Where We Are

by Annie McDonald

  “I’ll get the steaks if you can make it to the chair,” Sid offered.

  “Deal.”

  Sid returned to the fireside chairs with the steaks, as well as the bottle of reposado and two wine tumblers. She set the tequila trio on the arm of her chair and gently set the steaks on the grill.

  “For the pain,” Sid said, holding a tumbler toward Mia. “I thought maybe we could…”

  “Drink?” Mia finished her sentence because Sid, for some reason, had frozen in place. The dogs turned, tearing their interest away from the steaks, their ears perked toward the step. Sid set the glass down and took her phone from her back pocket and handed it to Mia, who sat, unclear of what exactly was happening.

  “1004. That’s my phone’s passcode.” She was almost whispering.

  “I don’t understand.” Mia mimicked Sid’s tone, not understanding the sudden shift. Mia didn’t even have a passcode on her phone, so she wasn’t sure what was expected. It wasn’t until Sid pointed toward a small flickering light not quite a kilometer away near the creek that realization struck. Mia commanded the dogs to stand. They obeyed.

  “Call my dad. Please. Tell him to hurry. And if Aaron’s there, bring him, too. 1004.” Without looking, Sid moved toward the ATV.

  “Why, what are you…wait, you’re not going up there alone! Sid, don’t be—”

  The ATV engine fired up, drowning out Mia’s plea.

  Reckless.

  As Sid and the machine tore off and sped toward the light, Mia corralled the dogs and closed the trailer door behind them. She found Dad in the contacts and phoned. She tried with only minor success to keep the panic from her voice as she explained the situation.

  “Stay put,” he instructed. “Damn that daughter of mine! Aaron’s here. We’re on our way.”

  Mia scanned the hills, picking up the taillight of the quad here and there, the deep engine roar still audible, echoing off the mountains. The white light, a beam, maybe a headlight or a flashlight, was moving north.

  Then the red light fell from sight, and she heard a grinding, whining engine sound followed by sudden and eerie silence. The white light to the north turned and headed toward where the red light was last visible.

  It seemed like forever that the night was still. Mia’s current inability to drive amplified her frustration and intensified her fear.

  What the hell was she thinking? Why can’t I hear the ATV? Is she okay?

  Before she could wonder where Duncan and Aaron were, an ATV followed by a truck roared up behind Mia, who stood transfixed in the direction Sid’s taillights had last glowed. Aaron pulled up beside her on his quad, and she pointed toward the white beam, now the only light visible on the ridges. It had turned again and was moving away from where she’d last seen Sid’s ATV lights. Duncan tailed Aaron, his luxury pickup not as mountain friendly, but she could tell from the look on his face as he sped by that he was going to put the manufacturer’s performance promises to the test.

  Mia watched helplessly as the truck’s high beams teetered up and down as the vehicle made the climb for what seemed like an eternity. Then its taillights glowed brightly, and the vehicle came to a stop. Well ahead of it, Aaron’s quad lights closed distance between the red and white lights until both disappeared behind trees, casting a silhouette against the mountain backdrop. Moments later, the truck’s direction pivoted, and its headlights faced toward the camp.

  “Godspeed,” she whispered into the warm night air.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sid knew the minute she chose that particular ledge that her impulsiveness should have been curtailed and that Mia had been right to try to deter her. But knowing her decision was a bad one, knowing that riding off like a renegade fueled by the hate of whoever was on her mountain in the middle of the night didn’t stop the right front wheel of her ATV from dropping. It didn’t slow the machine enough to give her a chance to correct. And it didn’t stop the inevitable toppling of the machine off the craggy ridge with her on it.

  And then under it.

  She swung her legs aside as she fell to keep her head from striking the boulders that had tumbled from the mountain generations ago. These same boulders kept the machine from crushing her as it rolled, but the arm she used to cushion the initial fall caught a jagged edge and tore deeply just above the elbow. It felt as if she’d fallen against a branding iron, and the inescapable pain radiated up and down her arm. In the dark, Sid couldn’t see the blood, but she felt the warm thick fluid creep down her elbow and forearm beneath her tattered sleeve, and she could smell its telltale ferrous and almost acrid odor.

