by Ciana Stone
“So, when do you leave?”
“This afternoon.”
“Sounds like fun. Enjoy every minute of it.”
“I am. Thanks, Mom. You and Dad. I know this is costing a bundle and I'm really grateful.”
“Girl, you've earned it. We're proud of you, and it's high time you got a chance to do something exciting. Now, go have fun and call me and tell me all about the warm sand.”
“And hot men.”
“Especially that. I love you.”
“I love you. Bye, Mom.”
“Bye baby.”
Morgan smiled, pushed herself up and headed out of the back door, accompanied by Ghost. Her veterinarian office was in a separate building near the main barn which was a good half mile from the house. She could have taken one of the ATV’s from the garage, but she’d made the walk so many times she could do it in her sleep.
Besides, the predawn hours of the day were some of her favorites. The air was still a bit moist, and there was just a hint of cool. The sky had lightened just enough to see the silhouettes of the tree branches and leaves against the sky.
Morgan gave silent thanks for the beauty around her. She loved their home and considered herself one of the luckiest people alive. There was no one she’d trade places with because as far as she was concerned, she had a perfect life.
When she reached the office, she keyed in the combination on the digital lock and held the door for Ghost. He took his customary spot on the window seat in the front as she turned on the lights, her computer and put on a pot of coffee.
She’d just settled into the chair at her desk when her phone rang. It was the ranch foreman, Sam. Morgan smiled as she hit the accept button, followed by the speakerphone button. “Morning, Sam.”
“Morning. I see we have a new foal.”
“Yep. Cord had to leave in the middle of the night to go to Washington, so I went out to check Little Shoes, and she was in labor. For a first birth, she did well.”
“I woulda gone and stayed with her.”
“I know, but I didn’t see any reason to wake you since I was already up. So, what’s on the agenda for today? Anything that requires my attention?”
“Nope, we’re good. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”
“So, talk.” Morgan carried her phone with her as she went into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.”
“Well, it’s your friend Joe. He was here late yesterday. Just showed up as we were getting the horses into the stalls for the evening and− well, I have to tell you that it's a little disconcerting the way a fella that big can suddenly just be there without you ever see him coming.”
Morgan smiled to herself. Joe was singular – that was the best word she could use to describe him because he wasn’t like anyone else she’d ever met. He was the most honest, caring person she'd ever known. Joe could come across as a complete country bumpkin or as the most articulate and wise man on the planet.
He could also, as Sam said, show up unexpectedly and seemingly out of the blue and there were times when he focused so intently upon a person, that it had been known to make people uncomfortable.
Morgan loved him like a father and couldn’t imagine life without him but understood that not everyone felt the same.
“You know he’s a good guy, right?” She returned to her desk, put the phone down and sat.
“Yeah, but honest to God, he has this way about him, like he can see right into your head. And he moves quiet as a damn mouse – can sneak right up on you.”
“Well, I’ll ask him to make sure to be louder and not to stare, okay? But try and put up with him, Sam. He’s a good friend and you know he’s pulled us out of a rough spot with the stock or a horse on more than one occasion.” Morgan took a sip of her coffee then opened the appointment book on her computer to check her schedule for the rest of the week.
“I know. Oh, and Bob Tillman stopped by yesterday afternoon. Wanted to know about breeding some prize cow with Kickstop.”
Kickstop was the new bull Morgan had purchased a month ago for breeding. His bloodline was unparalleled, and he'd cost her a fortune. Cord had almost balked at the price, but in the end, deferred to her judgment. She was confident Kickstop would sire some equally impressive offspring. She wasn’t allowing him to breed but was selling semen.
“We’ll sell semen to him at the same price as everyone else.”
“Yeah, but he wants to do it the old-fashioned way.”
“Don’t they all? Tell him no. He can buy the semen and do it himself or pay me to do it, but I’m not putting his cow in the pasture with Kickstop.”
“You don’t trust that critter not to kill a cow, do you?”
“Honestly, no.”
“Neither do I. Okay, boss. Gotta get the boys ready to go round up the herd in the western pasture. You do remember we’re shipping out a hundred head on Thursday, right?”
“I do indeed and have no doubt that you’ll have 'em ready to go when the trucks roll in.”
“That I will. Later, boss.”
“Later, Sam.”
She ended the call and got up from her seat. Ghost padded along beside her to the kitchen.
“Well, what now?” She asked as she rinsed out her cup.
He looked at her with his head cocked to one side as if to say, “You’re asking me?”
She smiled, gave him a rub on the head, then turned off the coffeepot and returned to her desk to shut down the computer. It was still early, with hours before her first appointment. She’d pay a morning visit to Joe then get on with the business of the day.
Ghost accompanied her as far as the house and after a bit of rubbing, bounded off. Morgan went inside for her keys and shoulder bag. She eyed Cord’s car for a moment then decided in favor of her favorite wheels, a classic Jeep Wrangler.
Cord found it two years ago at an auction, had it restored to near showroom perfection and gave it to her for Christmas. She loved it and drove it for pleasure. For work, she still drove her old Ford F150 pickup.
