by Gray Gardner
Her mouth dropped open and she took a timid step backwards, holding the door frame to the kitchen. “Wha….” That was the only thing she could squeak out of her mouth. He was awfully ostentatious and terribly mistaken if he thought she’d be caught off guard again. If he ever tried to take her across his knee again, he’d get an elbow flying back into his mouth. That was certain. And maybe a foot… or a shoe. Perhaps she should change into her boots just in case.
The threat was still very valid, though, as he towered over her.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing for the front door and knowing that she knew she was really no match for his strength.
Pressing her lips together, she held in countless profanities and other things she’d wanted to say that could get her into even more trouble. He stepped past her, flipping off the kitchen light, then grabbed hold of her upper arm, and pulled her towards the chandelier lit foyer. She wasn’t really resisting.
“I see your boarding school at least taught you to act politely and not argue with your elders,” he said, turning off the last light and shoving her out onto the porch. The circle drive lights beamed and the crickets chirped again, making things feel very lonely.
“You’re an asshole,” she grumbled, standing and looking out at the empty flood light dotted driveway and un-manicured bushes and trees lining it. Jackson. He was the only reason she was in this mess. Where could he have been for the last couple of months? It just didn’t make sense that he’d pick up and leave. The only real explanation was that he’d been kidnapped by the cartel, or he was… she turned and looked up at her beautiful old house, not even able to think about Jackson being murdered.
Joel and Townes were going to have kittens whenever she told them about this.
“You see, how it works is, you get on the horse and it gallops towards your destination,” Hall calmly but sarcastically stated, standing behind Case in the shadows of the tall, full oak trees. They’d obviously been planted over half a century before along the sides of the main road, giving the house a traditional and even regal feel. They’d been neglected though, with shrubbery and moss taking over the trunks and limbs, unchecked. No one had been taking care of the McCann place for a while. With no one to pay the employees, they’d probably stopped showing up to work.
She stood before the large, black horse and didn’t move, her back to him. He wished he could know what she was thinking. He’d always thought he could tell what a McCann was thinking: I’m rich, I get what I want, when I want, and everyone loves me.
Case was proving to be nothing like that, though.
“I’m thinking,” she muttered needlessly, turning her head slightly and speaking to him over her shoulder.
“Apparently.”
Her body turned and she glared up at him with those green eyes. They’d been so scared and sad before, but now there was a little fire burning behind them.
“I’m sorry,” he huffed, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “But what is there to think about? It’s a horse. We ride it.”
“I’m thinking about what’s going to happen after I get on that horse,” she sighed, looking down at her dirty white shoes and brushing her loose hair behind her ears. She’d sounded almost defeated, very uncharacteristic for a McCann.
He peered down at her for a moment, arms crossed over his chest, then felt like she wasn’t going to defect and make a run for it. He relaxed his stance and ran his hand over his whiskers. She was making it nearly impossible to be mean to her.
“Case… you can’t stay in that house.” He really didn’t want to be mean to her. He just wanted to be firm.
“What are Joel and Townes going to say when I tell them Jackson is missing?” she asked, looking up at him desperately. She didn’t think they’d be very understanding.
He stepped back and shook his head. Their families had always gone to great lengths to avoid each other. The few times he had encountered Joel and Townes they’d been children and had fought until an adult had broken them up. Since then, he’d imagined run-ins with McCann’s for many years, but this was not unfolding in any kind of proverbial fashion. Why was she looking at him like that? He could hardly stand it. She was like a lost puppy.
“I, I don’t really….”
“What are they going to say when they ask where I am and I say your house?” she groaned, rubbing her forehead and looking around in the darkness as the motion lights from her house flickered off. She’d almost rather risk it and stay in the abandoned, totally trashed house with no utilities.
“The risk is too high,” he said, his silhouette barely visible as her eyes adjusted. “And while your family has made mine miserable for years… I just can’t let you get hurt.”
“I think we’re way beyond that, schoolmaster,” she huffed, shaking her head and glancing back at the house. She wished she could insult a little better but sarcasm would have to do.
“You’re right,” he sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. And she was. He’d just been so incensed when he first laid eyes on her that all of his memories blew to the front of his mind and everything he’d ever been taught about hating her family just screamed at him. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, truthfully. He’d just decided on the least awful thing he could do to teach her a lesson. “But like you said, reparations. Now it’s a clean slate and I don’t hate you, either.”
The dark outline of her body stiffened, as if in surprise, then he saw her relax after a minute or two. She took an unsure step backwards, then towards him, then finally ended up back in the same place.
“I’m sorry… I can’t. I just can’t. This is the first time a Blackhill has ever set foot on McCann property since before the Civil War and you want me to go with you and stay at your house? It’s insanity.”
“It’s survival,” he stated, growing tired of her internal struggle. He didn’t want her there any more than she wanted to be there, but it was the right thing to do. His mom had at least left that imprint on him. Selflessness was what she’d taught him. He wasn’t certain where rescuing your helpless little rich neighbor came into play. Still, he was able, so he knew he had to help.