  Stop the bleeding.

  Once the avalanche of Sid and rock and ATV had stopped, a rush of adrenaline let her feel for the source and stem the blood. She came across something that felt like a piece of wet sponge attached to her arm. She bit back her disgust and replaced the flap of gashed skin over the open wound, then gripped it as tightly as she could. Once the searing heat of the tear dispersed, she began to disentangle herself from the debris, keeping pressure on the gash.

  She was on her feet by the time her father arrived.

  “Cassidy Lynn!” he began. “What were you thinkin—” He focused on the blood pushing between Sid’s fingers and stopped mid-sentence. “Quick. Get in the truck. Do you need help?” Without waiting, he half lifted her into the truck and tore down the mountain toward the trailer. She worried about his shoulder, but it was clearly feeling better than her throbbing arm.

  “Dad, I’m fine. Really.” She could hear the misdirected anger in her voice.

  “If you say ‘just a flesh wound,’ I’m going to…well, just don’t!”

  Sid knew the Monty Python reference was a test, and it had the effect she knew her dad was hoping for. Without excessive effort she smiled, and he smiled in response.

  As the truck approached the trailer, Mia rushed to her door and pulled it open. They shepherded Sid into the trailer and set her at the kitchen table.

  “That’s quite the first aid kit.” Duncan was staring at the impressive variety of bandages, gauze, ointments and cotton swabs on display.

  “I’m a bit accident prone myself, as you know,” Mia said.

  Sid didn’t want to look at Mia, knowing that she couldn’t bear her disapproval on top of everything else. And while her dad was a good buffer, Aaron was still out there.

  “Dad, please go check on Aaron. I’m fine.”

  He nodded, his face turning ashen as Mia extricated Sid’s hand from around the wound. The blood brightened and dripped onto the table. He excused himself and headed back up the mountain.

  This is gonna hurt.

  * * *

  “Here, hold this on it.” Mia handed Sid a large square of gauze out of the sterile envelope. “Press hard but not too hard.”

  She went to the sink and soaked a clean white towel with warm water, wrung it out, and tenderly wiped around the held gauze. She nudged Sid’s bloody hand away and took a peek. “You’ll need stitches,” she said, probing at the edges of the flap of skin that held in place over the three-inch gash.

  “It’s not that bad.”

  Mia couldn’t tell if Sid was saying so because she wanted to keep Mia or herself calm. If it was the former, she didn’t have to concern herself. Mia kept it all business, controlling her increasing impatience by acting with clinical, if not chilly, care.

  You’re not about to get out of this doghouse.

  She focussed on cleaning the area around the wound, careful not to reopen the jagged laceration. She replaced the now half-soaked gauze with a clean one and wrapped it securely in place.

  There was a long silence as Mia repacked the kit and disposed of the soiled towel and compresses. She kept her eyes on her tasks, knowing that she could easily lose her focus; she needed to keep composed until she could figure out how best to sort through the myriad of emotions that Sid’s impulsive, stupid, dangerous, yet well-intentioned actions had churned inside her. What is it they say about good inte
ntions? Eventually, she could feel Sid’s eyes trying to track hers down.

  “Are you upset? I’m sorry about ruining dinner.”

  “Yes, Sid, that’s what I’m upset about. You ruining dinner.” Exasperated, Mia sat at the table with another clean warm towel and pulled Sid’s still bloodied hand on it, sandwiching it and placing her own hand on top. “This impulsiveness of yours, honestly. You are going to get yourself hurt. Well, you already did. My mistake. So, no, I’m not upset about you ruining dinner.” Mia felt her voice tighten. She turned her attention back to Sid’s hand and unfolded the towel, using it to wipe the blood that still clung to her fingers until she felt a vibration. Mia cursed under her breath. Sid pulled her hand from the towel and reached for where the phone sat on the table.

