Instinctively, I shouted, “Pull back and say whoa.” If my horse had reacted, it was likely the others had as well.
As I stared back at the line behind me I saw that it had become a tangled mess of horses and riders. Lightning flashed and I heard a whinny release from the jumbled mess. One of the little girls screamed out of fright and I heard her mother call words of comfort. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of movement in the trees, but as I tried to locate it, I saw nothing.
“Should we get off and take cover?” Helen asked.
I considered it, but my instincts told me no, though I had no base to make such a decision. “We should keep going.” Toby jogged forward a few steps and spun in full circle before I got him stopped again.
Movement in the forest caught my focus again. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled with anticipation. Someone was there, someone was watching me. I see-sawed the reins and spoke softly to Toby to calm him. Just as he relaxed, another clap of thunder shook the air around us. The youngest son’s horse, Cheyenne, bolted up the trail in front of me. Helen’s scream shattered my calm. The eyes from the forest locked on me. I kicked Toby hard and rode after the little boy and Cheyenne. I shouted commands to him, but at only seven years old I knew he was helpless.
Toby made good time and as we neared, I grabbed out at Cheyenne’s reins and simultaneously tried to stop both of our horses. The pressure on her mouth stopped Cheyenne, but Toby lost his balance as I tried to right my leaning body. With a splash, I slipped out of my saddle into the mudslide beneath me. I expected Toby to continue back to the barn, but he stared at me as if my sudden dismount had confused him.
My head throbbed and my ears rang with a high pitched buzz. I could hear the whimpers of the little boy. I saw the family on their horses approaching us, words were tumbling from their mouths, but I didn’t understand them through the chaos. Cheyenne’s leather rein cut into my hand, but I was unwilling to let go even for a second.
Rain no longer pelted me, but fell like a soft mist everywhere, saturating everyone and everything around us. My breath fuzzed in my ears, deep, but unsteady. The bushes tickled against my skin. The other half of my face caked in slippery mud. Rain caused my vision to go blurry for a moment, thunder crashed again and only a second later the sky split with white lightning. Toby danced in place, but to his credit, he stayed put.
I squinted at the bushes I’d landed under. The little boy said something I couldn’t hear. I narrowed my eyes and tried to clear my vision. The little boy spoke, but I missed it again. I twisted my head side to side and asked, “What did you say?”
His voice was shaky, but that was to be expected. “I asked if you could see that man too.”
The words gave clarity to my sight. Only six inches from my face, I could see a pair of boots obscured by the undergrowth and a caking of mud. I pushed up and scrambled backward, but not before I saw his eyes, dark orbs, hidden beneath a layer of face paint to camouflage his face. My first instinct was to run, not fight. Tumbleweed had tracked me like an animal.
“Oh my baby!” Helen called out as she caught up to us again.
Distracted, I glanced back at the boy’s mother, perhaps to warn her, maybe to scream for help, but when I looked back into the foliage the boots were gone. Tumbleweed Tim had disappeared like a figment of my imagination.
♦ ♦ ♦
My tip was rather generous, but I figured it was due to my apparent act of bravery. I knew that while it had appeared brave, my stunt had been executed like a novice. If Alexis had been there she would have laughed her head off as I landed in the mud. Knowing her prowess, she would have pulled some daredevil stunt and never would’ve ended up caked in mud from head to toe. Granted, if I hadn’t fallen off, I might not have seen Tim. It was too hard to tell if my shiver was from the thought or the cold.
After unsaddling, replacing the gear, and closing the doors to the tack barn, I was saturated. Each step I took sloshed like a full bucket of water. I shoved the door to my cabin open and was only a little surprised to find Dixie wrapped up in Wiley’s embrace. I averted my eyes and started to fish through my dresser for clean clothes.
“What happened to you?” Wiley asked with a little too much joy in his voice.
“A horse ran off and—” I didn’t want to tell him I’d fallen out of my saddle. “It was a bad ride.”
“Are you okay?” Dixie’s voice had a high pitched edge to it, as if she suspected there might be more to the story.
