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Chapter 11

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Although still far from full, the shelter had gained some new inmates the past week. After he fed all of them, Mike stood and looked at his latest rescues. The two dogs might have had a little pit bull or similar breed in them. They were both ragged and rough looking, one missing half an ear and the other wounded on the face so badly one eye had become infected and would likely have to be removed.

Mike was no expert on such things, but he’d be willing to bet they’d both been either bait dogs or actual fighters. Another anonymous tip had led him to a run-down shack at the edge of town. It hunkered out of sight, down in a wash. He saw indications other dogs had been there, but when he checked around, he only found the two. They were in crude pens, side by side, although separated. No collars or tags on them, only one shared, near-empty pan of muddy water and no sign of food. Of course, he confiscated them.