  “Good thing you didn’t injure your phone fingers. I’m sure that call is more important than your health!” The words flew out before Mia could bite them back, and while she felt bad for the cheap shot, maybe it was the only way to get Sid to pay attention and consider the well-being of her cousin and father if not her own. They’d all been put in danger unnecessarily. Who knew what awaited them on the ridge? Desperate people with questionable motives operating in the middle of the night probably had contingency plans. An unarmed woman on an ATV, helmetless at that, not so much.

  Mia felt only partly relieved when Sid stopped mid-reach and returned her hand to the towel. Maybe she does have a lick of sense after all. An ATV pulling up beside the trailer prevented her from continuing her censure. The dogs weren’t barking, so it was someone they recognized. A minute later, a knock on the door and a friendly “Hello” heralded Aaron.

  “Come in,” Mia shouted, wiping the rest of the blood off Sid’s hand with casual efficiency.

  “You okay?” Aaron looked at Sid, grimacing at the blood starting to ooze through the dressing. “Guess not. Uncle Dunc’s gone home to make some calls. I’ll take you back on the ATV. Listen, I saw a few guys and a truck up there. Not one big enough for cattle but still pretty big.”

  “What were they doing? Did you get a plate number?”

  Mia shook her head. Sid was like a dog with a bone; one day, a bigger dog would come along.

  “Not sure, but the back of the truck had a bunch of those big blue water cubes on it. I didn’t get close enough for a plate, but that truck can’t hide for long around here once we get word out.”

  “Did you check on the herd?”

  “They’re not here for the cows,” Mia said. Sid and Aaron turned to face her. “At least, that’s not their ultimate goal.” They listened as she explained what she’d come to understand. With this final piece, the environmental assessment at the Millers’ and the company approaching the McCanns for water made sense, and Mia was ready to share her theory.

  “I think they’re here for the water. Spring water. It’s the new gold, given global warming. And my guess is you’re sitting on a source that somebody wants to tap into. Taking the cows is just a way to reduce bargaining power and get Duncan and others along the source to sell.”

  Sid was on her feet, pushing past Aaron and heading to the door, already back in fight mode. “Aaron, tomorrow we do our own assessment. I’ll make calls tonight and find someone reputable. We’ll get Dad to phone around in the morning and see if these assholes left any breadcrumbs.”

  Mia knew that Sid wasn’t about to listen to reason, so instead, she turned to Aaron. “Does her mind ever settle?”

  Sid spun, her eyes shifting ominously. “Don’t psychologize me.”

  The cold words struck Mia in the chest, stunning her. Without hesitation, she responded equally icily. “Then don’t act like a cowboy. No offense, Aaron.”

  Sid turned back to the door, cradled her arm, and stepped out of the trailer. Mia watched her march to the ATV, Aaron falling in behind.

  Mia stood in the trailer door, not inclined to wait for a response. “Get her back and make sure Isabel checks her out,” she yelled, loud over the engine. “She shouldn’t be trusted to look after herself!”

  Watch out for the bigger dog.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mia woke up early the next morning, headache free in spite of the previous night’s tumultuous events. Her ribs had finally relented, allowing her lungs to expand without spears. She hadn’t had a recurrence of the dizziness, so she took the opportunity to spend time working with Milo. He was showing tremendous skill and restraint, and Mia expected he would be prepared to work safely with cattle by the weekend. Flynn, on the other hand, was still not himself, and Mia planned to contact the vet to see if she could squeeze him in if he didn’t show any improvement by the end of the day.

  When she returned to the trailer, Flynn and Milo curled up for a snooze. Mia set about cleaning up the vestiges of the previous evening’s dinner. The steaks had burned to coal on the grill, far beyond what even the dogs would scavenge, so she dumped them in the ashes. She washed the glasses, setting the uniquely bottled reposado on the table beside the wooden box of honey. Although she had tried since waking not to think about Sid—to keep herself occupied with things that warranted her attention, things that didn’t make her crazy with worry and fear—Sid’s well-being hadn’t left her mind for a minute.

