Counting Paths

Chapter 19.

"Don't touch her," Roland orders.

"Of course. No touch King. No touch Princess. We cleared that now so how can I help?"

"I brought Sterling here to see your children."

"Ah! Come in! Children are in back room." The short man disappears into his apartment.

Roland opens his hand in front of me, I grab it and his forearm, and we walk inside.

There's...there's nothing. There is nothing inside the short man's apartment except for a couple of dozen large dog beds and just as many cages, and that's just in the living room. We enter the kitchen where bags of dog food and half-filled water containers and bowls are scattered across the counters.

"How did you get the babies in one room?" Roland asks.

The guy grabs the doorknob but doesn't turn it. "Steak and smaller batch this time," he answers, then opens the door. A swarm of puppies comes rushing out of the room. I count three German shepherds, two Rottweilers, and four Dobermanns. They're all puppies, no older than five months.

A Rottweiler, unlike her brothers and sisters and little friends, chooses violence today and begins growling and barking at me. It makes me laugh.

Then the largest dog I've ever seen trots out of the room.

"Moose, no!" The man yells angrily at the dog. "Go back inside!" It whimpers and walks back into the room with its tail between its legs.

I frown and shout at the guy, "you asshole!"

"Sterling-"

I rush after the dog before Roland could say anything. I find her sitting against the wall near the door. She's so big, if I were to kneel right now, she would be taller than me. It's almost frightening, I never knew dogs could get so big, but based on the drum-like wagging of her tail, she's excited to see me. "Hey, girl." I'm careful and just stand there, allowing her to smell me. Please don't jump on me. Please don't jump on me. Please don't jump on me.

Roland stands in the doorway with the short man trying to look over his shoulder. "Sterling, come here. Now." I ignore his menacing voice. He turns and looks at the guy. "What the hell is that?"

"This is Moose," the guy answers. "She is Great Dane."

"You've never bred Great Danes before."

"Sad woman sell her for lots of money."

Moose accepts me, and I begin to rub behind her ears. Her big, bright brown eyes thank me. She pushes off her hind legs, standing up and startling me, but I know Roland's watching and I refuse to back down now. "I trust you," I whisper to her, then kiss the spot between her eyes.

"Kid, no," Roland says softly after a long pause, his voice thick with guilt. I look at him and pout. "Look at her, Sterling, if she jumps, she can crush you!"

"Please?"

He winces as if my simple plead had slapped him, then he rolls his eyes and looks at the short man. "How much for the freaking moose?"

I squeal happily. "Her name is Moose," I correct him.

"Same difference."

The man grabs Roland's shoulder. Then he instantly pulls his hand away. "Sorry. We talk in other room."

Roland

Moose is a two hundred pounds-which is rare for her breed considering she's a female, they're using below a hundred and thirty pounds-light brown dog with a head way bigger than mine. She's four years old, has a tail that can easily be confirmed as a weapon if it's wagging hard enough, and, like everyone else I know that's met Sterling, she's obsessed with Sterling. The damn dog took up my entire back seat but still managed to make room for Sterling so they could sit together. Sterling didn't complain once about the drive then.