Last Stand Ranch

by Jenna Night

  Startled, Olivia jolted away from the man and stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

  “What?” Elijah looked at the man. Jason Ruger was a Painted Rock native who’d lived in town for all his sixty-three years. He was no threat. “Is there something about Jason that looks familiar?” Elijah demanded. “Something about his appearance that reminds you of the shooter?”

  She didn’t answer. Jason turned to Elijah and smiled nervously.

  “Talk to me,” Elijah snapped. Who else was in her line of sight? He scanned the room, senses on full alert. Maybe she wasn’t staring at Jason. Maybe it was someone behind him who’d awakened some unconscious memory.

  He rested his hand on the handle of the pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans beneath his shirt. “Tell me what you’re looking at.”

  Olivia finally tore her gaze away from Jason. She blinked several times, and then looked around at the people now staring at her. “I’m sorry,” she said dazedly to Elijah, and then to Jason. “I don’t know what happened. I just panicked for a minute.” Her face was flushed. She looked down.

  “What scared you?” Elijah asked, moving his hand away from his gun.

  “It’s hot in here.” She brushed her forehead with the back of her wrist. “It’s nothing, really—I just didn’t realize he was there until he started talking. For a minute, it was like I was back on that sidewalk in Vegas with Ted Kurtz suddenly beside me, threatening me. It felt like it was happening all over again.”

  “Understandable,” Elijah said. “You’ve been under a lot of stress for a pretty good while.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said to Jason. “I feel like an idiot.”

  Jason tilted his head slightly. “No need to apologize. If I’d been through the things you’ve suffered through, I’d be a nervous wreck, too. The whole town will breathe easier when that criminal gets caught.” He turned to Claudia, glancing at her shopping bags. “You didn’t bake this time?”

  “Denise baked some cookies and scones,” Claudia said. “She and Raymond are here somewhere.”

  “Glad to hear it. I hope that means they’re interested in joining us at Sunday services.”

  “Maybe.” Claudia shrugged. “They told me that considering all that’s been happening, they wanted to help.” Claudia glanced at the card in her hand. “Table twenty-four?”

  “That’s outside. Follow me.”

  Elijah watched them go. His mom and dad trailed behind, still toting Claudia’s bags.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” Olivia said quietly.

  Again, Elijah found himself searching for words he didn’t have. Words that would make her stay. He never counseled women in his work with Vanquish the Darkness. Rescue them? Yes. Protect them? Definitely. Do anything that required muscle or a cool head? Absolutely. But, counsel women? Listen to their deepest feelings and respond with whatever words they needed to hear? No. Never. He’d fend off the bad guys and then hand the women off to other, more empathetic members of Vanquish the Darkness to help with all the emotional stuff.

  But he couldn’t do that with Olivia. He couldn’t let her go, send her to someone else for the reassurance she needed. Much as it challenged him, he wanted to be the one who heard how she felt. And he wanted to be the one to make it better.

  He’d done a lot of thinking over the past few days. That foggy road to his future had started to clear up and some of the things people had been saying to him for the past couple of years were finally sinking in to his hard head. Maybe it was time to tear down that wall he’d built around himself after he got out of the army.

  God wasn’t looking for him to sacrifice living a full life as penance for having survived. His fallen buddies would tell him he was an idiot if he walked away from a woman like Olivia. Maybe the answer to his fear of leaving them behind was to share his memories with more people. Maybe even his own kids, one day. Then there would be even more people to help keep those stories of valor and sacrifice alive. Keep those memories alive.

  Guilt had held him back for too long. It was no different from the guilt he saw Olivia holding on to. Guilt she needed to let go of before it dragged her down.

  “You will get through this,” he said. “I’ll help you. Just hold on for a little while longer.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, as though she was literally trying to hold herself together.

  “Come on,” Elijah said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

  “No.” She looked steadier, but she was still very pale. “I made it this far, I’m not backing out now.”

