by Anna Oney
The grip on her arm softened. Fawn caught sight of what she first believed to be her reflection in his eyes. Leaning closer, she realized it was the face of an older woman, with arched brows and almond-shaped eyes. Drawing her attention from the likeness was the sound of hooves approaching the other side of the barrier.
“Hold on,” Tucker said in a panic. “Pete’s here! We’re opening the gate.”
***
One hour later, the stranger was unconscious on a featherbed in the infirmary. As the doctor checked him over, Fawn shot Pete an anxious look.
It had been almost forty-five years since Georgia Maples’ passing. Cooper McCord had taken over her role as Head Doctor. In his new position, Cooper had started out by revamping Mrs. Maples’ home strictly for medical use and adding three cabins to her property. Each cabin could house five people, and they were separated into the cabins based on how severe their ailments were. The cabin with the red door was for critical patients, the orange was for mildly critical, and the yellow was for minor injuries.
Fawn gnawed at her fingernails until she couldn’t stay silent any longer.
“How’s he looking, Uncle?”
“He’s got some dehydration and malnutrition, but he’ll live.”
Pete cocked his head, folding his arms across his chest.
“You think he’ll wake soon?” Pete asked.
“Give him the night to rest,” Cooper replied, and patted Fawn’s shoulder. “You know, your Gran would be proud of you. After all, she was the one who let your Grandpa Tom and I through the gate.”
By the way the seventy-five-year-old constantly reminded his great-nieces and great-nephews, it was obvious he considered the actions of their Gran to be an ultimate kindness. A woman who’d been bullied by his older brother let them in from the cold, desolate road without question.
“Thank you, Uncle,” Fawn replied, embracing him. “I appreciate that.”
Cooper and his wife Lizzie had two sons. Their eldest, Fenton, was set to take on his father’s role when Cooper passed. Fenton’s intelligence was in his favor, but Fawn knew he dreaded taking on the task. Nearly three decades ago, during one of their fishing trips, Fenton’s younger brother, Amos, had been swept under the creek’s current and submerged underwater for eight minutes before Fenton had noticed he was missing. Amos’s near-drowning experience had left him mentally challenged, and turned Fenton into a self-doubtful man of few words.
Cooper broke their embrace and pressed his palm to Fawn’s cheek.
“I’m going to see how Fenton and Amos are coming along with preparing them bandages.”
The siblings nodded, and said, “Yes, sir.”
As Cooper left, a roar of arguments from outside the cabin came flooding in.
Pete widened his eyes and turned to his sister.
“Why would you step outside that gate alone?”
“It was just one man.”
“I know that, but you still should’ve waited. This all could’ve been a big act.”
“Maybe if it didn’t take you twenty minutes to saddle your horse, you would’ve been there sooner. Besides, I still would’ve gone out. You’ve got Audrey and the kids.”
“Yeah, and you’ve got Hunter.”
Oh, right.
“The elders are livid about this man being here,” he continued, jabbing his finger toward the door. “Can’t you hear them? Avery and Cason are about to lose their minds.”
Avery and Cason were the McCord siblings’ oldest cousins. Their father Winston and his two brothers, Maddox and Lyle, were Gran’s first cousins. The three men had died before Fawn and her siblings were born.
“We can’t just load him up and ditch him somewhere,” Fawn argued.
“Who the hell says we can’t?”
“Do I really have to say?”
Pete took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Momma and Daddy are gone,” he replied. “Even if they weren’t, I don’t see how they’d justify keeping him around.”
Fawn clenched her jaw and stormed toward the exit.
“Don’t decide anything yet,” she said. “Wait until he wakes up. Maybe he’ll be up for telling a story.”
The grumble that followed and the decipherable moan of, “okay,” told her Pete was somewhat in agreement.
***
Through the night, Fawn refused to leave the stranger’s side. The soft purr of his snores, and the steady rise and fall of his chest coaxed her to sleep in the rocking chair beside his bed.
