by Christa Wick
The outfit I wear is casual, meant for the field surveillance we are doing. Jeans, running shoes, a long-sleeved, but lightweight, cotton top. I drop the jeans and angle my right leg until the toe of my sneaker presses straight down at the carpet and the whole of my thick calf is facing up at me.
Holding the needle to the flame, I watch as the metal begins to glow.
So much time has passed since I have done this. The last time was the day before Adler and Sage's wedding when Emerson told me I would be his plus one at the ceremony and reception, my presence intended solely as a cushion between his private life and any dire calls from the Billings office.
Certain the event would be painful and beyond awkward, I didn't want to go. I put on my plainest suit, the beige one that made my skin look like pale mud and muted the red of my hair. I went with a bare face and tried to hide at the back.
Sutton noticed me anyway, noticed me despite the beautiful and vibrant women who filled the hall. From that day until now, I haven't touched needle to flame.
Maybe it was because I saw the spark in his gaze even then. I know I felt my own and hoped for the first time in my life that this could be it, that he could be my way out of the gray fog that presses around me. Even as broken as his body was that day, he was stronger than me. I could see in Sutton's gaze that he would keep getting stronger
And he has. But his strength hasn't changed my weakness.
I kill the flame on the lighter. The needle is sanitized and, more importantly, searingly hot. I consider my calf for the time it takes to blink then slowly bury the first inch of the needle into my flesh.
Nerves scream. I grit my teeth, bite my bottom lip, inhale once and hold until the riot of sensations stop. When they do, I release the breath and flick the lighter again before slowly withdrawing the needle from my calf.
Thirty-five minutes remain before I have to meet Emerson in the lobby.
It's time enough.
For now.
Chapter Eighteen
Maddy leaves the hotel with Emerson an hour after she walks out of my room. I know because they are standing near the front entrance, their bags shouldered, as I open the stairwell door on the ground floor. I immediately step back and duck out of view. After a quick downward tug on the ball cap I wear, I peek through the small pane of glass on the door.
Even before I spotted Maddy standing next to Emerson, my gut was churning like a cement mixer. Yet she stands straight, perfectly composed. There is an almost dreamy quality to her expression. No one would ever guess she was in my room this morning, hugging a pillow while she tore my heart out.
I can't even tell you…
Scowling, I go up one flight and sit on the stairs, my overnight bag taking up the space next to me. I don't want to think about what she said, don't want the words replaying over and over in my mind.
First, she said she didn't love me, couldn't love me.
But then she switched right before the end to saying she couldn't tell me she loved me. Now, such a short time later, she is acting like we never talked at all.
Is there a chance for Maddy and me?
I want there to be, but I don't think there is. There's no way there can be a chance when she wears that serene expression.
It's like she eliminated a problem—me—and now she's happy.
Head hanging, I wait a few more minutes until the coast is clear then slink from the hotel to the airport. I scour the faces around me as I buy a ticket back to Billings. For all I know, my brother and Madigan are catching a flight of their own.
I reach my departure gate. It's a ghost town. There will be more cargo than passengers on the plane. That suits me just fine. I don't want conversation, don't want to meet anyone's gaze.
The flight is canceled. I find another one and pace restlessly through the terminal in a two-hour layover in Missoula.
My drive home, once I reach Billings, is in the dark. I stumble through my house in the dark and collapse on my bed without removing any clothes. I can't remember how long it has been since I last slept past daybreak, but I do this time.
My phone rings a little before eight the next morning. The brand new air conditioner at the clinic isn't working and the installation company cannot swing by for another three days. I agree to check it out, not because I want to or am happy to help, but because people expect me to. If I don't, I can expect multiple lines of interrogation on my physical and mental well being.
The week passes with me wanting to be alone, but being dragged into one task after another. I fix one of the ranch's ATVs, replace a garage door opener and a laundry list of other items. As I work around the ranch, Mama feeds me snippets of where Emerson is. The target seems to be leading him and Maddy on a merry chase from Seattle to Bellingham to somewhere down the Oregon coast on a boat.
Nursing my wounds, I make a pretense of being interested.
The first bright spot after leaving Seattle is the trip with Delia and Caiden to Aunt Dotty's on Saturday. By the time the sun sets, we have two fine geodes and more than a pound of arrowheads. One geode is banded agate the size of a baseball. The other looks remotely like a football split in half, its innards a riot of purple shards of amethyst.
I drop the boy and his mother at the ranch with promises of riding lessons in the morning. I go home alone, my steps carrying me through the front door and straight to my home gym. I don't stop to check my email or the posts on social media. I know there is no message from Madigan.
She can't tell me she loves me because she doesn't.
The last thing I do before collapsing onto the bed is set an alarm. Sleep comes quickly. If I dream, I don't remember anything when I wake up.
Knowing Mama will have a big breakfast going because Delia and Caiden spent the night at the ranch, I grab a quick shower, jump in my truck and head for my favorite kitchen in all the world.
The first sign that the day is going to be full of trouble greats me at the door. Leah, my sweet little Honey Bee, is wearing her riding outfit. Her rounded chin is lifted and an accusation haunts her green eyes.
