Man’s Best Friend

He had been walking this almost-path for some time; basically following where his feet took him. His eyes peripherally noted tree roots, branches, rocks, or dips in the path and unconsciously avoided them. The unique natural wild beauty around him went unnoticed.

When he surfaced enough to wonder what time it was, he had only the sun to gage the days passing hours.

Probably about noon, he thought, should get back and eat I guess. But it was only a passing thought quickly forgotten, and he continued on his uncharted path. It was then that he noted he had picked up a silent companion. A dog. A mongrel breed by the looks of him, but well cared for and fed. He stopped, and the dog sat obediently beside him, his big brown eyes asking those intimate questions that he seemed to know the answers to but dared his companion to confront.

“Well hello, and who might you be?”

At his friendly overture, the dog rose, tail wagging, and stuck his nose into the hand that reached to fondle his head.

“Friendly fellow are you?”

He knelt down and allowed the dog to explore his face and scent while burying his hands in the abundant brown furry coat and finally resting his forehead against the dogs, suddenly overcome with an intense emotion he had been fighting. He wrapped his arms around the dog and snuggled into the warm body.

“I could use a friend right now,” he said, spending long moments welcoming the close contact that seemed to reach in and touch his emptiness, “but I would say you belong to someone, eh boy. Someone who loves you.”

His words echoed his own dilemma and at the reminder he quickly rose and took command of himself.

“Well, let’s go home. Home boy,” he ordered the dog.

At his command, the dog turned and started back the way he had come; stopping every now and then to make sure he was following. Five minutes later the dog made an abrupt turn onto a previously unnoticed path and picked up his pace. Hutch broke into a jog, keeping the animal in sight until he came upon a cabin in a small clearing, the dog waiting expectantly on the porch before the front door.

Hutch slowed to a walk and took in the idyllic setting. The cabin was no more than two or three rooms at most, nestled with its back against the forest. The clearing contained a small vegetable patch with most of the rest of the cultivated area ablaze with the vibrant colour of every imaginable wild flower. It was a breath-taking display and filled him with wonder and a sense of peace.

That peace was shattered when the dog gave an impatient bark to draw his attention back to their reason for being here.

“O.K. O.K. I’m coming. So this is home eh boy.”

He stepped up on the porch and ruffled the dog’s head.

“Let’s see if anyone’s home.”

His knock on the door forced it to open slightly and he froze, his instincts taking over. Something was wrong. He just knew it. He automatically reached for his weapon, which was not there. Recovering, he slowly toed the door open further and took in the shambled mess before him.

Although the room did not contain much furniture, what was there had been tossed around like toys. A table, chairs, knick-knacks, books and even the sofa and easy chair where upside down or sideways in what had obviously been a rampage of pure anger and hate.

The dog slipped into the room, and whimpering pitifully made his way to the back wall, sank to his belly and rested his head on something. And Hutch knew what that something was, without a doubt. Not disturbing anything, he too made his way to the back wall. The figure be beheld lying crumpled and bloody might once have been a beautiful woman, but the vicious attack on her left little to recognize. His heart lurched in pain and sorrow, and after a silent moment he knelt to confirm the lack of life in the small body.

“Don’t move. Hold it right there mister.”

The cold heavy voice froze Hutch and brought the dog to his feet, his body tense and his ruff raised in hackles of defence, his growl threatening.

Slowly moving his hands into sight and rising, he turned. The large man before him had a shotgun unwaveringly pointed at him, his hard emotionless eyes glued to Hutch’s every move. The fact that he was dressed in a Deputy Sheriff’s uniform did little to assure Hutch. As the man moved further into the room, the dog continued his warning growl.

“Move away from there now. Hands against the fireplace, feet spread.”

“Officer, I…”

“I said move.” The snarl of an order was accompanied by a painful jolt from the shotgun that almost doubled him up.

At this the dog rose up and went into full attack mode, his jaws clamping down with vicious accuracy on the Deputy’s arm, forcing him to lower the shotgun to fend off the animal. Hutch quickly claimed the weapon turning it on the Deputy, but not before the dog yelped and released his captive, collapsing on the floor in pain. Hutch’s furious “Stop. Now” order halted the Deputy from following up his attack on the dog with a kick.

The angry, scowling man barely controlled himself and turned his rage on Hutch, being stopped only by the shotgun and the intensity of Hutch’s glare.

