Walton (The K9 Files #26)

Chapter 3

C helsea already hated him, Chad, the so-called leader of this group of hunters. It was hard to share the dinner table with these guys. This atmosphere surely didn’t help her digest her food. Two others were almost as bad as Chad, with thankfully one guy just silent so far. However, Chad—who was sneering, commenting, and strutting around as if he owned the place—was a misogynistic asshole in his element up here, with no women around to rein him back in. He was just being the absolute epitome of a theoretical redneck, out in the middle of nowhere with guns and a bad attitude.

Everything that came out of his mouth was offensive, which just added fuel to the fire. Something inside her completely revolted in disgust, especially as she realized that Julie had probably been putting up with this crap from these guests.

When everyone was done eating, Chelsea helped Julie clean up, ignoring the jokes from the men behind them. They were jeering and chuckling, saying that at least Julie would have some help in the kitchen now that Chelsea was here. As she got into the kitchen, she spun around and glared at her sister-in-law. “Do you really put up with this crap all the time?”

Julie groaned. “I knew you wouldn’t like that.”

“No, of course not. Not when this is still your home.”

“And it’s our business,” she pointed out.

“Are your guests all like this?”

“No, not at all,” she hedged. “It’s mostly this particular group. Something about them is even more raw-edged and angry than normal.”

“ Raw-edged and angry , really?”

Julie nodded.

“ Huh . That’s what the problem is, isn’t it? They’re really angry about something.”

“I think they’re angry about a few things,” Julie noted. “I’m not quite sure what’s going on, but today is the worst it’s been.”

“Because we arrived?” Chelsea asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, as she turned to Chelsea, then shrugged. “It’s possible though.”

“I’m really sorry about that because we didn’t intend to make your life worse.”

“Oh, gosh, you two being here is not worse,” she replied, impulsively giving her a hug. “You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

“I might be welcome,” Chelsea conceded, as a wave of displeasure racked her body, “but these guys?… They take the cake.”

“They’re definitely not my favorite guests,” Julie shared, with a sigh. “So, it’s something that we’ll put down in our booking system, and they won’t be welcomed back again. However, right now?… We can hardly kick them out.”

“Really? I think it’s time to establish some rules for these guests you have here.”

“Normally we do, but this season has been pretty lean,” Julie explained. “So, when they started acting like this, it wasn’t the easiest to deal with, but we also need the money.”

“Ah, crap.” Chelsea rubbed her temples. “Is business that bad?”

“Let’s just say it hasn’t been very good.”

“Of course not,” she muttered. “Okay, fine. I’ll try to get along.”

Julie burst out laughing. “I would appreciate it, but I also know that, for you, it can be hard.”

“I didn’t think of myself as such a hothead, until I met that one guy.”

“Yeah, Chad’s the ringleader, the most obnoxious one of them all at that. Sometimes I think the other men are ready to apologize. Then Chad does something that stirs them up all over again.”

“Yeah, because he wants them to be just as ugly and mean as he is.”

Julie nodded. “Exactly. That’s pretty much it.”

“How long are they here for?”

“Supposedly another four days.”

“That’s interesting,” Chelsea said. “What about the dog? It didn’t come inside.”

“No, he keeps it outside.”

“Of course he does,” Chelsea muttered. “You know that this War Dog element is likely to get ugly.”

“I’m afraid it will,” Julie conceded, looking at her. “I didn’t want it to. Yet a part of me is really hoping something will happen, and they will leave.”

“They might do just that,” Chelsea noted, “because, if you think Walton will give up what he’s been tasked to do, making sure the dog is okay—”

“Technically speaking, the dog is okay. Dog food is here, and I do ensure he’s fed and has water, but it’s not exactly a nice, comfy existence for him outside.”

“The dog doesn’t have to have luxury, but he does need to be well looked after. The dog put in how many years of service for our country, and then he ends up with an asshole?”

“This is life, and it happens.”

“It happens, but it wasn’t supposed to, and that’s the thing Walton needs to figure out. What went wrong, and how does the War Department stop it from happening again?”

“I still can’t believe anybody is here from the War Department, looking into a missing War Dog,” Julie shared. “I mean, I figured most of the time that these animals are shipped off and shipped out, and nobody follows up.”

“And that’s what happened in this case. Nobody followed up, and it ended up being a problem because now nobody can find the man who was supposedly the one awarded custody of the dog.”

“Interesting,” she murmured. “Yet this guy doesn’t talk about him at all.”

“About the War Dog?”

“No, about the man who adopted the War Dog.”