“I’m fine.” I closed the drawer and held my dry clothes at an arm’s length. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” Not wanting to intrude on their moment any further, I said, “Sorry, I interrupted.”
Wiley pushed himself to his feet. “I need to go anyway. Tate has me working on something.”
I pulled the door open and stepped out into the rain with Wiley close behind me. I didn’t feel the precipitation falling due to my wet skin and frozen nerves. It was weird to feel numb; it’d been a couple weeks since I’d experienced the sensation.
“Hey,” Wiley called after me, “Dallas was looking for you. How about I send him to join you?”
I didn’t have the energy for his off color jokes, or Cassidy’s fake flirtations, so I didn’t break stride. Once I was in the bathroom, I locked the door, though it was less than reliable, and set my clothes and toiletries on the bench. After switching the water on, I stripped off my muddy clothes one by one. On the other side of the wall, I heard the washing machine kick on and I groaned. There would be a direct battle between my shower and someone else’s laundry, but I was so cold, I didn’t care.
The thunder rumbled through the walls. I’d always loved storms, at least if I wasn’t out in the middle of them. Lightning flashed and I turned off the light to let it illuminate the room. There was enough daylight left that the bathroom felt as though it was lit by candles. I needed that sort of relaxation. I still wasn’t sure what I’d seen in the woods, and I didn’t want to remember.
“You need a shower,” I told myself out loud as the vapors rolled over the top of the glass doors. It billowed up and around, fogging both sides of the doors and the mirror. Steam sounded like a solid reward for my difficult ride. To my pleasure, the water stayed hot and I stepped beneath the stream.
The water turned light brown at my feet as the mud washed off my skin. A few clods slipped and fell with a soft thump against the tiled floor. I opened my eyes and saw the three little frogs that often enjoyed my showers with me from the windowsill. Their undivided attention wasn’t my favorite and I turned to face the shower head. The water turned ice cold as the washing machine fought back for control. Avoiding the shock of the abrupt change, I backed and collided with the tile wall behind me. I’d played the game before and I adjusted the knob. The water warmed and more steam filled the stall.
I let the hot water roll over my face. The sting of it felt good as it awakened the nerves that had been frozen to no feeling. The aroma from my shampoo filled the air and I let it seep deep into my lungs. The steam grew thick enough that the world around me became hazy. Even the frogs disappeared.
I rinsed the shampoo and left my face under the water with my head tipped back. A click outside the shower door jarred my senses. I froze and waited, but there was nothing. I chalked it up to an overactive imagination and applied conditioner to my hair. Picking up the soap, I lathered the suds all over and adjusted for the lack of hot water once more.
Something shuffled against the linoleum floor beyond the fogged glass door of the shower stall. It wasn’t in my mind; at least, I didn’t think it was. Through the steam and the obscured glass I couldn’t see anything distinct, but I could feel a stare, like I had in the forest. I remembered Wiley’s joke and I wondered if he’d actually sent Dallas in to meet me.
“Dallas?” I asked in a small voice, but there was no reply, no sound, and no movement. Afraid to move, afraid to breathe the same air as the person who waited outside the glass door, but the water shifted again
, and it forced my movement. As I struggled with the balance, I swore I felt him inch closer and then closer still. I could maintain tepid water at best. Eager to end the game and face whatever waited for me, I tipped my head back into the water and rinsed myself clean.
The realization struck that if I opened my eyes and faced the door I would see him. He was pressed against the glass. I could hear his hands slip in the condensation from the steam. His boots squeaked against the damp floor. The teeth of his jacket zipper grated against the fogged pane. I stared up at the ceiling, my mouth open as I took in breaths of air and droplets of water. In my mind, I counted down to the moment I’d face him.
3— I could kick out with the heel of my foot and smash the glass door into his face, 2— when he fell back, I’d have the advantage. A quick heel strike to the stomach would distract him long enough to pull the small knife from my muddy boot. 1—My skin crawled under the knowledge that he was watching me through the steam, and it made me want to shower a little longer. Instead, I opened my eyes.
