He glanced around. There were bodies strewn all over. The dead sheriff, each of the Granger brothers except Leo. An older couple.
Surrounding them, he saw their children. They stared at him. Silently. Accusingly. One by one they fell, dead, their eyes still trained on him.
He lifted his head and cried out against the injustice of it. And this time, when he looked down at Anne, he got a shock. It was Mattie on the floor, cradled in his arms.
It was Mattie’s face, not Anne’s. Her eyes were wide open. Dark and unseeing. Horror filled him as he pulled away. When he stared at his hands, he saw the blood covering them. He jumped up to run as far and as fast as he could from the vision of death.
Chapter Eleven
Reed’s eyes shot open as he tumbled down the porch steps. He landed with his face flat in the dirt. “What the hell?” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, completely at a loss as to how he’d fallen.
A dream. A damn dream, he thought. A chill slid through his body as he recalled the horror of it. No, it had been real. Yet not. Still caught up in the horror of all that blood, he dropped his head and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Anne’s blood. Mattie’s blood. So much blood.
His eyes shot open. The images played over and over, just like in the dream. Was he still dreaming? The pain in his aching body said no. The surrealism of it all said yes. Reed feared he’d finally lost his mind. He felt helpless as he lay there, paralyzed, unable to escape whatever was happening to him.
The sudden shriek of a bird startled him. He flipped over and stared up into the wide eyes of the largest owl he’d ever seen. It sat above him, on the railing, staring down. It lifted massive wings and spread them.
Reed blinked. Now he knew he was dreaming. Owls didn’t come this close to humans. The great night bird flapped his wings and let out another shrill cry.
Reed lifted his hands to protect his face, but the bird didn’t come at him with those razor-sharp talons. Instead, it dug into the wood. Torn between the need to scoot away and to reach up to see if the bird was real, Reed did neither. He held his breath and waited. He’d never experienced anything so wildly beautiful. His dream had taken a twisted turn.
It’s no dream.
The voice seemed to whisper in his head. Reed blinked slowly. Man, he was going crazy. His nightmares had turned into his own personal hell.
Find the answer in your dream. The voice was as soft as the down on the owl’s chest.
“Oh, man.” Reed closed his eyes. “Wake up. You gotta wake up,” he muttered.
He opened his eyes cautiously. The owl was gone.
Sitting, Reed ran a hand through his tangled hair. “Some dream,” he breathed. Standing, he brushed off the front of his shirt and pants. His hands froze when he saw the single, soft, downy feather.
“Holy sh—” He broke off as he glanced up into the sky. The dawn was just streaking across the clear heavens.
No, it hadn’t been real. It couldn’t have been. He held the tiny feather between his thumb and forefinger. At the bottom of the steps where he’d landed, Reed examined the rail. It wasn’t light enough to see, but he felt the deep grooves in the wood. He pulled his hand away. Fresh slivers clung to the pads of his fingers.
Backing away, Reed stumbled. From inside his mind, he heard the softly spoken command again. Find the answer in your dream.
“What answer? What is the question?” Reed stared at the brownish feather, noticed the faint ripples of darker color. He’d been dreaming. He glanced once more at the sky. He’d fallen asleep. His gaze traveled back up the steps to the swing. Slowly, he returned to it and sat.
His dream. No, not a dream. A nightmare, and the mother of all nightmares. Reed hunched over, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed as he sought answers to what was happening to him. He really didn’t want to learn he’d lost his mind, so he tried to remember each sickening detail.
The part with Anne—that was the same as before. And him holding her, her blood washing over him. Same with each innocent person who’d died: the sheriff, the couple.
The Granger brothers were part of it too. Though he killed them out of revenge, and had the law behind him, each of their deaths added to the pool of blood collecting in his dreams.
“God,” he moaned. The worst thing was, this time, his nightmare had included Mattie and her siblings.
