I resisted the urge to touch the blood to determine if it was tacky, instead I followed the broken twigs and drag marks, noting the droplets along the way. The victim had likely been alive, but unconscious. Eight feet into the tree line, the broken limbs stopped and the trail vanished. My heart rate accelerated as my gaze searched the foliage for any sign of disturbance.
The assailant could’ve knocked his victim unconscious and then pulled him or her to some mode of transportation. No, there would be tire tracks from a vehicle. Maybe someone met him and helped him carry the heavy body out. Evidence of a partner had never been found, but that didn’t mean it was impossible, just improbable. The only other option sent a chill up my spine.
The attacker might have been in the process of dragging a victim from the scene when he had heard something, stashed the body and hid.
I could’ve interrupted him.
He could be moments away from bashing my head in like he had his last victim.
The thought made my mouth go dry as my nerves hummed with anxiety. I could hear my breath in my head, shaking with every inhale. The silence terrified me. Forests were alive with sound, unless there was a predator present.
I took one step back and a hand clamped over my mouth. My screams bounced back against my face as I hyperventilated into my assailant’s sticky palm. I tried to pull free, but his other arm tightened around my waist as he pinned me against him in an unyielding grip. My vision blurred and went spotty at the edges. I could smell St. Anthony, hear the crackling fire, he had me once more.
I dug my elbow into my attacker’s side and his grasp around my waist broke. Pain surged though my arm as I twisted and my elbow connected with his cheekbone. I only vaguely made out the leathered skin, the denim jacket and the smell of whiskey in the air.
“Help!” I screamed, my voice ragged and cracked from lack of oxygen.
A rough hand grabbed at me again, but I ducked and launched my foot into his chest. The sharp collision sent him staggering backward. It gave me enough time to catch my breath, enough time to see my attacker from head to toe.
His old boots were worn at the toe. Denim jeans and a matching stone washed jacket were ragged from decades of wear. Fingers bent and crooked as if they were stuck in a claw shape, cemented in that position for eternity. The skin on his face held deep wrinkles and scars on the right side as if he had been burned by a branding iron. Hungry blue eyes bore into me, as blood dripped from his nose.
“Who are you?” I demanded in a shrill voice. He didn’t respond. “Who are you?” I screamed again. I pointed back at the blood. “Did you do this? Did you hurt someone?”
There was a slight twitch at the interior of his eyes. My words struck a nerve, but why? He took a step forward, but my guard shot up and he stopped. Though I wasn’t at full strength, adrenaline has a way of making up the difference.
I backed slowly, still ready to defend myself if need be. “I’m going to get the cops. I can track you. I will find you again.”
How I wished I had my gun. I wasn’t confident with a knife. I couldn’t march him back to the ranch with a single blade. His old age didn’t fool me, he was as quick as a viper and just as deadly. He made no reaction to my threats other than his cheeks sucking in slightly when I said I would find him. Fear? Maybe. Too much of him terrified me. Too much of him reminded me of St. Anthony and that horrible night.
My feet propelled me forward, away from him, away from danger. My legs shook and buckled with every step. My vision tilted and swayed. My screams remained shredded, but I had to get help. I had to call for someone before he could escape or destroy the evidence.
Wiley Fox was the first to make it to me. Under the sign for the Rockin’ B Ranch, he took me by the shoulders and halted my fervid running. “Cass, what’s wrong? Why are you screaming?”
Over his shoulder I could see Dallas, rifle in hand and Two-Bit not far off with his own weapon. “Was it a bear?” he called.
I shook my head, but struggled to breathe. My legs buckled beneath me and I collapsed to the gravel like a rag doll. Wiley ducked down and braced me up. “Cass, what was it?” His volume dropped, “Did you see someone dangerous?”
I had no proof other than my gut, but I nodded just the same. “In the woods,” I gasped for a breath, “he was back in the woods. I saw blood,” I gasped again, “he attacked me, and I ran away.”
