by Rhea Regale
“Enemy in!” a soldier hollered.
Henry crawled away from the wall, from Carter. He took cover against a barrel as Carter located the point of entry. Joel shifted down the wall as another blast threatened the outpost’s protective barrier. Soldiers moved to defend the breeched wall. Henry rushed forward behind the defensive line. Carter went after him.
“Henry, back!” Carter called, his heart racing with anxiety as he watched the flood of enemies pour into the outpost. “The wall!”
“Gotta get the enemy out!” Henry yelled back. Carter cussed, tucking the butt of his semi under his arm and chasing after Henry. Damn the stubborn man for not listening to his orders. Friend or not, in combat, Carter called the shots.
Hostile civilians shot at random. More soldiers fell. The coppery scent of blood and gunpowder conquered the dry, dusty aroma of dirt and burlap. Tension and fear pulsed like a living entity throughout the compound, but a frightening calm was maintained as adrenaline fed their fight to defend their territory.
A rocket barreled toward them in a trail of smoke. Carter grabbed Henry by the back collar, shoved him to the ground, and dropped over him as the rocket hit its target. The tent in front of them exploded in a plume of fire and shrapnel. Carter hissed, his body pelted with shards of metal and wood. His flesh burned. Pain erupted, spiraling through every vein, every nerve in his body. The aftershock of injury turned into a wavelike throb that made his stomach twist. His vision shook, gray marching in from the corners.
“Henry?” he groaned, igniting a new lashing of merciless pain. He craned his neck and caught a hint of his wounds as blood soaked through the back of his shirt, the strain on his muscles shooting strong tremors of agony through him.
Blackness rushed him, consuming him as he struggled to breathe. He looked down at Henry. Lifeless eyes stared up at him.
“No,” Carter murmured. He pushed up on his hands, fighting the blackness, fighting the weakness, fighting for a final burst of adrenaline. “Henry, don’t you dare.”
Blood stretched over the dusty ground from the open wound in the side of Henry’s throat. A small shard of metal lay in the thick pooling liquid. Carter blinked, trying to keep the overwhelming urge to fall into death’s arms at bay.
“Henry, damn it man. You’re going home. Home. Jilian and your boys are waiting for you.” The words stole every ounce of energy from him, his heart ripping open as his arms gave out beneath his weight. His eyelids grew heavy and fell shut, his ear resting against the silent wall of Henry’s chest. That enveloping cape of black finally won, pulling him into its cold embrace as the firefight around him became a dull, hollow echo until at last it faded in the footsteps of his consciousness.
Chapter Two
The crackling wouldn’t stop. Each rapid stream of popping sped up the tempo of his heart. He was in darkness with no signs of light. The hair-raising beat of gunfire grew closer and closer, but he couldn’t see where it was, who was issuing the deadly fire.
He had to get out of the darkness. He had to protect his friends. Nobody’s getting killed tonight.
He jerked, white-hot pain piercing through his body.
“Carter, you’re dreaming.”
Carter snapped back his eyelids and gasped as the suffocating heat in his dream dissipated into the cold Kansas air that blew through the open passenger window. He blinked several times, staring through the clear glass windshield into the cloudless sky. Stars twinkled and for the briefest of moments, he was happy to be home.
His joy died out as the truck pulled up alongside a dark, looming structure. He shifted, straightening up in the seat, and turned to Colt. His cousin parked his pickup and cut the engine.
“You sure you don’t want to stay at my place? I tried gettin’ the electricity turned on before you arrived, but the company won’t do anythin’ without speakin’ with you,” Colt said. Carter rubbed a hand over his face. Cold sweat left a sticky film against his skin. A sour taste lingered in his mouth, and an ache punched at his chest, a potent reminder of the outpost attack, the loss of his man, and how close he came to death. “I think you might be better off stayin’ with me. At least for tonight.”
“I’ve slept in worse conditions. A house without electricity or heat is nothing,” Carter mumbled, pushing open the door. He dropped to his feet and arched his back. The wintry air was a pleasant greeting. After a year in unbearable heat, he’d never complain about the cold again.