  The pride and admiration in his heart made him want to lean down and press his lips against hers, but the middle of the fall fund-raiser didn’t seem like the right time or place. He settled for reaching over and brushing his finger along the soft curve of her cheek. She reached up and rested her hand atop his. “Let’s just find a place to sit down and get something cool to drink.”

  “Good idea.” Elijah breathed a sigh of relief. She still might bolt back to Las Vegas, but at least it didn’t look as if she was leaving tonight.

  SIXTEEN

  “That went well.” Elijah pulled his truck out of the high school parking lot behind his brother and in front of his parents and Claudia. Raymond and Denise had stayed behind to help clean up.

  “It was fun,” Olivia agreed. Elijah turned to look at her with his eyebrows raised and she laughed. Okay, so maybe she’d had a moment of misplaced drama with poor Mr. Ruger, but she had gotten over it. “It was kind of overwhelming to find myself in the middle of a crowd again, but I had a good time. And you’ve got to admit I got pretty good at that ring-toss game.”

  “The one designed for three-year-olds?”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve never had the best hand-eye coordination in the world. It was a little challenging at first.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You are serious?”

  She tilted her head back against the headrest and laughed, enjoying the soothing warmth of the moment. “I really was kinda proud of myself each time I got a ring around the neck of one of those bowling pins.”

  She turned to look at Elijah. His eyes were on the road and he wore a slight smile.

  She’d wanted to sit in a corner and hide after humiliating herself with her irrational reaction to Jason. Elijah had let her quietly hide for a few minutes but not for long. And then he’d encouraged her to help out. Soon she was meeting people he’d known his whole life, laughing and relaxing and having a good time. She’d eaten too much junk food and gotten pink cotton candy stuck to her shirt and time had flown by. Before she knew it, the fair was winding down.

  “At least the weather held out for us,” Elijah said as a sudden gust of wind buffeted the truck and sent a couple of spidery-looking tumbleweeds bouncing across the highway in front of them. Dark clouds twisted in the sky overhead and large drops of rain began to splatter on the windshield.

  Up ahead, Jonathan’s brake lights flared as he slowed and made the turn into Claudia’s driveway. Halfway down the driveway, he suddenly stopped.

  Elijah steered to the right to pull up alongside him. As he did, his lights shone across the front of the house.

  “What’s that?” Olivia asked, sitting up straight. The truck lights reflected oddly on the front windows, glowing in strange angles.

  “I don’t know,” Elijah answered in a low voice. The wind from the approaching storm, increasing in fury, blew the curtains back and forth. Jonathan moved his truck, pointing his headlights toward the front door. It gaped open halfway off its hinges. The bulb in the motion-sensor light by the front door was visibly broken.

  A few seconds later, Elijah’s parents pulled into the circular drive behind them. From their vehicle’s movements, first norma
l and fluid, then slow and tentative, Olivia could guess the moment when they realized something was wrong.

  “Oh, my,” Olivia said slowly. She couldn’t have uttered an additional word if she’d wanted to. It felt as if the wind whipping around had somehow managed to steal her breath. What must it look like inside the house? What had happened? Her stomach turned to lead. This wasn’t just storm damage. It was something much more sinister.

  She reached for the handle and pushed the truck door open. Suddenly she felt Elijah’s arm like an iron rail flung across her body.

  “Wait.” He pulled her door closed. His phone rang. He answered it, turning in the direction of his parents. “I see it,” he said without preamble. He listened for a few seconds, and then glanced at Olivia. “I’ll bring her over to you. If you and Mom can get Olivia and Aunt Claudia out of here, Jonathan and I will go in and have a look around.” He disconnected.

  Olivia stared at him as she slowly realized why he didn’t want her to get out of the truck. Shock and fear turned her body numb. “You’re going in?”

  He nodded.

  Jonathan was already looking in their direction. Elijah pointed at his brother, then himself, then the house. Jonathan nodded his understanding.