“It just doesn’t make sense that the people who did this would come back,” she shrugged, shaking her head. They’d looked for something pretty thoroughly and instead had left with Jackson. They wouldn’t return.
Hall was about to pull his rifle out and force her into the saddle when headlights suddenly appeared around the bend at the far end of the pasture. He heard Case suck in her breath.
“That’s the road to the front gate,” she whispered, barely able to choke out the words. It was too late for visitors.
Good God, the people who’d trashed the house were coming back.
Chapter Two
“Come on!” Hall called, left foot in the stirrup, ready to pull himself up. He held his hand out to her but she stood frozen to the overgrown lawn. He couldn’t tell if it was from fear or curiosity, but if that car got any closer they probably wouldn’t live to find out. Whoever Jackson McCann had gotten himself involved with was most likely returning to the house periodically to find whatever it was they were looking for.
“But, what if they know where Jackson is?” she asked, still not budging as she watched the lights in the distance. They could have answers. This could all be over.
“God damn it, move!” he ordered, reaching around her waist and yanking her up to the front of his saddle like a doll. He kicked his horse and they rode hard until they reached the tree line at the edge of the pasture and weren’t so exposed in the open.
Case craned her neck to look around Hall and back at her house, white paint glowing faintly in the moonlight. He paused momentarily in the cover of the trees, but when the flood lights turned on and the passengers exited the large black van with what looked like automatic weapons he continued on in the darkness at a fast pace. The terrain was sandy in some places and rocky in others, causing his horse to stumble every now and again. The short live oak
s grabbed at their clothing but he still wouldn’t let up. He didn’t slow until they crossed onto his property and attentively but unhurriedly rode down the main, paved road to his house.
His right arm was still wrapped tightly around her waist and his knuckles were aching from gripping the reins so tightly with his left hand. He leaned back and pulled his arm around, resting it against his thigh and trying to catch his breath.
“They… they had guns,” she finally said, breaking the silence as they rode in the brightness of the moon and stars. The pasture on either side of them was wide and black, with patches of white cattle every now and then.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means I’d be dead if my car hadn’t broken down… or if you hadn’t been so annoying in insisting that you escort me,” she softly said, her voice fading out as it always did when she had to admit she was wrong.
“Case,” he sighed, not wanting her to do this right now. She’d already had a rough day, she didn’t need to beg for his forgiveness.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly muttered, looking down at the black smears of engine grease still on her hands. She gripped the horn of the large, leather saddle as the horse sauntered in the night and wondered how in the hell one girl could be so unlucky and lucky at the exact same time.
“I don’t accept,” he sighed, watching with a grin as her head cocked to one side in front of him. He held his arms on either side of her and gripped the reins a little tighter in case she tried to swing around and hit him. She just wasn’t like the other McCanns he’d met or heard about. She was sweet. Pensive. Brave, though not fearless. Being abrupt with her seemed to be the only way to get through.
“Excuse me?” she growled. Apologizing had been hard enough, but now he wouldn’t accept? Why was he so infuriating?
“Who are we kidding here? Tomorrow everything is going to go back to way it should be. You’re going to call the cops, the feds, whoever. They’ll launch an investigation, you’ll find your wayward brother, your other brothers will come and run the ranch, and we’ll all go back to being adversaries. The way it should be.”
It was cruel, but it was the way things had to be. The longer they rode scrunched up on that saddle, the more he began to realize that they shouldn’t even be talking, let alone sleeping under the same roof. McCanns and Blackhills just weren’t supposed to be that nice to each other. And while he had saved her, he didn’t want her thinking it would become a standard practice. He still harbored a deep-rooted hatred for the McCann brothers. If he ever caught them slinking around his property again it wouldn’t be pretty.
“Okay, Robert Louis Stevenson, let’s get back to reality…”
“This isn’t a novel and I’m not an evil version of myself, kiddo. This is reality, okay?”
“Don’t lecture me about reality, dude. And I am not a kid!” she stated, turning her whole upper body and trying to look up at him. “Just because you’re alone and miserable doesn’t mean I have to be, too! I’m making something of myself and doing something valuable with my life! I’ve got a very important internship this summer that’s going to get my foot into any door I want!”
“Yeah, sorry, I forgot I don’t have big brothers around to pick up my slack and take responsibility for the thousands of acres I own.”
She sucked in her breath and looked at him with wide eyes. Then they creased to angry slits as she pressed her lips together. Growing up in a small town had lent her ego to plenty of teasing about being one of “the rich kids,” but she’d learned to deal with it and had found her place at boarding school. She liked being around people, period, so she could handle the occasional scornful remark… but not from him. Not from Halston Blackhill.
“There is no way in hell I’m going to stay at your house tonight. Take me into town and I’ll crash at the Oakwood Inn.”
“I’m not taking you all the way into town and leaving you alone in a seedy roadside motel,” he sneered. She was so young, and there was no telling what other kinds of trouble she could get herself into.
“Fine, then, I’ll walk,” she stated, turning and facing the winding road. Her ponytail almost whipped him across the face. If he thought she wouldn’t then he was mistaken. She’d walk all night just to get away from him.