As she drove, she thought about Sam and his issue with Joe. She wasn’t about to try and explain her relationship with Joe to anyone. That was personal and no one’s business but her own. No one aside from Cord and her children knew about her friendship with him or that he was more than a friend to her. He was her mentor in many ways and in others she thought of him as family. Memories of their meeting occupied her mind.
Morgan and Cord had been married less than a year when, despite precautions, she discovered she was pregnant. She’d just taken a job with a large animal vet in the county where she and Cord lived, and the morning sickness was making it darn near impossible for her to get to work on time. She was afraid she was going to lose her job.
The girlfriend of one the ranch hands who worked for Cord told her about an herb shop in Rockridge, owned by a woman named Myrtle Love. Morgan was all about finding a natural solution to the problem, so she asked off work and headed for the city which was a good hour and a half drive from their place.
Rockridge wasn’t what you’d call a metropolis, but it was big enough for her to lose her way in the old section of town. After a few annoying minutes, she managed to get back on track and found the shop. It was situated in a long line of run-down storefronts. There was no parking on the street, but a gravel lot behind the building, adjacent to the train tracks.
Morgan was a bit uneasy about being alone in that section of town. Vagrants sat on the sidewalk, propped against the building, clutching paper bags of cheap alcohol. As she passed by, they reached out to her, begging for money. She was so unnerved that she ran through the doorway of the shop and collided with a tall, stocky man who looked to be in his sixties.
“Oh, my gosh!” She grabbed his arm to keep from falling. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
He smiled kindly at her. “Yes, thank you for asking. You seem like you're in an awful hurry. Can I help you with something, little lady?"
“Something for morning sic
kness. I was told there was an herbalist here who might be able to help.”
“Yes, Mrs. Myrtle Love. I come in and help her from time to time. I'm Joe. Let me introduce you and see if we can't get you fixed up.”
Morgan smiled as she thought back to that day. Joe and Mrs. Myrtle had taken care of her morning sickness. The draught they made for her tasted like death, but it worked like a charm. It wasn’t long before she found herself charmed as well. She began making regular visits to the herb shop, and little by little a friendship was formed.
Twenty years had passed, and their relationship had grown far beyond friendship. Today Morgan thought of Myrtle and Joe as her family, almost like parents. She made the turn off the main road, onto what was essentially little more than a dirt path.
Deeply wooded, the path wasn’t big enough for a vehicle. To reach the house was a mile’s trek through the woods. Morgan had wondered many times how Myrtle or Joe managed to get anywhere. In the twenty years she’d known them, she’d never seen a car there.
Of course, nowadays Myrtle rarely left home. Morgan did her shopping once a week and took her wherever she needed to go. Joe, on the other hand, had not changed one bit since the day she met him.
She started down the path, and her thoughts turned to Cord. She wondered when she would hear from him and if the emergency was really that, or just McGuire overreacting. She was so caught up in thought that when Joe stepped out in front of her, she started.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“No, you sure didn't. You look like you're carrying the weight of the world. Come on to the house. Myrtle's taking a nap but made us a nice pot of tea.”
She fell in step with him and in silence they walked the path. When they stepped from the cover of trees into a small clearing she stopped, as she usually did, just to take a moment and appreciate what was around her. The house was a simple structure of wood, basically little more than a box with a steeply pitched roof and a covered porch that ran along the front wall.
Plants grew in no discernable pattern, covering the surrounding yard, with neat rock walkways that wound through the foliage. Morgan closed her eyes and took in a long breath. It always seemed that the air there contained more than merely the scent of flowers and herbs, more than the earthy smell of damp soil beneath the layer of leaves. It was as if something beyond the realm of the senses dwelled there, something that provided a pervading sensation of harmony.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Joe smiling at her. She followed him onto the porch and took a seat at the small wooden table that was set for tea. As was their custom, Joe poured the tea. She watched in silence and accepted the cup he offered with a nod of her head but didn't drink until he'd sipped his own. Then, she raised her cup to her lips.
Joe looked at her over the teacup’s rim. “What's got you all tied up in a knot?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Yes, of course. But your man, Sam is uncomfortable with me, and you don't quite know what to do about it.”
Morgan had long ago given up on being surprised that he seemed to be able to read her thoughts. “Maybe. It’s just that Sam doesn’t know you, so he’s a little nervous when you suddenly show up.” She smiled and added, “You do seem to have that effect on people from time to time, you know.”
Joe smiled a whole face smile that lit his eyes in merriment. “I suppose so. People always fear what they don't understand. But I don't think that's all that's weighing on you.”
She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t dump her insecurities on Joe, but before Morgan could stop herself, she poured out what had happened with Cord being called to Washington and how insecure it made her feel.
Joe didn’t comment. In fact, he didn’t speak at all. He just made an "hmm" sound, got up and started clearing the table. When he went inside, she continued to sit, waiting for his return. That took long enough that she was about to go in search of him, but finally, he returned and took his seat.
“Okay, out with it.” She said. “I know you’re thinking something so—”
“All right, but you're gonna need to keep your lips zipped till I finish. Deal?"