“That’s interesting too. We’ll see what happens because I’m warning you right now. Walton’s got a bee in his bonnet about the dog and is definitely bothered about its well-being. I don’t know why or what, but I know that when Walton was in the military, he worked a lot with K9 trainers—for all I know, maybe he’s a trainer himself. But I do understand that these K9 dogs are very close to his heart.”

At that, Julie just stared at her. “In other words, we won’t get a good review, will we?” she muttered in a humorless tone.

Chelsea stared at her sister-in-law. “I’m not sure how to respond to that, but let’s hope you don’t need this review to stay in business,” she pointed out.

“I won’t let it be a problem,” she muttered, “because these guys are not the kind of business we want around here.”

“Good,” Chelsea agreed, “because they seem to be a pretty rough-looking bunch.”

“Oh, they are. Absolutely they are, and believe me that they don’t give a crap about anybody else when they’re all together.”

“Has anybody approached you or done anything that really set off your alarm bells?”

“No,” she replied, “but still I’m on alert. It’s as if every day they are edging toward something. I just don’t know what that something is.”

“That’s good to know.” Chelsea stared at her.

“Yeah, it might be good to know, but it’s also fairly unnerving because I feel as if something is seething under the surface. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to be around them to find out,” she shared.

“So, do you need to stay?”

“I have to stay,” she stated. “Nobody else is here to cook.”

“I thought you had a cook at one time, didn’t you?”

“We did, but she got COVID, and her father got COVID, and he ended up passing away. By then, given the state she was in, she decided to move south.”

“Right, she was a fun lady, as I recall. Helen, was it?”

“Yeah, she was also our first guest.”

“Do you still have the ability to call someone out, if need be?”

“Sure,” Julie replied, “if need be, but not this time.”

“Of course,” Chelsea muttered. “Let’s get dessert on the table, and we’ll see how the evening goes from here. Let’s hope it goes better.”

“Yes,… and, Chelsea, stay close to Walton.”

“Why is that?”

Julie hesitated. “People may be moving around in the night, and I don’t want them to find out that you’re in one room and that Walton is in the other. That’ll leave them open to thinking you’re available.”

“I’m not available,” she declared, frowning at her sister-in-law, “and even if I was—”

“I know. I know.” Julie held up her hand. “It shouldn’t be that way. I’m just telling you that something about these guys rings my bells, so it’s best to stay out of their way.”

“Got it,” Chelsea conceded. “That’s pretty unnerving though.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it. As far as I’m concerned, if you moved into Walton’s room, I wouldn’t be upset. As a matter of fact, I would welcome it just on the basis of your safety alone.”

Walton got up the next morning and headed outside early. He’d gone out last night without telling anybody and made a quick check around the place to see just what he was up against. The War Dog had welcomed him with incredible happiness. The dog went by a different name now, with the new guy apparently calling him Brutus, which just aggravated Walton with its suggestion of aggression.

As he walked out in the early morning light, he stopped by to see the War Dog looking lonely, out on the porch. He bent down and scratched his coat. “How’re you doing, buddy?”

The dog welcomed him with an open heart, struggling to get up. “You’ve got a bad leg too, don’t you?” Walton would have to check the file to confirm, but it was quite possible the War Dog was sidelined from duties not because of his age but because of an injury. Walton gently massaged the sore leg, as his own PT did for him, and the War Dog appeared to appreciate the attention.

When he heard movement inside, he got up and walked back into the lodge. Julie was putting on coffee. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “I’m an early riser.”

“If I’d known that,” she replied, “I would have shown you how to make the coffee.”

He burst out laughing. “Show me now, and I’ll do it tomorrow.”

She nodded. “What were you doing outside?”

“Making friends with the dog.”

She turned to him and asked, “Is it him?”

He nodded. “It is. Absolutely it is.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He’s got the identifying tattoo on the inside of his leg.”

“I guess I was hoping that it wasn’t him and that we would get out of this relatively easily.” When he looked at her, she shrugged. “Chad doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy who will answer any questions easily.”

“No, he sure doesn’t, does he?” Walton agreed in a contemplative manner. “So, I guess we’ll see what he says.”

“They all got pretty drunk last night,” she muttered. “For Rick, that’s not cool, and not something he typically tolerates.”

“It sounds as if they’ve been over the line in more ways than one. Yet Rick isn’t doing anything about it. Are things that tight?”

“Honestly, yeah. These guys are paying a pretty hefty premium, so we need to keep them happy, as much as we can, for as long as we can.”

“Sounds as if it’s time for a review of your company policy.”