I pick her up.
"Leah, this is Caiden's first lesson…"
I trail off as she turns her head to stare away from me. She wasn't even two-years-old when her mother died, but the gesture is so like Dawn's that it sends a painful spike through my chest.
"This is a safety rule, Honey Bee."
Her chin lifts higher.
"You and I will go riding tomorrow."
She shifts her weight so that she is both looking and leaning away from me.
"Are you Caiden's uncle now?"
She whispers the question, the muted tone another layer of accusation.
I jostle the toddler around in my arms until she would have to be an owl to entirely avoid my gaze.
"I am your uncle, Leah."
"And the stupid baby's when he comes," she mumbles.
"And the baby's," I agree.
"And the stupid Caiden—"
"Stop right there." I stand her on the ground and kneel in front of her. "You don't use that language, not when you're talking about the baby or Caiden or anyone else. Do you understand?"
Jaw set, she shakes her head.
Stubborn, like her mother. I see so much of Dawn inside her. It makes the entire family want to spoil Leah, to keep her little and safe for as long as we can. But she still has rules to follow.
"Leah, you have a big family and every last one of us loves you. Your father, five uncles, three aunts, Gam-Gam Lindy and Great Aunt Dotty. And that's not even close to the end of all the people." I continue on, naming my cousins, their parents, the stable hands, Betty Rae and every other lady in Mama's planning committee who dotes on the little girl.
"And the baby," I finish. "Sage's baby is going to love you something fierce."
Her throat bobs with a hard swallow.
"The baby will love me, too?"
"Something fierce," I say, giving her a tight hug. Mercifully, she hugs me back and p
lants a light kiss on my cheek.
"Will you be my Fairy Girl today and my riding partner tomorrow?"
This time, her head jackhammers up and down before she dashes out of my arms and toward her room, presumably to change into proper fairy attire.
"Maddy said you were great with kids."
I stiffen, both at the name mentioned and at being caught off guard. With only two years away from combat, no one around here should be able to sneak up on me.
"She said," Delia continues, "if anyone can help, it's Sutton."
Nodding, I try to keep Maddy out of my head. I want a nice day and another night of sleep that is not more tossing and turning than actual sleeping.
I push to my feet. "Smells like breakfast is about ready. Caiden in the kitchen?"
"Yes. He took one smell of your mother's cooking and sat himself in front of a plate with a fork in one hand and a table knife in the other. I swear, after seeing him eat dinner last night, I'm starting to think he just doesn't like my cooking."
She laughs, but there's a wiggle of worry that moves across her face.
"Won't he grow out of some of the sensory issues?"
She shrugs, then tries to shake off the sudden change in her mood.
"Maddy didn't."
Her face changes yet again, this time a look of horror flashing as she looks around to see if anyone is within listening distance.
"I shouldn't have said that."
"Didn't hear a thing," I say, wrapping a hand around her shoulder and steering her toward the kitchen and a different topic of conversation. "We'll start the lessons by Caiden making friends with Julep, that's the horse he'll ride today. But then we will move on to a dummy with a saddle while I show him how to control the horse with the reins and his posture while he's in the saddle. Then some time in the riding ring. With the way the wind is up, it's not a good idea to take a beginning rider out in the field, so we'll see how the weather is when the time comes."
"I'm really nervous about this…"
I give her shoulder a squeeze as we enter the kitchen. Fortunately, Mama's got her gaze on the bacon she's crisping, so she doesn't have a chance to spot the gesture and misinterpret it.
After sliding a chair out for Delia, I join Mama at the stove. She hands me the tongs and pecks my cheek before pulling some biscuits out of the oven.
Adler enters via the side door that leads to a wing of guest rooms. He grabs a tray and puts it on the side counter then hunts down two plates, two glasses and two sets of silverware.
"Sage okay?" Mama asks, worry tinting her tones.
"Bit of a backache," he answers as I place some of the less crispy pieces of bacon on the plates he holds.
A gurgle from the back of Mama's throat signals a deeper worry.
"You should probably stay close to home today."
Adler lifts both brows at Mama's suggestion. Sage is due next week, not today. And, right now, he's got a busted fence, two missing cows and a field of cattle acting nervous.
"Might not be a bad idea," I interject. "Way the wind is up, dogs won't be any good at tracking. Horses will be more skittish, too."
"We've got good tracks right now. And it's just a mild backache," he assures us. "Sage said she will be fine. So will the horses."
Managing the loaded tray, Adler kisses Mama's cheek.
The worry remains stamped on her face as he pushes through the swinging door and disappears. As the door comes to a stop, she heaps scrambled eggs into a bowl and mutters under her breath.
"A backache isn't always a backache, especially when you're that pregnant."
Chapter Nineteen
A few minutes past eleven, Royce runs over to the riding ring, arms flapping and waving. I grab a handful of the rein along the side of Caiden's horse and hold tight in case the animal or boy spook.
"Your mama was trying to call you."
I shrug. I turned the phone off before I put Caiden on the nine-hundred-pound mare. Teaching an adult to ride is dangerous enough. I don't need any distractions when I'm teaching a child, especially one like Caiden.