The next morning, she awoke to find a familiar pair of pale eyes staring back at her.
The man blinked wildly, clinging to his chest.
“Easy,” Fawn whispered, rubbing his shoulder. “You’re safe. Can you tell me how you came to be passed out at our gate?”
The trembling of his lips proved that whatever he’d suffered left behind a stain of fear. Tears welled in his eyes and he shook his head. The sound of footsteps climbing the porch forced him to latch his scarred hand to her wrist.
“It’s okay,” she said, covering his hand with hers. “It’s my brother.”
Pete barged through the door — his gaze drawn toward their joined hands.
“Why’re you sitting so close?”
“He’s just scared,” she replied, as Pete strode toward the foot of the stranger’s bed. “Have a little compassion.”
“Go on,” Pete said, addressing the stranger. “Speak. What’s your story?”
The sips of air the man had been inhaling turned into gusts.
Fawn grasped the handle of the pitcher that sat on the bedside table and poured him a glass of water.
“Easy,” she whispered, placing the cup in his hand. “Drink. When you’re ready, just say the first thing that comes to mind.”
The man’s hands shook as he eased the cup to his mouth, splashing water on his bare chest.
“Steel . . .”
Pete closed his eyes and took an exasperated breath.
“Monsters,” the man continued — his hands shaking more fiercely than before.
“Look,” Pete said, and met the stranger’s milky gaze. “If you don’t start making sense, we’re going to throw you out.”
“Red . . . red rain. Murder.”
“Did what I just said not make any sense to you?”
“Murder!” the man exclaimed, as the glass tipped over, soaking water into the bed.
Pete tilted back his head, directing his gaze upward.
“Follow me outside,” he said, waving for Fawn to join him.
Fawn knew why her brother wanted a private audience, but she was determined to stand her ground. In the prime of this man’s youth, he might’ve been dangerous, but he wasn’t now. Condemning a man for being different from anyone who’d ever stumbled upon Back Wood’s gate was morally wrong.
Outside the cabin, Pete leaned against the railing of the porch.
“He’s gone.”
“But—”
“He’s gone today. No exceptions.”
Over Pete’s shoulder, Fawn noticed the twins, Axton and Marie, coming up the walkway. Their strides were the same pace and length, and it kept their blonde hair whipping behind their ears.
“Morning,” Axton heaved, as he climbed the porch steps.
Marie’s eyes darted from Fawn to Pete as she trailed closely behind her brother.
“Has a decision been made?” Marie asked.
Pete gave a light chuckle that ended with a snort and stood up straight.
“He’s been rambling on about steel monsters and red rain.”
“Steel monsters and red rain?” Axton repeated, with a wrinkled forehead. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He can’t be here,” Marie stated. “Not around the children. Not around my Meadow. He sounds insane.”
How can they cast aside a desperate man? Fawn thought. This isn’t my kin talking.
“We can’t discredit the man just because we don’t like what he says,” Fawn said. �
�What if it rings true?”
“You don’t understand,” Marie retorted, stomping her foot. “You don’t understand the worry that plagues a parent. You don’t have kids.”
A vision of the day Meadow was born clouded Fawn’s thoughts. Through the screaming and the unwavering grip on her hand, she’d stayed by Marie’s side. Fawn would never forget the day she placed Meadow into Marie’s reaching arms. No, she didn’t attend every birthday party, but she cared for her nieces and nephews like a parent would.
Recovering from her little sister’s injurious words, Fawn swallowed back the catch in her throat, and raised her chin.
“It’s a miracle that he’s even here,” Fawn said. “He’s nearly blind. We don’t throw away miracles.”
“I wouldn’t call that man a miracle,” Pete said, and hugged the porch post. “He’s too unpredictable. He’s driven by fear.”
“Fear makes people do stupid things,” Axton added.
“You’re denying this man because of fear,” Fawn argued, fighting back a wave of frustrated tears that stung her eyes. “I hope your decision doesn’t end up being a stupid mistake.