“No!” He couldn’t handle more deaths. Not innocents. He’d give his own life rather than live with any more guilt. He felt the air shift around him, heard the soft swish of wings.
He didn’t look up. He knew the owl was back. “How much more do I have to bear?” he asked wearily. “How many more will die?” Everyone, his gut said. His dreams were of death. His heart and soul were coated with it. And if the dreams were right, he’d have more death heaped on his shoulders. How could he tell Mattie that she’d been right, that her family was dead?
It is within you to stop it.
This time, Reed glanced up. The owl was there. And so was his answer. Previously all his nightmares were of deaths that had already happened. He glanced back at the house. Mattie had been in his arms. But she wasn’t dead. She was in there, alive.
And that meant that her family had to still be alive. He had time to stop more tragedy. Jumping to his feet, he ran to the door. It was still locked.
Leaping down the steps, he ran around to Mattie’s bedroom window. He’d taken out all the glass and nailed a piece of canvas over it. He ripped that off and climbed inside.
“Mattie,” he called. She wasn’t asleep in the bed. He entered the rest of the cabin and stopped. It was cold, dark and gloomy. His gaze pierced the shadows. “Mattie!” He raised his voice and called again.
Hearing a soft moan, he spotted the loft. Climbing quickly, he entered the small area and located her on the bed.
“Mattie, wake up. We have to go.” Reed reached out to shake her gently. She rolled toward him. He sucked in his breath. Her eyes were wide. Blank. Empty.
“Did you hear me, Mattie? I believe you. You were right. We need to go. Now!” Desperation made his voice sharp.
Mattie closed her eyes. “Too late. We’re too late.”
* * *
Mattie had heard Reed shouting, calling, begging for her to come back to him, but she was so tired. So alone.
“Mattie, it’s not too late.”
It was. “The river turned red,” she whispered.
“What river?” Reed shook her.
Mattie turned away from him. “Leave me,” she begged. All she wanted was to sleep. To escape. To hide—from him, herself and her own failures.
The bed dipped as Reed sat on the edge of the straw mattress. She felt his arms go around her, and felt him lift her into his arms. Gentle fingers stroked the hair from her face.
“Look at me, Mattie.” Strong hands cupped the side of her face.
Mattie did as ordered. But… “I cannot,” she whispered. Still, she opened her eyes and stared at where she knew his face to be.
The blaze of blue she saw struck her so hard it almost hurt. But she clung to it, used it to wash the red away. Slowly, the warmth of Reed’s body seeped in and chased the cold from her bones.
“Listen to me. I had a dream—”
“You do not believe,” she whispered, fighting to hold her own dreams at bay.
“I do. Hold out your hand.”
Weary, wishing he’d just leave her alone, Mattie held out her hand. “You do not have to do this. I accept that you cannot believe.” That he didn’t trust her. A soft moan escaped his lips. How could she expect him to trust her when she no longer trusted herself?
Reed took two of her fingers in his own and pinched them together. “Feel this.” He guided her hand with his.
Mattie felt something soft brush again
st her check. “Reed—”
“Mattie, it’s the feather of an owl. I saw an owl.”
Mattie went still. She’d heard the cry of the owl earlier. It had drawn her from the grip of another nightmare, herself. “You found it outside?”
Reed leaned down and brushed his lips against the top of her head. “No. The owl came to me. He was so close. So beautiful. And he spoke to me.” Slowly, hesitantly, Reed told her about his dream, about the owl. Then he waited.
Mattie felt tears slipping down her face. Her fingers gripped the tiny feather he’d given her. “Then it is too late.” She wanted to be angry with Reed and blame him, but she couldn’t. He now believed her, but it was too late.
“No. You don’t understand. I’ve only dreamed of those who’ve already died. Not those who haven’t.”
Reed’s breath fanned her face. She sank deeper into him. She was cold. So cold. “You said you saw them—me—dead.”