I heard Dallas’ gun cock behind me and suddenly felt safer. Guns, I preferred guns to knives any day of the week. The gravel crunched behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a figure on the path. Though it was dark, I recognized the shape. My breath sucked in so hard that I choked on it. “That’s him!”
Dallas leveled the gun, but didn’t shoot. The figure didn’t pause. He moved forward with the same resolve as before. Wiley Fox didn’t react. None of them did. Dallas’ rifle dropped to his side as he recognized the figure and he joined with Wiley’s laughter. My bewilderment grew as Two-Bit joined in on the joke.
“What?” I asked, wide-eyed and pleading.
“Tumbleweed? He’s no killer.” Wiley’s forehead crumpled together in confusion, and then suspicion. “You know Tumbleweed. He’s been here his whole life.”
My assailant was close enough to see the smeared blood from his nose. He was the same man who I’d encountered in the woods. I had no lie to explain my actions. “There was blood, and he grabbed me,” I tried to explain. Cassidy should have known. “He wouldn’t tell me what he was doing there.”
Two-Bit tipped his hat back on his head and explained, “Of course not, Tumbleweed is mute. He can’t talk. Everyone knows that.”
Wiley gripped my hand and pulled me to my feet, but not without watching me with new distrust. He nodded to Tumbleweed as he took a path adjacent to our own, and lowered his voice. “Geez Cass, did you break his nose?”
My head spun with questions and the accusation in his voice only aggravated me. “He grabbed me, and the blood, how do you explain the blood on everything, Wiley?”
His head dropped to the left with a gentle shake. “He was probably hunting. I bet you scared off his prey. It’s probably why he grabbed you.”
Two-Bit rolled his eyes. “It’s not like he could call out for you to shut up or anything.”
Wiley ignored him and explained further. “Tumbleweed is the caretaker here. He lives in the old cabins by the lake. He catches and kills everything he eats.” His features remained wrinkled in suspicion as he added, “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him.”
My stomach turned at the thought of his sweaty palm across my face. As the three cowboys moved away from me I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d looked true evil in the eye.
Chapter 12
I woke up late the next morning and Dixie left for breakfast without me. I tried to make up for lost time by jogging to the dining room, but my boots were heavy, and my gait was off. As I was about to pass the front of the building, a hand caught me by the arm and yanked me into the alley between the two buildings. Rough hands slammed me back against the wall. The crack of my head against the cabin rang through my skull. The cold hatred of Isabelle Billings filled my blurred vision.
As the pain dulled, I shoved her off of me with the same force she’d used. “What’s your problem?”
Her full lips parted then closed, as if she couldn’t begin to express everything she hated about me. Despite the long list, she settled on her newest issue. “Why did you attack Tim?”
My face twisted in confusion. “Who?”
Her eyes flashed again as her jaw clamped shut with tension. “Tumbleweed. You attacked him, why?”
“He grabbed me, and I defended myself.” I tried to read the emotion behind her cold eyes, but the pain in my head distracted me. For a small woman she packed some muscle. “How did you hear about that?”
“Never you mind that,” she told me. “Tumbleweed is off limits. He protects us. He’s not dangerous.”
“He’s doing a lousy job of it if yo
u ask me.”
“Leave Tumbleweed alone and get your job done.”
I felt like there was an extra, “so you can leave,” tacked on to the end, even though she hadn’t said it. As I watched her walk away I tried to imagine how Ryder had ever survived his parents. But I had to remind myself that I had found a gun and other weapons hidden in Isabelle’s room at the manor. There was more to her than met the eye, and I was determined to learn her secrets.
♦ ♦ ♦
That night, after a full day’s work, we were all expected to clean up and return to the lodge for the evening’s festivities. Dixie was actually excited. She brushed her long hair, fastened it up and changed into clothes that hadn’t seen hours in the saddle. I followed suit, but only because I played a careful game of monkey see, monkey do. I wanted to ask what I would need to do for the night, but Dixie acted as though Cassidy had done it all before, so I wasn’t granted the luxury.