“That’s not what I’m implyin’.”
Carter paused as he reached for his bag. He looked up at Colt and saw the concern flickering across his face. After a brief moment, Carter slung his bag over his shoulder and offered his cousin a half smile.
“I’m fine. The nightmares will go away in time. It’s normal,” Carter assured. Colt slid from behind the wheel and rounded the front of the truck. He handed over the key to Carter’s house.
“There’s more in that house than simply copin’ with the effects of war. The reason you left resides. Are you sure you’re ready to face that?”
“It’s been over five years since they died. I’ve come to terms with the accident.” Each word stabbed into Carter’s conscience as he spoke the lie to Colt. He gave his cousin a playful punch in the shoulder and headed toward the dark house. “Thanks again for picking me up. You should get some rest before flying out tomorrow. You’ve got a tough ten days ahead of you in Vegas.”
“Carter,” Colt said. The serious tone of his voice stopped him on the porch steps. He licked his lips before turning to his cousin. Colt came up on the first step and combed a hand through his dark hair. “Craig and Brody know you’re back.”
“Those two are talking again?” Carter narrowed his eyes when Colt chuckled. “You told me they got into it bad over that Caroline chick.”
“Mandy Pearson set things straight between them.”
“Scarlet’s gal? That redhead who used to get us into a shitload of trouble?” Carter shook his head and laughed. “Man.”
“She’s engaged to them.”
Carter straightened his shoulders and stepped down to Colt’s stair. Certainly he didn’t hear that right. “To them?”
Colt nodded. “Yeah. Those two brothers got themselves one woman.” He sighed, his breath leaving his lips in a plume of white vapor. “Let me at least help you get settled in. It’ll make me feel a helluva lot better if you’re insistin’ on stayin’ here.”
Carter shrugged a shoulder, still trying to digest the news of their cousins as he led Colt across the porch to the front door. The wooden planks groaned underfoot, creaking with years of neglect. The screen covering the first door folded down in a frayed mess. Spider webs glistened in the glow of Colt’s headlights. Paint had begun chipping away at the siding.
The shell of his childhood home was nothing more than a haunting shadow in the dead of night, nightmares awaiting him within.
Carter pulled open the screen door. The hinges squeaked before the top hinge broke and the door scraped against the wall.
“Guess I’ll be fixing that tomorrow,” Carter muttered, giving the door one last shove aside. The entire thing came loose and slid to the deck. Colt laid a hand on his shoulder as Carter jammed the key into the doorknob. “I’m fine, cuz. Wasn’t expecting this place to be in great shape when I got home anyhow. Pa rarely did much around here the last year of his godforsaken life. Too busy with a bottle of whiskey at his lips every waking hour.”
“We’ve tried to keep it up best we could. The interior will be much better than the exterior.”
Can only hope. Carter nudged open the front door, fingers wrapped tightly around his duffle bag. The sudden jump of his heart left him momentarily dazed, a weakness he silently cursed. Before the attack at the outpost, nothing caught him off guard. Nothing could put him on edge. It didn’t matter that the shrapnel from the explosive nearly cost him his life, he had failed to bring his closest brother-in-arms back to his wife and twin boys alive.
There was no tellin
g what would ignite the internal vat of anxiety. Maybe Colt was right. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face this battle. Standing in the dark doorway was a potent fuel that twisted his gut and left him wishing he had a gun before facing his father.
Carter snorted, wiping his free hand down his face. Perspiration beaded along his hairline. He let out a sharp breath. Pa isn’t here, Cart. He’s long dead, where the bastard belongs.
“You sure you’re good with this?” Colt asked.
“Yeah,” Carter said, clearing the thickness from his throat. He scratched his mussed hair and crossed the dense threshold into his personal hell.
He didn’t know what to expect when he walked into his house for the first time in years. Every possible scenario ran through his head over the past few months, from raging anger to stark anguish. He imagined taking a baseball bat to every piece of furniture and window while on other days he couldn’t see himself anywhere but a crumpled pile crying his damn eyes out.
