piece of tamale and sat up, anxiously awaiting another bite.
Gonzo delayed for a moment and then said, “Some of my troubled teens spend time at a dog training facility. It helps them learn discipline by taking care of the dogs and doing chores in the kennels and barn.”
“Sounds like it works for them,” Shane said and forked up another piece of tamale, enjoying the tasty mix of the sweet corn masa and flavorful pork.
“It does. I’m impressed by how much they change after only a few weeks, but you know, Decoy looks like a Lab/hound mix and might be great at something like search and rescue. I mean, he saved you, right?” Gonzo said and gestured to Decoy with his beer bottle.
Shane glanced down at the dog, who peered up at him with love and trust. Much like Decoy had saved his life, he had rescued Decoy and maybe that had been for a reason, he thought, intrigued by Gonzo’s idea.
“He is a smart dog and great at finding things,” Shane said, thinking about how much Decoy loved it when they played hide-and-seek and how he’d found Shane in the wreck of what had once been their training building.
“What’s the name of this place?” he asked.
“Daniels Canine Academy. I know the owner. Emma Daniels. You interested?” Gonzo said, although he suspected his friend already knew what the answer would be.
“Yes, I am. Can you make the connection?”
“I’d love to, mano. Here’s to new beginnings,” Gonzo said and raised his beer bottle as if in a toast.
Shane wasn’t quite sure it was a new beginning, but it was definitely something worth exploring, he thought, and clinked his beer bottle against Gonzo’s.
PIPER LAMBERT SAT beside her best friend, Emma Daniels, as the two of them listened to the Jasper police chief explain about their newest recruit, Ava Callan.
“Ava is a good cop. We’re lucky to have snagged her from Chicago PD. She’s got great skills, but I think she’s having a little trouble fitting in with all the men and small-town life in Jasper,” Chief Walters said. He was a sixty-something man with broad shoulders and thick muscle that was starting to go soft around his midsection. His brown-eyed gaze was warm and caring as it settled on Emma and he said, “I know you understand, Em.”
“I do, Chief,” Emma said. The chief had been the man who had taken Emma under his wing after her adoptive father, a K-9 police officer, had died in the line of duty and Emma had lost her way.
Much like Piper had lost her way when her Marine sergeant husband had been killed in Iraq four years earlier. Luckily, Emma had offered her home and her business as a way to rebuild her life. So far things are going well, she thought. She’d learned so much to become a dog trainer and loved sharing that knowledge with others.
“I think that pairing Ava with a dog and working with the two of you will help her develop a sense of belonging on the force and in town,” he said and ran a hand through his receding gray hair.
“We’d be happy to have her with us, Chief. Let us know when she’s coming and Piper and I will pick a dog for her so we can start her training,” Emma said.
Chief Walters smiled and slowly got to his feet, grimacing a little as he did so.
“You okay, Chief?” Piper asked.
The older man smiled and nodded. “Just a touch of arthritis” he said playfully, but she and Emma knew the chief was counting down to when he would retire and ride off into the sunset to fly-fish with his retired K-9 partner, Buddy, who had been peacefully resting at the chief’s feet during their meeting in Emma’s living room. Emma normally met with clients in her office, but the chief was family.
Emma slipped her arm through the older man’s, who was almost like a second dad to her. “It was nice seeing you today, even if it was for work. Hopefully you’ll come around more often when you retire.”
“Count on it, Emma. I love seeing what you’re doing here and I’m so proud of you,” he said and hugged her before facing Piper.
“You, too, Piper. You’ve been doing some amazing things with the K-9s for our department,” he said and left Emma’s side to embrace her.
“It’s my pleasure, Chief. It’s great to work with everyone on the force,” she said, but the older man saw through her words.
“Except Captain Rutledge,” he said as they strolled out of Emma’s house and to the large driveway area where the police chief had parked his white Durango. The police force’s emblem, a shield honoring the area’s mountains, woods and the nearby Salmon River, was emblazoned on the door, his badge and a patch on the sleeve of his black uniform shirt.
