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animals?”
    “All they can do is lie there until the trapper comes or they die of thirst. Sadly, most trappers don’t check their lines daily, so it’s often a long, painful death for the animal.”
    “That’s mean .”
    “Yes, it is mean. That’s why traps like that havebeen outlawed in Oregon. Unfortunately, some people ignore the law and set traps anyway, and poor old Methuselah stepped in one.”
    “How did he get away?”
    Ben reached over to stroke the cougar’s fur. “Well, now, I wasn’t there, and Methuselah’s not talking, but judging by the damage to his paw, I think he fought his way free.” In truth, it had appeared to Ben that the cat had chewed off his foot to escape, but that wasn’t something to share with a child. “By the time he made it into my yard, he was half-dead with infection. I gave him a shot to make him sleep, amputated what was left of his foot, and got him on antibiotics to clear up the infection. By the time he was well, we’d become good friends. It took several weeks for him to heal.”
    “So now he lives with you?”
    Ben nodded. “Being blind, lame, and toothless, he can’t hunt anymore. Out in the forest, he’d starve. Here on the ridge, he gets fed.” He grinned as he ran a hand over the cougar’s well-padded ribs. “More than he needs, truth told. He’s getting a little fat. I guess he figures it’s pretty fine pickings.”
    The child moved away from Ben to stand by the bicycle. Placing a protective hand over his puppy, he asked, “Does ’Thuselah eat little dogs?”
    Ben smiled. “He has to have his meat cut up for him. The pup is safe.”
    “No, not safe,” Jeremy said, his voice still hoarse from wheezing. “He’s dying. The vet in town says he’s got parvo. It costs a lot to cure. My mom went to Pineville to hock her grandma’s brooch, but it’s so old and ugly, I don’t think the pawnshop man will give her three hundred dollars for it.”
    “Three hundred?”
    “That’s how much we gotta pay before the vet’ll give Rowdy medicine. It’ll cost lots more to make him all the way well.”
    Ben could scarcely believe his ears. “The vet in Jack Pine refused to treat your puppy until your mother came up with three hundred bucks?”
    Jeremy nodded. “We only got ninety-eight.”
    Neil Fenderbottom, the vet, always had been a mercenary bastard. Ben’s impression of the kid’s mother underwent a favorable change. Not many people would consider hocking a family heirloom to save a mixed-breed pup.
    Ben pushed erect and moseyed closer. Once again, the child acted nervous. Ben recalled the gossip in town, the most obvious explanation for the child’s distrust of him. Yesterday at the store, he’d looked no deeper than that. Now, he wondered if he hadn’t jumped to the wrong conclusion. In his experience, flinching that way was a learned behavior. He would have wagered his last dollar that someone had been knocking the boy around.
    The thought made Ben angry. He couldn’t figure the child’s mother as the culprit. She’d had a wary look in her eyes like Jeremy’s. Yesterday Ben had figured she was merely shy with strangers. But what if there was more to it than that?
    Ben knew firsthand what it was like to live in terror of your dad. Home became a prison, and there was no escape until you turned eighteen. Jeremy had a long way to go.
    He made fast work of giving the puppy a preliminary examination. The poor little mite was burning up with fever, and a pinch test told Ben that he was dangerously dehydrated. He needed to get the dog on intravenous fluids and antibiotics immediately, or he’d be a goner.
    “Okay, here’s the deal. There’s only one thing I’ll accept in payment for treating your puppy. Silence.” Ben hooked a thumb at the old cougar. “If anyone, including your mom, finds out about Methuselah, I’ll go to jail, and he’ll be taken away. Considering all his physical problems, it’s unlikely the state will relocate him.