by Cheree Alsop
“Glad to see you’re still around,” an older deputy said, rising from his chair to shake my hand.
“I have to admit that when I held that door open, I didn’t think you’d be driving back out of it,” another deputy called from across the room. I recognized him as the one who pulled the gymnasium door open so I could ride through in an attempt to stop the Brown Hawk gang from harassing the students. I learned later that I had arrived just in time to prevent a mass teacher shooting to flush out the Black Rider.
“Me too,” I admitted to answering chuckles. “But I’m glad I didn’t have to drive through the glass to get there.”
“You fight like a coward,” Jeff spat as he was led past. “Why do you hide behind a helmet? Show us who you are.”
“Keep walking,” Deputy Nayton growled, pushing him toward the holding area.
Lem was half carried in his dazed state. He looked as though he couldn’t care less that he was in a police station as long as he could lay down somewhere. The boy was last. He didn’t look at me when he and Deputy Addison walked by.
“Can you take it easy on the kid?” I asked, following Sheriff Bowley to his office.
“Kid?” Sheriff Bowley replied, watching the trio round the corner. “You’re only, what, two years older than him?”
I shrugged. “Just the same, he looked like he was just tagging along. He had no involvement in the fight, and complied when I asked him to surrender.”
The sheriff nodded with a hint of humor. “Sure. He’s a minor anyway and probably a first offender. I’ll put in a word.”
“Thanks.”
Sheriff Bowley motioned. “Have a seat. We may be here a while.”
I sat near the desk as trepidation rose in my chest. “What’s going on, Sheriff? I know I promised I would lay low, but—”
The sheriff shook his head. “This isn’t about Craversham’s. It’s about what went on while you were there.”
I shook my head, confused. “I’m not sure I follow you.”
Sheriff Bowley sighed. “I got a phone call that the Black Rider drove through the glass at Joe’s Country Store and tore the place apart.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I replied in shock. “Who would want to set me up like that, and who would believe it? Why would I crash Joe’s store when I rescued it from the Bullets in the first place?”
“I don’t know if I would call it rescuing,” the sheriff said.
I grimaced at the thought of my first real attempt at being the Black Rider. I had quickly realized that stopping a forty-dollar robbery could cost someone hundreds of dollars in damages. I learned to be more mindful of my surroundings when I fought—hence, only the bottles and pink flamingo had become casualties at Craversham’s.
“Okay, it wasn’t a rescue, but I was trying to do the right thing, not cause damage,” I replied.
Sheriff Bowley nodded. “I know. When Joe called tonight, he didn’t know what to make of it either.”
“Is there a surveillance tape?”
The sheriff nodded again. “Davidson’s there taking a report. He’ll bring the tape back for us to look over. In the meantime, I don’t know what that sidekick of yours is up to.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t Magnum. He stopped riding as the Black Rider when he joined the football team again. He’s been too busy getting ready for college tryouts come summer.”
Sheriff Bowley’s eyebrows rose. “He’s going to college?”
“He’s going to try,” I replied. “He missed most of the games, but Coach Farston said he would put in a good word.”
“That’s great,” Sheriff Bowley replied. A true smile lifted the ends of his mustache. The Bullets had harassed the town and teachers after their leader, the sheriff’s son, Kyle, was killed when he tried to race a train. The fact that at least one of them was headed in the right direction definitely improved the sheriff’s mood. “One down, twelve to go,” he said.
I nodded. “One step at a time.”
He leaned against his desk. “Our next step is for you to lie low while we figure out who’s behind the break in at Joe’s.”
“I’m not so good at lying low,” I admitted.
He tipped his head to indicate the holding cell on the other side of the wall. “Obviously, but Mrs. Craversham will be grateful you stepped in to help. Go home and get some sleep. I’m pretty sure you have school in the morning.”
I gave a rueful grin he couldn’t see behind my helmet. “Couldn’t you write me a note or something?”
He let out a hearty laugh. “Get out of here.”