  Thunder boomed overhead and harder rain began pelting the car, bouncing off the metal with a sharp pinging sound.

  “Shouldn’t we call the sheriff?” Olivia asked, terrified to think who or what might be inside the house. A bomb. An IED. Some deranged person with a shotgun pointed at the door.

  “You call it in as soon as I get you in Dad’s truck,” Elijah said. “Let’s go.”

  “No!” Fear rose up in her as she looked at the dark house through the rain, and then back at him. “Just wait for the sheriff.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” she practically wailed. “It might be a trap.”

  He looked at her with dark, hardened eyes. “You’re right. It might be a trap and we’ve already tripped it. There might be somebody in there who will start shooting if we just sit here. Or if we try to drive away.”

  “No,” she said miserably. “No. This can’t be happening.”

  “Sometimes doing nothing isn’t the safest thing,” Elijah said. “This is one of those times.”

  Joe Morales pulled up his truck behind them. “Come on,” Elijah said, and before she could register what was happening, he’d come around the truck and pulled her out into the rain. Holding her arm tight and close, shielding her body with his, he hurried her to his father’s truck where she could see Claudia, ashen faced, sitting in the backseat.

  Elijah pulled open the door and helped Olivia inside. “I’ll have Jonathan hang back on the porch while I go in,” Elijah said to his dad through the open driver’s door window. Rain was starting to run down his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. “When you see me go in the door, drive off as fast as you can. If there’s anybody in there, I’ll distract them.”

  “Be careful, son.”

  Elijah nodded once, then turned and headed for the house, taking out his gun. Jonathan got out of his truck and followed him.

  Julie had already called 911.

  Everything seemed to flash by in seconds yet take hours to unfold. Olivia watched Elijah go to the front door, crouch down, then go inside. Please protect him Lord. Please.

  Julie was talking to a 911 operator when Joe hit the gas and tore out of the driveway.

  * * *

  Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed overhead, tossing shadows around Claudia’s vandalized living room and illuminating blades of broken glass scattered across the floor. Looking for trip wires, Elijah moved slowly and avoided stepping on anything other than exposed wooden floor.

  Someone had gone through the house in a fury, tearing up everything in their path. The sofa and easy chairs had been sliced, their stuffing thrown everywhere. Lamps were overturned and broken, potted plants toppled over, pictures ripped down from the walls, thrown to the floor and stomped on until the glass cracked.

  The front room curtains, made heavy by the rainwater, continued to whip back and forth through the broken front window. They’d already swept the nearby shelves clear, knocking the little ceramic dogs and cats Claudia collected to the floor.

  Elijah continued through the dining area. The dining-table chairs were torn, their stuffing ripped out. He hesitated by the swinging door to the kitchen. He drew in a centering breath. The weight of the gun in his hand reassured him.

  Something moved on the other side of the door in the kitchen. Elijah heard a soft, rhythmic sound. Like someone walking.

  The surface of his skin tingled and his heartbeat sped up with a familiar thrum of excitement. A smile of anticipation formed on his lips. The hunt was on. Finally.

  He shoved the door open and crouched down low. A flash of lightning gave a glimpse of cabinet doors hanging open, broken plates and glasses on the floor, cereal and flour and dried pasta and some kind of shiny, syrupy substance thrown everywhere.

  He pressed his back against the wall beside the swinging door, trying to peer into the darkness. His senses focused, he tried to read the room, listening for breathing, trying to feel the presence of another human being, anticipating where his quarry might be hiding. Muscles tensed, he pressed away from the wall to peer around an open cabinet door.

  He heard the sound again, only this time he recognized it. It was only the rhythmic tapping of the screen door being blown back and forth by the gusting wind. For the next few seconds the loud boom of thunder swallowed the sound.

  If Elijah were setting a trap, this is where he’d do it. He’d wait for his prey to see the door left open in the storm, then let down his guard to walk over and close it. That would be the point when he’d take his shot.