“Deal.”
“Fine. I've watched you for twenty years.” His dialogue changed from the ‘good old boy, country’ to a more sophisticated articulation. “You went from being a child bride to a capable, dynamic woman. I've witnessed you becoming physically strong, and I’ve seen first-hand how quickly you master physical skills. Just as easily as you master intellectual challenges. You have a remarkable mind, and a memory people wish they possessed. That brain of yours absorbs concepts and knowledge like a sponge absorbs water.
“And you lock yourself right up in that intellect. It insulates and shields you like a great wall. You use it for just that reason, a wall of protection to help you evade facing your own weaknesses. You use it in the same way you use Cord, in the same manner you use me. We're all walls for you to hide behind, to protect you from what you fear.
“So, listen to me child, because I'll never speak truer words to you. You control the wall. You built it, and until you destroy it, you won’t ever realize your real potential or truly stand on your own. It's time to grow up and stop hiding. Be who you were meant to be. Let your strength out, Morgan or spend the rest of your life seeing yourself as an appendage of another.”
He rose and walked away, down the front steps and out into the yard. She stood, intent upon following him, but then changed her mind and sat again. He was right.
No matter what she did, accomplished or achieved, she would always hide behind someone. Cord, Joe, even her children. She was never one to step out in front. It wasn’t that she lacked confidence in her abilities or skills. She’d just always played the role of the watcher, the support team who stuck to the shadows, watching others bask in the spotlight.
Why? What was it that made her so hesitant to stand in the center of attention? Was it a lack of self-esteem? She didn’t think so.
Morgan crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward to rest her head on her arms. She closed her eyes, letting Joe’s words run through her mind and drifted off to sleep.
Morgan jerked awake, surprised and frightened to find herself on the floor of a large, dark and unfamiliar room.
From the size and shape, it appeared to be an old empty warehouse. Cracked concrete covered the floor, and the walls were of brick, stained and dull. To her left, about twelve feet off the floor was a large, multipaned window with more than a few panes of glass missing. Light filtered through the window to illuminate the gloom.
She stood, intent upon discovering where she was, but it was then she became aware of a noise, the sounds of a struggle. Morgan rushed toward the sound and spied movement. It was a challenge, like trying to discern shadows in darkness, but finally, she was able to make out the shape of two people. Careful to make no noise, she eased closer.
Sure, enough there were two men, locked in combat, like shadows performing a violent dance. Slowly and without cease, they circled and met, parted and circled; their steps bringing them ever closer to her. She quickly retreated, pressing herself against the wall beneath the window, out of the light.
As the fighters moved closer, their attacks becoming more fearsome and deadly. One was much larger than the other, and he quickly began to overcome the smaller man with his superior strength.
He knocked the smaller man to the floor. The smaller man started to push himself up, his legs bent, with one hand braced on his leg and the other on the floor. Just as it seemed he would regain his standing, the larger man flew at him with a kick that caught him in the throat.
The sound of the blow seemed to echo through the empty building, and the smaller man fell limply to the floor. His fall placed him within the light from the overhead window. From her hiding place, Morgan could see his face. One look at him and she bounded forward with a scream.
“No! Cord!” She flung herself down beside him.
Lifeless ey
es stared up from a face devoid of color. She grabbed his wrist and desperately searched for a pulse. “No, no. No, please, please don’t let this happen. Cord don’t die. Please, Cord, speak−“
A blow to the side of her head sent her sprawling on the floor a few feet from Cord’s body. She shook her head to clear it and scrambled to her feet, poised defensively. From out of the darkness, the eyes of a demon gleamed.
Fear threatened to engulf her, but nothing could hold sway over the rage that catapulted her forward in attack. She met only with air.
Laughter came from behind her. “Do you think you can defeat me? How can you hope to defeat that which you cannot see or touch? What powers will you use? Your strength?” There was more laughter that faded into silence.
Morgan could hear the rapid beat of her own heart as she turned in a slow circle, tensed for attack. The voice came again, from behind her. “Your strength is nothing compared to mine. A battle of minds perhaps? Meaningless.”
She turned in the direction of the voice, straining to see, listening for sounds of movement and waiting for her opportunity. When the voice sounded close to her left ear, she struck out, meeting nothing. “You cling so tightly to your rage.”
A touch on her left breast spurred her into action. She whirled around and struck out but met with nothing of substance. Then the voice came again, this time in her right ear. “Your rage unbalances you, your passion depletes you. Give in to me.”
A caress across her buttocks had her lashing out in desperation, once more finding nothing to strike. Panic built inside her and the voice came again. “You create your own weakness. You limit your own power. Your defeat is inevitable. Surrender to me now.”
“No!” Rage, fear and grief combined to have her voice a raw howl. In a measured turn, she searched for the origin of the voice. “I’ll never give in. I’ll hunt you down like the animal you are and destroy you. You’ll never get away. I promise you. I’ll chase you to the end of time, and you will pay."
As laughter rang out, her rage gave way, and she sank to the floor beside Cord. Morgan gathered his lifeless body into her arms and rocked him gently as the tears spilled.
