by Sharon Sala
“Yeah, but it’ll heal this cut right up.”
Beth glanced up at Ryal and smiled. They’d had their own run-in with some of the old herb woman’s concoctions.
Jake quickly doctored the pup, then handed Beth the tin.
“You keep it. Use it on him at least three times a day.”
“What if he licks it off?” she asked.
Jake grinned. “He won’t do it twice.”
Beth sniffed the contents. “So, it tastes as bad as it smells?”
“I haven’t tasted it, but the dogs won’t lick it, so I’d say you were right.”
Mariah’s leg was about to give out, and the deck was starting to sway. She’d reached the limit of her endurance.
“Quinn, help me inside.”
“Your leg?”
She nodded.
He picked her up and carried her into the house.
“So much for not making a scene,” she said.
“You scared the hell out of me today, so just shut up and humor me.”
The baby was asleep on her makeshift pallet on the living room floor. Mariah couldn’t remember ever being secure enough in her world to have fallen asleep so quickly and soundly. She stretched out with a weary sigh as Quinn laid her on her bed, then pushed a couple of pillows under her leg to elevate it.
Wearily she closed her eyes. “Thank you.”
He wanted to stay with her, but when she rolled over, turning her back to him, he took it as a dismissal.
“Back in a few,” he said, and rejoined the crowd outside only to find his mother and Jake head to head in conversation, and Ryal and the Doolen brothers on their way out to look at the bear. He ran down the steps to join them.
Ryal pointed at the animal’s hip. “Look at that. I think it’s the broken shaft of an arrow. And that smell… Damn, that’s gangrene, isn’t it?”
Quinn nodded. “Every bit of this happened because someone was hunting out of season, and in the national reserve at that. That jackass got a man killed and another one mauled, not to mention the misery the animal was in or the number of animals it killed along the way.”
“Daddy said the rangers were bringing a wagon to haul the carcass away,” Avery said. “Why would they want it?”
“For starters, it killed someone on federal land, and there always have to be answers when the government is involved. I imagine they’ll be interested to dig out this arrow, for sure,” Quinn said.
Ryal glanced toward the road. “Speaking of rangers, here they come with a truck and a trailer, along with your Jeep.”
A short while later the rangers had loaded the bear’s carcass onto the trailer with a winch, returned Quinn’s car keys and driven away, one bear to the good.
Jake and his sons had gone with them, needing a ride back to where they’d left their trucks. Quinn wasn’t sorry to see everyone go. He’d had more visitors at this place today than he’d had in the past year and a half, and his patience for all of them was gone. He wanted to check on Mariah. He needed peace and quiet and his family, and nothing more.
* * *
“Is there any more of that apricot cobbler you said Mom brought?” Ryal asked, as he poked through the refrigerator.
Beth frowned. “For goodness’ sakes, Ryal, this is Quinn’s house. You can’t come here and eat everything like you do at Dolly’s.”
“Why?”
Dolly pushed her son out of the way and closed the refrigerator door.
“For starters, because Mariah’s here and she isn’t up to cooking, so you have to leave the leftovers alone.”
Ryal had the grace to be embarrassed. “Oh. Yeah. Right. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Quinn asked, as he walked in the back door, patting the very subdued puppy lying on a mat against the wall with his tail tucked between his legs.
Ryal grinned. “You don’t want to know.” He quickly changed the subject. “Are they gone?”
Quinn nodded as he washed his hands at the sink. “Are you guys hungry? Except for an energy bar, I haven’t eaten since morning, and I’m starved. I think there’s some apricot cobbler left.”
Ryal turned to the women. “If it’s offered, then can I eat it?”
Beth rolled her eyes.
Dolly sighed. “I’ll get bowls.”
“I’m gonna check on Mariah,” Quinn said, and pointed at Ryal. “Save some for us, too.”
“I will, I will. I’m not a complete pig,” he muttered.
