Xavier instinctively backed away when the roof collapsed right where he had seen the pass the window. Hopefully, it ended the vet’s life instantly instead of continuing to burn. He had heard more than once, dying by fire was the most painful way to go. Still, he had just talked to the vet not too long ago and now. He swallowed hard thinking how fast life had changed. 

 More people had gathered, Xavier was barely aware of their questions semi directed at him. He just stared stupidly at the blaze was firefighters were gaining some control over. More hoses were pumping water into the building. He pulled off his hat and his fingers through is thick shoulder long hair, his face was flush from the heat and he wiped his sleeve over his mouth drying his upper lip. To die in such a manner was not a savory thought for the cowboy.

With the fire mostly smoke and steam, most of the onlookers had lost their interest and continued with their day. Xavier’s gaze returned to the crate in the back of the truck, there was no way know what the dog had or how long it would last before she would stop attacking. Until answers came he had to keep the poor thing locked up. He didn’t want anyone to go to the hospital, himself included, with such grievous wounds his employer had. 

His light brown snagged on the woman from the pet store, he had been in there a time or two to look around. He never really purchased anything, though he did watch the snakes eating. It was a horrific thing which he couldn’t take his eyes off. He shivered at the memory, he replaced his hat and milled over what he could do with his present situation. There wasn’t really another vet in town that he knew of. He moved to the clerk of the pet store and pulled off his hat to be polite, his mama raised her boys well. “Miss,” he said, remembering his sisters ranting about being called ma’am. He thought it be safer to use that title for all women in general. “You wouldn’t know another vet in town would you?” He pointed his hat toward the crate that held the growling dog, pawing and biting at the crate door. “She is real sick.”