“You’re not kidding,” she muttered, “and a way to dump these guys, if we could.”

“And yet they haven’t been like this the whole time?”

“No,” she replied slowly, “but I can tell you that they’ve been getting worse and worse every day.”

“Ah.” Walton nodded. “That’s a different story.”

“Exactly, at least it is for me. They are really a difficult bunch, and I have a bad feeling about them,” she shared. “I just need to get through the next few days, and then they’re done here. Trust me when I say that they won’t be welcomed back.”

Walton grabbed a coffee and headed back outside again. As he played with the dog, a man snapped at him.

“It’s not your fucking dog, so get the hell away.”

Walton lifted his head and stared at the glaring man he’d come to recognize as Chad. Walton replied, “Nice dog. Is he yours?”

“Yeah, it’s mine. Get the fuck away from it.” Coming closer, he called the dog, and Brutus got up slowly and moved toward him.

“He’s got quite the war injuries.,” Walton noted.

“He’s got injuries, but it’s got nothing to do with war.”

“Where did you find him?” Walton asked, watching as Chad continued to order the dog to come to him.

As soon as he got there, instead of petting him or praising him in some way, Chad glared back at Walton. “Doesn’t matter. It’s nothing to you.”

“Not so sure about that. He’s got an interesting tattoo.”

“So what?”

“It’s the tattoo of a War Dog.”

Chad narrowed his gaze on Walton. “Still got nothing to do with you.”

“That depends.” Walton shook his head. “Where did you get him?”

Chad stiffened, jutted out his jaw, and declared, “Didn’t you hear me? It’s none of your fucking business.”

“If it’s not, it will be an interesting question for the War Department. What do you think?”

Chad froze. “What are you talking about?”

“The military keeps a long history on each of their War Dogs, including an exclusive adoption process. In order to adopt them,” Walton explained, staring at the belligerent man, “there are certain requirements. I did record the War Dog’s number, so I can double-check of course.”

“What the hell? What are you talking about, checking it?”

“To see if you have the rights to this dog,” Walton explained, “and I can tell from your attitude that you probably don’t.”

Chad jumped forward and got right in Walton’s face.

Walton held his ground without flinching, knowing perfectly well that men like these thrived on inducing fear in their victims, just like bullies did elsewhere.

“I don’t give a fuck what you say,” Chad sneered, shoving his face even closer. “This is my dog, and you have no business fucking touching it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Walton declared, “because one of the first things that every War Dog is entitled to is proper care and attention. So, rest assured. I’ll be watching to see how you treat the dog over the next few days while I’m here,” he pointed out. He kept his tone calm and even, though he was already certain that Chad had no rights to the dog. Now Walton had to figure out what the hell happened to the person who had adopted the dog in the first place. “So, here’s the deal. If you can’t tell me where you got the dog, I’ll do a little research into your background.”

Immediately Chad’s eyebrows shot up. “What the fuck, man. I’m just here on a hunting trip.”

“Yeah, but you’re here on a hunting trip with a War Dog that you can’t or won’t explain possession of.”

“That’s just bullshit.”

“Then tell me where you got him,” Walton repeated.

“I don’t need to explain anything to you.”

“I will find out regardless, whether you tell me or not. It’s just a matter of how much digging into your business I’ll have to do.” Chad didn’t appear to know what to say. Still, if he lied on the adoption paperwork with the government, and it was proved to not be the truth, Chad could potentially be in trouble. Yet he didn’t seem to give a crap if he was in trouble or not.

“I won’t tell you jack shit,” Chad snapped, with a sneer, “and absolutely no way you can make me. As for digging into my business”—he moved closer yet again—“you fucking damn well better not.”

“Oh, you might be surprised what I do,” Walton said, giving him a lazy smile. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you walk with a fucking limp, so you’re nothing but half a man. I don’t care what the hell happened or what you may be missing, but you can bet that I know exactly what you are. You’re broken,” he declared, with another sneer.

“Not as much as you may think,” Walton pointed out. “And you better start facing reality when it’s right in front of you.”

“I would advise you to do the same. If it comes down to it, I’ll beat you to a pulp without a care if you have any thoughts about causing me trouble.”

“Is that because you’ve got enough trouble on your plate already, and you just can’t handle more?”

“I can handle anything you throw at me,” Chad snapped, glaring at him.

From inside the lodge, Julie called out, “Coffee is ready, gentlemen.”

Chad snorted. “And, if you think these women will save your ass, you’re wrong.” Then he turned and stormed inside, but he left Brutus outside.