“You don’t know what trouble you’re in mister. You are a dead man. Nobody gets away from me. You’ll pay for this.”

Hutch knew the man was not talking about justice; he was talking revenge for his own loss of face, and maybe something more. He was not to be trusted. Hutch too easily recognized the brutal, bull force of the officer in front of him and knew he had to keep control for his own safety.

“Where is your car?” A jab from the shotgun accompanied by a patented Hutchinson “I mean business” look got him his answer.

Cuffing and completely disarming the Deputy, he turned his attention to the dog, who still lay panting heavily on the floor. He cradled the dog’s head for a moment, looking into those intelligent pleading eyes.

“Its O.K. boy, just lie still. I’ll get help.”

The grunt of disbelief from the Deputy drew him back to his feet and he forcefully shoved him towards the door.

“Lets go.”

They followed a side path out to a road barely more than ruts in the long grass. Hutch cuffed the Deputy to the steering wheel and ordered him to call for backup. The stunned surprise on the Deputy’s face made his day, and he settled back to wait.

It was a long wait, over forty-five minutes, but finally another Sheriff’s car arrived, carrying the Sheriff himself.

“Walt, what’s going on? This your prisoner?”

The prisoner extricated himself from the car, the shotgun carelessly resting in his arms.

“No Sheriff, don’t,” he said as the Sheriff made a move for his gun. “Lets talk.”

Moving the Sheriff away from the Deputy’s car, Hutch introduced himself and told his story, at the end of which he handed over the shotgun and allowed himself to be placed in the back seat of the Sheriffs car, his only request being that someone look after the dog.

It was a relief to settle back in the seat. The tension of the last little while gradually receded and he drifted. Unbelievable. He had come out here to unwind and get a grip on his suddenly upside-down world, and now look. He was suspected of murder and had assaulted a fellow police officer. Oh Starsky was going to enjoy this. Never let him forget it either. He could just hear it all now.

Starsky. What was he going to do about Starsky? If he was honest, he knew what he wanted to do, but it was all so complicated and asked for so much. He didn’t know if he could deal with it.

His reverie was broken by the return of the Sheriff and his men, and he had no idea how much time had passed. The same Deputy he had assaulted opened the back door and literally threw the dog in with him, managing to jab Hutch with his elbow as he withdrew. The dog whimpered and struggled to get his jaws on the Deputy again, his lips curled back and teeth barred. As Hutch reached to restrain him, he was backhanded heavily across the jaw, drawing blood and a malicious grin from the Deputy.

Hutch once again cradled and soothed the dog until his growls lessened and he accepted the comfort. By the time the Sheriff got in the car and started back to town it was going on four o’clock. Nothing was said by either man. Hutch broke the silence.

“Do you have a vet in town who can check the dog out?”

“Yeah,” was the only reply, although not unkindly said.

After dropping the dog off and receiving assurances as to his care, he preceded the Sheriff into his office and took a seat.

“Mr. Hutchinson, until we can verify your story, you will be held on suspicion of murder. Do you wish to make a phone call?”

The Sheriff appeared to be trying to hold onto his control by reverting to procedure.

“Sheriff, who was that woman and why would anyone kill her?”

His voice brimming with emotion, the Sheriff replied.

“Abby Colson was one of the most loved and respected people in this town. Her father’s people practically built the town from the ground up. That cabin was one of the first built here, and Abby lived there for most of her sixty years. Over those years she probably did more for this town and its people than anyone else. In one way or another she’s related to almost everyone and I’m going to have one hell of a time when the truth gets out about what happened out there. Mr. Hutchinson if you did this, I won’t be able to stop the townspeople from whatever justice they want.”

The Sheriff’s words chilled Hutch for he knew that it would take an army to control a mob out for vigilante justice.

“I had nothing to do with it. This is the first time I’ve been here, and I certainly didn’t know Abby Colson.”

The Sheriff just shook his head.

“Won’t matter son if people get riled enough.”

“I know. Can I make my call?”

Hutch’s first thought was to call Starsky, but as he didn’t know for sure where he would be, and he only got one call, he decided to call Dobey. Besides, Dobey would keep his excitable partner from doing something stupid.

“Captain Dobey.”

“Captain, Hutch. I got a situation here and I need some help.”

After explaining his current predicament, he handed the phone over to Sheriff Turner, who listened with ever increasing discomfort before hanging up.

“Might touchy isn’t he.”

“Yeah, but he’s a good man and a good friend.”