He nailed her with sarcasm. “Yeah, with an angry Mexican cartel out there just searching for a way to pay back Jackson McCann. Certainly, they’ll take the other road back into town and you’ll go unnoticed walking alone on a deserted street in the middle of the night. Oh, and I’m sure they’re totally uninterested in getting their hands on his pretty little gringo sister.”
She sat silently for a couple of seconds. That was a lot to swallow all at once.
“You don’t have to be so mean,” she said over her shoulder, not turning around fully to look at him this time. Because this time he was actually right. She couldn’t very well help Jackson if she was kidnapped, too, and there was no denying that someone had returned to her trashed house to retrieve something… and there was only one road back to town.
But why had he called her pretty? No one had ever called her pretty before. Her roommate had been gorgeous and she was just the freak sideshow from Texas who got to tag along. It made her uncomfortable to hear the compliment, though upon further scrutiny it surely wasn’t meant to be flattering.
“I’m telling you what you need to hear,” he sighed, trying not to add any other insulting statements. She wasn’t really throwing any back at him. Excessive cruelty wouldn’t help the situation.
They both remained silent as the stars sprayed across the sky overhead and the horse’s hooves clopped along the asphalt road.
Case felt like she might get sick with worry.
Hall wondered how he was going to keep her safe for the night. She was just a little girl but she was strong willed. He wasn’t so certain she wouldn’t try to run off to town, or even back to her house. Maybe a small threat was in order.
She suddenly straightened up as they rounded the neat rows of a pecan grove and a soft dome of light glowed at the end of the road. “Is… is that your house?”
He sighed and grunted some sort of affirmation. His great-grandparents had been those ridiculous wealthy people and had built a ten bedroom colonial home, complete with Corinthian columns, dormer windows neatly lining the shingled roof, and fireplaces in every room. His classmates from his boarding school and Harvard had seemed unimpressed whenever they visited, but the kind folk of Oakwood totally resented him for it. He didn’t know why Case was so shocked, though. Her house rivaled his in size and tradition, judging from his recent abrupt tour.
“I just figured evil trolls resided in caves or under a bridge somewhere,” she sneered, shrugging her shoulders dramatically. In truth, she’d heard about the size of his house and honestly, it didn’t disappoint. They hopped off of his horse by the stone steps leading up to the massive front porch and she felt completely dwarfed by the size of the columns on either side of her. This family wasn’t kidding around when it came to asserting their position in society. And they were at the tip top, obviously.
He pushed the front door open for her and she tentatively stepped into the massive foyer, though found herself surprised by the lack of elegance. In actuality, the home seemed pretty functional. The front hallway, while large, lined up parallel to the front porch with huge doorways leading to rooms in the back of the house and floor to ceiling windows covered in plantation shutters revealing the front porch. There was no crystal chandelier from Tiffany, no split staircase with dark finished wood and ornate white banisters… like her house.
The floor was a worn looking hard wood, and the walls were paneled with the same colored wood and painted above with a light, earthy yellow… like from the 1970s. While Hall had obviously kept the house up, he hadn’t updated it probably since his parents had lived there. They tramped down the long hallway for what seemed like an eternity and turned into the kitchen. Case frowned as she looked around. It was li
ke a mirror image of her kitchen. Old appliances, old muted colors, and a long family table at the end of the room.
“Ay, dios mio!”
Case leapt out of her skin and fell back against the doorway as a chubby Mexican woman in her sixties burst into the room and brushed past her, grabbing Hall by the face as she stood on her toes. “I call Raul and Sergio, Jimmy, Mickey…”
“Sorry,” Hall smiled kindly. He looked at her warmly as he grabbed her hands and held them. Case was frowning as she stood half crouched in the door frame. “I had to help her out… her car broke down.”
“Mija, you poor baby,” the woman started in, reaching out for her and picking her up to her feet by her shoulders. “You come and sit down, but you, Mr. Hall, you go to get the radio and call los vaqueros. They are looking for you, okay?”
Hall nodded, smiling in delight as his housekeeper fussed over Case, who looked totally uncomfortable, and left her to walk back to the mud room off of the kitchen. He hung up his hat on the rack with all of his others, grabbed the Sony walkie-talkie off its charger, and called in to his crew. His cousins, Jimmy and Mickey Blackhill, were helping him with the cattle so they came out five days a week and stayed in a house in Oakwood. He’d hired Raul and Sergio to help him with his crops, which was a seasonal job, but he paid them year round. He trusted them and they enjoyed staying in the bunkhouse on the other side of the hill, behind the house, for free, housing migrant workers as the seasons dictated.
Case winced as Hall’s housekeeper pushed her down onto the long bench underneath the long table by the windows in the kitchen. He hadn’t exactly gone easy on her when they’d first met, but she’d also been in a saddle all evening for the first time in a few months.
“Are you okay, mihijita?” she asked, clanking dishes and spoons around on the white tiled countertops in the kitchen.
She looked down as she felt a quick flush to her cheeks.
