by Cheree Alsop
“Not always,” I replied, my voice betraying me only slightly.
She looked up at me and smiled. “Always, even when you don’t know it.” She wiped away my tears with the backs of her fingers. Fire trailed along my skin where she touched.
I caught her hand and her smile deepened. She pushed up and gave me a kiss. I sighed against her lips. “I almost lost this,” I said quietly.
She looked at me with her bottomless hazel eyes rimmed in gold. She saw all of me, the way she did, taking in everything and accepting what she saw, loving what she saw. She made me complete when she looked at me like that.
“You’ll never lose this,” she said, her gaze holding mine.
“Thank goodness,” I replied in a whisper. “Because you are everything to me—the world, the sky, the moon.”
“Your motorcycle?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
I looked at the bike as if contemplating. “Well . . .”
She slapped my shoulder teasingly. “Kelson.”
“No ride on this machine could ever beat the touch of your hand or the way the moonlight holds you the way I want to.”
“Kelson!” she breathed in surprise.
I smiled. “You asked.” I took a calming breath. “Thank you. I think we were about to fall over.”
She took my hands. “I’m here to keep you steady.”
I stared down at her, unable to contain myself. “Yes, you are.” I covered her mouth with my own. She tipped her head up, returning my kiss.
I finally sighed. “I suppose I should get you home before your dad gets worried.”
“There’s nothing for him to worry about,” she replied. “It was a calm, quiet evening.”
I picked up the helmets with a smile. “Quiet and calm. I’ll have to remember that.”
She laughed and slid her helmet over her straight brown hair.
“DADDY, I’M HOME,” MADELYN called when we walked through the door.
“About time,” Mr. West grumbled from the kitchen. I realized he sat in the kitchen instead of the living room since Mrs. West was gone. The change made me miss her even more.
I followed Madelyn into the kitchen. Mr. West looked up and his eyes narrowed at the sight of me. “Glad you finally brought her back.”
“We watched the sunset,” I replied.
“That was over two hours ago,” Mr. West said flatly.
Madelyn slipped her hand through my arm. “It was a calm, quiet evening,” she told him. “I enjoyed the ride.”
Mr. West glanced at me. “Do I smell campfire?”
I looked down quickly. I had shoved my Black Rider uniform into my backpack and left it on the bike, but the smell of burned wood was unmistakable. “We, uh, we—”
“There was a fire at the library, and Kelson saved Ms. Tillman and the firemen. I watched the whole thing from a distance and was perfectly safe,” Madelyn blurted out.
I stared at her. She watched her dad.
Mr. West looked from her to me questioningly. I nodded. “I made sure she was far enough away. She wasn’t in any danger, I promise.”
Mr. West snorted and turned back to his Spam sandwich. I wondered if that was all he ate. His silence unsettled me.
It was time to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promised Madelyn quickly.
Mr. West glared at me. I practically ran through the living room. When I reached the motorcycle, my heart was pounding. I couldn’t fight back a grimace at the thought of the look on Mr. West’s face. He would have read about it in the news the next morning anyway. I just wished I hadn’t been there when he heard.
I FELL ONTO MY cot, grateful that I had missed dinner. Though my stomach growled, I couldn’t imagine eating with the way my insides felt twisted in knots. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the still forms of the firemen on the ground. I hoped they were all right.
I sat there for several minutes, but my thoughts were rushing too fast and I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. I sat up and reached for my cell phone so I could call the sheriff and check on the firemen. I remembered at the last minute that I had thrown it at the copycat in the fire. I sighed and made my way to the kitchen. I eased down at the table and rested my head in my hands.
The sound of tires on the dirt driveway caught my attention. I walked outside as Deputy Addison parked his truck. Jake ran up and wagged his tail. I patted his head; he sat down beside me.
“You look like crap,” the deputy said by way of greeting. “You should be sleeping.”
“I can’t,” I replied.
He gave me an understanding smile. “For some reason. You okay?”
I nodded. “A bit singed, I suppose, but other than that, I’m fine.”
He tipped his head in the direction of town. “Thanks to you, Jane Tillman, Bob Rucken, and Timmy Jakins can say the same.”
“They’re going to be okay?”
He nodded. “They’re being treated for smoke inhalation and concussions, but other than that, it looks like they’re in the clear.”
I leaned against his truck. “How about the three riders who were pulled out?”
“Minor burns—a few scrapes and cuts. The one with the Mohawk might need some burn treatments, but they’ll survive,” he replied. He glanced at me. “Do you know them?”
I nodded. “They were members of the Bullets. I fought them a few times.”
“I remember,” he said with a smile.
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “How about the one who died? Who was he?”
“A member of the Brown Hawk gang.” At my surprise, he sighed. “Apparently, whoever employed the copycats felt they needed a bit more strength.”
“He was a good fighter,” I told the deputy. A voice in the back of my mind kept saying that the man was dead. Because of me and whoever had employed them, he had died. Deputy Addison gave me my silence. I broke it a few minutes later. “It doesn’t add up.”
He glanced at me. “What do you mean?”
