Reckless: a book tied to the Cotton Creek Saga (Shattered 1)

by Ciana Stone

She quickly stuffed the thumb drive in the front of her running shorts, closed the case and replaced it in its original position. Then she retraced her steps and headed back across the stream.

  Why was that woman here in the first place? Morgan wished she had thought to ask before punching her lights out. She looked for clues but could find nothing out of the ordinary. Back where she had first spotted the woman, she was drawn out of her thoughts by an agitated chatter coming from high in an old oak.

  She spotted the source of the noise on one of the uppermost branches. A squirrel dashed up and down the limb, chattering and fussing. As Morgan turned her eyes from the little creature, she saw a strange glint of light about head high on the central shaft of the truck. Keeping her eye on the source of the light she moved around, trying to get a better look.

  What the hell? There was a metal box attached to the tree. It was unlocked so she looked inside. It was empty. Why would someone put this here? It made no sense.

  Morgan dismissed the oddity and headed off through the woods. When she reached the spot where her fallen friend lay, she removed her folded sweatpants from beneath the dog's head and tied them around her waist. For a few moments, she considered her options. She didn’t know if she could carry Ghost's body all the way home, but she didn’t want to leave him. She caught herself wishing Cord were there. That thought prompted an instant replay in her mind of the things the woman had said about Cord.

  Morgan had no desire to replay those particular words. But the anger sparked by the memory served her with a renewed sense of strength. With significant effort, she managed to gather Ghost's large body and get him propped across her shoulders. Staggering under the weight with tears dripping, she began the long walk home.

  *****

  Cassie woke with a splitting headache and groaned as she tried to sit. She felt like she had been run over by a truck. That fuck Victor didn't tell me the bitch was a psycho!

  After a few seconds of floundering around like a fish out of water, she got herself into an upright position. She didn't see any signs of Morgan and relief swept through her. She had no desire to get into another brawl with that one. A quizzical expression crossed her mud-caked face. How did I get out of the water?

  The more she tried to remember the worse her head hurt, so she gave up. She had probably halfway-regained consciousness and crawled up on the bank, then passed out again.

  She looked down at her wristwatch to check the time. Its face was so encrusted with sludge she couldn't see the digital readout. When she scraped away most of the dirt with a broken nail, she realized that she had been out about twenty minutes. With much grunting and stumbling, she got to her feet.

  The route back to her vehicle wasn’t clear in her mind, but she knew she had to follow the stream to find the place to cross. The stream got progressively wider, and she decided that she was definitely going in the wrong direction. She turned and backtracked. At last, she reached the point where the stream narrowed.

  She made a jump for the opposite bank but missed and landed in the shallow muddy water. Her feet mired down into the soft, slippery bottom.

  A shudder ran through her as she tugged to free her feet. Her right foot slid free with a wet sucking sound and the expensive leather shoe filled with slimy muck. With a curse, she jerked her left foot up as hard as she could. It splashed out of the water minus its shoe.

  “Goddamn!” She bent over and stuck her hands down into the slimy stream bottom, feeling around for her shoe. She finally found it, jammed her foot into its slippery interior and waded out of the stream.

  The climb up the bank of the stream felt more like a mountain hike. Every joint in her body felt wrenched out of position. Scratches covered her arms, and large bruises were already starting to form. She looked down at her legs and wanted to cry. Her beautiful long shapely legs had cuts and abrasions marring them.

  “I hate that bitch!” She vainly tried to wipe some of the mud and grime from her skin and clothes.

  As soon as she reached her vehicle, she climbed in, disregarding the mud and debris she smeared on the leather interior. Her eyes fell on the briefcase. On impulse, she opened it. A smile of vengeance crossed her bruised and battered face. “We'll see who has the last laugh, won't we?”

  *****

  Morgan was weak with fatigue when she emerged from beneath the cover of the trees. The tears had finally subsided, leaving tracks down her face where they'd cut through the dirt. Now she was just empty. She wanted to just lie down, shut out the world, and pretend none of this was real.