***
There was nothing more Fawn could say to convince her siblings to allow the man to stay. Before Fawn and Pete were to escort the man out, she made sure he ate and drank plenty of water. It surprised her that her siblings were kind enough to provide the man with clothing. Casting out a clothed man seemed easier to them than casting out one who was nearly naked. Unbeknownst to Pete, Fawn had stuffed the man’s new pockets with deer jerky.
Ever since her father Samuel’s death, Fawn had held on to his moccasins for sentimental value. The day he’d started the process to make them was the day he’d begun to teach her how to make them herself. Giving them to a stranger was no easy feat, but she couldn’t let the man leave barefoot.
Daddy won’t mind, she thought, as she helped put the moccasins on the man’s feet. It’s what he would’ve done. They were half a size too big for him, but they would comfort him all the same.
The man was in no condition to ride by himself — not that Pete would’ve allowed him to out of fear the man would steal the horse. No matter the awkwardness and the smell, Pete suffered the journey with the man sitting in front of him. During their ride, Pete had voiced that he didn’t want this man stumbling upon their community a second time. They rode for sixty miles before Pete felt comfortable dropping him off.
The desolate plain was covered in hot lumps of dirt and scattered stones bigger than a fist. The patches of grass were yellow and brittle, like hay. The trees had been stripped of their leaves. Sharp twigs resembling daggers protruded in every direction of the timber.
Sweat glided down the sides of Fawn’s face as she glanced up at the blistering sun.
We might as well just kill him now, she thought, securing a few strands of auburn waves behind her ear.
“This is good enough,” Pete said, and wiped the beaded sweat from his forehead.
Fawn swung her leg over Juniper’s back and slid to the ground. She trailed her fingers along Juniper’s long neck until she came face-to-face with the animal. On her tiptoes, Fawn pecked the diamond between Juniper’s eyes, and then looked up at Pete who still sat on his horse.
“How do you want to do this?”
“He doesn’t weigh much,” Pete replied, shifting on the saddle. “I’ll swing his leg over and guide him down to you.”
The man raised his chin, and kept his eyes glued to Fawn as Pete lowered him to the ground. He seemed blind for the most part, but she sensed he’d been blessed with some other form of sight. One that didn’t focus on the outer layers of people, but the inner. From the way he stared at her, Fawn worried that he’d found demons lurking behind her sapphire eyes.
The man’s feet made a soft landing on the ground. Fawn grasped his shoulders to keep him steady. To escape his impenetrable gaze, she kept her eyes locked to his chest.
“He good?” Pete asked from above.
Fawn made sure he was stable before removing her grip from his shoulders.
“He’s about as good as he’s going to be.”
Pete dismounted and landed with a thud, causing a light cloud of dust to surround them.
“All right, look,” he said, and thrust his hand in the air. “I know you’re mad at me.”
Fawn raised her brow and gave him a tight-lipped smile.
“Not just with you.”
“He may come across some folks that’ll take him in. On the way, I spotted signs of people that might live out here.”
“Who?” She swooped up a handful of hot dirt and shook her fist at Pete. “Sand people?”
Their argument was interrupted as the man started walking forward. Fawn reached out to stop him, but Pete pulled her back. Twelve strides ahead of them, the man tripped over a stone and fell to his knees. As he fell, Fawn felt as though she were falling too. Pete couldn’t hold her back a second time as she tore her arm from his grasp and ran out ahead. Pete shouted after her, but his words were drowned out by the sound of her heart thudding against her chest.
“Sir,” she said, and crouched beside him. “Are you okay?”
The man whispered something she couldn’t decipher.
She got on her knees and leaned closer.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and rubbed his back. “Say again?”
“She had a sweet voice,” he replied, raising his head.
“Who?”
“The cardinal who led me to you.”
“Sister, come on,” Pete shouted from behind. “We need to be getting back.”
Fawn cut her eyes over her shoulder, and then turned back to the man beside her.