“O.K. Lets get you settled.”

The small county jail cell was like any other and by nightfall Hutch had been fed and as comfortable as he was liable to get. And he had unexpected company. The Deputy who brought him in explained that he had sat unmovable after making his way into the Sheriffs office and his constant whinnying and barking had driven them nuts until the Sheriff remembered his attachment to Hutch.

Now he lay curled up against Hutch on the narrow cot in contented sleep. Hutch had been restless until then, his mind half centred on examining the case he was now so intimately connected to, half worried about his own freedom and security, and half desperately needing his partner’s confident irrepressible optimism. That was one half too many, but the last two half’s where really one. With Starsky at his side running interference with his absolute faith and love Hutch was not really in any danger.

He gave his mental processes a rest and gently stroked the furry substitute Starsky. He smiled at his sudden acceptance of a truth he had been beating himself up about, and slept. He awoke several hours later knowing that he was being watched. He lay still and calmed the tense form beside him.

“I know you’re awake,” said Deputy Walt Aikens. “You’re free, you can leave now.” The menace in the voice kept Hutch right where he was even after he heard the door open.

“No,” was all he said, as answers tumbled into place in his mind.

“Out. Now,” said the voice almost desperate with anger, attempting to force a reaction.

“No.”

Several minutes passed in agonizing slowness before he heard the door close and lock again, the man obviously recognizing the futility and danger of his attempted jailbreak excuse to gun Hutch down.

Finally feeling secure again Hutch slept, only to awake again knowing he was being watched. But there was no danger in this scrutiny, and the dog lay quiet by his side.

“Starsky.”

“How ya doin’ Hutch?” said that quiet steady voice, barely concealing its concern and love.

“Not bad Starsk. All the comforts of home really, and you’d love the food — a greasy half-pound burgers accompanied by fatty fries and warm coffee.”

“Sounds good babe. Mind if I join you?”

“No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. One of use had better be free to clear this mess up.”

“That’s what I brought Dobey along for.”

“Dobey. You brought Dobey!”

“Well, actually he brought me. He wouldn’t let me come alone. I don’t think he trusted me, Hutch.”

The bantering felt so good, so normal that Hutch had to smile. He approached his partner and cupped the hands that had a death grip on the bars with his own. Two pair of blue eyes searched and found the support, devotion and courage they both needed.

“I’m O.K. Starsk,” said Hutch in a soft emotion charged voice that conveyed everything he didn’t say.

A gentle finger caressed his bruised jaw.

“Not quite.”

A slight lowering and turn allowed his lips to return the caress.

“I’m O.K.”

Starsky shuddered slightly, re-gaining control.

“And who is this?” Starsky said as he lowered himself and offered his hand to be recognized.

Hutch came down to join them.

“This is my friend The Dog. The one who started all this and has remained stuck by my side the whole time.”

“Well thank you for that Dog. You keep up the good work.”

The dog happily wagged his tail in acknowledgement of his orders.

“What’s happening Starsk?”

“Well, Dobey’s out there right now going over what they have on you. The last I heard was the start of a full Dobey rant about the stupidity of half-assed police work. Figured I’d better make myself scarce before I added my two cents worth. I doubt you’ll be here long Hutch, seems they haven’t really got a case at all, although one Deputy out there seems ready to string you up.”

Hutch just nodded, then with a quick check to confirm their privacy quietly filled Starsky in on all that had gone down. Starsky fairly beamed at the dog in appreciation of his defence of his partner, but then had to be almost physically restrained as best Hutch could when he heard about the late night visit.

“What are we gonna do, Hutch?”

“Well, the Sheriff seems a good sort but I don’t see him taking my word for what happened, or even the dogs. We have to find a connection between Aikens and Abby Colson that would prove his involvement, and we don’t know this town or the people in it. Maybe Dobey can work something out.”

Silence followed while they digested all the possibilities.

“Um, Hutch…I’m sorry for what happened.” The shy, humble stumbling words of Starsky’s had Hutch reaching through the bars to caress the face before him, but a familiar bellow drew his hand back quickly.

“Hutchinson, get out here.”

“Uh, Cap I can’t.”

“Oh. Yeah.” A backward bellow for Turner immediately brought the Sheriff with keys in hand.

After requesting, and getting permission to use the Sheriff’s office, the three men and a dog settled in and Hutch once again told his story. After a silent communication with his partner he included his theory about the Deputy. Dobey deliberated quietly for a moment.