My right hand throbbed. I took it out of my pocket and studied the bruises and burns across my knuckles. “I mean, why go to so much effort to attack me? Burning Magnum’s house felt like a warning. That whole situation at the library was a trap. Whoever is behind it has gone to great efforts to kill me.”
“Besides the obvious,” Deputy Addison replied, “what’s bothering you?”
I rubbed my swollen knuckles. “Whoever it is knows my sister died in a fire. If they know who I am, why not just shoot me some night and end the trouble I’m causing them?”
Deputy Addison was quiet for a few minutes. When he spoke again, it was with a pondering tone. “Maybe they don’t want you dead. Maybe these fires are a way to make the Black Rider look like a danger to the town. Perhaps they’re hoping you’ll outlive your welcome.”
The thought gripped my mind in a fist. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Maybe whoever’s behind it is hoping the town will get rid of you so he or she doesn’t have to.”
“Wouldn’t that be the hard way to solve an easy problem?” I asked.
Deputy Addison glanced at me. “Unless they owe you for some reason and can’t justify putting a bullet through your heart.”
“I think I need to talk to the FBI,” I said before I could second-guess the decision.
Surprise touched the deputy’s face. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
I couldn’t deny the fact that talking to the FBI was a nerve-racking thought, but with everything that had happened, I had to do something. “Whoever sent the copycat riders is trying to get rid of me one way or another. It hasn’t worked so far, and I’m not about to sit around and wait for their next attack. Civilians are being hurt, and the drug trade in Sparrow has increased anyway.” Deputy Addison didn’t deny my suspicions. I sighed. “We need to get this taken care of before anyone else gets hurt.”
“They could arrest you for what you’ve done. They probably will,” Addison said quietly.
<
br /> I nodded. “I’m hoping to convince them to work with me instead.”
“I hope it pans out,” the deputy replied. He leaned down and petted Jake. The dog wagged his tail and leaned against Addison happily. The deputy glanced up at me. “I assume you want to do this sooner rather than later?”
I nodded. “Before they have a chance to attack again.”
“I’ll ask the sheriff to see if we can set something up for tomorrow.”
That sent my heart pounding. I ran a hand through my hair. The scent of smoke still lingered around me. “I really need to shower,” I said.
“Your mom hasn’t noticed the smell?” the deputy asked. At my glance, he grinned, showing white teeth. “You’re a bit char-grilled.”
I gave a quiet laugh just as the screen door creaked open. We both looked over to see Mom step onto the back porch.
“What are you guys doing up so late?” she asked. She finished tying her robe and walked over to us. Jake pranced around her before returning to his place at my side.
“Just shootin’ the breeze,” Deputy Addison answered.
Mom rolled her eyes. “You expect me to believe that you’re shootin’ the breeze at . . .” She glanced at her watch. “Two o’clock in the morning?” She gave the deputy a searching look. “You go to work at seven.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind losing a couple hours of sleep. I just wanted to check on your son.”
They both looked at me. I felt like a bug under a microscope.
“Kelson?” Mom said in the tone that left no doubt she was ready to fly off the handle if I kept silent any longer.
I shoved my hands back in my pockets. “The library was on fire. I got the librarian out. Everyone’s fine,” I said with my eyes on the ground at her feet.
I could feel her piercing stare as I avoided her gaze.
“Everyone’s fine?” she asked. “Usually that means everyone but you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I just asked him,” the deputy said. “That’s why I came, to follow up and make sure your son wasn’t just being tough.”
“I appreciate that,” she said with a small smile. She turned back to me. “Kelson?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I reassured her. “I just breathed in some smoke and Deputy Addison gave me oxygen. The library is a total loss.”
“Is Jane okay?” she asked.
I looked at her in surprise. “You know Ms. Tillman?”
She nodded. “She always comes to my register at the market. She’s a very nice lady and I’d hate to see her hurt.”
“She’s fine,” Deputy Addison reassured her. “Thanks to your son here. Though it’s important that she doesn’t know that.”
She nodded. “I’ve gotten used to keeping his secrets.”
As much as I enjoyed being talked about in third person, my head was pounding and I was pretty sure I had fallen asleep standing up for a few seconds. Dropping to the ground dead asleep wouldn’t help Mom’s worries any. “I’m going to catch some of that rest you were talking about,” I told Mom.
“Good idea,” the deputy agreed.
Mom pulled me close for a hug. When she stepped back, she said, “You smell like a chimney.”
“Perk of the job,” I replied. “I’ll shower tomorrow.”
“Your blankets are going to smell like a campfire,” she warned.
“I’ll live,” I called over my shoulder.
I stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cool water on my face. I glanced down the hall to ensure that no one was awake, then pulled my shirt over my head. I winced at the pain in my ribs. A few bruises showed along my chest from the fight. I turned and looked at my back in the mirror. A dark, angry bruise splayed from where the bullet had hit my vest on the low left side of my back. Bruises a shade lighter colored my shoulders and back where the bat had hit me. The Steri-Strips along the knife wound seemed to be holding fairly well despite everything.
“At least there’s that,” I said quietly. I crossed to the living room and collapsed on the cot. I fell asleep before I could even kick off my shoes.
UNCLE RICK’S VOICE JARRED me from sleep.