  First the Washington calamity. Cable is halfway across the world, I can't reach Trevor and Cord's run off on a wild goose chase. Now someone is watching us, and some redheaded bitch claims Cord’s in love with her and shoots Ghost.

  Morgan was at the end of her rope, and it was beginning to fray. Then out of the despair, a faint glimmer of hope appeared like a bright ray of light. An almost imperceptible quiver ran through the dog's body. She stopped and held her breath, afraid that the trembling had only come from her own tired body. Miraculously it came again, a definite tremble from within the broad chest. Hope surged like a swelling tide and washed her weariness away.

  She crossed the backyard in long rapid strides, rounded the deck that circled the pool, and headed down the side of the house toward the garage. Her Jeep was parked outside. She made her way to it and carefully laid the animal on the rear floor. "Hold on, buddy. I'll be right back."

  Morgan raced to get her keys from the house, bounding up the front steps to grab the doorknob. It was locked. Like a flash, she ran around the house, banged open the back door and pulled it shut behind her with a loud slam. She ripped through the house, snatched up her keys from the top of her desk and headed for the front door. As she dashed through the den, she slipped and fell. Upon impact with the floor, the thumb-drive in her shorts cut into her abdomen. She snatched it free, tossed it on the coffee table, and bounded to her feet.

  Like a madwoman, she pounded through the entranceway, jerked open the front door and bolted outside. She slammed the door behind her, whirled, and collided with the tall frame of a man climbing the steps.

  “Ooof!” The impact jarred him back down the steps.

  Morgan didn’t bother to stop, but sidestepped him and moved at full tilt toward the Jeep. Samuels stared in amazement at the apparition that flew past him. She didn't care that she probably looked like a wild woman with caked with dirt, bits of leaves and pine needles sticking in her clothes and tangled in her hair.

  “Mrs. Alexander!” He gasped as he tried to catch his breath. “Mrs. Alexander, hold up!”

  He caught up just as she reached the Jeep. “Wait!” He grabbed her arm and spun her around toward him.

  She glared up at him. “Not now!” She jerked her arm free from his grip.

  “Look, I just came by to see if you were okay, and ask you a couple of questions. With Mr. Alexander gone, I just wanted to make sure—”

  The remainder of his sentence was cut short. Morgan tore into him. “You son-of-a-bitch! What are you doing here? Spying on us?”

  “Mrs. Alexander! Wait! I can explain,” Samuels tried to intercede, but to no avail.

  “I've had it!” She screamed. “Do you hear me? You spy on us and then send somebody to kill my dog and tell me she's been fucking my husband? I've had all I can take from you people!”

  Samuels reached out again. “Mrs. Alexander, would you please wait!”

  “You bastard!” She turned on him. Too fast for Samuels to evade, her tightly clenched fist met his left eye with a resounding whack. His head snapped back sharply, and he hurled backward, arms spread out to his sides. A solid thump accompanied his contact with the ground.

  Morgan bent over to check him. She was stunned that she’d knocked him out and quickly checked his pulse. Aside from being unconscious, he was all right, so she left him where he lay spread-eagle on the ground.

  She jumped into the Jeep and jammed it into gear. She ra
ced down the driveway with one thought on her mind. To get Ghost to her clinic.

  Less than a minute later, she turned into the driveway of her clinic. The vehicle slid wildly on the dry surface. She slowed to control the careening rear end, looked up then stamped hard on the brake, skidding to a stop amid a billowing cloud of dust.

  No more than five feet in front of her stood Joe. With his arms folded before him, he stared at her through the windshield. She blinked her eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. When she opened her eyes a fraction of a second later, he was gone.

  Morgan looked around to see Joe with Ghost in his arms, walking effortlessly toward the clinic as if the dog were weightless. Morgan followed as he carried the dog inside and placed him on the examination table.

