"Sorry," Tim says. He rubs the back of his neck watching Winona retreat into the kitchen with the rag and bucket. He looks down at Raylan. "She's really pissed, huh?"
"Well," Raylan says, stretching out his legs and gingerly leaning back on the sofa. "You showed up from Kentucky unannounced. With a puppy. Who just peed on the carpet twice. So yeah, she's pissed."
"Hell, I came to see you. I didn't even know you two were back together."
"We aren't technically." Raylan doesn't meet the sniper's amused gaze. "She's just stayin' here and helpin' out while I'm recovering."
"Technically? Shit," Tim says it soft, but Willa looks up, grinning.
"That's a bad word." She eyes her father. "He said a bad word."
"Yes he did, sweetheart, and Deputy Marshal Gutterson knows better," Raylan admonishes, grateful to have the spotlight off of his ever-confusing relationship with his ex-wife, for the moment anyway.
"What should we name him, Daddy?" Willa crawls backwards away from the black and white pup; who yips and lunges at her. She collapses in giggles and the puppy jumps on top of her. "Ow!" Willa cries a moment later. "He bit me!"
She holds up her finger for Raylan to see. "I'm bleeding Daddy!"
Tim swoops in and scoops up the puppy, tucking him in his arm. The dog immediately stretches up and licks his face. He wipes it off and leans over Willa.
"Puppies bite to play," he tells her. "He doesn't know how sharp his teeth are. You have to teach him not to do that." He takes his thumb and forefinger and gently squeezes the puppy's mouth closed. "Do this, but not too hard, and say No bite!" As soon as he lets go, the puppy licks his hand.
"Tim Gutterson, Dog Whisperer," Raylan smirks. Grabbing a tissue from the box on the end table, he wraps it around the Willa's finger. "Don't tell your mama," he says, giving her a wink. "That is if you want to keep...whatever his name is."
"Ranger," Willa announces. She looks up at Tim. "Daddy says you were a Ranger and you brought me my puppy so his name is Ranger." She holds out her arms for her new pet, careful to keep her hands away from his mouth when Tim hands him over.
"Can he sleep with me?" Willa heads down the hall without waiting for an answer. "I'm gonna show him our room."
"I guess it's a little too late to discuss whether or not we're keeping it," Winona says from the kitchen doorway once the little girl is out of earshot.
Tim shakes his head and opens his mouth to apologize again, but Raylan interrupts him.
"Every kid should have a dog."
"Gayle and I had a cat." She crosses her arms over her chest. "And two hamsters."
"How'd that combination work out for ya?" He grins and despite her efforts the corners of her mouth twitch.
"Arlo let you have a dog?" Tim raises an eyebrow at Raylan. "Did he make you shoot it like in that movie?"
"Nope." Raylan shakes his head. "Arlo had a soft spot for dogs. Never saw him be mean to any of 'em. Of course, they couldn't talk back."
"You, on the other hand..." Tim says.
"Me on the other hand he'd kick the shit out of."
"I'd better make a beer run. We're almost out." Winona picks up her purse. "I put clean sheets in the spare room." She eyes Tim. "I assume the Army taught you how to make a bed."
"Indeed they did," he says. "But I don't want to kick you out of your bed. I can be perfectly comfortable on the couch. Or on the floor, or in a bathtub. The Army taught me that, too."
"That's okay. I'll cuddle with Willa tonight."
Raylan sighs and Tim chuckles. "Technically, huh?"
Winona's forehead wrinkles in puzzlement, then she shakes it off. "Anything else we need?"
"I brought some of the puppy food he's been eating," Tim says. "There's plenty of that. But if you've got a pet store around you might want to pick up a crate. It's the easiest way to potty train 'em."
"God knows he needs that," Winona says.
"Get ice cream," Raylan says. "And get vanilla, not that Chunky Monkey or whatever the heck you got last time."
"Willa likes Chunky Monkey."
"I like mocha myself," Tim says.
Winona smiles. "Me, too. Guess I'll be getting more than one flavor."
"Just don't forget the vanilla. And a whole carton, not one of those fancy-ass pints."
Winona rolls her eyes and picks up her keys off the counter. When she's gone Raylan looks up at Tim. "So, you gonna tell me why you're here? And don't tell me it's a vacation. You don't take vacations."
"This may call for something stronger than beer," Tim says.
Raylan notes the lack of sarcasm in the younger marshals response and studies him as he carefully pushes up from the couch. In the kitchen, he opens a cupboard and takes out the bottle of Woodford.
Tim gives a low whistle. "Movin' up in the world."
"It was a gift from a judge I pushed out of the way." He pours two generous glasses and hands one to Tim. "So, what's up?" He takes a sip, watching as Tim does the same before taking a seat on one of the barstools at the counter.
"You talked to Art lately?"
He shakes his head. "A couple of weeks ago. Not since this," he pokes at his rib. "I was kinda surprised he didn't call to raz me about it."
"How'd he seem; last time you talked?"
"Fine, he talked about comin' down for a visit. Why?" He takes another swallow of the bourbon.
"I got a call from Rachel last week. You know her mama has Alzheimer's, right?"
"Yeah, last time we talked she mentioned she'd moved her out to an assisted living in Seattle so she'd be closer."
"Well, evidently, Leslie called her and asked some very pointed questions about early symptoms."
"Symptoms?"
Tim sighs and drains his glass, setting it down pointedly in front of the bottle. Raylan pours him another and waits while he drinks half of it.
"We'd all noticed some stuff around the office the last couple of months. Art was always misplacing things and then one of us would find them in really strange places. I found his cell phone in the refrigerator one day. Nelson found his keys in the petty cash drawer. It got to be a running joke that Art's mind was already retired."
"Shit." Raylan splashes more bourbon into his glass. "You never said anything."
"Yeah, well. I thought he just had a lot on his mind." Tim holds out his glass for thirds. "But when Leslie called Rachel she told her that a week or so ago, Art went out to Lowe's or Home Depot - one of those - and he didn't come back for a long time. When he did, he was really agitated. Leslie asked what took so long and he shouted at her to leave him alone and went back to his office and poured a drink in the middle of the day." Tim gets up and paces in front of Raylan. "Eventually he came out of the office and told her he hadn't been able to find the car in the parking lot. She said that happened to her all the time, but then he told her he couldn't find it because he couldn't remember what kind of car it was or what color it was or anything."
Raylan gives a low whistle. "How'd he find it?"
"After wandering around in the parking lot for awhile he looked down at the keys in his hand and pushed the emergency button. The alarm went off and he found the car and drove home."
"Wow." He motions to the stool. "Sit down you're wearin' a hole in my floor." He caps the bottle and puts it back in the cupboard. "So, what're they gonna do?"
Tim perches back on the edge of a stool, but his foot taps the floor rhythmically. "He's going to the Memory Disorders Center at UK this week for some tests."
"So he hasn't said anything to you? You just know 'cause you talked to Rachel?"
"Pretty much. I had a drink with him about a week ago and he never said a word. Seemed fine."
"Maybe I should have Winona give Leslie a call. Art said somethin' about them comin' to see Willa, so that could be her excuse."
"Might not be a bad idea." He clinks his glass against Raylan's. "To Art," he says and they both drink.
A/N Thank you for your patience. I know there is quite a bit of time passing between chapters, but I promise I have not abandoned this story and I will continue to update as my currently hectic life permits!