Tim heaved the three-inch thick file onto his desk and sighed. This was nuts. Raylan had only been gone since Friday night and Tim was missing him like crazy.
As if this whole thing wasn't his fault… well, Rachel and Art had to bear some of the blame too.
Raylan was just too damn independent, and patience was not in his vocabulary. Even being blind had not stopped him, he was still fit and athletic, and more than happy to give anything a go. Tim shuddered at the thought… the batting cage was probably the scariest idea that Raylan had dreamt up. Tim had thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown when Raylan had excitedly announced that he had set it up for the Tuesday night.
Raylan was always fearless, which might have stood him in good stead as a marshal, but as a blind man the fearless, independent streak frankly terrified Tim.
But the grin on Raylan's face in the batting cage, they had set the ball machine to fairly slow, and damn even if he missed four or five for every one he actually connected with, the sound the machine made as it ejected the ball gave Raylan direction, and the rest was just instinct and experience… well Tim couldn't take that away from him even if the balls flying at his blinded partner's head did freak him out.
It was the batting cage, and Raylan's happy face, that gave Rachel the idea. The next time they were clustered around the barbecue and Lesley had distracted Raylan's attention, she casually dropped her idea into the conversation. Art was instantly enthusiastic… but Tim figured that was because he didn't live with Raylan and even though long experience had taught him that Raylan could get into serious trouble without outside assistance, Art Mullen had clearly forgotten that side of Raylan's nature.
"A guide dog?" Tim's eyebrows rose.
Rachel's eyes narrowed, "yes, Tim… A guide dog. It will be good for Raylan, and safer." Tim had to concede that point, Raylan's idea of safety was to book a taxi to go into town, and wander around at random, always ending up at the same coffee shop, sometimes by asking complete strangers to steer him in the right direction… at least the staff knew him, and Tim… and they would feed him good coffee, and donuts and keep an eye on him until Tim could retrieve his errant partner and take him home.
Tim had considered ringing every taxi company in a fifty-mile radius and warning them on pain of something very nasty not to accept Raylan's fare. But that did seem a little like overkill. The look on Rachel's face, and the accompanying eye-roll, suggested that Tim was in need of a good anti-psychotic!
Despite his misgivings, when he had a few minutes to process it, Tim agreed. A living creature to help Raylan that would have no agenda and would keep him safe, it would make Raylan's life better. So he researched it, wrote off to the Guide Dog Training School… no sense in getting Raylan excited until it was a certainty, and Raylan received his acceptance letter and booking within six weeks. The phone interview Raylan was at his most charming, and Tim could tell this was going to be one time things would run smoothly. Even if Raylan was changing planes in the middle.
"Are you going to stop worrying any time soon?"
Tim looked up, Rachel had the world's most mobile and expressive eyebrows, and they were saying idiot in an affectionate sort of way.
"He flew to LA. On his own."
"And how many times did you call him on Friday."
Tim blushed. "Eight."
"And the transfer desk at Houston."
"Four." Tim sunk lower in his seat.
Rachel smiled gently, "Y'think that Raylan can't flirt his way across the country."
"No." Tim had no doubts on that score. "I just… he…"
"Raylan will be fine. Most of his confidence comes from you, and he still has that mystique which makes people fall at his feet and want to give him things. AND… we know he got there."
Tim nodded, and Rachel could see he had a lot to think about, so she left him to it.
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Raylan put his hands out, and a big square head butted into his fingers. The dog's coat was soft and velvety. "Mr Givens."
"Raylan, please." He couldn't even bring himself to think about being Mr Givens. That was his father.
Something damp and soft caressed his hand. "Raylan, this is Otis. He's a chocolate Labrador." The big wet tongue stroked his hands again, and the nose thrust upwards putting the dog's whole head in Raylan's hands. He felt the big body shift closer until a solid warmth settled itself against Raylan's leg.
Cally the guide dog trainer moved back a little, watching the cowboy bend over the dog and start running his hands over Otis' body, before long the dog was leaning heavily sideways against his leg as Raylan's fingers found a particularly pleasurable spot.
Cally handed Raylan a brush, and then settled as the cowboy got to know his dog. Otis leaned against his new master, brown eyes closed to mere slits, thick, chocolate-furred tail thumping against the ground in delight at the attention. Raylan put a hand on Otis' chest, gently stroking the soft, wavy fur, his fingers combing through the silky soft white fur of the diamond-shaped flash on the labrador's front.
She was slightly surprised, Cally had to admit that she didn't know what to expect from a former Deputy US Marshal, and Raylan Givens wasn't what she was expecting. When they were introduced, she got the full blast of the courtly southern charm, with his warm voice and Southern accent Cally suspected him of being a ladiesman. But his partner's name was Tim, and the way he spoke about his partner, well she could hear the love in his tone. Now she was watching him bond with his dog, and it was clear that Otis was bonding with his new master.
She could sense the strong will, so maybe Otis would behave himself. Two strong-willed creatures together, Cally did wonder if they would be scrubbing Otis out of the program and giving him away as a nice family pet; but something in Raylan's application, and the conversation that she had had with his clearly anxious partner suggested that Otis was the right dog for Raylan.
Cally grinned, this was a serious business, but when Tim explained the reason for his call, and she had prodded him a little, it all came tumbling out. How the moment someone taught Raylan how to use the cane and orientate himself, the cowboy was out there testing the limits of his new found knowledge, she commiserated with Tim over the nerve-wracking moments when Raylan was wandering about on his own in Lexington, and had to admit a sneaking admiration for Raylan's batting cage antics.
Otis' tail was still thumping the floor, and he was still leaning sideways against Raylan's leg.
This is going to be fun...