  Neither of them spoke but set to work. An hour later, Morgan looked from the dog to Joe. “I’ve done all I can. The rest is up to him.”

  She pulled a stool over beside the table and sat. For a long time, she watched for any sign of improvement. At length, she rose and looked at the clock on the wall. It was only half past nine. She rubbed her eyes. It felt like she’d been up for a day and a half.

  She went into the front reception room where Joe stood looking out of the window. “I’m scared he won’t pull through, that I didn’t get him here in time. I should have−” She stopped and looked away.

  “Should have what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “The same nothing that left you in this condition?”

  She followed the direction of his eyes and looked down at herself. She was filthy. Her cropped–off running top was splattered and smeared, and dried mud clung to her exposed midriff. Her shorts weren't much better, soiled, and snagged. Dried streaks of dirt ran down her legs, several coagulated scratches showing through the grime while her socks and shoes were sodden and caked with heavy clumps of still–damp mud. Stray pine needles and various mud encrusted leaves stuck in her clothes. She was a complete mess.

  She gave Joe an embarrassed smile. “Yes.”

  He took her arm and steered her back into the examination room where there was a long counter with a sink. He pulled the stool over in front of the counter. “Sit.”

  Morgan sat as Joe turned on the water and soaped one of the clean cloths he plucked from the shelf above the sink. She sat quietly as Joe began to clean the filth from her exposed skin and check her for injuries. He worked carefully, methodically wiping the dirt from her face and neck and turning her head this way and that to check for bruises or strains.

  There was no damage to her arms other than a couple of pricks caused by thorns. He applied an ointment to the nicks then continued his exam, pressing deeply into her chest, back, and abdomen as he searched for possible internal injury.

  Throughout his administrations, Morgan didn’t say a word. She wasn’t looking forward to telling Joe about the red-haired woman, especially the things the woman said about Cord. She hoped he wouldn’t ask.

  At about the same time the thought ran through her mind, Joe looked up from his stooped position. “Maybe it's time you quit gnawing that sour fruit and spit it out.”

  Morgan felt a bit like a child who had misbehaved but gave in and explained everything, starting with the trip to Washington and ending with her arrival at the clinic. Joe stood and began to wash his hands.

  Once finished, he walked over and stood beside Ghost, running his hands lightly over his still form. He then turned and left.

  Morgan followed him outside. “Can I get someone to take you home?” she asked.

  “I think it's best if you take Ghost and me too.”

  "He can stay—”

  “No, it's best he goes with me. Myrtle and I will take care of him.”

  “But I can’t ask you−”

  “Yes, you can. Now, let's put him in your Jeep.”

  Together they got Ghost settled into the Jeep. Neither of them said a word during the ride. It wasn’t until Ghost was on a soft rug on the floor in front of the small fireplace in Joe and Myrtle's that Morgan spoke.

  “Thank you.” She hugged Myrtle.

  “Oh shush, girl. You know we'll take good care of your baby.”

  “I know. I love you, you know.”

  “I do know, and I love you. Now, get on with yourself.” Myrtle settled herself into a rocking chair in front of the fire, picked up her knitting and started humming as she worked.

  Morgan looked at Joe who stood nearby. He smiled, and she went to him and put her arms around him. The feel of his arms around her brought tears she fought to contain. “She had to be lying, Joe. Cord would never betray me that way.”

  He didn't comment, and she pulled back to look at him. “He wouldn’t, right?”

  “That's an answer you have to get from him.”

  She nodded and after a few moments asked. “What if he did?”

  “Then you'll do whatever's needed to make things right in your world. You're not a child who has to be led. You don't need anyone to tell you what to do, or how to feel. You're strong, accomplished, intelligent and capable. Maybe it's high time you relied on yourself.”

  “So, in other words, pull up my big girl panties and deal with it?”

  A hint of a smile played on his lips. “That's one way of putting it.”

