From The Ashes. Sharon Mignerey

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      Just after sunrise the following morning, Angela arrived with Polly at the farm where Guardian Paws did business. Their training facility occupied one small corner of land and included a tiny farmhouse used for the office and a six-stall barn they had converted to a kennel. The barn was new, but its old-fashioned gambrel roof and deliberately faded red paint made it look as though it had been on the property for years.

      Tim Warren had donated this part of his farm for them to use, a generous gift that he said was his way of giving back to the community. He farmed the rest of the sixty-acre property, growing organic fruits and vegetables along the Platte River.

      In the distance, old-fashioned cornstalk teepees covered the field, Tim’s homage to a simpler time. The black soil gleamed with a layer of frost. The place was quiet, unlike summer when everything was growing and people came in all day long to pick their own vegetables. Personally, Angela thought Tim and his wife had been brilliant in their concept. Give their customers the rewards of having a garden without any of the headache of weeding and watering.

      The harvest-theme decorations that had lined the driveway had been replaced by garlands of evergreen, along with a sign that counted down the days until the day after Thanksgiving, when Christmas trees would be available for sale.

      Angela turned on lights in the house and put on a pot of coffee to brew before heading out the back door to the kennel with Polly obediently close behind. The small barn had a center aisle and three stalls on each side that had been perfect to convert for their purposes. Four of the stalls could hold the dogs, supplies were stored in one and the final one was their examination room.

      She turned on the light and was greeted by wagging tails from the four dogs occupying two of the kennels.

      “You guys are already awake?” She opened the gates and was immediately surrounded. If any of them had been jealous that Polly had gotten to go home with her last night, none showed it. Instead, they sniffed her in greeting, and when Angela opened the door to their fenced yard, they raced outside.

      As happened every single morning, Angela’s heart swelled with gratitude. She didn’t simply like her job—she loved it.

      After hearing about the program to train service dogs shortly after she was sent to prison, she had applied, hoping she’d be chosen. At first, she had imagined it would be a way to fill the time that had loomed endlessly in front of her. Instead, she had found a calling, the work she was meant to do.

      Being with the dogs made her thankful, and she felt blessed to have this work. Dogs didn’t have an agenda. They didn’t have expectations she could never meet. They lived in the moment. Important life lessons, every one.

      Prior to the end of her sentence, she had scoured the entire state, looking for someone who would hire her to pursue the calling she had discovered in prison. Not only had Maisey taken her on, she had stunned Angela after her parole was over by making her a partner in the business. It was a gift that Angela cherished, most especially because she knew she hadn’t deserved it.

      One by one, almost as though taking turns, the dogs ran to her before taking off again. Bailey, the gorgeous golden retriever whose training was just beginning and who had been too high energy for the family who gave her up. Checkers, the smart shepherd–border collie mix who had been found in the pound without any tags. Gatsby, the black Lab mix, who was also a rescue from the pound where he had been taken after being found tied to a tree at a campground in the mountains above Golden. Polly, who was scheduled to begin training with her hearing-impaired master within the next month.

      And the dog she had in mind for Brian—Jasper, the year-old elegant standard poodle who had been a socialite’s accessory. Maisey had thought Angela was crazy when she asserted that he’d be a wonderful guide dog, since the conventional wisdom was they had to be German shepherds, golden retrievers or Labrador retrievers, but she had signed on to the project with enthusiasm after reading the success stories about other poodles that Angela had uncovered.

      “How are you doing, boy?” Angela said to him. He dutifully sat in front of her, his dark eyes on her as she rubbed the tips of his ears, which practically made him smile. Within the first month, he had learned more commands than any other dog she’d ever seen. That had been three months ago, and he continued to be the most responsive dog she had ever worked with. High energy and smart, he was going to need someone who was active and disciplined. To Angela, that sounded exactly like Brian Ramsey.

      She had spoken with him briefly last night and suggested СКАЧАТЬ