Unexpected Kindness

“Wait! You dropped this!” The woman chased after Randall and handed him a small, black notebook.

“This isn’t mine.” Randall shook his head and tried to hand the book back.

“Maybe you can find the owner then. I’ve got to run.” The woman turned around and was soon lost in the crowd.

Randall glanced down at the black notebook and tucked it into his pocket. He’d be late for a meeting with the bank if he didn’t hurry.

“I’m sorry,” the bank clerk drawled insincerely. “We don’t want to invest this amount of money into a rescue. There would be no guarantee of repayment on the loan.”

“But what about Samson’s Ranch? Surely you could use the land for collateral. I need this money to build stronger kennels for our guests. Many of these dogs come to us with no other options.” Randall had a small acreage outside of Fort Worth, Texas, that he was transforming into a rescue center for large breed dogs. Many were abandoned in shelters and roadsides once they grew too big for their owners to handle. With five guests already filling the small barn, he needed money to buy supplies and food, build for more kennels, food and pay the vet bills.

“Unfortunately, this doesn’t fall under bank policy. Please have a nice day.” The clerk shuffled his papers and glanced meaningfully at the door. Randall took the cue and shuffled slowly down to his truck, where he pulled off his mask and slumped into the driver’s seat.

On the drive back to the farm, questions and worries tore through his thoughts. How would he pay the vet bill for Maggie and Molly, twin pups who had been malnourished and covered in mange before he had nursed them back to health? He could barely afford the gas to drive back to Samson’s Ranch.

The dogs were waiting near the gate as Randall pulled in. There were Maggie and Molly, their fluffy, white Great Pyrenees coats shining with good health. Jack, a Great Dane, stood behind the girlshis tail wagging wildly. A giant black Newfoundland named Canuck sat beside Jack. Randall had found Canuck at the dump. The ranch’s namesake, Samson, was sitting on the porch, overseeing the dogs. Randall had dived into rescue work after finding Samson tied to a bench in the State Park. Samson’s emaciated frame had barely kept him upright. That had been three years ago. Now Samson was healthy and ruled the other dogs on the farm. He was a giant mixed breed- the vet guessed Anatolian Shepherd and Great Dane, with a little Irish Wolfhound thrown in- and the other dogs respected Samson and followed his lead.

“Ho, Samson.” Randall called out and Samson ran over for some love. As Randall bent down to hug Samson, something fell out of his pocket. He picked it up and saw it was the black notebook. “Strange. I’ll look at this after evening chores.”

The dogs were fed and kenneled when Randall sat down for his dinner. He pulled the small notebook out and opened it to the first page.

“Hmmm, I wonder who this belongs to? No name inside.” Randall kept up a conversation with Samson as he paged through the book. The pages were blank until he reached the last page. A short message was scrawled in thick, black ink.

Please take this to Maither & Grundle,

Building 798 on Taylor St. & W 7th St.

Thursday, May 5th at 2:00 p.m.

“Samson, this just gets stranger and stranger. Do you think I should go? It’s in two days.” Samson raised his head and set it on Randall’s knees. “That’s what I thought. We have nothing to lose.” He set the notebook on the countertop and went up to bed, Samson following at his heels.

The fifth of May arrived and Randall put on his favorite blue dress shirt with pressed jeans.

“I’m not sure who I’ll meet, but I want to dress to impress. Right, Sam?” Randall patted Samson and left for downtown Fort Worth.

As Randall walked out of the elevator into the offices of Maither & Grundle, he was greeted warmly by the receptionist.

“How may I help you, sir?” Her bright eyes welcomed Randall into the room. She looked familiar. Actually, she looked like the woman who had given him the notebook, but it was difficult to tell with everyone wearing masks. What was going on here?

“Ma’am, this may sound strange, but I think you gave me this notebook and…” he quieted for a moment. What kind of crazy person would she think he was, coming in because of a notebook?

“It said to take it here? Just follow me and I’ll take you to join the others.” She smiled with her eyes and led him to a boardroom down the hall. “Please help yourself to refreshments.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Randall nodded at her and looked around the room. There were nine people at various points in the room. Some were sitting, others were drinking coffee and chatting. Randall took a seat beside an elderly, Hispanic gentleman.

“Do you know what this is about?” Randall looked questioningly at the older man.

“No. I helped a young mother pick up some groceries after her bags broke and then that woman outside showed up and handed me a notebook,” his neighbor explained. “How did you get your notebook?”

“I gave my lunch to a young, homeless man and as I walked away, the lady gave me the book,” Randall replied.

A tall, black man in a navy suit came in and looked around, a pleased expression on his face as he saw everyone present.

“Please, ladies and gentlemen, have a seat and I will share why we are here.”

He opened up a letter as everyone sat down. “I am Benjamin Maither. You are here at the request of a client, Mr. Johannes Reid, who recently passed away. In his last will and testament, Mr. Reid lamented the lack of charity and kindness present in today’s world. He tasked us to find ten people of worth and good character by watching for random acts of kindness. Our staff gave away ten of the small, black notebooks that you each brought back today. In return for your generosity to others and to reward the kindness you showed to your fellow people, Mr. Reid has bestowed $20,000 to each person present in this room.”

A shocked silence reverberated across the table.

“Did you say $20,000 or $2,000? Is that tax-free? When will we receive it? Are there any strings attached?”

People glanced at their neighbors and chatter started to fill the void Mr. Maither’s announcement had caused. Mr. Maither held up his hand to stop the questions pouring out of everyone’s mouths.

“I have copies of his will here that you can refer to. Ms. Wells, our receptionist, will talk to you about all the details. There are no strings attached,”Mr. Maither explained.

Randall didn’t hear the rest of his words. HIs mind raced as he thought about the kennels, the new guests he could accept on the ranch, the volunteer training he could put together, the vet bills he could pay. This gift would save many furry lives. This was an answer he hadn’t expected.

“May I please keep the notebook, Mr. Maither?” Randall asked. He wanted to keep track of each improvement, each life saved, each kindness that Mr. Reid’s gift would pay for.

“Yes, you may. Take care now and start thinking about what you will be able to accomplish with Mr. Reid’s generous gift. I’ll leave you all in Ms. Well’s excellent care.”

Randall drove home and, for once, he was not thinking about the price of gas or the cost of dog food. He was thinking about a generous man who hoped to see goodness in others. Randall determined that he would always be that kind of man and that he would nurture kindness in future employees and volunteers at Samson’s Ranch. He opened the gate and as he knelt down and greeted his dogs, tears of thankfulness dripped off his cheeks. Samson licked his face and woofed.

“Yes, Samson!” Randall said. “We are okay. We are going to be okay.”