Looking far better than we ever did for a work day, Dixie and I strode to the lodge together. I tried desperately to mimic her broad smile and energetic attitude despite my exhaustion. My night would be full of work, but in the midst of it I had to investigate as well. Lindy and Cassidy at the same time, again.
“Cass!” I heard Tate yell from near the bar inside the lounge. Isabelle stood nearby. She wore the mandatory smile like a bad wig. “Glad you made it!”
I almost believed him, but because of the Tumbleweed issue, I felt as though I had affixed a target to my skull.
“Of course,” I said to Tate, “I need to pull my weight, right? What can I do to help?”
“I think you would be best served taking orders tonight. It’s a great way to get to know people and hear the heartbeat of the ranch.”
I nodded to show that I understood all the words he hadn’t said.
Tate handed me a notepad and half apron. As I took orders, I tried to pick out bits and pieces of conversations, but nothing was relevant, mostly drama from back home, or a recap of the day’s ride. As Wiley Fox and Dallas set up on a small stage, I stopped and asked, “You fellas want me to grab you something?”
Wiley’s smile was as slippery as his nickname. “I think we’re okay for now, Cass, but how about you and me get a drink later tonight after we play?”
My plan was to sleep as soon as I could get it, but I smiled Cassidy’s coy smile and said, “I’ll think about it.”
He started in again, but my ear picked up a conversation directly behind me.
“…little cuts all over, they’re saying it’s an animal, but I don’t think it can be. Besides, shouldn’t Fish and Wildlife capture this thing if it’s an animal? I mean it’s the fifth death.”
I spun around in the middle of Wiley’s newest pick up line. Smiling at the man who spoke, I asked, “Are you sure it was five?”
I’d read only four reports.
The middle-aged man’s frown deepened. “Positive. I read it in the paper this morning. The woman was found about eight miles from here. Pretty creepy if you ask me.”
Feeling some sort of responsibility to the ranch, I assured him, “As long as you don’t go out at night, and you stick with a buddy, you’re fine. Wild animals are more scared of us than we are of them.”
If only I believed my own lie. Even more importantly, if only it were true. Tumbleweed had likely returned to finish the job once he had the cover of darkness. I kicked myself for not pressing the issue. Why did Isabelle stand up for him?
Soft strains of acoustic guitar filled the room, and then the robust harmonies of Wiley and Dallas blended together and lulled the conversation to a standstill. I filled drink orders, and listened in on conversations, but occasionally I stopped and listened to the sweet sound of country bluegrass.
Near the end of the set, with my tray against my hip, I let my weight sink into the wall of the lodge. The simple music lilted around me. It calmed my nerves like a balm to my soul. I closed my eyes and imagined the world they sang about, sunsets and romance, dancing under the stars, and a love that lasts forever. With my eyes closed, I could pretend that Vanessa didn’t exist, and then the song had been written for Ryder and me.
When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t the deep brown of Ryder’s gaze that found me. Instead, I was surprised to find Dallas watching me intently, the faintest hint of a shy smile tugging at his lips as he did. My instinct was to look away, embarrassed. But how would Cassidy Billings play it? She wouldn’t drop the gaze. She wasn’t afraid of relationships. She craved them, collected them like knickknacks on grandma's shelf. Cassidy wasn’t diseased, Cassidy was strong, and so in that moment, I was strong too.
Even with people moving between us, I didn’t break contact with his blue eyes. I told myself it was for Cassidy, but as his grin grew, I had to admit, it was all Lindy. It felt good to flirt as myself, even if it was nothing more than a rebound.
He broke the gaze first, turning his attention to the safety of his guitar. His shyness told me he always came second to Wiley. Every time I met his stare again, his eyes instantly dropped, and his face flushed. It was a cat and mouse game, and I had to admit I enjoyed the power of it. I’d lost some of my edge when I’d found Ryder, and it felt good to get a bit of it back.
