by Cheree Alsop
“The funeral’s tomorrow,” Mom said gently.
I stared at her in surprise. “Tomorrow?”
She nodded. “Rick said Joe West wanted it over with as quickly as possible. They’re only inviting immediate family and a few friends.” She gave me a kind smile. “Of course you’re also invited.”
I nodded and pushed the bread away, my appetite gone. Mom slid it back. “You need to eat. Lauren said Jagger’s cooking isn’t the greatest.”
I hadn’t seen Jagger cook so I had nothing to base her assumption on, but some of the scents that wafted from the shack left little to the imagination. There was a reason I never asked for food when I worked at the junkyard.
I begrudgingly accepted the plate of bread. “Thanks, Mom. I probably should get some sleep.”
She nodded with a look of concern. “You have circles under your eyes. You need more rest.”
“I’ll try,” I replied.
She gave me a hug and I made my way to the living room. I fell onto the cot without changing into pajamas. It took too much effort and whatever sleep I would catch still wouldn’t be enough to combat the weariness that seemed to come from my soul instead of my body. I kicked off my shoes and rolled over, but it was a long time before I could chase the heaviness from my mind.
I missed Madelyn. I missed her smile, I missed her vanilla scent, and I missed the feeling of her hand in mine. We had been apart for a day, but it felt like a century. I wanted to comfort her and be there for her. I had barely survived losing my sister. Even now, a glimpse of the right color of blue or a laugh at school that carried a few familiar notes were enough to send me into a sinkhole of loss. I didn’t know if I had what it would take to carry Madelyn through her sorrow as well, but I needed to be strong for her.
THE FUNERAL WAS SHORT and to the point. Several ladies from the local church said kind things about Mrs. West, and the pastor was to conclude the ceremony. Madelyn sat between Masey and Mr. West, but her hand slipped back to where I sat behind her with my mom. I held Madelyn’s hand, tracing patterns on her palm in an effort to take away some of her pain. Mom rubbed my back and held a handkerchief to her eyes from time to time. Her presence comforted me more than I could express. I knew it was just as hard for her to go through another funeral so soon after Zoey’s.
When the pastor rose, he carried his heavy books to the stand and opened them, quoting a few passages without looking at the text. In the end, he concluded with, “This life is but a gateway to the beyond. How we live during our time on this earth determines our place in the heavens. Silvia West underwent hardship and suffering following the accident that stole the use of her limbs, but she maintained a steadfast attitude despite her lack of attendance in church.”
Madelyn’s hand tightened in mine. The pastor concluded his sermon, but her fingers didn’t loosen. The casket was closed and we were at the cemetery sooner than I thought possible. Madelyn sobbed as the casket was lowered into the ground. She leaned against me and turned her head against my shoulder when it was time to go. I knew what she needed; it was what I had needed when Zoey died.
I held her and let everyone pass us by. Mom whispered that she would get a ride home and slipped the keys to her car into my hand so we could stay as long as we wanted. The few family members and friends who came gave their condolences, and I accepted them for Madelyn with a grateful nod because she wasn’t in a state to hear them. Eventually, even Mr. West drove away in the van they no longer had a use for.
Rain began to fall in a gentle patter. Madelyn and I were the only two people left in the cemetery except for the two workers who waited a respectful distance away to fill the grave when we were gone.
“He said she stopped going to church,” she said, her voice broken.
“She had to,” I replied. “She was injured.”
She shook her head. “But what if that affects where she is now?” Her eyes filled with tears.
I took her face gently in my hands and waited until she met my gaze. “Madelyn, your mother is the best person I have ever known. She was an example to me of how to smile despite the most dire of circumstances. She was always kind, and never had a mean or negative thing to say about anyone or anything even when she was uncomfortable or in pain. Your mother’s place is secure and she is safe and happy, watching over you and your dad. You know it in your heart. You said so when we watched the sunrise on the motorcycle. Trust your heart and know that she is whole and happy, and so proud of her daughter.”
She nodded, the frustration gone from her gaze and replaced with tender sorrow. “I know you’re right,” she said. “But I don’t know what to do now.”
“You can talk to her,” I said softly.
Madelyn looked up at me, her hazel eyes edged in red.
“It’ll help,” I urged. “I used to talk to Zoey every day.” I swallowed back the lump that tightened in my throat at the thought of the distance between us now.
Madelyn took a step forward and surprised me by sitting at the edge of the grave. Flowers covered the top of the casket, lining the beautiful mahogany with white, red, and pink petals. Madelyn picked up one of the flowers and ran her fingers over the petals.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said quietly. Her voice choked with tears.
I wanted to tell her she had nothing to be sorry for, but knew better than to interrupt.
“I should have been there,” Madelyn continued. “But we didn’t know. I wouldn’t have left the hospital if I had known.”
Her words stabbed my heart. Her regret echoed the words I had said to Zoey. I saw myself standing by her grave in the cemetery that overlooked a quiet wash of green with the sound of the distant waves brushing past in quiet sighs. Zoey’s tombstone had a picture of a cat and a dog in one corner to symbolize her love of animals. In the other, an angel spread its wings with the rays of sunrise behind it. I traced both pictures.
