by Ali M. Cross
When the music wound down and the last note had died on his lips and between his fingers, he closed his eyes again. Oh God. Thank you. Because he knew, deep down, that his penance was over. God loved him, had created him. Music was a gift from God, just as Sailor and Fiona were. And he’d never take any of them for granted.
FIONA FIGURED JACK WOULD HAVE TAKEN THE Emersons down through the low valley and camped last night by the stream that cut across the boundary between the “Lowlands” and the “Highlands.” That would have given them a relatively easy night out before they hit the high country and more challenging terrain—assuming Jack kept to the same routines as when she had lived and worked there. She had no idea where Gavin was taking those two guys, but Gavin usually took on the die-hard excursions, so he would have gone straight into the highlands. If she stuck to the low, she figured she should be safe from running into anyone.
The way Sailor’s ears pricked forward and her step picked up, she knew the horse hadn’t been this way before and even if she had, Fiona was positive the frisky girl hadn’t experienced the trail the way she was about to show her. They both needed to let loose a little today.
It was hard to keep Sailor to a walk while they took the shortcut through the woods, but Fiona managed. She uttered soothing words, murmuring to the horse that she’d be free soon. The woods weren’t Fiona’s thing, either. She always felt suffocated in them, like the branches were reaching out to her, grabbing for her. Like she was trapped. Sailor spooked at every little crunch of twig, every scurry of little feet as creatures moved in the underbrush or among the leaves.
“It’s okay, Sailor girl,” Fiona soothed, patting the mare’s neck. Ahead the light grew brighter and Fiona breathed a sigh of relief. A narrow meadow about as long as three football fields and as wide as one opened up between two sections of forest, almost like a landing strip in the middle of nowhere. It was perfect. There’d be no one around, no one to see them, just her and Sailor, free to fly.
“See that ahead?” As if she understood, Sailor’s ears pricked forward, her pace increased and she nodded her head. “That’s freedom, girl. We’ll run and run and no one will catch us. You ready?” She urged Sailor into a trot. Her gait was so bouncy it wasn’t the most comfortable ride. She was definitely too much horse for Nix.
As the meadow grew nearer she had a moment of regret. Sailor was Nix’s, even if Fiona didn’t think he deserved her. The MacDonalds sometimes exercised horses that were boarded at their barn, but she had no idea if Nix had such an arrangement. For all she knew, she had just stolen a very expensive horse. Guilt made her hold Sailor back for a moment, but the mare wasn’t going to be denied. As soon as she stepped one hoof into the open field, she bolted forward, her rear legs kicking up in something between a kick and a flick. Either way, it brought Fiona’s focus back and drew a gasping laugh from her lungs. Right or wrong they were here, and there’d be no denying Sailor now.
She let out the reins, grasped onto Sailor’s mane and lowered herself along her sleek, black neck. There was no need to give her any kind of encouragement; Fiona’s only job at this point was to hang on for dear life. Sailor flew into a gallop. Too soon they reached the end of the narrow meadow and it took only the slightest pressure from Fiona’s leg on Sailor’s flank to urge the horse to turn and head back the way they’d come. Round and round they went, sometimes running close to the edge of trees, sometimes barreling straight down the middle.
Fiona’s legs burned, her throat hurt from stretching forward, her fingers ached from the mane cutting into her grip, but she didn’t hold Sailor back, didn’t even try to slow her down. “We’re free, Sailor Moon!” she whispered, exultant. Then she sat up and threw her arms wide, gripping Sailor tightly with her legs. The horse wasn’t quite sure what to make of this new arrangement for a moment and she faltered, dancing a little to the left, then the right; but when she figured out that nothing new was expected of her, she ran and ran and ran.
Fiona wanted to scream and shout, but she didn’t dare. Her throat felt good these days, she hadn’t been lying to Nix about that. And she could talk in a normal voice now. But she hadn’t tried to sing or shout or scream.