I took over for Dixie, running errands to and from the kitchen. As I entered the main room once more, I noticed the guitars sat on stands and the stools stood empty. I passed out the couple of beers I had on my tray and headed back to the kitchen to turn in my apron. The lodge had cleared out significantly, both guest and wrangler. My early morning wakeup call weighed on my mind and my bed called my name.
“Cassidy.” I heard Dixie’s voice from across the room. “Come here a minute.”
Dixie stood with Wiley, plotting from what I could tell. Apprehensive, I walked to her side and asked, “What do you need?”
“We were talking,” she said as Dallas packed his gear behind her, “and we thought it might be nice to go out sometime, you know, the four of us.”
Wiley felt the need to clarify and said, “Me and Dixie, and you and Dallas.”
At the sound of the pairings, I saw Dallas shake his head and chuckle at his own private joke.
“Is there something funny about going out with me, Dallas?”
I’d barely spoken ten words to him all week. Though Cassidy was blunt, my question still felt bold. Dallas looked at the ground, cheeks reddening once more as his bashful nature took hold again and said, “You got it backwards, Cass. It’s not me, it’s you. Guys like me don’t get pretty girls like you.” His head motioned toward Wiley with a slight tilt. “I told him you’d never say yes.”
Dallas looked up and I could feel the question in his gaze. Unexpected heat and excitement flashed through my veins as he begged me with a single look to prove him wrong. Lindy would have faltered in her weakened state, but Cassidy thrived on it.
I closed the distance between us, but stopped before I could touch him. “How do you know,” I said, “that you aren’t the guy I’m looking for?”
From Dixie’s whisper behind me, I sensed she’d won a bet. But I was too lost in those blue eyes to hear her words.
“Well you guys figure it out. We’ve gotta get some sleep.” Dixie pulled me away and broke the tension. Dallas watched me leave, that same sheepish grin plastered across his face and only a hint of hope that I might’ve been telling the truth.
The cold night air slapped my face as we stepped out of the lodge. I instinctively crossed my arms tight around my body to keep warm. Dixie didn’t seem to feel it, arms flung open, twirling in the darkness.
“Wasn’t that a great night?” Her voice bounced off the cabins and I fought the urge to shush her. She stopped spinning and faced me, eyes bright with excitement. “He’s so into you!”
“Who?” I asked as I kept my forward momentum.
“Dallas!” she exclaimed as if it was the best news. “You can have him, and I’ll take Wiley this time and—”
“Wait,” I stopped her as we arrived at
our cabin, “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
Our door banged open and she flipped on the dim light. “Who said relationship? I’m talking fun, and both of those guys are a whole lotta fun waiting to be had.” She frowned as she stepped over my mattress on the floor. “Look, I know you’ve got this new sobriety thing you’re working on, but it’s okay to let loose too. You’re so uptight these days. Don’t you have any of your old fire left in you?”
She left me on that thought as she went to brush her teeth in the bathroom. Knowing I only had a little time before she returned, I grabbed a syringe and injected my stomach, but I couldn’t shake her words. Sure, I was supposed to be Cassidy, and she was spontaneous, but before my diagnosis I’d been carefree and wild as well. The monster that wreaked havoc on my brain took that from me and left me with anxiety and meticulous planning.
I changed and sank into my makeshift bed, while my stomach burned and ached with the acidic sting of the medication. I made sure my eyes were closed before Dixie ever returned, but I was far from asleep. When the light switched off, my eyes popped open.
There were two options available to someone who knew disability and death could find her in the night: I could either live each day with cautious precision, worried that any false step might steal sand from my hourglass, or I could realize my limited time and live each day with no regrets, no rules, and no regard for tomorrow.
As I drifted off an hour later, I hadn’t made up my mind.
Chapter 13
In the dining room the next morning, we all felt the strain of the previous late night. Except Tate, the influx of cash had brightened his mood. His booming voice reverberated through my bones and echoed in my skull like a thunderclap. I pushed my plate of pancakes forward and let my head fall into my arms on the table. Let him yell at me, I didn’t care. Every now and then it was plausible to play the rich, spoiled niece, and I planned to milk it.
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