They were so inadequate in their ability to give anyone who visited Zoey’s grave an idea of who she really was. I wanted to stand there and tell them everything she stood for, everything she meant to me, but there was no one to tell.
“I’m so sorry, Zoey,” I choked out, tears streaming down my face. I wiped them away, ignoring the way the burns on my hands ached with the salt. “I should have saved you. It’s my fault.”
I shook my head and forced my thoughts back to the present, blinking back tears. I knew now, thanks to Madelyn, that Zoey’s death didn’t rest on my shoulders. The guilt of the boy who cried at her tombstone was no longer mine. Our conversation in the park had allowed me to heal and forgive myself for the stupid decisions that led to that fateful night. It was an accident, and the release of that thought left me lighter.
I would do all I could to help Madelyn feel the same way. She was such an amazing person. I didn’t want to see her weighed down by guilt she didn’t deserve.
Madelyn continued, oblivious to my thoughts. “I won’t ever forget everything you did for me. I’ll try to make you proud of me. I’ll take care of Dad and make sure he’s happy. I won’t leave him in Sparrow alone.”
She set the rose gently on the casket and whispered a few final words. When she was finished, I helped her stand up. “Your mom would love the flowers,” I said. I thought back to the conversation in their living room after we finished The Last Samurai.
I squeezed Madelyn’s hand. “Do you remember what your mom said about flowers?”
She nodded and a slight smile showed on her face. “Life was like the flowers. Each one was perfect in its own way.”
“And whole in its own way,” I concluded.
“She lived a good life, didn’t she?” Madelyn asked.
I nodded. “You helped make it great.”
She rested her hand near my elbow and let me lead her to the car Mom had left for us. Before I could open her door, she gave me a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said softly.
I drove us away into the fading light of the sunset. It looked like an exact reverse of the
sunrise we had seen from the motorcycle. Golden light faded into pale yellow and rose until the deep purple mountains were all that remained. It felt like a farewell, like a heartfelt good-bye, and a reminder that we weren’t alone. Madelyn’s hand tightened in mine and her head rested on my shoulder.
I DROVE TO MADELYN’S house and walked her to the door. When she went inside, I paused in the doorway. Her words to her mother echoed in my head. “Do you want me to pick you up tonight?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head without meeting my gaze. “I need to stay home with Dad.”
I held in a breath, then let it out slowly and nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” she promised. I turned to go, but she touched my arm. “Kelson?”
I turned back reluctantly, worried she would tell me she didn’t want to see me for a while.
Instead, she gave me a small smile. “Thank you.”
I nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” I walked down the stairs, feeling as though I left my entire world behind me.
I MET MAGNUM AT the junkyard that night, but I told him I didn’t feel like riding.
“Come on, man,” he urged. “It’ll do you good.”
I shook my head. “I’m just not feeling it.”
A spark of anger showed in his eyes. “You get me to leave the Bullets without question and go tagging along after you, and now you’re wussin’ out on me?” He shoved the tinted helmet on his head. “Fine. I don’t need you. I look like the Black Rider and I fight like the Black Rider. I can be the Rider without you.”
“You don’t fight like the Black Rider,” I replied sharply. “If anything, I have to spend my time protecting your back.”
He slammed the visor down, then said through it, “I’ll save you the trouble.” He revved the engine and sped off into the night.
I sat on my motorcycle, wondering at the direction my life had taken. There was only one person I wanted to see, and she didn’t want me around. Madelyn had asked for time to be with her dad, and I knew that was important, but I needed to see her, if only for a moment. I couldn’t think without making sure she was okay. Against my better judgment, I left the junkyard and turned south toward the West residence.
I didn’t stop until I reached their property, but the sight of the van in the driveway reminded me who I could potentially run into. I was in the middle of debating whether I should turn back when the fact that Buck was barking dawned on me.
Madelyn’s dog had grown so accustomed to my presence that he no longer barked when I showed up. Masey had been there long enough for him to grow used to her, and he knew far better than to bark at Mr. West. That meant he was barking at something or someone else. I climbed slowly off the bike and glanced around, but didn’t see any vehicles.
I crossed to the road and looked along it. A small gray car was parked a ways down. It had been pulled off to the side so that it sat partially in the bushes. Something familiar about the vehicle nagged at my brain. I took a step closer, and then my heart clenched.
I tore off my helmet and threw it near my bike when I ran past. I reached the tree beneath Madelyn’s window and was halfway up when I heard the screams. I reached the top limb and threw open the window. The curtains furled out and tangled with the night breeze. I pushed past them and froze halfway into the room.
Madelyn stood with a bat in her hands. The unconscious form of her uncle Mitch sprawled at her feet. Blood ran down the side of his face that had been battered to the point that I barely recognized him. Her chest heaved and her face was white. Red marks on her arms showed where he had grabbed her.
Mr. West burst through the door.
Madelyn didn’t appear to notice either of us. She was about to bring the bat down against Mitch’s head in a blow that would probably end his life, but I caught it out of her hands. She fought me for a moment and I was amazed at how strong she was. I held the bat in one hand and pinned her arms to her sides with an arm around her waist. She punched at my chest, her fists a lot weaker than her grip on the bat had been.
