by Theresa Weir
“Come on,” she yelled in a commanding voice I’d never heard before.
Blindly, I hoisted myself over the sill and fell with the tinkling of glass shards on the concrete walk between my house and the neighbor’s. William dove down to me, nuzzling and nudging me with his wet nose, pushing me up and forward.
“Good boy.”
“Come on, Stephanie, we have to get away.”
“Mr. Weinperth—”
“William got him.” She put her arm around me, and we lurched toward the front yard. “He fell and got knocked out and dropped something that started this.”
We made it to the street where a few people hovered around Mr. Weinperth, holding a cloth to his head. Mrs. Spangler covered her mouth with her hand as flames licked out of the upstairs windows. Smoke rolled through her open front door.
William collapsed at my feet, and I dropped next to him, realizing his breathing didn’t sound right and there wasn’t much hair on his head. His shoulder had a raw spot and his nose was bleeding.
“You did it,” I told him. “You saved everyone.” I wasn’t sure whether these words came out of my mouth. My throat was raw and swollen. “You saved me.”
I glanced up at Mrs. Spangler but she only stared at our home as firemen began to pull hoses toward it.
“Oh, Blackie,” she sobbed.
William’s singed ears perked up. He looked from her to me and burst out of my arms before I could form the word, “No.”
I went after him. “William!”
He wove through the firemen, jumped a hose, and bolted up the front steps.
“William, no!”
A startled fireman caught me around the waist and dragged me back. “You can’t go in there.”
I fought him with all the strength I had left. “My dog—”
“Ma’am, you’re bleeding.” He held me with ease.
I fought him more. “Please—” He released me to a waiting EMT. I summoned the strength of the priestess and fought, but another person grabbed me, and another. I started for the house, only to be stopped again. They were too strong and it was too late. The Conqueror had disappeared.
“William!”
Something inside the house caved in with a loud whoosh. Hungry flames reached high into the night. Above them, an incandescent white light danced, then flew away to the stars.
Something inside me gave way, too, but there were no flames. Only a bitter chill. In my head, I screamed his name over and over and over.
In the cool darkness, there was only silence.
Chapter 11
As Gabe steered his truck toward Steph’s exit, he noticed an ambulance speeding onto the highway on the other side. Yeah, she’d said she didn’t want him to come back tonight, but he couldn’t leave it at that. He wanted her, bad. What they’d shared that afternoon had been a sip against years of unquenched desire. It had only made him thirsty for more.
The ambulance’s lights flashed in his side mirror. It wasn’t that unusual in this part of the city. Made him wonder how much luck he’d have getting Steph to move out to the country with him. He knew she’d like it if she gave it a try. And it would be better for William, too.
When he approached her place, he caught a quick glimpse of more flashing lights between rows of closely packed homes. As he turned onto her street, he realized the fire engines were in front of her house. He must have crushed the gas pedal to the floor. The next thing he knew, he was out of his truck looking for her or any familiar face, calling her name, Lucy at his heels.
He saw Mrs. Spangler in a small knot of others, standing over something on the ground, an EMT kneeling at their feet. His gut went hollow. His heart stopped.
He pushed his way through. William lay on a blanket, singed and black with soot, hairless spots exposing bloody hide. The EMT had an oxygen mask over the dog’s nose, but it didn’t look like William was breathing. In the light from all the emergency vehicles, he could see Mrs. Spangler’s face smudged gray and streaked with tears. She looked ancient, like she’d aged fifty years since this morning. She clutched a small box to her chest.
He took all this in with one breath. Took in the sodden, smoking ruin of the house with the next. Didn’t take another. Gently, he touched Mrs. Spangler’s arm. She turned.
“Oh, Gabe.” She fell against him with a sob.
It was all he could do not to shake her. “Where’s—”
“They took her to the hospital. Mr. Weinperth, too. Smoke inhalation, but they’ll be okay. And he hit his head, the old fool.” Her gaze dropped to the dog’s still form. “But…”
“Is he…?”
“I’m not a vet,” the EMT said, “but there ain’t much left to work with.”
“He saved us all,” Mrs. Spangler said. She moved away from Gabe and held out the small box. “Even Blackie.”
“Probably would have been okay if he hadn’t gone back in,” the EMT said. He withdrew the oxygen.
Gabe felt tears well up. He hadn’t cried since he was a kid. Mrs. Spangler put her hand on his shoulder.
“Stephanie was…it was awful. Tore my heart out. I’ve never seen anyone so upset.” She looked at Gabe again, her eyes clear. “I thought I knew what hysterical was.”
The EMT stood. “Took three of our guys to get her into the ambulance.”
Gabe crouched, scooped up blanket and dog, and hurried to his truck. Mrs. Spangler followed.
“Do you need anything?” he called over his shoulder. “Can I drop you anywhere?”
She opened the tailgate for him. “No, my sister’s coming to pick me up. As soon as I get changed, I’m going to the hospital.”
