by Gray Gardner
“Up you go, Kiddo,” he said, tossing her onto his saddle and straddling it behind her. She ground her teeth and closed her eyes as he kicked the horse and they moved on down the hard packed yellow dirt of the road, green grass growing in the middle of the tire tracks.
The pain was intense at first. White hot pain sitting there on a worn saddle with her back against him, then as it numbed she got a little braver. She glared down at his hands holding the cracked leather reins as his arms enveloped her.
“You know, I told you, I’m not a kid.” Really? That was the best she could muster? He’d just assaulted her. She should swing kick him across the face! Just as soon as she got the feeling back in the lower half of her body.
“You’re off at your east coast school, you’re a big girl, I know,” he mocked, turning the horse and heading through a couple of large metal gates, jumping down and leading her and the horse through. The gates hadn’t been locked. It didn’t matter why, though. Now it was McCann property.
“How old do you think I am?” she asked, frowning as he climbed up behind her and shoved her forward as he reached around for the reins again. Why was he teasing her? Hadn’t he done enough already? Okay, maybe she should just turn and punch him in the face.
“Old enough for me to tell everyone in town that I bent you over my knee, and gave you a spanking so hard that you started begging and pleading with a Blackhill.”
Her mouth dropped open as she looked ahead. God, it sounded so terrible when she heard it out loud. She squirmed around and tried to get comfortable, then she composed herself, and looked over her shoulder with squinted eyes. She wanted to just leap down and make a run for it. She was fast and his horse couldn’t maneuver through the trees any quicker than a trot, but she was afraid of that slim chance of getting caught… and what he’d do to her then.
Swallowing, she knew she had to be brave. From the time she’d gotten the call at her new boarding school after only being there a couple of months, she had to tell herself to be brave.
Your parents are dead. You can’t be scared.
You have to get on an airplane, you can’t be afraid to do it alone.
Their bodies are going into the ground, you can’t cry for them now.
You’re graduating. You need the courage to try new things.
Your brother isn’t answering your calls… be brave enough to believe that he’s just being irresponsible.
She cleared her throat and tried to twist around to look him in the eye.
“Watch yourself, Blackhill. Anything that happens to you on McCann land is legit.”
“I’ve seen your brother’s aim. I’m not in any danger,” he scoffed, looking at the back of her disheveled ponytail, kind of flopping to one side. She certainly wasn’t the typical polished east coast snob he’d come to know when he had attended boarding school. And she certainly was brave. She hadn’t shed a tear or tried to run away. She just sat there, flush against him, accepting his bidding.
“What about me?” she offered, hoping he didn’t know that the last time she’d shot a gun it had been her Daisy pump action BB gun, and she was still wearing smocked dresses her mother had dressed her in.
“The only heat you’re packing is the flush of your cheeks.”
She frowned at him over her shoulder. “You know, you make me really angry.”
The horse suddenly jerked to a stop and they stood very still in an opening in the trees, the sun completely gone, and darkness settling over them. The crickets and birds were quiet and the cool night air breezed through. Case rolled her eyes and turned her upper body around to look at him.
“What?” she grumbled.
“You really make me angry? That’s… that’s the best you have?”
“What the hell do you want me to say, Blackhill? It’s the truth!”
He actually stared at her with a confused look for a second. He’d just spanked her. He was forcing her to ride on his horse with him. He wasn’t being nice at all. Why wasn’t she trying to castigate him with that smart McCann mouth? He shook his head and gently kicked his horse. They started moving through the crooked trunks of the live oak trees again.
“I can’t believe your brothers never told you how much you hate us,” he began, curious as to why they would shield her from the truth about their pasts. His parents and grandparents had never been shy about expressing their hatred towards any and all things McCann.
“I don’t hate you,” she snapped, sighing and brushing a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I mean, do all that again, I dare you, and not only will I hate you, but you’ll eternally regret it, but… if I’m honest with myself, I don’t hate you.” She paused and continued quietly. “I’ve never understood why I had to.”
And she really didn’t. Being fourth after three brothers and losing her parents at such a young age, she’d always been good at sharing, forgiving, and empathizing. She’d secretly held just a little sadness for Halston Blackhill, somewhere deep down. Though not. Any. More.
Frowning at the back of her head, Halston didn’t even know where to begin when describing his immense hatred of her family. Was she naïve? Stupid? He couldn’t figure out what kind of game she was playing but he realized that he was out of time. The trees opened up and a wide, green pasture boasted the McCann home, a place he’d never seen. He wasn’t eager to be familiarized with it, and he definitely was growing weary of this little girl. He couldn’t trust her.
“We’re here,” he quickly said, jumping down to the ground and reaching up for her, grabbing her under her arms and pulling her down, like her brothers used to. It was such a strange feeling because she had nothing but pure adoration for her big brothers. This guy infuriated her. She jerked her arms away from him and straightened her shirt out.