Nothing. He felt nothing. Detachment, disassociation, hollow.
Colt closed the door, bringing him out of his momentary limbo. Carter dropped his bag at the foot of the stairs and dug out a lighter from his pocket. A bright beam of white light flooded the room before he had a chance to ignite the flame.
“We’ve kept flashlights around.” Colt handed him the light. Carter pointed the beam to the living room. “I had the boys pull up the old floor and replace it. We tossed the area rug.”
Carter moved into the room and swung the beam to the ceiling, then drew the light over the scantly furnished space. Heavy white sheets covered two chairs, but all other furniture had been removed.
Colt came up to his side and lowered Carter’s hand, the beam spreading over their boots. “Carter, we took care to rid this house of the physical signs. Furniture that had any stains was disposed.”
Carter nodded, still taking in the empty room. The fireplace lay cold and black, a far cry from the warmth it used to emanate. “Any wood nearby?”
“I’ll grab some from Trav’s place. You plannin’ on spending the night in here? Why not one of the rooms above?”
Carter didn’t have an answer, and simply shrugged. He should have wanted to be as far away from where he saw his mother die, yet a morbid peace seemed to sink into his soul.
“There’s nothing here.” Carter flipped the flashlight in his hand and balanced the bottom on the floor. The beam reflected across the white ceiling, lighting the room enough so he could maneuver freely. He grabbed his duffle bag from the stairs and pulled it open. The entire time, his cousin’s gaze penetrated his back, observing him closely. If any cousin could see through his steel coat, Colt was that Ryder.
Pulling out a pair of sweats, he glanced back at Colt. “I’m fine. Swear it.”
“I spoke with the manager of the ranch and asked him to bring you on as a new employee. Go down and speak with Tim tomorrow. He’ll put you to work until we can get things in order here. When I’m done with Nationals, I’m comin’ home. Me and the guys will get your property ready for business. By spring, you’ll be puttin’ new crop into the ground for summer harvest.”
“Thanks, cuz.” Carter shook off his coat. “Really, I owe you big.”
“You don’t owe me a damn thing, Carter. The past four years, you’ve risked your life for us here, and everyone in this country. This is the least I can do for you.” Colt folded his arms over his chest. “I wish you hadn’t run off to the army after the accident. We’re family, always here for each other. We could’ve helped you.”
“One day, Colt, I’ll explain the why to you. I had to leave. I don’t expect you to understand, but the path I chose is the path I needed.” A dull throb started in his chest, and he let out a ragged breath. “Like you staying in the circuit despite the suspicions that you killed that rookie. We know you didn’t, you know you didn’t, and you won’t walk away until things are right.”
“I’m gonna clear my name once and for all. I ain’t havin’ that stigma over me. Most of all that kid deserves justice.”
“And if I can help, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be wherever you are in an instant, just like you’ve always been for me.” Carter clapped his shoulder and smiled, the first genuine smile since the attack on the outpost. “It’s late. Don’t worry about the wood. Get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you how things go at the ranch.”
“You’ll be able to pull off the new kid in town for a short time, at least,” Colt said. He clapped Carter’s shoulder and headed toward the door. Carter listened to the floorboards as they creaked with each footstep. The hinges on the door protested being opened and closed. The porch echoed Colt’s fading presence. He slid his sweatshirt over his T-shirt and stripped out of the jeans. The truck engine roared to life and tires crunched over the gravel as Carter pulled on the sweatpants.
War left its mark on his body and his mind, but nothing came close to the raw wounds that still haunted him from the accident over five years ago and everyone he left behind.
* * * *
Summer Enderson chewed her bottom lip as she watched the taillights of the pickup truck fade into the distance. She did a double take of the clock on her dresser and looked back out the window. What the hell is someone doing up at Carter’s place at two in the morning? The hum of the truck’s engine and the sound of tires crunching over the unused path had roused her from sleep, but hadn’t seemed to bother Braden, who remained asleep in their bed.