"Sage doesn't have a backache," he says, his voice bordering on shouting.
The spectacle of the easygoing Royce turning into an arm-waving maniac would be funny if it weren't for the boy sitting astride Julep.
"She's having contractions!"
I lead the mare over to the platform.
"Sorry, Sarge, we need to take a break."
Caiden swings his leg over the saddle and steps onto the platform. Leaving him there with Delia, I lead Julep over to the gate where Royce waits.
"I'm guessing you can't reach Adler?"
"Or the doctor!"
I'm not worried—not yet. Right now, I'm amused. Royce has to have assisted in the delivery of at least a hundred foals. For a time, he played midwife to racehorses in Kentucky. Those were million dollar foals, sometimes more.
And here Royce is sweating bullets, pupils pulsing wildly, and his arms flailing, because of one tiny baby signaling he is ready to be born.
Standing outside the ring, her hand firmly capturing Caiden's shoulder, Delia offers a polite cough.
"Maybe I can help."
"Help calm them down," I agree. "You ever deliver a baby?"
Caiden raises his hand.
"Other than you, Sarge," I laugh.
"One," Delia answers. "It was twenty-thirteen, World Series. Red Sox were playing St. Louis at Fenway Park. Game six, first half of the ninth inning. St. Louis at bat and down five runs. Mama was a Southie. You get the picture."
I laugh at the image as I hand her my truck keys.
It seems absurd that the woman stayed to make sure her beloved team won, but a single player's turn at bat in a baseball game can, technically, last an eternity, which left the Cardinals plenty of time to even things up. Of course, they didn't. They finished the first half of the inning still down five runs, ending the game without the second half as Boston secured the Commissioner's Trophy with the win.
"That's half a decade ago," she warns. "On a run I was only doing to keep my certifications up to date."
I wave her concern away. "The doctor will return before you have to do anything other than settle Mama's nerves."
"Siobhan drove him to the dealership in Billings to pick up his lease," Royce offers. "Gamble's calling the dealership and he'll get the Billings PD to send a patrol unit by if need be."
"And Adler?"
Royce shakes his head. "Last time your big brother checked in, they were by Dry Gulch Canyon. Radios have been breaking up all morning."
"Solar flares," Caiden says.
Delia nods. "He would know. He checks NOAA's Space Weather center online every day."
"Space Weather Prediction Center," the boy corrects.
I hand Julep's reins to Royce. "Guess we're going to do this the old-fashioned way. I'll grab a radio and gas up the dirt bike. Be on my way in less than five. You keep trying to reach him."
Royce stops me from walking away with a subtle touch on my arm. Leaning in, he whispers.
"Best grab the rifle in my office. Last time I talked to Adler, he had spotted predator tracks heading after the two missing cows."
I lift a brow. Montana has a lot of predators when it comes to livestock. Most of the herd loss comes from coyotes. But the list includes feral dogs, grizzlies and black bears, cougars, and wolves, plus the odd eagle scooping up a calf.
Royce leans closer, his voice dropping even lower.
"Cougars. Two of them."
Reaching the edge of a deep ravine, I look down to find my oldest brother scowling up at me. The three ranch hands at his side give me the same stink eye as Adler shoulders his rifle. Thirty feet to the east of them, thick streams of red glisten on the freshly mauled carcass of a cow.
"You can be pissed at me later," I shout down. "The baby decided he couldn't wait for his parole date."
Adler's expression flashes from irritated to something like that time I accidentally kicked
him in the balls. The next second, he is abandoning the men and horses and scrambling up the ravine.
I am off the bike before he reaches the top. He hops on. I pop the helmet on his head.
"Two cougars," he says as he fumbles with the helmet's straps. "Mother and an older female juvenile from the looks of it. Almost had the mother. They bolted when they heard the bike."
"Well, the shots you fired after them is how I found you." I shrug. "Like I said, you can be pissed at me later."
"They headed southeast—"
I shake my head. "One, I'm not going after a pair of twitchy cougars. Two, I'm not missing the birth of my first nephew. Three, I'll get Teddy up in the air with his chopper when the winds die down. Will can ride shotgun with him."
Adler nods. The way he is breathing, I know my normally level-headed brother is on the edge of freaking out. I put my hands over his as he grips the dirt bike's controls.
"You might want to practice those breathing exercises you learned at Lamaze class."
His cheeks bleed red for a second, then he nods and laughs.
"Good thing one of us is thinking."
I lift my hands, releasing him to be with his wife. He walks the bike back from the edge of the ravine then kickstarts the machine.
As Adler rides away, I turn back to the men.
"Work's done, boys. First round of beers is on me."
Chapter Twenty
The return journey to the ranch is more than twice as long as the ride on the dirt bike. Prior to my arrival at the ravine, the horses had been walking for hours, carrying their riders a good part of that time. On the way back, despite my impatience, we stop at watering stations twice to keep from exhausting the animals.
When I finally drop Adler's stallion with Royce, more than three hours have passed since I set out.
"Still waiting," Royce tells me. "Doc has been here closing in on ninety minutes. He says the contractions are too close, so best we don't move Sage. But they've been too close as long as he's been back!"