He continued to let her little speech about not hating his family marinate. Was she just trying to say what she thought he wanted to hear? Was she just trying to be polite? He absolutely couldn’t get a read on her and was just ready to throw in the towel and go home.
There weren’t any lights on at her house, though, and she was all alone without a car.
They walked slowly down the oak lined lane that led to the white plantation style home, wrap-around porches on the ground and second floor, with black shutters and shingles. Motion floodlights flashed on in the empty circular driveway, but the house lights remained off. Case turned and looked up when they reached the steps.
“Why is the front door open?” she asked him honestly, green eyes wide.
He glanced down at her confused face, and placed a hand on her shoulder. The large black door hung open, causing the hair to stand on the back of his neck. Something had happened.
“Stay here.”
“Jackson!” she immediately squealed, running up the steps and through the large doorway.
“Wait!” Halston yelled, running after her and catching up inside. He quickly breathed in as she stood by the light switch, perfectly still.
Everything was tossed. Drawers were turned out, doors opened, clothes and papers lay sprayed everywhere, like a bomb had exploded. She caught her breath in her throat as she looked around the open foyer in disbelief. There was no sign of Jackson. His wallet and keys weren’t on the little wagon wheel rack by the front door. She ran upstairs and called out his name.
Her shoes rumbled up and down the hardwood floor of the long hallway, flipping on lights and calling out for him. His room was empty. Every room was empty. All of the beds were made.
“Where… where is he?” she choked, tripping down one side of the split staircase of the gorgeous foyer and looking up at Halston Blackhill with tears in her eyes. No one could have ever predicted this situation in a million years.
Case McCann was asking him for help.
“Just… let’s not jump to any conclusions,” he began, realizing that she was frightened and truly wishing that he could give her answers as something strangely resembling guilt began to rise inside of him. Her sad little face could make
an iceberg melt. He paced around for a minute and rubbed his neck. “Is he with a girl in town? Did he take a trip? Is this just a random robbery? It could really be any number of harmless—”
“He told me he was involved with a Mexican drug cartel out of Nuevo Laredo,” she quickly admitted, surprised at herself since she’d kept that information from her older brothers. She gave Halston a guilty look, feeling terrible that she’d kept it from everyone. “Just some deals so his friends could get some weed to their graduate school. Should, Jesus… should I have told someone?”
Again, how could a McCann look so cute and innocent? And heartbroken? He leaned over and held her shoulders, knowing exactly what had happened, and looked her directly in the eyes. Her worthless brother didn’t need to make her feel like she was responsible for whatever he’d gotten himself involved with. She didn’t need this kind of guilt at such a young age.
“This was not your fault. It had nothing to do with you.”
Nodding, she covered her eyes with a hand as she tried not to cry. Taking a couple of breaths, she wiped the back of her dirty hand over her face and shook her head. It was just such a shock to see her house destroyed like that… and Jackson gone. Turning for the light yellow kitchen, she decided it was time to tell Joel and Townes. They always knew what to do.
“The phone… I can’t get a dial tone,” she said in a frustrated tone, pressing the yellow receiver up and down on the rotary phone hanging on the wall. She unwound herself from the long cord as Halston entered the kitchen.
“Here’s why,” he stated, tossing a stack of envelopes on the long wooden table on the opposite end of the room. The envelopes sprayed across the dark, shiny, finished tabletop. “Phone, electric, gas, water….”
Case pressed her hands on the table as she leaned over and looked at the pile of bills. They were post marked in March, April, May, had no one noticed that Jackson had been missing that long? Had she not noticed? She had been a little preoccupied with her senior paper, exams, and graduating.
“He must have run out of money or something,” Case nodded, looking around and brushing loose wisps of hair behind her ears. “See? He had to have paid some bills. The lights are on.”
“You probably have a backup generator,” Halston nodded, turning the squeaky knobs in the sink. Nothing came out. Jackson must have been in some serious trouble. “We have one, too.”
Case frowned and walked out of the back screen door, letting it slam as she stood on the top step and stared out into the dark pasture behind the house. What had happened? Jackson could be anywhere. He could be dead. Was he lost or hurt somewhere? She tried to ignore the fact that maybe she’d been so caught up in her senior year that she hadn’t talked to Jackson in a long time.
The screen door softly closed and she smoothed her un-tucked shirt, turning and looking up at Halston as the kitchen light cast shadows through the tall windows facing the porch.
“Um… thanks for… bringing me home, I guess, and for… hanging around,” she mumbled, not sure why she was thanking someone who’d just disciplined her like she was a Kindergartener, still in smocked dresses with a BB gun.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, wondering the same thing. He also wondered why she appeared to be so sweet. Every other McCann he’d ever encountered had been a supercilious asshole. His shocked expression eased into a suspicious one.
She stood silently in front of him for a moment, then held her hand out to the side of the porch.
“So, bye,” she said with a little more force, hoping he’d take the hint.
He huffed a laugh and raised his brow in an authoritative way as he looked down at her. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Uh, well, you’re not sleeping over, girlfriend,” she smirked, annoyed that he wasn’t budging.
