Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I choose one with a bright pink and yellow pattern and spend an entire hour getting ready. This whole thing I do here with the Busybody is kinda stupid and wasteful because almost no one ever comes into my little shop, so the only people who see my dress are the townsfolk and the odd tour group that prefers Tuesday and Wednesday mornings for their historical learning time.
But people seeing me isn’t really the point of what happens in Bishop. It just makes me happy. So that’s what I am when I open my store, raise the blinds, and take myself over to my writing desk to think up what I want my little paper to say this week.
Tuesdays are my writing days and Wednesdays are my printing days. I have an old-fashioned press, which is a time-consuming pain in the ass, but my paper is so small, it only takes a couple of hours to set up. I don’t print them all that way. Just the original, which I save for myself and put into a book filled with all the other editions inside page protectors. The rest get printed on vintage-looking copy paper at the copy shop just outside the historical district.
But today is a writing day, so I get to sit at my desk and think up stories. To imagine one could make a living doing this. Though I don’t actually make a living, I am acutely aware that I am insanely lucky that anyone buys anything I write and I enjoy every bit of this process.
After one last look in the mirror, I leave the cottage and head to the shop. When I get there I open the shutters to let the sunshine in and then scoop up the mail from the little slot attached to the door and take it over to my desk to look through.
Sometimes I get real ads. People send them in to me because I print the address of the paper on every edition of the Busybody and I don’t charge for them. Today it’s mostly junk mail, but as I sort, I see a familiar envelope.
Oh, my God. Another one! He sent one here too!
I rip it open and sure enough, there’s another worksheet. This time, it’s a word search. But, of course, it’s not that simple because it’s not for kids. There is no word bank at the bottom of the search, so there’s no way to know what words you’re looking for.
But just a moment of staring reveals the pattern to me.
Cross.
Cross. Cross. Cross. Cross. Cross.
It’s everywhere, all through the puzzle.
I stand up, breathing hard. Why the hell would Amon Parrish do something like this? It’s not cute. Not at all.
It’s creepy and I want him to stop.
Iwake up on Tuesday morning with an idea. A very good idea. One that involves Rosie Harlow. In fact, this is such a good idea I nearly get up and get on it before I’ve even had my coffee. But I recognize this behavior—rash decisions typically precede bad outcomes in my experience—so I don’t get right on it. I make some coffee and go out and sip it on the porch as I watch the men start bringing their dogs out of the kennel for training
This is my most favorite part of the day because I get to see the progress they’re all making. Both with the dogs and themselves. And these men aren’t the kind who want, or need, a babysitter. So now that we’re several weeks into the program and they know exactly what to do with the dogs, it’s just a matter of practice.
Some of the dogs are already very accomplished. But most are juveniles and puppies, and training them takes a lot of time. At first, I was worried because we didn’t have enough dogs to go around so some of the men had to double up with a puppy, but it’s working out just fine. I actually think they like working in teams. Collin’s noticed it too, so this will probably be something we do going forward.
After my coffee I walk down the driveway and check on each dog’s progress in person and give feedback. Every two weeks we put the dogs through a test and this is a test week. So everyone’s working hard.
It’s funny how a dog can make a person gentle. Every single one of these men came from the military. They are all killers. They are all dangerous. Some, before they got here, were drug addicts. Some were in prison. Some were homeless. But none of them are stupid and all of them understand that this is the best and only chance guys like them will ever get.
Maybe they take this opportunity and use it as a stepping stone. Get all the training, make us pay for it, and then take off for a better offer. Collin and I discussed this already, and it could happen. But we don’t think it will. We think they’ll stay and our investment in them will last years. Maybe even decades.