“They have no case against you Hutch, which any idiot would have seen, but the Sheriff is an honest man. Leave it with me and go get some rest and food. The Sheriff doesn’t want you to go back to your cabin for obvious reasons, but there’s a decent looking motel just on the edge of town. Get a room and stay there ’til I figure this out.”

Starsky jumped in.

“But Cap we want….”

“Not this time, Starsky. You two get lost and stay out of sight. We don’t want to provoke these people. I didn’t get my Captain’s badge out of a Cracker Jack box. I do know how to investigate this.”

“Sorry Cap.”

“Take my car and get out of here. I’ll be in touch. Where did he come from?” Dobey’s question was obviously directed to the dog.

“He’s with me Cap. Seems to have adopted me.”

“Well take him with you.”

Starsky and Hutch left the building as unobtrusively as possible. Starsky stopped for take-out at a local diner and then got them a room at the motel. A quiet meal, a short stroll to walk the dog and they were back in the room with a still mildly humble Starsky attempting to work up his courage to finish his aborted apology in the jail.

A confident Hutch solved his problem by the simple act of taking Starsky’s face in gentle hands and giving him a kiss that left no doubt as to his answer to Starsky’s declaration of two weeks ago.

Like everything else they did, they fit together and responded to each other with natural ease, only this time they were locked into a long ignored love that brought with it a passion that swept them into another world. A world that offered the blessing and protection only lovers ever know. They lost themselves in discovering a unique oneness that surprised and delighted them, and spent the night glorifying the love without removing one stitch of clothes. That would come, and offered a wonderful expectancy that kept smiles, intimate touches, and glances sealing the promise.

Over breakfast Starsky asked a question.

“What about the dog Hutch? You gonna find a home for him?”

“Yeah Starsk I am. I figure he can survive the big city until we can find a house for all of us.”

“A house!” sputtered Starsky as his coffee cup hit the table and splattered its contents.

“A house, Starsk.”

Hutch’s serene smile and romantic dreamy countenance captured Starsky’s heart, and when his brain caught up all he could say was, “Yeah. A house.”

By the time dinner rolled around and they still hadn’t heard from Dobey, they were getting stir-crazy, impatient and occasionally mildly irritated with each other. The welcome call summoning them back to the Sheriff’s office came finally just after they had eaten.

A dejected Sheriff Turner sat behind his desk with a silent Captain Dobey keeping watch.

“Andrew, you want me to tell it?” Dobey asked.

A nod was the only reply.

“It took awhile, but we finally nailed it down. Abby Colson seems to have stumbled across Aiken’s activities of running contraband drugs, weapons, vehicles and even slave labour through the County. Getting the bank records is what took so long after I convinced Andrew that Hutch’s instincts and Aiken’s attempted jailbreak were legit.”

Sheriff Turner seemed to awaken and picked up the story.

“I can’t believe what he was doing right under my nose. I’ve had complaints about his brutality but no one ever prosecuted so the best I could do was fine or suspend him. Walt was operating a kind of way-station between Mexico, San Francisco and all points east it seems, providing a safe stop-over and distribution point back in behind Abby’s place. It’s a wonder she didn’t spot it sooner, but that’s wild country and she didn’t go out there anymore. Seems one of the kids they were transporting for child labour wandered off and ended up at Abby’s. Died before Abby could get help and that’s when Walt caught up to her.”

Turner took a moment to compose himself.

“Records indicate that Walt had another whole life over in Riverside County: house, fancy car, the whole works. And a bank account big enough to choke a horse. I think I’m getting too old for this job. That Abby should have to pay is just too much.”

Dobey and his men exchanged knowing, sympathetic glances, understanding fully the despair and quilt that often accompanied their jobs. The what-if scenarios could be killers.

“Hutch, you and Starsky go get your car and then come back here. I’ll tie up the paperwork with Andrew and you can file your statement then finish your leave.”

Before Starsky could get his request in Dobey continued.

“And yes Starsky you can have two days too, although I don’t know why.”

Starsky and Hutch got up quietly and made to leave.

“Sheriff Turner.”

Turner looked up at Hutch.

“Was this Abby’s dog?”

“Yes, he was.”

“If no one wants him, may I take him?”

“Of course son,” said a smiling Sheriff, “that won’t be a problem.”

Hutch turned back once again before leaving.

“Do you know his name?”

“Sure. It’s Partner.”

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