by Jette Harris
They sat in silence for several minutes. He felt pressure on his knee. Looking down, he found her small hand drifting up his leg.
“Woah!” He jumped up, shaking her off. “No,” he said, softening his voice. He knelt in front of her and clasped her hands. “I know you’re upset right now, but this is not going to make you forget. It’s not going to make you feel better. It can only make things worse.” She tilted her head skeptically. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, or feel like it, but trust me. Please trust me; I’ve been there.”
Karyn flushed and hung her head again. She slid her hands out of his and between her knees. She wanted contact, so he gave it to her in the least sexual way possible: He stroked her shin reassuringly.
Approaching hooves announced Ginny’s return. She gave him a sharp nod as she guided her horse to its stall. She eyed the pool of blood on the floor, then grabbed a bag of sphag and poured it over the mess.
“I need to go in and call the police. They might want to speak with you. Do you remember what you should say?”
“Exactly what happened, then when you went to make the call, he stole Bucky.” She glanced at Ginny. A smile played on the woman’s lips, but she busied herself with concealing the mess on the floor. “It’s probably best if you didn’t find out I was here.”
Thatch looked at her with awe. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” He patted her hands. “You’re very clever.”
She raised her head with a smug smile. Thatch returned her smile as he rose, then turned to Ginny. “How long will you need?”
Ginny glanced him over. “You need to clean up.”
Looking down, Thatch discovered his clothes and hands were covered with blood splatter. His face was probably covered at well. He glanced back at Karyn with surprise. How effective could a pep talk be if one is covered in blood? But the girl did not seem phased by it.
“Go,” Ginny said, nodding toward the house. “Clean up, call. This will be gone by the time anyone arrives.”
Thatch led the sheriff’s deputies out to the stables as if they might find Matt and Jason there, alive and well. The sphag had been swept away. A ratty mat covered the spot, looking as if it had always been there. Ginny sat on the bench with an arm around Karyn. The girl’s face was wet and red again. Thatch wondered if she were acting, or if she were actually crying.
“Look who I found!” Ginny came close to the men. One of the officers resembled her—like all Roanhorses around Flint Hill—although taller. They exchanged a glance before Ginny leaned in toward Thatch and lowered her voice, “Apparently she came in early this morning to see the horses, and hid in the rafters when the boys came. She saw everything: As soon as you went inside, they stole Bucky and rode out.”
“Bucky? No!” Thatch said. “Neither of them could handle a horse that size!”
Ginny shrugged.
“If they hurt that horse—”
Thatch was interrupted by the pounding of hooves. Bucky pounded in, stamping and shaking his head. He squealed—a sound Thatch had never heard from the beast. Karyn shrieked, climbing onto the bench. Ginny covered her mouth. Darting forward, Thatch caught Bucky’s reins. He murmured soothingly, pulling his face down to stroke his nose. Bucky snorted and stamped his hind leg. Thatch peered around him. The rope was still tied sloppily to the saddle, and still wrapped around Matt’s arm. But Matt was nowhere in sight. The arm had been torn from the socket at the shoulder. Tatters of sleeve were plastered to the arm with blood.
Karyn leapt from the bench and collided with Thatch, knocking the breath from him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She whimpered into his chest. Thatch rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around her.
“Go to Ginny,” he said, stroking her hair. “I need to get this saddle off. It’s hurting him.”
****
Over the next few days, Thatch met with five families, arranged for counselling, reached settlements, and engaged in two scuffles with furious fathers. These social displays were welcome distractions from sheriff’s deputies crawling over his property. Wherever Ginny had hidden Jason’s body, it remained hidden. Matt, less an arm, was found tangled in a fallen cedar. He was unresponsive. After several hours of surgery, he died of hypotensive shock.
There were five Roanhorses with the sheriff’s office, which most likely contributed to the incident being declared a karmic mishap. Thatch was never so relieved to go back home.
Just starting RUN RABBIT RUN?
Read how it begins:
COLOSSUS
Two Guns
Want more Avery Rhodes?
Read his origins here:
Phoenix Rising: Flint Ranch
Before Avery Rhodes, there was a child named Thatch who grew up at his uncle’s horse ranch. What should have been an idyllic childhood was a series of unimaginable horrors.
Phoenix Rising: Salvage
After the horrors of Flint Ranch, Thatch finds refuge and family under his father’s roof.
ALSO BY JETTE HARRIS:
The Creepy Captivity Shorts
A nameless host attempts to woo and entertain a series of unwilling guests.