  So he stayed crouched low, using the open cabinet doors for cover as much as possible, inching forward while trying not to rattle any of the pots and pans strewn across the floor. He reached the entrance to the small office that served as his temporary bedroom and crept inside, listening for the sounds of breathing. Trying to catch a glimpse of the smallest movement. A few books on the shelves had been flung to the floor, but nothing worse had been done here. It was a tiny room. It didn’t take long to confirm it was empty.

  What a disappointment.

  Now convinced there was no one hiding in the shadows waiting there to kill him, he went to the back door and looked out. The motion-sensor lights in the back of the house had been broken. The falling rain was turning into a torrent. He stepped out on the concrete stoop and looked around but couldn’t see signs of anyone. Any footprints that might have been left behind had already washed away.

  He stepped back into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. The light fixture on the ceiling was still intact so he flipped a switch. The light came on.

  “Elijah?” It was Jonathan’s voice.

  Elijah walked back to the living room and crossed the foyer. He held up a staying hand to his brother, who was still on the front porch. “Wait here.” He continued through to check out the rest of the first floor, still cautious but not overly optimistic that he’d find anyone. There were things pulled off the shelves in other rooms, but compared to the front of the house, the effort looked halfhearted. Maybe they’d been in a hurry to finish up and get out.

  He went back to the foyer and waved Jonathan in. Wide-eyed astonishment and outrage flashed across his brother’s face. Emotions Elijah couldn’t afford to let himself feel right now.

  “Stay here,” he said quietly to Jonathan. “And don’t touch anything,” he snapped as his brother righted an overturned end table. “Let the cops see it first.” He glanced toward the staircase. “I’m going upstairs to have a look.”

  “Maybe we should wait for the cops.”

  “I’m just going to make sure nobody’s up there. Be
right back.”

  He headed up the stairs. The first few family pictures on the wall alongside the staircase had been knocked down and Elijah stepped around them. At the same time he kept an eye out for anything that might be rigged as an explosive. In the stairwell, away from the bright lightning flashes, his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. Inching his way up, he tested each step before putting his full weight on it.

  All three bedroom doors upstairs were closed. The first room to the left was Claudia’s. He turned the handle, shoved the door open and backed away. A small warm light glowed faintly, and the next thing he knew he heard a series of thumps and the pattering of feet. Lots of feet. All three of Claudia’s dogs scampered up to him, whining joyfully and wiggling in greeting.

  “Hi, guys,” he said quietly. He glanced around the room, and then stepped inside. A night-light glowed softly from a wall socket. The center of Claudia’s bed, rumpled, showed signs of recently holding a trio of spoiled dogs. The closet door was ajar. He pushed it open and saw both of the cats curled in a clothes hamper. They were awake, but apparently too comfortable to move. The room looked otherwise untouched.

  “You’re better off in here,” Elijah said, giving each dog a pat before slowly exiting the room and softly shutting the door behind him.

  Olivia’s room and Claudia’s crafts room were likewise undisturbed. And empty.

  His phone chirped as he headed back down the stairs. A text from Bedford. He was waiting outside. Elijah and Jonathan needed to get outside now before one of the deputies accidentally shot them.

  “Come on,” he said to his brother when he got to the door. Outside, four sheriff’s department patrol cars were parked in Claudia’s driveway, in stealth mode, with the engines idling but all their lights turned off. Elijah walked out into the pelting rain and waved them in.

  Bedford and his fellow deputies made quick work of checking out the house, taking pictures and dusting for prints. Elijah was allowed inside while they worked, but Bedford sent Jonathan home.

  “You might want to move everybody back to your place for a few days,” Bedford said after Elijah finished answering his questions. “This isn’t just about tearing up a house.” He glanced around the living room. “This is a message. He’s telling you he can come in here and get Olivia anytime he wants to.”