He slid the dog under the camper shell as gently as he could. He had a good friend from college who was a vet. If anyone could do anything…damn it. He didn’t even know if William was still…
“St. Mary’s,” Mrs. Spangler said.
“Tell Stephanie I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Lucy, who never liked to ride in the bed, dove in and lay next to William. Gabe jumped in the cab. The truck was still running. He jammed it into gear, grabbed his cell, and started punching in numbers.
Chapter 12
I liked the cool darkness. After the initial emergency room flurry of tests, X-rays, drawn blood, cleanup, hookup, and treatments, it was quiet and still. I could stay like this. Didn’t even have to worry about the cost because my official job termination date wasn’t for several weeks, and my medical coverage was still in place. That gave me a flat trill of grim satisfaction.
Otherwise, I didn’t think, I drifted. At first, I couldn’t open my eyes and they were goopy with ointment. When awake, I listened. Machines bleeped and whirred, people came in and out.
No one spoke of William. The one I needed to hear about. All I could see was him running into that house again.
Mrs. Spangler stroked my forehead and made crooning sounds, leaving a lavender scent trail wherever she went. Heather held my hand for a long time but didn’t say anything. That’s when my new sensitivity revealed itself. I could feel the intensity of her gaze, heavy with loving concern as palpable as her touch.
Mr. Weinperth was wheeled in and left at the side of my bed. Of course, he didn’t touch me, and for a change, he didn’t lecture, either. Not out loud, anyway. But I could feel the words boiling away inside him, trying to escape like steam from a covered pot. Sorrow and regret. For me, for the house, for all his fallen comrades. His regrets were many, the sorrow deep.
Jean was a quiet pond. No worries. She gently rubbed my arm and told me to take my time as if she knew I needed to stay in the dark for now. Knew she would coax me out later.
Gabe stood at my side being strong. Just that and nothing more. What temptation to lean into that strength. He wished he had told me long ago how he felt. I didn’t know if he spoke these thoughts aloud.
I remained alone in the cool darkness.
I cried. For William. For my mother. A little for myself. Grief ambushed me. Each
time I felt surprise, keen as a fillet knife laying me bare. I let it. Opened all of myself except my eyes.
There were more chest X-rays to monitor my progress. An intense beam of light forced its way under my lids. The doctor was brusque, efficient, and at a loss as to why I wouldn’t respond.
The priestess came. She and the man stood together, glowing. Gazing at me across eons from the foot of my bed. He had released himself from her curse. I should have been happy for that, but couldn’t summon any glad feeling. Not if it meant I couldn’t have William in my life.
The priestess smiled at her man. They glowed with their otherworldliness, with love for each other, and also, I realized, with love for me. It was a new idea, that self-love. I tried closing my eyes to this, too, but somehow I couldn’t ignore them like I did everyone else. They were kind of annoying. I appreciated their silence, but their beatific gazes scorched me, and the man in particular needed to communicate something important. His dark brown eyes—William’s eyes—bored into my soul.
Time fell apart. I could have been like that for hours or days or years.
A nurse with angelic hands washed me, removed all my unnatural attachments. Ah, they had finally given up. Good. But, no. Damned if they weren’t shifting me into a wheelchair and taking me somewhere. I had no place and no one to go to. Heather might have decided to spring me, but where would she put me between the foster cats and dogs and her husband and two kids? I didn’t want to be around any dogs. I hadn’t wanted my mother this much since I was little.
A quiet elevator ride down. No memory of going up. I swallowed to test my throat. Not painful and the action awakened my stomach. One of those burgers at Heather’s favorite restaurant would go down well.
Along another hallway, a door opened, the bump of a threshold. Sunlight. The nurse set the brake. As she turned and went back through the door on her quiet, comfortable shoes, I could sense her smile and wondered at the joke. Had she left me at the curb with a sign around my neck? Too quiet for the parking lot. A courtyard, then. Sunshine felt good. I tilted my face toward the light.
That’s when I heard it and knew I was dead. A familiar clicking of toenails on a hard surface.
Then William was there, warm and wiggly, his front half heavy on my lap. He licked my face, snuffled my neck. I opened my eyes and hugged him, feeling my heart heal and break open with joy at the same time.
Off to the side, Gabe, William’s leash dangling from his hand. So, I wasn’t dead. Looking at his face, I knew why no one had mentioned William. It had been touch-and-go. But somehow he’d pulled through. In that moment, I knew that Gabe was my whetstone. He would sharpen me. The same love flowed out of him that had emanated from the priestess. It poured into my heart, swelling it, making room for more. Behind Gabe stood Mrs. Spangler and Mr. Weinperth, Heather and Jean, all smiling.
Beyond them, the priestess, woman of my dreams—me—holding hands with her lover. After a few moments, they turned with a wave and disappeared.
Quickly, I grabbed William’s head to steady it and looked into his eyes. He met my gaze with that gleam expecting adventure.
“William,” I whispered. “How…?” How didn’t matter, I decided. Apparently, there are more things in heaven and earth. “I guess we did some adventuring after all.”
He cocked his head. Think what you want…said that look…you’ll thank me later.