“Here,” she said, taking his hand. “Let me help you up.”
The man’s knees buckled as they stood to their feet, but Fawn was able to catch him before he fell. He smiled at her, revealing yellow teeth and glanced at their joined hands. Fawn’s clear skin stood out against the burn scars plaguing him.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask you this until now,” she said, mentally cursing herself. “But, what’s your name?”
“I always knew,” he said, letting go of her hand.
“I mean it,” Pete shouted again — his voice resembling a growl. “We’ve got to go!”
Fawn closed her eyes and took a deep breath before reopening them.
“I always knew,” the man repeated, and hovered his hand over her shoulder. It traveled up her long neck and over her head, before gliding across the curve of her jaw. “Remember that, Fawn McCord.”
I never told you my name, she thought, trying to wrap her mind around what he’d just said.
Those would be the last words they exchanged as the man turned away from her and continued his lonesome journey forward. With a racing mind and an aching heart, she stared after the mysterious man that would vanish from her life almost as quickly as he’d entered it.
No matter Pete’s persistence, she refused to budge until the man’s figure disappeared over the distant hill.
What have you always known? she thought.
CHAPTER TWO
Hunter’s mother, Shelby, the young girl who’d accompanied Gran’s brother Griffin on his quest back home, couldn’t seem to get enough of the hug-loving Aiden Bogan growing up.
On October 22, 2052, fifteen years after the couple were wed, Shelby gave birth to a baby boy — a boy she’d never lay eyes on. On that crisp, autumn morning, for reasons no one could explain, their Lord and Savior had called Hunter’s mother home. As a child, Hunter would ask why his mother had to die. His father would say she died because she could keep better watch over him in Heaven.
At the tender age of seven, Hunter was told the story of his grandfather Reed’s passing. Reed had been murdered while lending aid to a destitute lady on the side of the road. Unbeknownst to him, this wicked woman had three men hiding close by, just waiting to pounce. The culprits had stolen everything he’d had, including his horse, Bru
te. Reed’s remains were left battered and naked on the side of the road, only ten miles from the Bogan Farm.
The thirty-four-year-old had inherited his grandfather’s obsession with the McCord women — Fawn, especially. One look at her always brightened Hunter’s demeanor. In all of the four communities, she was considered the granddaughter of a legend, and Hunter was the grandson of the man who’d loved that legend. As fate would have it, he’d been able to snag the girl.
Despite his pleas for Fawn to move in, she’d refused. Before they began sleeping together, he’d learned that her independence was the second most important thing to her. The first was her family.
Two and a half years before, the couple had built a small cabin at the Boom Hole, which housed the deepest depth of water. They met there three times a week.
As Hunter made the bed, the sound of hooves approaching the cabin pulled him toward the small window. He spotted Fawn riding up. Her face was red, and her eyebrows looked as though they were about to shoot from her forehead.
Oh hell, he thought. What’s done pissed her off now?
Hunter was reluctant to hear the news, but he knew that whatever she was stressed over would be defused by sex. And he was more than happy to oblige.
He stepped onto the porch and emerged around the corner of the cabin to find her dismounting.
“Hey there,” he said. “What’s happened?”
Fawn immediately began ditching her clothes.
“I don’t need clothes for what we’re about to do.” Gripping her top, she stood bare-chested in the woods. “I need a release. Are you going to help me with that?”
“Ab-so-lutely.”
***
Fawn lay on her side, her back toward the man with whom she’d just made love. Her tight braid of wavy, auburn hair had been loosened by their extracurricular activities. A few locks brushed against her shoulder.
Studying the curve of her bare hip, Hunter traced his fingers along her spine.
“That feels nice,” she whispered, turning her head slightly.
“What’s happened?” he asked again, and kissed her shoulder.
She rolled over to face him and stroked his dark brown beard with the back of her fingers. The expression on her face was one he hadn’t seen since her parents’ and sisters’ deaths. Her eyes were puffy, and there were tracks of tears down her cheeks.