No one.
There was no one there.
I switched off the water and listened. I could’ve sworn that he was there, ready to attack, but not even a shadow lurked.
“You’re losing it,” I whispered to myself. Carefully, I set a hand against the glass and with a quick jerk I shoved it open.
The bathroom was empty. I’d imagined it all. I sighed relief and snatched my towel from the wall. I dried off as the chill settled over my skin. I slipped on a pair of lounge pants and a long sleeved shirt and ran a brush through my hair.
Cracking a window, I watched the steam dissipate before my eyes. I wrapped my hair up in a bun and kicked myself again for my juvenile reaction. I knew better than to assume it was all about me. I wasn’t being tracked. I was undercover, and it left me raw and skittish, that was all.
Satisfied, I turned to open the door. I’m not sure why I glanced at the shower, but something there caught my attention and held it. It took a couple seconds to recognize the shapes on the door, and to understand why my mouth went dry and my stomach turned inward on itself, but as I did, the scream was inevitable.
There, pressed into the condensation and fog of the door were two hand prints.
♦ ♦ ♦
I flung the door open as I fled from the tiny space, shoving through Dixie in my rush to be free.
“Cassidy, what’s happening? Why did you scream?” She tried to take my shoulders. Dixie had heard my screams and wanted to comfort me. I shook her off to regain my space.
My trembling hands pressed over my mouth in a futile effort to cover the bursts of terror that escaped from my lungs. He’d watched me. He’d stood only a foot away and watched me. My stomach lurched as I stumbled to the wall of a nearby cabin.
Footsteps crashed around the opposite side and I heard Wiley’s voice. “Dixie, what’s wrong? Why’d you scream?”
Despite her own distress, Dixie was quick to dismiss his concern on her behalf. “It was Cassidy. I was changing my laundry over and she screamed bloody murder. I thought someone was attacking her.”
My stomach heaved twice, but since I’d skipped lunch, there was nothing there to lose. I bent my knees and crouched with my arm on the building to brace me, my other hand sunk into the red clay mud that surrounded the cabins.
Dallas tore around the corner next, but Dixie stopped him before he could ask anything. “It wasn’t me,” she said, “something happened to Cassidy.”
I felt a hand on my back as Dallas pulled near. He said nothing, only held me steady as my body shook and my insides fought against the revulsion.
Between heaving breaths, my confession was a gasp of air. “He watched me.”
Dallas dropped a knee and wrapped his arm around my waist. “What’d you say?”
The words were too terrible to admit. I’d never felt so vulnerable or exposed. “I felt like someone was there in the bathroom, but I never saw him.” Dallas’ hand tightened, as if he’d made the connection, but still hoped it wasn’t true. “When I got out, I saw handprints on the outside of the shower.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “He watched me.”
“You locked the door, didn’t you?” Dallas asked.
Dixie interrupted his thought process. “The lock is broken.”
His panic hit full tilt, torn between helping me and finding the perpetrator. “Who’s here?” The question was directed to Wiley. “Who have you seen?”
“No one,” Wiley balked, “I mean I passed Tate on the trail, but no strangers or nothin’.”
I tightened my arms into my chest, but allowed Dallas to take the majority of my body weight. I didn’t have the strength to hold it all. The dinner bell clattered, but it only made my stomach ache more.
Wiley and Dixie disappeared after a moment, Dixie wrapped in his jacket for comfort. Dallas wouldn’t leave me. I felt bad keeping him, especially as his stomach complained and groaned in hunger.
“Can you walk me to my cabin? I’m not hungry,” I asked.
He didn’t question it or try to persuade me to change my mind. Instead, he looped my arm around his neck and scooped me into his arms. Like a princess, he carried me the short distance to my cabin and set my feet on the step. He looked as though he might follow me in, but I stopped him short.
“You’re starving. Go to dinner. I’ll lock the door.”
He wanted to fight me, but opted out of the argument. “Can I check on you later?”
I knew Cassidy would say yes, but I wasn’t her, not completely.
“I think I need to be alone.”