“Except Captain Rutledge,” Emma repeated. “It’s obvious he’s not a fan of the K-9 partners you’ve added to the force.”
Chief Walters paused by the vehicle, arms akimbo. “Rutledge is an issue, and not just because of the K-9s. I keep on hoping he’ll learn to play well with others, but...”
He didn’t need to finish since both she and Emma were aware of the issues the chief had with his second-in-command and the other officers in the department.
“It’ll work out,” Piper said, hoping that no matter what happened when the chief retired, it would not impact the business her friend had worked so hard to build.
“It will,” Emma said with a bob of her head as they watched the chief get into his SUV and drive away. After, Emma slipped her arm through Piper’s, and with a tug, led her toward the facility that held the offices for the DCA, a small indoor training room, runs for the dogs and climate-controlled kennels.
“Did I mention we have a new client? Gonzo recommended him to us,” Emma said and tilted her head to glance at Piper. Strands of sun-streaked light brown hair had escaped the ponytail Emma usually wore, and her blue-eyed gaze sparkled with joy.
“Any friend of Gonzo’s is a friend of ours,” she said. The Army vet’s program with troubled teens had been a success and when combined with Emma’s program for local at-risk teens, like the three young men currently at work in the kennels and barn, she felt like she was making a real difference in people’s lives.
“Great. I was hoping you’d work with him and his dog. It’s a Lab/hound mix and he’s thinking they might go on to work with a search and rescue group,” Emma said.
“Labs and hounds are wonderful for SAR, so hopefully his dog will be good for that,” Piper said, remembering some of their clients with similar animals who had gone on to do search and rescue in various groups throughout the country.
“I hope so, too. He’s just left the Army and he sounded... I’m not sure what to call it,” Emma said as they walked into her office, where she snared a manila folder from her desktop.
Military. Great, Piper thought. She had nothing but the utmost respect for those who served and their families, but she had her own issues because sometimes military men reminded her way too much of her dead husband. Those were memories she’d rather keep buried to avoid the pain they brought.
Piper took the file for their new client and opened it, but barely skimmed through the paperwork before handing it back to her friend. “Are you sure I’m the right trainer for him?”
Emma arched a brow. “Positive, Piper. You know, sometimes a trainer can learn things as well when they’re working with a client.”
She knew she wasn’t perfect, far from it, but as for what she needed to learn...
“I’ll do my best,” she said and shot a quick glance at her smartphone as it vibrated to remind her of an upcoming meeting.
“Something wrong?” Emma asked, eyes narrowed as she glanced at her.
Piper held up her phone. “Just a reminder to see Tashya about the puppies that Jasper PD found last week. I was thinking of maybe picking one for myself.”
“Good to hear. You’ve wanted your own dog for a long time,” Emma said and clapped her hands happily.
“I have and those cute puppies Macon brought over may be perfect,” she said, and didn’t fail to notice the little wince at the mention of Emma’s former client before her friend schooled her emotions. It had been clear to everyone that there had been a spark between Macon and Emma when he had been training with them.
“They may be,” she said and gestured to her desk. “I’ve got a few calls to make before I quit for the day. Feel like meeting me at Millard’s Diner for dinner?”
“I never say no to one of their burgers,” Piper said, but thought it funny that Emma would choose a spot that was a hangout for the local police officers, including Macon Ridley. But the diner was a fun place to eat with red vinyl booths, bright blue counters and even a jukebox that gave it a very retro ’50s vibe.
“Six sound good?”
“Six is perfect,” she said and rushed out to meet Tashya, the young vet tech who had been one of many foster children Emma had taken in over the years, much like the Danielses had fostered Emma after she was removed from a home plagued by domestic violence. Thanks to the life insurance money left to her by her foster mom, Emma had been able to turn the Daniels homestead into the DCA and had fostered a number of children over the years to honor her adoptive parents.