“Maddy, it’s me! Maddy, it’s Kelson! You’re okay—it’s all right now!”
She stared at me for a second, then collapsed against me with a sob.
“What . . . what just happened?” Mr. West managed to ask. He could only stare at the unconscious, bleeding form of his brother.
“He’ll never touch me again,” Madelyn said in a voice that was much more controlled than I would have guessed.
Masey came into the room, then let out a shriek. “What on earth!” she said in a high-pitched voice.
I walked Madelyn to her aunt’s side. “Take her away from this room,” I said in as calm a voice as I could manage.
Masey complied without asking further questions. I turned back to Mr. West. “He needs a doctor.”
Mr. West acted as though he couldn’t move. “Madelyn almost killed him.”
I nodded. “We need to get him help, but they can’t know it was Madelyn who did this. She’s dealing with enough already.”
“Then who?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The Black Rider.” My heart hardened as I said the words, but I knew it was the only way. “We’ll tell them the Black Rider did it.”
Mr. West’s eyes turned to me for the first time. “Why would they believe that?”
I met his gaze squarely. “Because it wouldn’t be the first time I beat up your brother for assaulting Maddy.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes and he took a step back from the bloody mess that was Mitch’s unconscious form. He then came to himself and reached for the bat.
I moved it out of his grasp. “Murder won’t help your daughter,” I said softly but in a voice that left no room for argument. “We’ll tell the police what he attempted to do, but not with whom. Maddy doesn’t need to deal with reporters and statements after all she’s gone through. He will go to jail no matter what, and the Black Rider can tell the sheriff what happened to her so your brother is prosecuted.”
Mr. West nodded. I could tell that after everything he had gone through, the events of the night were too much for him. I knelt and slung his brother not-so-gently over my shoulder, then carried him out of the bedroom. He was a tall man, but adrenaline fueled my steps. I made my way down the hall, happy to see Masey had the sense to keep Madelyn out of sight.
Mr. West helped me through the door, then we set his brother in the back of the van.
“Where do we take him?” Mr. West asked, breathing hard.
I had already made up my mind. “The Horseshoe Bar. It’s where I beat him last time and chased him out of town. They won’t question his presence there.”
Mr. West nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat of the van. I jogged back to the porch to tell Masey where we were going. She met me at the entryway. “I’m taking Madelyn to my house.”
Madelyn stood pale and solitary in the middle of the living room floor. A bag sat at her feet, its contents hanging out haphazardly as if they had been thrown in at random. I crossed the floor to her and hugged her tight. The fierceness with which she held on to me told of her fear. Her arms shook and she let out a little sob.
“You did good,” I told her. “I’m so proud of you.” I blinked back tears of outrage that she had gone through such terror again. Masey’s intentions of taking her away made perfect sense. It would be best for Madelyn to put some space between herself and the house until things settled down. “Go with your aunt. You’ll be safe there. I’ll call you.”
She nodded and pressed her lips against mine. The kiss was fleeting, but tasted of her tears and heartache. “I love you,” she whispered.
I almost let go of her hand to follow Mr. West, but her words stopped me in my tracks. I stared at her, my heart pounding in my ears and my chest so tight I thought it would burst. “I love you too,” I replied.
She smiled through her tears and gave me one last kiss, then motioned for me to go. I walked ou
t the door and made my way to the motorcycle without remembering the steps that took me there. I was certain I was unfit to drive, but knew I had no choice. I followed the van with so many emotions swirling through my mind even riding on the motorcycle couldn’t take them away.
“YOU SAY HE WAS molesting a girl?” Deputy Nayton asked.
I nodded. “It wasn’t his first time. I just couldn’t control myself.”
His eyebrows lowered. “Can’t say I blame you. Where’s the girl?” The deputy jotted notes on a pad of paper. He was one of the sheriff’s closest men; he had two girls in high school and no sympathy toward anyone with intentions to hurt children. I had worked with him a couple of times after the fair shooting.
EMTs loaded Mitch West into an ambulance. The oxygen mask on his face was spotted with blood and both of his eyes were swollen shut. I wondered what he would look like if he survived the event.
“She didn’t want her name revealed. She didn’t get hurt, and I promised I would keep her identity a secret,” I replied.
Officer Nayton wrote down a few more notes, then nodded at the sheriff. Sheriff Bowley motioned for me to follow him away from the lights and police cars. I was grateful he was the only one who knew who I was beneath the Black Rider outfit.
“This isn’t good,” the sheriff said in low undertones. “This isn’t like you.”
“It was me,” I said steadily.
He gave me a doubtful look, but gave up the argument. “If his condition gets worse, I might have to hold you for attempted murder.”
His words sent a spike of fear through me, but I nodded and didn’t say anything.
“Lay low for a while,” Sheriff Bowley continued. “I don’t want to hear anything associated with your name for the next few weeks.”
“Will do. Thanks, Sheriff.” I climbed on the motorcycle and was about to drive away when he walked over to me.