  Once the dog food was bagged and in her upright freezer, one of the custom luxuries she had insisted on as an upgrade in her trailer, Mia set about cleaning the pot, a job best done outside with a hose. But when she opened the garbage bin to scrape off what was left of the food, she saw the bloody gauze from the night before. Her heart racked with worry. And her morning plans instantly changed.

  Driving was a challenge, but her truck was an automatic, so it only took a bit of maneuvering to shift into gear with her left hand and head down to the Harris farm.

  Isabel and Duncan welcomingly intercepted her on the sunporch. “Good morning, Mia. Join us for a cup?” He was on his feet, ready to head to the kitchen, but Mia raised her hand to decline.

  “Thanks, but I actually am here to…well…I’m wondering how—”

  Isabel smiled. “She’s in her bedroom. It’s upstairs…toward the front door. Can you manage?”

  “Yes, I’m good.” Mia wanted to race upstairs but felt she should at least be gracious. “How are you two?”

  “I’m great. The physio says I can expect to have my sling off for good today.”

  Isabel slapped his arm. “You haven’t been wearing that sling for days!”

  “I know, but Aaron is so much better at mucking stalls than I am.” Duncan laughed. “Besides, I have more than a few phone calls to make about our visitors last night.”

  “You’re terrible, mi amor.” Isabel turned in her chair and looked back up at Mia. “Beth and I are headed out to the casino this afternoon if you’d like to join us.”

  Mia wavered. “Thanks, but Flynn’s not feeling great; I’d like to keep an eye on him. Can I have a rain check?”

  “Of course.” Isabel nodded toward the archway. “Just head toward the front door. You can’t miss the stairs. Her room is on the left at the top. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

  I’m not so sure of that. Mia barely noticed the majesty of the great room as she made her way toward the stairs. Her own impulsiveness of late had at least rivalled Sid’s, and in retrospect, her chiding last night was a bit hypocritical.

  Mia managed the stairs, holding the banister and moving with deliberate attention to her head and ribs. She was pleased that she made it to the top without experiencing vertigo.

  An abrupt but distant “Come in!” was the response to her knock on the door. She stepped into Sid’s bedroom and glanced around. She wasn’t aware that she had expectations of what Cassidy Harris’s room might look like, but what she saw surprised her. Clothes, including the bloody and torn shirt, draped the edges of the bureau, rail footboard, and chair if they hadn’t already fallen in a clump on the floor. The bed was empty and unmade, sheets and blankets tangled, a smear of rusty red on one of the pillows. On the night tabl
e, a closed spiral notebook, bottle of Tylenol, two glasses, a mug, and a phone competed for space.

  The sole oasis in the carnage was in the corner where a desk and office chair stood. The surface of the desk was immaculately ordered, the laptop on and pens aligned beside another spiral notebook. A small row of thick art books, held at each end by western bronze sculptures in the dynamic Remington style, lined up with precision along the wall edge of the desk. An easel stood on the floor between the desk and the French doors leading to a small deck. The canvas displayed a red canoe balanced atop a beaver dam. It was dark and atmospheric, and Mia wondered how well it might fit Sid’s mood today.

  “I’m in here, Isabel.” The voice came from the attached bath.

  Mia tiptoed through the disarray and followed the voice. She stopped in the doorway and found Sid standing in front of the mirror in a pair of unzipped jeans and a tight-fitting white tank top, attempting to rewrap her injured arm.

  “Not Isabel,” Mia said, looking with dismay at the bandage, the same one she’d applied the night before. “And not that bandage. Where can I find a clean one?” She avoided Sid’s eyes but could feel them.

  Sid pointed over her shoulder toward a tall cabinet. “Top shelf.”

  Mia flipped open the door and took a small step back. The items on each of the six shelves were meticulously organized: towels folded perfectly and arranged by color, then size; bottles placed with the tallest in the back, all facing forward; and small labels on each shelf declared the contents. Like the desk, the cabinet was in dramatic contrast to the post-tornado ambiance of the rest of Sid’s space. Mia had to stand on tiptoe to survey the highest first aid shelf but easily located a roll of gauze, a bottle of aloe vera, and a box of gauze squares, all of which she gathered and placed on the vanity.