“That title falls to James, right?” Quinn said.
Ryal grinned. “For sure. James is the true garbage disposal of the family.”
Quinn was still smiling as he walked past the baby on the pallet to the darkened end of the living room, where Mariah lay sleeping with a pillow clutched against her chest. Just as he started to walk away, he realized her shoulders were shaking.
Oh, shit. She’s crying.
He sat down on the side of the mattress and laid a hand on her hip.
“Hey, you,” he said softly.
“Go away,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“I don’t want them to know I’m awake.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m crying, that’s why. I’ve made an ass of myself enough for one day, don’t you think?”
“Really? You save Beth’s life, and you call that making an ass of yourself?”
She rolled over. With her eyes red and swollen, her vulnerability was showing.
“Yes, I did that—and then proceeded to freak out and scare them all to death.”
“They weren’t afraid of you. They were afraid for you. They didn’t know what to do, Mariah. Truth be told, when it happens to me, I don’t know what to do, either, because so far nothing has actually worked.”
“Oh, my God,” she muttered. “How do you live with it?”
He shrugged. “This is how I look at it, honey. We came home breathing. The others came home in flag-draped coffins. Do you want to die?”
“No, I don’t want to die. What a stupid question.”
Her anger was encouraging. He wasn’t going to admit that he’d had a few moments when he’d had a different opinion, but fortunately the thought had passed before he could act on it.
“Then are you going to just lie there and let Ryal eat all the leftover cobbler?”
She sat up with a sigh, smoothed down her hair and wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.
“I guess not.”
“Then go wash your face and come to the table with us. I’ll even let you sit in my lap.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Only if you want me to be kidding.”
Her eyes narrowed even more, irked that he was still able to get under her skin.
“I want you to be kidding.”
“Then your wish is my command.”
“Whatever, Prince Charming. You need to move so I can get up.”
He stood, then offered his hand.
She took it without hesitation, thankful for the lift.
Her leg was stiff, but she held on to his arm until it loosened before hobbling through the kitchen to the bathroom.
“We saved you some cobbler,” Beth said.
Mariah managed a smile. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.”
As soon as Mariah was out of sight, Beth turned on Quinn, her voice low and anxious.
“She’s been crying. Did we do something wrong?”
He shook his head. “She’s just overwhelmed and embarrassed, I think.”
Dolly sighed. “Poor girl. She’s had her share of hard knocks.”
Ryal was quiet, leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. When Mariah came back, he handed her a spoon and a bowl of cobbler.
“Does that look good to you?” he asked.
Not sure what he meant, Mariah looked at the cobbler, then nodded.
“It does to me, too, but not for the reasons you might think.” He took a deep breath, tr
ying to control his emotions, but he wasn’t entirely successful, because when he spoke his voice was shaking. “Thanks to you, I’m here mooching my brother’s food and not at Mount Sterling looking for an undertaker.”
Mariah’s eyes widened, but Ryal wasn’t through.
“I can’t change what you went through in Afghanistan, and I am as sorry as I can be that you’re still suffering. But as far as I’m concerned, you are one hundred percent, A-one perfect on every level that matters, and I’ll take out the first person who says otherwise.” Then he pointed at the cobbler she was holding. “Want ice cream with that?”
Her eyes welled again, but this time not from shame. She nodded.
He plopped a scoop of ice cream into her bowl and then proceeded to put two scoops on his own before putting the carton back in the freezer.
“Sit by me,” Dolly said, patting the empty chair beside her.
Mariah sat, then took a big bite. The crust was flaky, the fruit filling perfectly sweet, and the ice cream put it over the top.
“This is so good,” she said.
Dolly beamed. “I can teach you, if you’re interested.”
Mariah rolled her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”
Quinn sighed. God bless his family for always being there. He took a big bite, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. This was his favorite dessert.
