He thought he was checking out illegal logging in the Idaho mountains-until he found a German Shepherd locked in a frozen cage, staring at him like it had been waiting for exactly one person

she asked.

“Marrow Creek ridge.”

Her mouth tightened. She did not ask the rest right away. She crossed the room slowly, crouched several feet from the blanket, and set one gloved hand palm-up on the floor. The Shepherd watched her, then leaned forward enough to smell her fingers.

“Good boy,” she said softly. “You get a vote.”

That was when Grant decided continue reading …