“Mattie, you’re not dead. I’m holding you, talking to you. But in my dream, you had replaced Anne.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Anne was my wife. She was killed in a bank robbery.” He told her about his recurring nightmare with Anne, and about each person who’d died.
“There’s something you have to know. I came here with that posse a year ago. We followed them into Yankton, then out here. Tyler’s brother died when we cornered one of the robbers.” He paused, explained his part in it, then finished. “Two more people died. They were found on their land by their children.”
Mattie’s heart stopped. “My parents,” she said.
“Yeah. I believe that they came upon one of the robbers, maybe even the leader, and were killed. It also means they died because of me. I see them in my dreams as well. Their blood is mingled with Anne’s.”
He took a deep breath. “You have every right to hate me, Mattie. I wish I could go back and change things.”
Mattie reached up and put her fingers over his mouth. “No. This is not your fault. I saw their deaths months before it happened. I could not have stopped it. Nor could my mother.” She explained about their shared gift. “When the spirits call us home, there is nothing we can do.”
“I can’t accept that,” Reed began.
“Reed, you’ve paid.” She ran the pads of her fingers over his eyes. She still held his feather between two fingers.
Resting his forehead against hers, Reed shook his head. “No. Not yet. Maybe not ever. My children will never know the love of their mother. Lizzie was just a baby. Like Caitie was. Neither one will remember their mothers.”
“Not true, Reed. Caitie will know of our mother through my memories. And Renny’s and Matt’s. We keep our parents alive in our hearts. And we share our love with Caitie. All of us.”
“It’s not the same.”
Mattie traced Reed’s frown, sighing. “No. But it’s something. And it’s all she’ll have.”
“Because I was foolish.”
Sitting up, Mattie absently skimmed her fingers over Reed’s face, reading his emotions at the same time as trying to heal his broken soul. “Should I blame myself for not being able to stop their murders?”
Reed closed his eyes and copied her movements. “Do you?”
“I did. Do, yes. But in my heart I now know there was nothing I could have done.” She smiled sadly as she remembered the torture the gift had brought to her own mother, who’d hated the helpless feeling that was often a part of it. A gift and a curse. And who was Mattie to decide what should have been or should be?
For the first time since losing her parents and her sight, Mattie understood what she’d not known before. Her responsibilities lay only within her abilities.
By accepting the visions, the messages from the spirits, she’d proved she was willing to use her gift for good whenever possible. But when she expected to control the outcome of those visions, she was expecting too much. She could only do what she could do. She could only provide the information with which she’d been entrusted.
Mattie slid her hand down Reed’s arm until she found his hand. “Keep this. It is your talisman. Owl is one of your spirit guides, as he is for me. He guides us in the dreamworld. He conveys its messages to us.”
Reed took the feather. “And…what is he saying?”
Standing, Mattie drew him up. She reached out and took Reed’s hand in hers. She placed his palm against her face, placed hers against his. “We must deal with our pasts before we can live in the future.”
Reed led Mattie down the steps to the waiting horses. The mare stepped forward and nuzzled her mistress. Mattie stroked the horse’s gleaming coat.
“What if we are too late?” she finally allowed herself to ask.
Checking her saddle one last time, Reed walked around the front of the horse and tipped Mattie’s chin up. “We won’t be.”
Mattie turned and stared blindly around. Doubts crashed through her. “Wait. I can’t do this.” Fear of failing, of losing all that she held dear, made the churning in her stomach worse. She’d just been talking bravely, but could she believe in herself like she’d been encouraging Reed?
Strong fingers closed over her shoulders and gently massaged the tension from them. “You can. We can.” Reed slid one arm down over her shoulder to embrace her, and pulled her against him.
“You have to be my eyes,” she said, reaching up to grip his forearm. His hand tightened over her shoulder. His other hand crossed over her. She was cocooned in his warmth, safe with the protection of his hard, strong body against her.
She drew courage from him. He was strength, inside and out. Many a man would have crumbled under the load Reed carried. She sighed and let her head drop to his shoulder. Even he thought himself lost, damned forever. But Mattie knew better.