  She nodded and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Point taken. I’ll go home and get clean and come back.”

  “No need. We'll care for him. Attend to what needs your attention and come to see him in the morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am.”

  “Okay then.” She wouldn’t have trusted anyone other than Joe and Myrtle with Ghost’s life. She knelt and gave Ghost a rub on his face, leaning over to whisper to him. “You've got to fight, big fella. I can't stand to lose you.”

  After giving Myrtle a kiss on the cheek, she left. She was not yet halfway home when the need to talk to Cord overrode all else. She pulled onto a side road, parked on the shoulder of the road and grabbed her phone.

  He answered on the third ring. “Do you have the computer set up?”

  “No. Something horrible happened.”

  “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “No, I'm not okay. Not at all.”

  “What's wrong? Are you hurt? Did you call for an ambulance?”

  “It's Ghost.”

  “Okay, spit it out.”

  Morgan took a second to gather her thoughts. “Ghost has been antsy here lately. I thought it was a bitch in heat somewhere, but after I talked to you this morning, he was really worked up. I followed him, and he was shot. I saw the shooter and chased her down.”

  “Her?”

  “Yeah, a thirty-ish woman with auburn hair. She picked a fight and said you and she were lovers and that you planned on leaving me so you could be with her.”

  “Are you kidding? That's a load of shit.”

  “That's what I said. Anyway, we got into it, and when it was over, I found her car, and there was a thumb drive in it with your name on its label. I took it and then carried Ghost home. I thought he was dead, but just as we got close to the house, I realized he was alive, so I rushed him to the clinic.

  “Joe was there. I remove the dart and stuck it in my pocket but didn't have time to test to see what it was. I gave him a broad spectrum poison medication and an IV to help flush out the poison, and I think he'll pull through. I took him to Joe and Myrtle's. They'll watch him and let me know if there's any change.”

  “Morgan, I'm sorry. I know how horrible that had to have been.”

  “Tell me about it. But the thing is, why was that woman out there with a rifle, Cord? Who or what was she planning on killing? And why did she insist that you and she had been lovers for years?”

  There was a pause and for a second Morgan thought the call had been dropped. Then Cord spoke. “I don't know. She's obviously unhinged. Did you call the sheriff?”

  “Uh, no. I was more concerned about Ghost.”
<
br />   “Okay, but you said you got into it with her. So, what exactly happened that you were in her car and didn't call the law?”

  “Well, I knocked her out if you must know and then searched her car. And I left her where she fell.”

  “And didn't call to report it.”

  “No, Cord, I didn't. Sorry, but at the time I thought my dog was dead, and my husband was fucking some pyscho redhead, so pardon me.”

  “You don't have to get mad at me. I didn't do anything.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “So, you're not having an affair?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Promise?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes with a sigh. At least that was one worry she could take off her plate. “I wish you'd come home.”

  “I will.”

  “Now?”

  “Not this minute, but soon.”

  “As soon as humanly possible?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay. I need to get home.”

  “Are you still going to the office to set up Juan's computer for me?”

  “Shit, sorry. I forgot. Yes, I will.”

  “Thanks. And keep me posted on Ghost.”

  “I will. I love you.”

  “I love you. Forever and always. Talk to you soon.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  Morgan set aside the phone and raked her hands over her face. Cord was right, she should have called the sheriff to report the woman, but she'd never considered it. This past month had brought more stress than she cared to admit, caused some big concerns and had her questioning things she'd never questioned before.

  But in the end, she and Cord had come out of it united and committed as strong as ever. She was ashamed she'd ever doubted that for a moment and vowed to never let anyone muddy her mind like that again.

  She started the Jeep and headed home. If she'd ever said her life lacked excitement, then she was sorry. She didn't need that kind of excitement.

  She had everything she'd ever wanted, right here. All she needed was for her family to all be home, and she would once again be the happiest woman in Texas. And like the saying went "everything was bigger in Texas," including happiness and love.