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with a whine any dog worth his salt—or a human who lived with one, like Bill—would know was fake.
    Bill grimaced and took the paw, feeling around it carefully. He gave Lance a disapproving look. “I think it’s fine to move him into the house. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of this snow .”
    “Okay.” Tim sounded relieved. “He’ll probably feel better where it’s warm.”
     
    Lance limped convincingly to the cabin, whining every time he put weight on his paw.
    “Do you have any old towels?” Bill asked when they were all standing, dripping, in the cabin’s living room.
    “Yeah, there’s a whole closet of ‘em.” Tim leaned down to look into Lance’s eyes with warm concern and stroked his head. “I’ll be right back, buddy. Okay?”
    Lance narrowed his eyes. Well, duh .
    “He seems really… I dunno… intelligent for a dog,” Tim said with admiration.
    “You think so?” Bill said dryly. “I’d have thought it was unaccountably stupid to run out in front of a truck , and way out here of all places.”
    “Maybe he was lost. I need to get him dry.” Tim raced off as if he were going after life-saving plasma or maybe a heart to transplant instead of towels.
    Bill squatted down and spoke to Lance in an urgent hush. “What are you doing out here? What happened?”
    Lance gave a sharp bark. I know what I’m doing.
    Bill frowned, but he examined Lance’s paw. “Where did he hit you? Your paw doesn’t seem to be swollen.”
    Lance did the best doggy eye roll he could summon.
    “So you’re not hurt? At all?” Bill felt around Lance’s paw . T he pressure of his touch increased along with his impatience.
    Lance panted and sighed.
    “Fine. I don’t know what you were doing out here like this, but you can ride back to town with me.”
    Lance let Bill know what he thought about that idea.
     
    “What happened?” Tim came rushing in with a Chinese laundry’s worth of towels in his arms. He dumped them on the floor and dropped to his knees. “Why’s he barking like that? Is he in pain?”
    “No, that’s his imperious bark. He’s telling me a thing or two,” Bill said with a huff.
    Bill got to his feet and opened up his medical backpack. “Let’s see. A nice big bandage for that paw, I think.”
    “Is he going to be okay? Can I dry him off now? Do you know whose dog this is? I don’t see a collar. What kind of dog is he? He seems friendly enough, don’t you think?”
    “Yes. Yes. No. And no . I’m not sure what breed he is other than a stubborn one.” Bill always had been a smart ass.
    “Sorry. I ask too many questions, huh? Yes, he’s going to be okay? Really?”
    “He’s going to be fine. Or as fine as he’s ever been anyway.”
    Bill knelt down with a bundle of white gauze in one hand and bright fluorescent pink bandage wrap in the other. Bastard.
    “You don’t think he has any internal bleeding or anything?” Tim insisted worriedly as Bill wrapped up Lance’s paw.
    Bill stopped wrapping and looked at Tim, his face softening. He put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Hey, Tim. He’s fine. And I’m sure whatever happened was not your fault. Okay? Just breathe.”
    Tim did, literally, heaving a deep breath and letting it out. He got a bit of color back into his cheeks. Lance’s guilt reasserted itself. As if making Tim feel wretched wasn’t bad enough, he’d never live this down with Bill.
    God, please don’t let him tell my mother.
    “You can dry him off now,” Bill said as he finished up the hideous pink sausage. He’d wrapped up Lance’s paw from nail to torso. Jerk.
    Tim all but attacked Lance with the largest, fluffiest towel in the pile. Lance bore it with all the dignity he could muster whilst wearing one pink leg.
    “Gah, he’s covered in mud!”
    “He is, isn’t he?” Bill got a glint in his eye that Lance didn’t care for at all. “Why don’t you give him a bath? A warm one. With lots of shampooing.”
    Lance growled a warning,