Tim stood on the porch with his coffee and watched Otis casually saunter to the end of the porch. The Labrador stopped for a sniff, and then Tim heard the sounds of happy crunching as another snail met its doom in Otis' jaws.
Otis sauntered back. Chocolate tail swinging, smug look on his face.
"Happy now." Said Tim. Otis paused, looked up and belched. Tim gave him the look. "Bags of best quality kibble, cooked chicken breast, cheese, enough rawhide chews to fill a wheelbarrow… and you eat snails."
Otis' bottom hit the deck with a dullish thud and his tail began to thump. Muffled sounds of a shower gave Tim an idea.
Tim grinned. "Where's Ray?" The tail thumping increased. "Go find him… where's Ray?" He knew he really shouldn't get the dog geed up like that but it was damn funny. Otis was coiled like a spring.
"Go…"
The Labrador exploded from his crouched position, claws skidding on the shiny floor surface, Otis' bulky frame heavy enough to keep him upright and moving. The loud thud as the lab burst through the bathroom door, his weight more than enough to pop the flimsy latch, Raylan's loud squawk of annoyance. "TIMOTHY!"
Tim smirked, that one was never going to get old.
Moments later, the padding of feet, canine and human. Tim walked back into the house. Raylan may have known every square inch of his home, but Otis was still there, pressed against his master, guiding him. His soaking wet coat making a damp patch on Raylan's jeans.
Raylan walked forward, half-turned and dropped into the armchair nearest the door. "Do you have to?" He grouched.
Tim opened his mouth to say something, and jumped back with a squawk as Otis shed the water from his thick coat in the time-honoured fashion of all dogs.
Spray flew, and Raylan scowled. "Thanks dog." Otis sat with a thud, and inched forward until his nose was resting on Raylan's knees. Tim smiled. Raylan's hands went straight to his dog's head, and the long fingers rubbed Otis' ears. The labrador's face had an expression that was pure bliss.
It was hard to be cross with him with that blissed out look on his face.
Tim sighed. He had work to do, and Art would not be happy if he was late. "I need to get on my way." He leaned down, and kissed Raylan gently. "Try to stay out of trouble."
"I don't attract trouble."
"Sure."
"Why you messin' with me?"
"Because I can. Because it's fun."
Raylan smiled, he could hear the affection in Tim's voice. Sometimes it startled him how much he was loved. He had never really thought about it before.
Tim's hand gently caressed his face. "Chicken tonight?"
"Yeah." Raylan leaned forward, Tim's lips met his again.
***JUSTIFIED***
Raylan washed up the breakfast plates, and went through his routine, getting dressed, putting his money in his wallet, finding his keys. He could hear Otis munching on one of the many rawhide chews that Tim had bought.
So absorbed was he in his tasks, that he almost failed to notice the change.
Otis stopped chewing.
He was growling, Raylan sensed a presence behind him. Sensed the movement and ducked to the side, the blow connecting with his shoulder. Otis was snarling, and there was a high pitched yelp as Otis went for Raylan's attacker.
"Shoot the damn dog."
"Cain't get a clear shot."
Raylan got in a blow of his own. "OTIS, FIND TIM." He screamed as a fist slammed into his body, there were two of them and Raylan was struggling to fight back.
As he went down, he heard the sound of glass breaking, and shots fired. "Otis." Raylan crumpled to the ground, his last thought as he lost consciousness, a prayer that his dog had got clear.
***JUSTIFIED***
Otis was running. Torn between instinct and fear, instinct said stay with master, fear said run. Master wanted him to find Master's mate.
Jumping through the shiny thing hurt, his paws were leaking, but Otis ran on.
***JUSTIFIED***
Judge Steven Reardon was on his way into the office, cursing the detour from the road repair, he was about to ring in to the courthouse and cancel half his list, when the huge brown dog ran out.
Reardon swerved. And cursed again.
The dog had ground to a halt in front of the car. Reardon squinted, the dog's nose, and front legs were covered with cuts. With horror, Reardon recognized Raylan Givens' guide dog.
He scrambled out of the car, wracking his brains for the dog's name.
It came to him as he reached the trembling animal. "Otis." He laid a gentle hand on the dog's head, the Labrador looked up at him. "Where's master?" This did not look good, and given Raylan's propensity for trouble, Reardon scrabbled in his pocket for his phone.
***JUSTIFIED***
Rachel slowly unclenched her fingers from the passenger seat, and fervently wished that she had insisted she drive. Art was only moments behind them she knew, the Staties were there…
Tim had bailed out the door almost before he put the vehicle in park. Useless to call out to him. She watched him take the porch stairs in a single leap and crash through his front door.
She followed more slowly, taking her time to see the signs. Busted out front window, Otis probably, she could see bullet holes, someone firing at Otis? Maybe. She stepped up on the porch, and pushed the door open a little wider, careful to use the edge of the large pocket handkerchief in her hand. Although she had no doubt her prints were somewhere in the house. Lord knew she spent enough time with Tim and Raylan.
Tim was standing there, frozen in place, staring down at a patch of something on the floor.
Blood.
Rachel put it together in her head, not Otis, he got all cut up jumping through the window, all his blood would be on the outside.
Raylan's.
She reached out, put a firm hand on Tim's shoulder. She had to get him away from here. "Otis. You need to get him from the vet's."
Tim nodded, slowly. He turned, and Rachel nearly gasped at the hard look in his eyes. Tim never looked like that, cold, edged with an icy resolve that made her knees tremble.
"Arlo."
Tim walked past her then, the epitome of calm, and suddenly Rachel realised that she needed to get a lid on this thing real quick. So used to Raylan being the volatile one, she hadn't really thought about what Tim might do if Raylan were taken from him.
Tim's protective instincts would come out, that was for sure, but the depth of the love she knew he had for his partner, well that was just messing with his head.
Rachel went after him. "We need to go to Otis." He nodded, "I'll drive," she snatched the keys from his hand, before he had time to even protest she wriggled past him and into the driver's seat.
Art was pulling up beside them, and she rolled the window down. "We're going to get Otis." She shouted, and peeled back, barely giving Tim time to shut the passenger door. Leaving Art standing there, looking a little lost and bewildered.
***JUSTIFIED***
He was lying on a floor, he knew that, he could feel the draught from an ill-fitting door. He ached everywhere, especially his head, and they had tied his hands behind him with something.
Raylan struggled, twisting his wrists, fighting the thing that was holding his hands behind his back. He could feel the thing cutting into his wrists, and it hurt like hell, but he kept fighting, even though he could feel the blood soaking his wrists.
They'd shot his dog. He stilled at the thought. Otis… Tim… The pain of these thoughts so overwhelming that he retched, bile rising in his throat.
Arlo Givens sat back on the chair and watched. Watched his blind son fight the zip ties they had put around his wrists. Watched him struggle, and curse. Then Raylan retched once, then nothing. He went still.
Arlo was surprised. He expected more fight. His perpetually angry son fought and that made Arlo feel good. He liked to rile him, get under his skin.
Raylan giving up like that was a disappointment.