He was quietly cleaning the bowl when his phone began to ring. He took another bite before answering, hoping to God it wasn’t another emergency. He wanted to be done with lost hikers and crazy animals for at least the rest of the day. Then he saw the Caller ID and knew he was in for another inquisition.
“Hey, James, what took you so long?” he asked.
James was pissed and scared all at the same time. “What the hell has been going on? I just got a call from one of my neighbors—who, by the way, should not know more about my family than I do—saying that killer bear everyone’s been tracking showed up at your place and went after Beth. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Damn it, Quinn! Why didn’t someone call me? They said you shot it. Is it really dead?”
“It’s dead, but I didn’t kill it. Mariah did.”
James inhaled sharply. “The friend you brought home from the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.” There was a long silence, and then he added, “Is she okay?”
For the second time in five minutes, Quinn realized how much he loved his family. They honest-to-God got what was happening to him and Mariah, and understood what gunfire could do to a soldier with PTSD.
“She will be.”
“When do I get to meet this wonder woman?”
“I guess when you next head this way.”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
Quinn eyed Mariah’s pallor. “Yes. What about Sunday, after church? I’ll grill hamburgers for you guys if you’ll bring some stuff to go with them.”
“It’s a deal. Can she handle being around the kids?”
“I think we can manage. See you then,” he said, and hung up. Then he glanced at Mariah. “That was my other brother, James. He just invited himself and his family to Sunday dinner. Do you think you’re up to a little chaos? They won’t stay long. They have a couple of kids, one of them still young enough to need an afternoon nap.”
“As long as I don’t have to feed them,” Mariah muttered, and then shrugged as everyone laughed at her. “I open cans. I microwave. I eat takeout.”
“I’ll grill the burgers,” Quinn promised. “They’ll bring whatever they want. Don’t sweat it, okay?”
She nodded and took another bite of cobbler.
Ryal dropped his spoon in his bowl, well aware that it clattered. When everyone looked up, he was frowning.
“So we’re not invited to the party?”
Mariah stopped chewing, thinking he was seriously upset. She looked to Quinn, wondering what he would say.
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to overwhelm Mariah with a crowd.”
Ryal turned to her. “We’re not a crowd, are we, girl? You wouldn’t care if we came, too, would you? Look how good our baby is. She’s quiet as a little mouse.”
Mariah blanched. She had no idea what to say.
Dolly frowned. “Oh, for the love of God, stop it right now, Ryal. She thinks you’re serious.”
Beth laughed. “He is serious, Dolly. Can’t you see that he’s drooling?”
Once Mariah knew it was a joke, she relaxed. “You guys are nuts,” she said, scraping her bowl for the last bite.
Beth nodded. “Yes, they are, but they’re lovable nuts. On a serious note, honey, if this all sounds overwhelming, it can happen another time.”
Mariah shook her head. “No, it isn’t overwhelming at all. I’m not breakable. Just a little frayed.”
Dolly smiled. “I’ll bring potato salad, and fresh-baked cookies for dessert.”
“We’ll bring paper plates and cups, extra ice and the buns,” Beth offered.
“I guess I’ll sit around and look pretty,” Mariah said.
Quinn grinned. That was the last thing Mariah Conrad would be thinking of doing, which made it even funnier. She was the least prissy woman he’d ever met, and that was one of the reasons she was so intriguing.
* * *
After cleaning up the kitchen, his family left, which gave Quinn a chance to focus on what was next. After that race through the woods, he wanted a shower and clean clothes.
As soon as he went up to the loft, Mariah went back out to the deck. If she was going to be able to stay here, she needed to come to terms with what had happened. She couldn’t let a fear of the unknown take root and grow into something she couldn’t handle.
Ryal had hosed the blood off the deck, but the planks were still damp. Unsure whether it was slippery, she eased herself carefully toward the railing to look across the meadow to the trees beyond. Before they’d seemed appealing, but now they felt threatening—a harbor for creatures she didn’t understand. She’d grown up on the streets and could handle herself in almost any urban situation. She’d fought alongside the toughest soldiers without feeling incompetent, but here on this mountain she was no better than a baby—unaware of where danger might lie.