But this was a moment of freedom and in a fit of abandon she opened her mouth, letting out a low, even sound. As Sailor ran, Fiona tested her voice—she tipped her face to the sky which seemed to be just within reach, and let her voice grow louder and louder. She reached the pinnacle of where she thought she should go, and held the note, something between a song and a shout, for as long as she could.
Then she threw herself back down onto Sailor’s neck, wrapping her arms around her as best she could, and let the joy of using her voice, of being free, wash over her. Sailor slowed, her head sinking low. They walked around the meadow twice before Fiona gently guided Sailor to a trail on the right of the one they’d used to come in. This one wound upward a bit, into deeper woods, before heading back down to the lodge, but Fiona wasn’t in a hurry to get back there. Maybe Nix would be there wondering why she’d stolen his horse—and Lindsay would definitely be there full of so many questions Fiona was sure to drown in them.
Relaxed and spent, she and Sailor took the longer road and started back at a slow, leisurely pace. Sailor’s gate was much smoother now that she was no longer rarin’ to go. “I think you might actually make for a nice ride one day, pretty girl,” Fiona told her. She pulled out the water bottle she’d tucked into a crevice between the saddle and saddle blanket, and unscrewed the cap. Just as she was about to take a sip, Sailor tripped over a large root in the path, jostling Fiona and causing her to drop the bottle into the leaves on the path.
Jingle bells. She wanted to just leave the thing; she was so tired she couldn’t imagine getting off Sailor and then hoisting herself back up. She was so not in shape for all this riding. But there was no way she was coming back up here to pick it up later, and her family were fanatics about leaving the wilds as pristine and, well, natural as possible. Jack or Gavin would be livid with her if they found the bottle here, and they would find it, no doubt about it.
With a sigh, she started looking around for a good place to stop. She had to find a log or something that she could use to help her get back on since she couldn’t use the stirrups.
A small, red body burst from the leaves in front of them and bolted down the trail—right between Sailor’s legs. The mare startled, then reared, pawing at the sky while she screamed with fright. The creature—a small fox—danced beneath Sailor, confused and frightened before dashing into the woods and disappearing. But Sailor was undone.
She leapt forward with so much power Fiona nearly slid back over her rump. She felt as though she literally hung in the air for a moment—the only thing keeping her on the horse was her two-handed grip on the pommel. She slammed back into the saddle as Sailor hit the ground with all four feet and began to run—race—through the trees.
So many branches slapped Fiona’s sides and face that she was positive Sailor was off the path, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to see. She’d lost the reins and they flapped out of her reach—all she could do was hold on and pray Sailor would slow down soon.
She didn’t.
She climbed higher and higher, finding new things to frighten her around every turn. Every time Fiona thought she was slowing, a twig would break or a bird would launch for a nearby branch and Sailor would burst forward again.
Fiona could feel Sailor’s breathing labor, the sweat gleaming along her neck, but still the horse ran.
They came through a little clearing and Fiona sat up, hopeful she’d see something familiar, a way to get back home, but Sailor passed through it so quickly she hadn’t been sure of anything. At least Sailor was finally slowing and this time Fiona was sure the horse had finally reached her limit. She sat up again, twisting around to view her surroundings. The trees were thinning and Fiona could see sky ahead. Her heart dropped. They were high—too high. They were almost at the Alpine line and that meant t
hey’d just about reached one of the peaks.
“Come on now, Sailor, we’ve gotta turn around now, girl.” She dug her left heel into Sailor’s side, urging her to turn, but the horse refused to listen. “Why do you have to be so stubborn? It’ll be a lot easier on you to turn around than to continue this climb upward.”
Fiona scooted forward in the saddle and stretched an arm out toward the reins which hung uselessly across Sailor’s neck just behind her ears. Sailor’s withers twitched. “It’s okay, girl,” Fiona soothed. “It’s just me.” Sailor’s head was drooping, making it a long way to stretch to reach the reins. “Just lift your head for me, Sailor Moon. You can do it. Lift that proud head of yours.”