“I figured it was a rough night when I spotted your motorcycle in the driveway.”
Alarm filled me at the thought that someone might see it. I was about to sit up when Uncle Rick’s strong hand held me down.
“Don’t worry. I hid it behind the bales. Nobody will find it there unless they’re lookin’ for trouble.”
“There are a lot of people looking for trouble these days,” I replied.
“Tell me about it,” he answered with a meaningful nod toward my chest. “You seem to have found it.”
I stifled a sigh and nodded.
“Is that why you and Cassidy left Bailey’s early?” he asked. At my surprised look, he gave a small smile and sat back on the easy chair. “I figured it wasn’t to avoid the cops. Sheriff Bowley already knows who you are.”
“Why didn’t you stop us?” I asked.
He shrugged, studying me. “I figured you could take care of yourself. If you needed me, you would’ve asked.”
“Thanks, Uncle Rick,” I replied, touched by his trust. I bent down to grab a shirt before Mom saw me.
Uncle Rick let out breath at the sight of my back. “Maybe I should’ve been more concerned.”
I straightened back up and threw my shirt on as quickly as my ribs would let me. “Bruises heal.”
“But how you got them doesn’t,” Uncle Rick answered quietly. He gave me a searching look. “Kelson, I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
“Everyone keeps asking me that,” I replied, trying not to sound frustrated.
“Well, I’m more interested in the answer than the question,” he said. When I was silent, he let out a slow breath and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Boys are supposed to grow up feeling like the world around them is safe.” He waved a hand, indicating the farm beyond the house. “Farming isn’t the most luxurious lifestyle, but it provides stability and we’re working to support a community. Everyone is on the same team.”
“Except there are a few who don’t play by the rules,” I said.
“You’re not supposed to know that until you’re older.” He gave me a kind smile. “I just worry that you’ve been forced to grow up too fast. You’re livin’ your life protectin’ others, which is very commendable, but in the meantime, I don’t want you to lose what makes you, well, you.”
He looked uncomfortable at the explanation and shifted in his seat. “You’re a good kid, Kelson. I just don’t like seein’ you get hurt. I feel like someone should be watchin’ out for you.”
I realized what he was getting at. “I know I don’t have a dad,” I told him. The word ate at my chest, reminding me of the loss tied to it. “But I have good examples in my life. You, Jagger, Sheriff Bowley, Deputy Addison, my teachers—I respect what you do, and I’d like to hope my character is as strong as yours when I’m older.”
Uncle Rick stood as though he couldn’t sit any longer. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied me. “You’re a better man than I am, Kelson,” he said quietly. I shook my head, but he cut me off. “I’ve never known anyone who could be so selfless.” He gestured toward my chest. “You don’t complain—you don’t whine and moan. You just do what needs to be done to protect those you care about.” He took off his cowboy hat and held it in his fingers as he searched for words. “I guess I didn’t expect to learn things from my nephew when he got here from California as a lazy freeloader.”
I laughed at the assessment. “I didn’t know how to do anything out here.”
He nodded. “I realized that pretty quick when you tried to truck hay.”
The thought of the mess the hay bales made when they fell off the ton truck made me wince.
Uncle Rick guessed my thoughts. “Not that you did it wrong—it was that you wanted to learn. I’ve never seen anyone try so hard. I should have given you more time and tried
to be a bit more patient.”
I smiled at him. “Sending me to Jagger’s junkyard was the best thing you could have done.”
He squinted at his hat. “I suppose keepin’ you here learnin’ how to work would have been easier on your health.”
“And harder on your farm equipment,” I pointed out.
He laughed, one of the few full-out laughs I had ever heard from him. “Yes, that’s true.”
I stood. “I don’t have any regrets, Uncle Rick. I’m grateful you let my mom and me stay here, and I’m more grateful than I have words to say that you’re building a house for us.”
“Will you accept it as an apology for the way I treated you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I can’t accept an apology. I’ve learned far too much from you.” I held out a hand. “And I want you know I’m planning to work off the expense of the house.”
“I don’t know if the farm equipment can handle it,” he replied, shaking my hand.
I laughed. “Then I may have to work that off too.”
Mom came walking in. “Good to see you boys getting along,” she said. She picked up my dirty clothes from my duffle bag. “It’s a good thing you caught more of those copycats at the fire,” she continued. “I don’t know how much longer your clothes are going to hold up. You may have to start working for your uncle to pay for new ones.”
Uncle Rick and I exchanged a look. He laughed again.
“What did I say?” Mom asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, giving her a quick hug. “I’m going to milk Barbeque.”
“Already done,” Uncle Rick said. “Some of us get up a bit earlier on Saturdays.”
Gratitude flooded me at the thought that he had already done my milking. I didn’t know what to say.
“We’ll be breaking ground for the foundation to your house this afternoon,” he continued. “I’ve got Buck Mason and Joe West comin’ over with their backhoes.”
“Joe West? Madelyn’s dad drives a backhoe?” I asked, surprised.
Uncle Rick nodded. “Is there a problem with that?”
I shook my head. “I just know he’s a book editor from New York. I didn’t think he knew anything about farming, that’s all.”