No, she saw the steely core of the man deep inside. He’d not lost himself to the horror of the past, nor was he only a man driven by the demands of the present. Inside, hope for a future still flickered. His soul was not lost to the darkness, he had only to open his eyes to see what she saw: the promise of tomorrow.
Each day was a promise of a new day—and a new night. The sky went from black to blue. Some days were gray, but beauty always shone through in even the darkest of storms. Even at the darkest of the night, there was beauty and promise in the stars.
Mattie drew upon that knowledge, and she dug deep inside her for the woman she knew herself to be. Finding that core of courage, she called it forth, pulled what she needed from Reed, combined their strengths and the driving need they each hoarded—redemption from Reed, independence from herself. Squeezing his arms, she gave the same back to him.
“You have to see what I cannot.”
“That doesn’t sound so hard,” Reed murmured.
Smiling, Mattie laughed. “That sounds a bit arrogant,” she murmured.
“Nope. Truthful.” He slid his hands down her sides to her waist, and lifted her into her saddle.
Mattie heard the jingle of reins and the creak of leather as he mounted his own horse. Instead of allowing him to lead her, Mattie directed his attention to her broken window. “What do you see?”
Reed sighed. “Broken glass would be too obvious, I suppose.”
“I see broken dreams. Yours and mine. I see danger in the sharp shards if they slice through flesh.” She held up her hand when he snorted.
“I also see the beauty that comes from having a clean, shiny window, gleaming as the sun bounces off it. The protection the glass offers in keeping the cold and wet away. Look up, now.”
“Mattie, don’t you think we should get going?”
“Some lessons are important. If you cannot see, you are of no use to me. What is up there?”
Reed’s horse shifted restlessly. “There’s a bird nest just under the roof,” he said. He moved clo
ser. “With babies in it. Two—no, four,” he added as he watched one of the parent birds land on the edge. Immediately four wide beaks shot up to grab the proffered worm.
“Sparrows,” Mattie said. “I hear their song in the morning, the call of the babies. The circle of life. A sparrow shows us how to survive. It will nest anywhere—even in a busy city like St. Louis; it will find a place to continue the circle of life. It teaches us self-worth, to keep going and triumph in spite of all that is wrong in our lives. It offers dignity.
“What now do you see?”
Reed contemplated the birds and window. Her assessments using something as inert as a window or as small as a sparrow spooked him a bit. Yet it made so much sense. Instead of seeing the obvious, he now experienced something deeper. Staring into the window he supposed that the broken glass could also signify an invitation to enter, and in the birds, he suddenly saw a complete family.
Stunned, shaken, Reed wasn’t sure he liked this new sight. What good did it do to see things that were out of his reach? For both things were. Sharing an intimate life with Mattie or creating a family with her was not what he was here for. He nudged his horse into a canter. “I see time being wasted. Let’s go.”
* * *
Renny rode beside Matthew along the James River. “We’re going to have to stop soon,” she said. Behind her, Caitie was growing tired and cranky. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt. She’d opted to wear trousers for the journey, finding them much more practical when riding.
Matthew glanced behind them. “Kealan too,” he muttered.
Renny, upon noticing how far behind Kealan was, whirled her horse around and rode back to him. He was off his mount, kneeling down beside the water. “Kea, what are you doing? I know you’re tired. We’ll rest when we get to that grove of trees up ahead.”
Kealan looked insulted. “I’m not tired. I’m just learning the way so I can go see Uncle Wolf and Aunt Jessie all by myself someday.” He pointed to a bent tree across the river. “See, that tree looks like an old man.”
“Kealan, we don’t have time for you to dawdle.” She tried to keep frustration from her tone. She’d actually hoped to have left the James River several hours ago. From there, they’d follow a smaller branch of the James that led to the west, across the plains to another river that snaked east from the Missouri.
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