I was surprised to see Deputy Addison waiting near my motorcycle. He glanced up when I drew near. There was something almost comical about the expression on his face. He appeared embarrassed and anxious at the same time, as though he looked forward to talking to me but also dreaded it.
“Can I help you, Deputy?” I asked when he didn’t speak.
He glanced at the ground, looked up at the star-studded sky, and then back at me. “How’s life at the Ashbys’?”
“Fine,” I replied, curious. My aunt and uncle took me in after my sister, Zoey, died in a warehouse fire. My mother hadn’t been able to stand the sight of me because I reminded her of what had happened. Since then, Mom had given up our place in California for what she had hoped was the quiet country life of Sparrow. The Black Rider was a bit of a hiccup to the “quiet” part. “They’ve finished the plans for our house, and we’ll begin building it soon.”
“Glad to hear it,” Addison said. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his brown hair before putting the hat back on. “How’s your mom doing?” he asked, his attention very firmly planted on one of my not-very-interesting bike pegs.
I stared at him. “She’s good.”
“Does she like working at Sparrow Market?” He shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
“Deputy Addison, have you been stalking my mother?” I asked in a tone that was only half joking.
He held up his hands. “No, no. Not at all. I was just wondering, uh, just making sure that, uh . . .” He stumbled over his words, then rushed forward. “I was hoping she was finding Sparrow a good place to live, that’s all.”
“Are you interested in my mom?” I asked, trying to keep the incredulity out of my voice. Since my dad had walked out on us four years ago, I hadn’t ever thought of Mom dating. I tried to accept the idea, but my weary mind refused to cooperate.
Addison gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “She was very kind when I took you home after the gas station fight.”
“She was happy I was alive,” I put in.
He nodded. “Of course.” He waved a hand as though brushing aside our conversation. “Forget we even spoke.”
I watched him enter the police station before I started my motorcycle. Perhaps the bottle that hit my helmet had knocked my senses loose. I shook my head as I pulled out of the parking lot. The sooner I got home, the better.
I STASHED THE MOTORCYCLE at Jagger’s junkyard and drove the four-wheeler to the Ashbys’. Jake, their Border Collie, ran out to meet me. I patted his head and made my way to the house. The lights were off except for the back-porch light and the lamp in the living room where my cot was. I realized I had been at the police station longer than I thought.
My phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the caller ID. Warmth ran through me at the name.
“Hi, Maddy,” I said in a whisper as I pulled open the back door. I was careful not to let the screen slam shut before I stepped out of my shoes in the mud-room.
“You’re getting home late,” she said with the hint of a smile in her voice.
“How’d you know?”
She laughed. “You’re doing your loud whisper. Everyone must be asleep.”
I gave a soft laugh. “You know me too well. And you’re up late too, for that matter.”
“I’m missing our lake.”
I nodded at the thought of watching geese glide across the surface of the s
mooth water. How many hours had we spent on our little grassy knoll talking about life and watching the stars perform their dance across the midnight sky? I stifled a breath of regret at the time we had lost while she stayed at her aunt’s.
“I miss it too.”
“I asked Dad if I can come home.”
Her words brought a surprised smile to my face. “When?”
“I begged him to let me come back for the Spring Festival.”
My heart fell. “That’s still two weeks away. Any chance you can come back this weekend? There’s a dance at the school. It’s morp, girl’s choice.” I let the words linger.
Madelyn gave a little laugh. “I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. I’ll tell him Cassidy wants me to go.”
“You don’t think he’ll see through that?”
“Oh, he will,” she replied. “But he might not refuse if he knows I’m going with a group of friends.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her answer. It was great to hear her happy. After all she had been through with the loss of her mother and being attacked by her uncle, it was wonderful to know that the time at her Aunt Masey’s really was helping.
“Take care. I’ll talk to you soon,” I told her.
“I can’t wait,” she replied.