“You’re still not allowed to hump my leg or any other part of me, got it?”
He smiled.
-THE END-
About Candace Carrabus
Candace Carrabus spent her formative years in the saddle, just imagining. She still rides horses and writes stories—frequently simultaneously—and many of these stories are imbued with the magic and mystery horses have brought to her life. She shares a farm in the midwest with her family, which also includes several four-legged critters.
Also by Candace Carrabus
Raver, The Horsecaller: Book One
Lauren’s hush-hush family history tells of an ancestor and his horse vanishing in a forbidden corner of their upstate New York farm. On the other side of the mysterious portal lies a dying land bereft of its beloved steeds.
On the Buckle, Dreamhorse Mystery #1
Meet smart (and sometimes foul)-mouthed jumper rider, Viola Parker, whose whipped-cream-in-a-can addiction is all that gets her through the day when her nights are invaded by a dead horse kicking up bad news…
The Good Horse, The Bad Man & The Ugly Woman, A Witting Woman Novella
A lighthearted story of self-empowerment. Maureen is an “everywoman” starting with the rut she’s in to the Witting Woman she becomes. Come along for the ride—courtesy of a horse named Lena—as Maureen learns to believe in the unbelievable…herself.
Connect with Candace online
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Walk in Beauty
by
Barbara Samuel
Once, Luke Bernali’s proud Navajo blood and strong carpenter’s hands made genteel Jessie Callahan love him with youthful abandon. But, to his endless regret, Luke faltered and he let Jessie down. Hurt, Jessie left, with a broken heart…and unaware that she was pregnant with Luke’s child.
Now, eight years later, Jessie was back—with a darling daughter in tow. Luke was older—and wiser—and determined to recapture the beauty lost. Could a fierce, desperate long-ago love soar anew on the delicate wings of a child?
Dedication
With love to Aggie, Robert, David, Tex, Jimmy 1 and Jimmy 2, Ed, Bill, Cheyenne, Danny and all the others. And for Luke, with many thanks. Bon voyage, my friend.
Chapter 1
A blue jay feather lay on the sidewalk as Luke Bernali climbed from his truck. He almost stepped on it. A flash of iridescent blue caught his eye in time, and he bent over to pick it up.
Jessie.
The feel of her and the sense of warning were so strong, he had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder. Luke twirled the feather in his fingers, admiring the shimmer of color banded with sharp black stripes. Blue jays had been her favorite birds. Luke once made her some earrings from a pair of tail feathers.
He half smiled at the bittersweet memory. With the respect usually reserved for the feathers of eagles and hawks and other such birds of power, he nestled it between the folds of a paperback science fiction novel on the front seat of his truck. Jessie had cared little for traditional explanations of the qualities of feathers. Even if no one else in the world valued blue jays, she’d told him, she did. She liked their colors and their sass.
For just an instant, he felt another small wash of warning. He brushed it away. Silly. She’d been gone more than eight years.
With a quick glance at the dark storm clouds gathering in the November sky, he lifted a pile of Navajo weavings from the back of his truck and flung their solid weight over his shoulder. Mountains towered behind the bank of shops along the street, their deep blue color shadowed beneath the clouds obscuring their summits. Luke breathed deeply and smelled snow.
A young Indian girl danced alone on the sidewalk in front of the store he was about to enter. Against the wintry background of the approaching storm, she looked like a wood sprite or a flower swaying in the wind. Grinning at the unselfconscious beauty she projected, Luke paused to watch her.
Long black hair flowed like satin ribbons to her slim hips. Her limbs were lanky and long, promising willowy height one day. In the dusky rose of her cheeks, a dimple flashed, elusive and charming.
She was the spitting image of his sister, Marcia, at this age. Luke stepped forward, intending to ask the child about her clan.
She spun around and saw him watching her. Lu
ke caught a swift impression of beaded earrings flashing in her great mass of hair before his attention was snared by her unusual, exquisite eyes.
Pure topaz.
The color alone was startling in her powerfully Navajo face, against her dusky skin and broad cheekbones. Together with their enormous size and calm expression, they were astonishing.
In that single split second, Luke’s world shifted abruptly. He blinked, took in a breath and looked at her again. She had stopped dancing to look at him with those beautiful eyes.
His jaw hardened. There was only one person in the world who had eyes just that color. This child, beautiful against the dark day, was not just a relative to his clan, as he had first suspected.
She was his daughter.
“Hi,” the girl said. “You must be the guy they’re waiting for.” She pointed with her lips toward the shop selling rugs and pottery and various other Southwestern artworks.
Luke took in another slow, deep breath, trying to keep his emotions soft, quiet, fluid. “Are they waiting?”
Her lids flickered over the topaz irises, then swept up again. Mischief flashed in her dimple. “Not too long. The man in there said you were probably on Indian time.”
Luke chuckled. “Just another kind of time.”
“Where’s Daniel?” she asked.
“He’s—” he cleared his throat “—he’s not feeling well. Is he a friend of yours?”
She nodded.