As she neared one of the kennels, she heard Tashya’s playful laughter, and it brightened the pall cast over her by the prospect of having to work with her new client.
Shane Adler. Ex-Army sharpshooter and instructor. Wounded vet.
A dangerous mix for a variety of reasons.
But at the sight of Tashya laughing and surrounded by over half a dozen playful pups that jumped up and climbed all over her, her worries fell away.
When she entered the kennel, one little dog bounded away from Tashya and sauntered over to her, a jaunty smile on her white-and-tan face. The puppies were a corgi/pit mix and would need little grooming thanks to their short hair, but a lot of attention since pits could be needy and very active.
She scooped up the pup, who wriggled in her arms and licked doggy kisses all along her jaw. “Easy, girl. I love you, too,” she said with a laugh, but didn’t release her as she walked to Tashya.
“That one is a handful,” the young vet tech said as she finished examining the last puppy and shot to her feet.
“Is she ready to be adopted?” Piper asked, eager to start training the little dog.
“Dr. Beaumont said you can take her home tomorrow after the last of her shots.”
“How is Marie doing?” Piper said. She hadn’t seen the vet in weeks since she’d been so wrapped up with work at the DCA.
“She’s busy. Her vet business is doing well. Any idea what you’ll name your pup?” Tashya asked as she rubbed the puppy’s head.
Piper peered at the little dog, and the pup immediately gave Piper her attention. With her perpetual corgi smile, she radiated cheer, which prompted Piper to say, “Chipper.” The dog yipped, almost as if approving of Piper’s choice.
Tashya threw her head back in laughter, her smile bright against the creamy brown of her skin. “I’ll round up what you’ll need to take her home.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll come by after work tomorrow,” she said and hugged the young woman before heading home.
She walked away into the gap between the barn where Emma kept two rescue horses and the building that held their offices and kennels. Behind the buildings was an open gap in the surrounding tree line and a small path through a nearby meadow to her tidy ranch house. She and Emma had worn down that path with the many times they’d used it. It was barely a ten-minute walk and when the weather was nice, as it was today despite a slight April chill, she loved to do the hike to stretch her legs and appreciate the beauty of the nature around them, especially since in the winter three or four feet of snow might blanket the ground, making the trek difficult unless she hauled out her cross-country skis. Emma often did the walk over to Piper’s house as well for a girls’ night.
The ground was a little soft from an earlier rain and the air still had that rain-fresh smell tinged with the scent of pines and fir from the nearby evergreens. The first spring wildflowers were beginning to blossom, painting the ground with shades of yellow, purple and white. After the April rains, the meadows would burst to life with the white and pink of woodland stars, purples of clematis and shooting stars, and the bright yellows of arrowleaf balsamroot and heartleaf arnica.
In the distance, the mountains rose up, snow frosting the highest peaks, but most of the snow would melt in the next few weeks and the flowers would start to blossom at those higher elevations.
But today the beauty of the nature around her didn’t bring as much calm as it usually did, maybe because she had a niggling sense something wasn’t right as she neared the backyard of her home.
Piper looked around, searching for the source of that disquiet, but didn’t see anything when she walked to the front door. A weird feeling came to her, as if she was being watched, only after another quick look around, she didn’t see anyone or anything, like the occasional black bear that sometimes wandered out of the woods. Then a smell wafted to her: cigarette smoke. Only there was no other home around for at least a couple of hundred feet.
Hands on her hips, she did a slow pivot once again, searching for the source of the odor, but couldn’t find a thing.
Maybe I’m imagining it, or the smell came from a passing car, she thought, but that feeling of being watched chased her into her home, making her feel uneasy until she closed the door behind her and double-locked it. Only then did she feel relief.
She hoped that relief would last with the arrival of their new client.
Shane Adler. From the brief look she had gotten at his paperwork in the file Emma had passed to her, she knew he was a wounded vet and bound to have his demons, but so did she.
Maybe together they could find a way to exorcise those demons and move on with their lives.