I hung up the phone feeling better for speaking to her, but as if the act of closing the cell phone left a big gap between us. I wanted to drive the four-wheeler to her house and talk to her some more. It was hard to remind myself that she wouldn’t be there, and her father wouldn’t appreciate a late-night visit of his own.
I LAY IN BED for a few minutes, but there was no way I could sleep. The fight at the store, along with the concern of somebody trying to imitate the Black Rider, made my thoughts swirl without mercy. I tossed and turned, but couldn’t find a comfortable position on the cot. I eventually gave up. The cow-skull clock on the mantel proclaimed three twenty-five. I breathed a sigh and headed back outside.
Jake met me at the door as if he had expected me to reappear. When I started to run, the dog fell in beside me at an easy jog that laughed at the hard pace I set for myself. Dirt puffed from my black sneakers in the moonlight. Each footfall was softened by the weeds and crabgrass that managed to survive despite the numerous times the dirt road was driven over every day. I had to give the plants credit for their resilience.
I jogged past the skeletal remains of the barn; it stood as a bare reminder of the fire that had nearly claimed my cousin Jaren’s life. I had almost let him die. Old fears and memories from the warehouse fire that took my sister Zoey’s life had pressed in on me until I couldn’t move, frozen to the floor of the burning barn. Somehow I got through it. My vision cleared and I could see Jaren trapped beneath a huge beam that Uncle Rick and Magnum couldn’t move. With my help, they got him free, and I ran from the burning building feeling as though I had almost let another person die because I didn’t act soon enough.
The insurance company had approved rebuilding the structure. I couldn’t wait for it to be done so I could put the thoughts of that evening behind me. No one blamed me, and Uncle Rick had even gone so far as to say that he was proud of me. Yet the same feeling persisted that had haunted my thoughts since Zoey died. I had things to make up for, and Jaren had almost been another one.
The thoughts fell away as the starry blanket of night buried me in its embrace. Alfalfa and wheat swayed in the gentle midnight breeze, plants weaving to the never-ending dance of the living. To live was to move. The cadence beat into my mind, stealing away what troubled me and replacing it with the reminder that with each step, I was alive and able to make a difference. I had vowed to live for Zoey; I made a difference as the Black Rider.
The soft fall of footsteps sounded beside me in my imagination as I longed for Madelyn’s company. I looked over, almost expecting to see Madelyn, her long brown hair bouncing back from her shoulders with each step. The moon loved her as I did. It caressed her high cheekbones and accentuated the gold that rimmed her green-and-hazel eyes. Such runs made her look like an unearthly being, kept from flying away by the simple fact that she loved the feeling of the earth beneath her shoes.
I smiled and focused on the run, racing the memory of her beside me. The echo of footsteps made me push myself even harder. Jake ran on ahead, his tongue lolling as he breathed in the scents of the night, his paw prints small impressions for me to follow.
DESPITE ONLY TWO HOURS of sleep, I was up before sunrise helping Jaren and Cassidy herd the Ashbys’ three Holstein cows to the milking bar in the corral. The cows gave us a hard time, used to the comfort of the barn during milking time instead of standing in the gray dawn haze swatting away flies with their tails as they tolerated our ministrations.
I guided Blackie—whom I had renamed Barbecue, much to everyone’s disapproval—into the last stall and moved the bar to lock the cows into place. Once she was captive, she gave up the impression of being a wild buffalo and ate complacently from the can of oats Cole poured over her hay. I moved the milking stool close to her hind leg and rubbed my hands together to ensure that they weren’t cold. Though I wasn’t as fast as Jaren or Cassidy, I had the pail full of milk before Aunt Lauren rang the metal triangle near the door to call us in for breakfast.
Uncle Rick met us at the gate and gave me an approving nod. “Looks like you’ve got it figured out.”
I fought back a smile at the way the compliment filled me with warmth. Kind words from Uncle Rick were few and far between, at least as far as they concerned the nephew who had come unwanted from California. He had gradually warmed up to my work ethic, though he had sent me away to his half brother’s to organize the junkyard because I had botched too many jobs on the farm. I was determined to show him I had what it took to be a farmer, though even I had my doubts too.