An eagle screeched overhead and Sailor’s head jerked up. “That’s it!” Fiona cried and lunged forward, her fingers fumbling for the strip of leather.
Sailor reared, spun around, and Fiona’s one-handed grip on her mane faltered. She had to get the rein now—she had to!
When Sailor bucked, Fiona was powerless to keep her seat. She screamed as Sailor’s mane slipped through her fingers and she flailed out, falling off the side as the horse sped back down the mountain.
Fiona hit the rocky ground hard, pain jolting through her with searing intensity. A flash of agony struck her skull and Fiona blacked out.
His chores done for the afternoon, Nix thought about taking a run over to the Highlands. He looked at the stage, at the guitar he’d left propped against the stool, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick it up again. He figured now was a good time to go—he’d have to get back to the club to set up for the night, so Fiona would know he couldn’t stay long. He hoped that would help her feel more comfortable, like he didn’t expect anything from her. He just needed to clear the air with her. He couldn’t stand for any more time to go by with those angry words hanging between them.
He switched off the lights, grabbed his keys, and left the club. He needed Sailor. He wanted Fiona, but he wasn’t sure if she’d be open to seeing him just now, so Sailor would have to do. He’d take one feisty, stubborn female if he couldn’t have the other.
When he pulled up to the barracks he found the place quiet. A minivan parked in front of one of the cabins told him they had guests and the lack of dogs said Jack was out on an excursion. The sound of hollers from past the house drew his attention and he saw Gavin out in the open field herding an unwilling bunch of horses toward the corrals. He didn’t see Sailor among them. Too bad, he thought, she would have loved that. In the barracks, he found Sailor’s stall empty.
He didn’t get any clues from the tack room—a lot of tack was missing. That would explain the quiet ranch. Did someone take Sailor out for a ride? He stalked out to the staging area where he could get a better view of the property. He didn’t think he’d mind if Fiona had taken Sailor out, but he couldn’t imagine feeling good about anyone else riding her. Even so, he came to see his horse so that’s what he intended to do.
If he found both the girl and the horse together, he supposed he could deal with that.
He smiled to himself as he scanned the fields, watching for the sun and moon to go streaking past. But he saw nothing beyond Gavin and his work.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he walked back out through the main doors, pausing only a second at Fiona’s car parked near the door. At least she was around somewhere, he thought.
Lindsay came to the front door when he knocked, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Oh hey, Nix,” she said through the screen door. “I’m so glad you’re here—I want to talk to you.”
“Sure,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Come on in—do you want some tea? Coffee?”
Nix followed her back into the house. “No, thanks.”
“Have a seat.” Lindsay tossed the towel onto the kitchen table and sat on the couch with one leg curled beneath her. “I just wanted to tell you,” she started even before he’d settled into the chair, “that I talked with Fiona.”
Nix let out a long, slow breath. “And…what did she say?” He fisted his hands on his lap, barely daring to hope that Fiona had told her sister the truth.
Now it was Lindsay’s turn to take a deep breath and she wrung her hands together. Nix wondered if she regretted giving up the dish cloth. “You were right. The reason Fiona’s here—it’s totally different from what the paper said. She didn’t overwork her voice.” She said that last like she couldn’t imagine Fiona ever being so reckless that she’d damage her vocal cords.
“She was mugged—outside the Met one night on her way home. She nearly died. Can you believe it?” She paused, but Nix was speechless so she continued, “She even had to have a tracheotomy—she has a tiny scar right here.” She pointed to the hollow of her throat.
Nix’s vision went white.
“You okay?” Lindsay asked, a little closer than she’d been before. When he opened his eyes, he found her sitting on the opposite end of the couch, closer to him. He shook his head and fought to control his voice.
Even so, when he spoke it was with barely controlled fury. “You don’t get a tracheotomy from a mugging, Lindsay.”