He laughed again and shook his head, pressing his hat a little more firmly onto his head like he was getting ready to get into a tousle. If she wanted a fight, he could certainly give her one.
“Listen to me. Your house is trashed. Your brother is missing. You have no utilities. You have no clue who did any of this, or when they might return to collect. You have no clue where your brother is, or what he’s done, and to whom he’s done it. None of this can be resolved at nine pm on a Monday. Tomorrow we’ll call Bob Nixon to tow your car and we’ll get your water and everything else back on.”
“We aren’t going to do a damn thing,” she scornfully said, taking a brave step towards him and placing her hands on her hips. “I’m home. I said thanks. I will take care of all of this tomorrow. Bye!”
She held both arms out and waited for him to get moving. There was no way she was going to spend another second with him. He’d terrorized her for no reason but the fact that someone’s great-great-granddad offended the other’s great-great-granddad and to her it was all some great, great mystery.
“Well, I’ve got some news for you, Kiddo. Good and bad,” he began, folding his arms over his chest and squaring up to her in front of the door. Now she seemed like a McCann. A small feeling of joy swept over him as he half-hoped she’d want to fight.
“I am not a kid,” she quickly replied through clenched teeth.
“Bad news is… one way or another you’re going to have to come back to my house for the night,” he grinned, watching as her face turned from angry to stunned.
Her voice caught in her throat and she hated that she had to physically jolt her body to start breathing again. She glared up at him. “Oh really? And what’s the good news? The cleaning lady just came and tidied up your torture chamber?”
The laugh came from deep down but he quickly stifled it and continued. “I don’t need a torture chamber to keep you in line… but there really is good news. Fortunately, it’s Monday. Helena has made green chili chicken enchiladas for dinner.”
Her stomach defected and rumbled, giving away the fact that she was starving, but she continued glaring up at him. What, was he trying to be funny now? He wasn’t funny at all. And he wasn’t going to scare her, either. “Look, Halston—”
“Please call me Hall,” he interrupted, peering down at her and not moving an inch. He noticed her cheeks flushed pink again. The anger had returned.
“Whatever,” she continued, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “While I do appreciate the fact that at this particular moment you actually do seem to care about what happens to me, I really, really don’t think there has ever been a time in Flag County when a McCann and a Blackhill have slept under the same roof. On top of which, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Is this speech going to be over soon? The enchiladas will get cold,” he grinned, looking at his silver wristwatch. For some reason it was actually kind of fun watching her give him attitude. She obviously had no idea how to argue or insult people, a trait he’d been certain up until that day that all McCann’s possessed. He liked that she was changing his opinions. Not many people could.
And she made him laugh.
“Are you paying attention?” she snapped, clenching her fists at her sides.
“Sorry,” he calmly said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Please, continue.”
“Thank you,” she huffed, not knowing why she was thanking him again. She opened her mouth, but had forgotten where she was. “I…you don’t…”
“You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself,” he mumbled in a leading way, trying his hardest not to laugh.
“Yes, thank you,” she nodded, closing her eyes and clearing her throat. She glared back up at him. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. This is my home, it’s my responsibility, and I can defend myself.”
“You can defend yourself?” he interrupted with a half laugh. She’d been frozen with fear and couldn’t even talk when he’d first found her that afternoon.
“I’m so glad that you find this so amusing!” she yelled, frowning as he suddenly turned and pulled open the screen door.
“Fine. Show me
where y’all keep the guns, show that you know how to load them, and I’ll leave right now,” he offered, watching her face fall. If she was anything like him, and he was discovering that she was, there was no way she could return from boarding school with any knowledge of where expensive things like guns were kept in the house. It had taken him a couple of weeks to locate everything after the accident and his parents’ death, learn how to load and clean the guns, and how to effectively discharge them. Like her, he hadn’t really been interested in “ranch” things. He’d wanted to get out and get on with his life elsewhere.
“You’re a Blackhill, I’m not leading you to our gun closet,” she quickly recovered, shaking her head at him and folding her arms defiantly. Weren’t the guns just in… some closet, somewhere? She couldn’t be certain, and she hated that Halston Blackhill knew that.
“Great, then let’s go eat enchiladas,” he said, standing aside so that she could walk through the screen door.
“I don’t know why you think I’m going to stay at your house tonight,” she stated, walking in and standing by the kitchen table. “It’s not like I’m going to sleep tonight anyway. It’ll take me hours to get through all of these bills.”
Hall looked down as she gestured at the table. True, it would take a while, and it certainly wasn’t fair that she was the one who had to deal with it, but he absolutely couldn’t leave her alone in that house. He couldn’t bear to have anyone’s blood on his hands, and the thought of anyone hurting her made him particularly uncomfortable.
“Those will hold until tomorrow.”
“I’m not going with you.”
“You already know how unpleasant this can get, Kiddo,” he indirectly said, crossing his arms, almost hoping she would challenge him so that he could toss her over his shoulder and carry her back to the horse.