I kicked off my work shoes in the mudroom and pushed them under the bench before I pulled on the sneakers I kept for school. The worst thing was forgetting to change them, only to remember halfway through first-period English class when the smell made students snicker and check their own shoes. I definitely wasn’t the only one who spent time between classes scraping not-so-mysterious substances from the bottom of a shoe to avoid calling home for a different pair.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Mom said when I walked into the kitchen.
“Morning, Mom,” I replied. I kissed her on the cheek.
She gave a surprised smile. “What was that for?”
I grinned. “Barbecue didn’t kick me today.”
Cole laughed from where he stuck his head in the fridge. “She’s just saving up for tomorrow.”
“Get out of there,” Aunt Lauren scolded, swatting his backside with a dish towel. She set a plate of scrambled eggs on the table. The ten-year-old grabbed a fork and began digging in.
“Cole!” She scooped the plate from the table, portioning eggs onto each plate, then set the remains of the eggs he had touched back in front of him.
“I love eggs,” the boy said, shoveling more into his mouth.
Aunt Lauren shook her head, one hand resting on her growing stomach as she surveyed her hungry crew.
“We’ll have to get more chickens if the boy keeps growin’,” Uncle Rick noted. He spread butter and Aunt Lauren’s homemade jelly onto a thick slice of fresh bread.
“Oh, more chicks!” Cassidy exclaimed. “They’re so cute! Can we get some, Mom? Can we?” She bounced up and down on her seat, her braided blonde pigtails bouncing on her shoulders, making her look more like a toddler than a sixteen-year-old with her own truck.
“Maybe we can go to Bailey’s this weekend,” Aunt Lauren said, her tone uncertain. “We need new lights, though. The chicks got too cold last time.”
Uncle Rick nodded. “We’ll hang them lower this time, too. Perhaps we can see if Trent has some older pullets that are a bit hardier than the last brood.”
“Sometimes I think farmers make up words only they understand.” I realized everyone was staring at me; with it came the
realization that I had just spoken my thoughts aloud. I figured it was my cue to leave. “Thanks for breakfast, Aunt Lauren,” I said, standing up. I carried my plate to the sink and washed it quickly. I caught Mom’s smile before I left the room. The twinkle in her eyes meant I wasn’t the only one who thought it; I was just the one stupid enough to say it aloud.
SANDY AND CASSIDY WERE unusually quiet on the bus. We had almost reached town when Sandy’s phone landed on my lap. I glanced at the screen; it showed an article from the school’s newspaper, the Bulldog Bulletin. I skimmed the headlines, and my heart fell. “Black Rider Attacks Joe’s Country Store,” the words screamed. “Glass shattered, shelves destroyed, and thousands of dollars’ worth of damage completed while Joe Carrison slept at home without the knowledge that he would return to find the store the target of the Black Rider’s destruction. Security cameras recorded the entire event . . .”
I tossed the phone back and ignored Cassidy’s questioning look. I leaned my forehead against the back of the next seat. The hum of tires sounded loud in my ears. I wished Madelyn was next to me. She had been at my side so many times during other headlines. I wondered if she had seen it. I made a mental note to call her the second I got back to the Ashbys’.
A shoulder bumped mine before I reached my first-period English class. I ignored it, then was yanked roughly down a side hall.
“Don’t you know how to take a hint?” Magnum demanded in frustration.
I shrugged. “I’m not the one the students clear a path for like I’m some evil villain.”
He smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Okay,” he said. “Relax. I just need to talk to you.”
I resigned myself to being late for English and nodded. “Okay. What’s up?”
“You’ve got to get me alone with your cousin.”
“Whoa,” I said, holding up my hands. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Come on,” Magnum pleaded with desperation in his eyes. “Your uncle has flat-out refused to let her go out on a date with me.”