“Well that’s what she said—”
“I know that’s what she said. Of course it’s what she said. She’s barely admitted the truth even to herself.”
“What are you talking about?”
Nix closed his eyes, unsure who he was more angry with—the cops for letting the guy responsible elude them; Fiona for refusing to admit she’d been through something really terrifying; or himself for letting her get away that morning without making sure she knew she was safe with him.
“Yes, Fiona was attacked—”
“That’s what I said—” Lindsay interrupted.
“—but it wasn’t a mugging. I talked to the detective, Maynard, handling her case. She wasn’t some random victim, Lindsay. And the guy didn’t accidentally damage her throat.
“He strangled her. Pressed against her throat so hard he broke her voice box. That’s why she had to have an emergency trach—by the time paramedics reached her, there was so much damage done, so much swelling, that Fiona couldn’t breathe. She nearly died.”
Lindsay stared at him in horror, her hands clasped over her mouth. They stared at each other for a long moment and Nix regretted his direct approach. He scooted forward, reaching out to pull Lindsay’s hands toward him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped that on you.”
“No,” Lindsay said. She straightened her back and squeezed Nix’s hands. “I needed to hear it. Everyone treats me like I can’t handle hard things—but I can.” She took a deep breath and let it out again. “I can.”
“I don’t think that’s why Fiona didn’t tell you,” Nix said.
“I know,” Lindsay said, but Nix wasn’t sure she did.
“She’s afraid to let you guys in—to let anybody in.”
“Tell me about it,” Lindsay said with a bark of laughter. “She’s been like that since she was a kid and I have no idea why. We all just want to love her and support her, but she acts like we want to imprison her or something.”
“I think she’s afraid to rely on anyone—or rather, for you to think she can’t rely on herself.”
“Really?” Her brows drew together. “I can’t imagine why. Fiona’s always been the toughest, most resilient girl I know. Look at all she did—all by herself. College, the Met—she hasn’t told me much of it, but I know it’s hard. I didn’t like that she did it all alone but…she did do it all alone. How could she possibly think we didn’t respect her or whatever?”
Nix leaned back into the armchair. “I don’t know.”
They sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the horses and dogs carrying in through the open windows.
Finally Nix asked, “Where’s Fiona? I, uh, wanted to talk to her.”
Lindsay’s face brightened. “I saw her come home—in her pajamas—this morning. Was she coming from your place?” When Nix scowled she hurried to add, �
�Oh, gosh. I mean—she was out, but maybe she just went out for…a coffee or something. I didn’t mean to imply that you guys were—you know.” Her face colored in embarrassment, spots spreading out across her neck and cheeks just like Fiona.
He shook his head to stop her protests. “It’s okay. Yeah, she came over early this morning to talk to me about something…music related.” He cringed at the terrible lie—then thought better of it since it wasn’t completely a lie. They’d talked a lot about music. “But we fought and she stormed out. I—I wanted to apologize.” He thought. Maybe. He honestly didn’t know.
“What’dja fight about?” Lindsay asked, leaning forward on her elbows.
“The attack. Me getting in her business. Stuff like that.”
“Oh,” Lindsay said, a little of the air flowing out of her. “In other words, the usual.”
Nix chuckled without humor. “Right.”
“Well,” Lindsay said, standing up and moving around the coffee table. “She went straight to the barracks when she got home. I haven’t been in here the whole time,” she waved her hand around to indicate the main part of the house, “but I haven’t seen her. Maybe she’s still out there?”
Nix shook his head. “She’s not. And neither is Sailor. Did someone take her out?”
Lindsay went a little paler at that. “No,” she drew out the word as if considering it. “Jack left Monday with an excursion, and Gavin’s out bringing in some of the horses for their shots. I can check, but I don’t think Sailor’s on the schedule for today.”
“She isn’t. She doesn’t get hers until November. Jack told me. And she wasn’t out with the other horses.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Well, Fiona must’ve taken her out then, I guess.”