She watched from the darkness of her room, waiting to see any signs of life. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, a secret hope bubbling to life in the back of her mind. So many years have been lost since she last saw Carter. No one in Ryder knew where he had gone, and if they had, they kept it close to their hearts. For a short time after his abrupt leave, rumors swirled through the unaffiliated members of the town about what had happened to the notorious Casanova.
Summer leaned against the wall beside the window as shadows played tricks in the dark of night. If Carter had returned, she wouldn’t hesitate to confront him about what had happened five years ago. She wanted to know why he left her, and his hometown of Ryder, within hours of his parents’ murders. She had caught a few of the quietest whispers suspecting Carter’s hand in their deaths for his father’s money. Absurd. She never believed for a moment Carter would harm his own family, despite the violent nature of his father. The old man was a drunkard, a brute, and a far cry from the ideal picture of a Ryder. He knew how to put on a show for the town, but behind the closed doors of their home, Summer had witnessed firsthand just how brutal and frightening the man could be.
The illuminated curtains remained closed in the huge looming shadow of the house. The silhouette of a person appeared every now and then, too distorted through the thin material to tell if it was, in fact, Carter.
“Baby?” Braden murmured. Summer turned away from the window and pulled her robe tightly around her waist. Braden rubbed his eyes and pressed up onto his elbows, squinting at her through the dimly lit room. “Everythin’ okay?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Summer assured, plastering a small smile to her mouth as she climbed onto the foot of the bed. Braden reached out for her and pulled her into his hard, hot chest. She gave him a chaste kiss and tucked her head beneath his chin, soaking in the strength of his fine-cut muscles and the solid pump of his heart. His callused fingers ran up and down her arm, his breaths fanning over her hair. “Did I wake you?”
“The empty space beside me woke me,” he said quietly. After a short pause and a kiss on the head, he murmured, “Wonderin’ about Carter?”
“Not necessarily.” Summer twisted in his arm and pushed up onto her elbows. “Besides, I have you, and I couldn’t ask for a better man in my life.”
Braden laughed. So did Summer, but curiosity and a spark of hope from what she had witnessed moments ago weighed heavily on her conscience.
Chapter Three
Why the hell did Tim think he needed help with the horses when he’d
been handling those mares for two years now? Those gals trusted him and very few other than him. Bringing in some out-of-towner was asking for a rebellion.
Brushing aside a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead, Braden Hoyt finished his coffee, refilled the mug, and waited for the last of the ranch hands to leave the employee kitchen before settling his hat on his head and taking to the cold morning. The icy wind bit his face, straight to the bone. As with every winter morning, he couldn’t wait to return home to find his sweet Summer in little more than some sexy piece of lingerie and a delicious home-cooked meal on the table. Many a night he quietly thanked God for his woman, and mocked Carter’s foolishness for having given her up.
A ripple of heat slid down his spine. He inhaled a deep, cold breath and extinguished that sour memory. The man left Ryder without any explanation. For all he knew, Carter was dead and no one knew a dime where he was.
“Quit it,” Braden quietly scolded. He hopped into his truck and drove down to the stables, a massive, cross-shaped building that housed over two dozen mares for ranch guests to trail ride. Tim beat him there, his truck pulled up to the front doors, which were left ajar.
Braden groaned. “How many times do I have to tell you to close the damn doors?”
He guided his truck alongside Tim’s and cut the engine. Tucking the collar of his wool-lined coat up around his neck, he climbed out of the warm interior, coffee in hand, and headed toward his new position as babysitter.
Braden barely reached the doors when Tim emerged. The man was in his late forties, his thick black beard marked with gray. His skin was leathery, even in the winter, from years of hard working outdoors in the summer sun. He smiled a yellow-tooth smile and held out a hand, which Braden took in a strong shake.
“Mornin’ Bray. I set the new guy up layin’ down straw in the stables. I figured I’d let you guide him ‘round until your gals get used to a new face,” Tim said.