His nod was slow, but I could see the disappointment in his slack jaw and averted eyes. “I understand. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
I knew he wanted more than that, but when life became too much for me I immediately retreated into safe ground. When it came down to it, the comfort I sought wasn’t in his arms.
My door clicked shut and I sank to my mattress. After a moment I fell back and stared up at the ceiling. I thought of the actual date. It was exactly three months since Ryder had rescued me from that coffin. He’d turned off the lights in his bedroom that night to let me sleep. I’d screamed out in terror at the darkness. Ryder had held me the entire night. Every time I woke up in the midst of a nightmare, he’d been there to reset my reality and calm me to sleep once more. For the first time in a long while, I ached for his arms and his voice again. I let myself relive the memories, wallow where I knew I shouldn’t stay.
The light outside faded and the rain started up again. I watched the drizzle and wished with all my heart that I hadn’t turned right and gone to Montana. There would have been no gunshot wound. I wouldn’t have suffered the relapse and the setbacks that had followed. Ryder would’ve joined me on my undercover mission to the ranch, and most importantly Vanessa would’ve served us dinner on our first date and then disappeared forever.
I heard a knock and then silence. Being on edge, I didn’t want to open the door, but had to wonder if someone had told Tate or Isabelle and they’d come to check on me. I pulled the curtain away from the window, but saw no one. With a deep breath, I yanked the door open. There was no one, but there on the step sat a plate of food. Dallas had likely dropped it off in hopes that I’d eat something.
I scooped up the plate and let the door click shut again. Dallas was a good guy, solid, dependable, handsome in his own way, but he wasn’t Ryder. As much as I’d tried, my heart belonged to the artist with the lighthouse and I needed him desperately.
After eating a few bites, I pulled on my damp boots and started for the lodge. Dixie and Wiley met me along the way. Dixie’s face crumpled like an old wad of paper as she saw me.
“Cass, how are you feeling?”
There were no words. It wasn’t something I could brush off with a, “feeling better now,” kind of phrase.
“I need some air,” I said as I passed them.
Wiley said something to Dixie, but I was out of earshot and I didn’t care. I stopped a
t the payphone and jammed my hand into my pocket. In the distance, I watched Tate walk from the back of the diner, headed for his cabin. Red clay splattered over his boots. Everything here was covered in that thick clay. My hands, my clothes, and his boots.
I pulled out four quarters and fed them into the slot. A dial tone sounded on the other end of the receiver and I dialed Ryder’s number. The phone rang once, twice, three times, then an answer.
“Hello?” I could hear his confusion at the unfamiliar number.
I hoped my voice was enough, because his was like aloe to my heart. “It’s me.”
Relief flooded his voice. “Lindy, are you okay?” When I didn’t reply and a tiny sob choked free of my throat, his voice tightened with stress. “Are you hurt?”
I sniffled through my nose and tried to regain my composure. “It was a hard day. I needed to hear you.”
The sun set over the hills in the distance, a tiny sliver of orange light amongst the dark grey clouds. Like a sigh, it sank and allowed the darkness to take over. I crossed my arms over my chest for warmth and tucked the handset between my ear and shoulder.
“You’re not hurt though?”
“No, not physically.”
The annoyance in his voice surprised me. “You can’t call me, Lindy. You’ll blow your cover.”
“You called me last night. How is this different?”
The annoyance grew into frustration. “Yeah and that went so well for both of us, didn’t it?”
“Why are you yelling at me?” I could hear the weak desperation in my voice. I wanted to beg him to come, to drive all night and take me in his arms again. I wanted him to leave her, forget Vanessa and remember what we’d had before I threw it all away.
“It’s been a month and my mom says you’ve gotten nowhere, at least not on the case.”
I bristled with indignant anger. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He regretted his jab, but he knew there was no way out of it. “She says you have a boyfriend and it’s taking your focus away from your work.” There was a rattling static on his end of the phone and when he came back his voice was farther away, almost echoed. “She thinks we should try a different investigator, but I convinced her to give you another shot.”
Saddles & Sabotage Page 20