She wasn’t going to admit her fears to Quinn. In his eyes she was already a basket case. Telling him how intimidated she was by the solitude of this place would only increase his worries. If she was going to stay—and God knew she wanted to—it was up to her to get past it.
As she stood there, she heard an odd whistling sound and looked up. Moments ago the leaves on the trees had been motionless, as if the mountain had been holding its breath. Farther up she could see them beginning to dip and sway, as if in deference to the power of the oncoming wind. She frowned. The sky was clear. It couldn’t be a storm.
Her heart skipped a beat as she tracked the wind coming closer, shifting limbs, rattling leaves, then moving down across the meadow, parting the knee-high grass in its wake. It looked like an imminent attack. The urge to run was strong. But she refused to budge, and when the blast of wind finally reached the cabin, she was braced and holding on to the railing.
She expected a slap in the face. Instead it was a cleansing breath. She inhaled the pine-scented air and then lifted her chin as the wind tore through her hair, blowing away the feeling of sand in her eyes and cooling the desert from her blood.
It had to be a sign.
Coming here hadn’t been a mistake. Here she would heal. She knew it.
* * *
Late that night, long after Mariah and Quinn and all the other denizens of Rebel Ridge had gone to bed, a new predator was on the way to the mountain. A predator who walked on two feet, carrying a weapon on his hip rather than a broken one in his body, but with the same powerful urge to take what he wanted with no apology or regret.
Ten
When Lonnie Farrell turned off the highway and started along the blacktop road up Rebel Ridge, the hair rose on
the back of his neck. Up to now the drive from the airport in Frankfort had been relaxing, but the turn changed everything. The last time he’d been on this road he’d been fourteen years old, in handcuffs in the back of the sheriff’s car and on his way to jail.
He was years older and wiser now, and a hell of a lot richer, but that gut-wrenching memory had yet to abate. It had given him a hate for the law that drove everything he did, and every time he outwitted them it was another boost to his ego.
The plan he had for the old Foley mine was a good one, but it wouldn’t work unless he could pull in enough locals. He could have brought in any number of qualified people who’d worked with drugs before, but bringing in strangers to the mountain would be like hanging out a Come and Get Me sign. The loyalty and silence needed to make this endeavor work would come with the money he paid out. Jobs were few and far between up here. He was hoping that, except for a few self-righteous families who saved their allegiance for religion, having access to local work would be too inviting for most people to turn down. This was where his brother-in-law came in. Buell was a son of a bitch, but he knew the people up here better than Lonnie did, so he was counting on Buell to round up the right kind of crew.
As he drove, he began noticing mailboxes grouped at different turnoffs where narrow one-lane roads disappeared up into the trees. Sometimes there were only two or three boxes, but sometimes as many as eight or ten—an indication of how many homes and families were hidden up in the woods as well as the mountain people’s love for solitude and privacy. The houses that were visible along the road varied in appearance. There were simple houses, some in need of a paint job, but neat and well kept, but others looked uninhabitable even though they were still sheltering families. He’d lived in one of those. A muscle in his jaw jerked as he looked away. This trip was a stark reminder of how far he’d come.
He thought about his mother. She’d done the best she could for him and Portia, but growing up without an old man had been tough. She’d turned him into the man of the family, whether he’d wanted it or not, and he’d spent four years in juvie because of it. But when you were the man of the family, you did what you had to, whether it was legal or not. He’d funneled plenty of money back to her over the years and was curious to see if she’d done anything with it, or if she’d let the double-wide he’d bought her fall into disrepair like the house they’d once lived in. Considering their past, he wasn’t looking forward to spending the night there, but it was too far to drive back and forth to a hotel in Mount Sterling, and if Buell had done his job, it would only be for one night.
