Promise Me Light

  The man took a step closer, his dark eyes almost black as they drilled into mine. “I lost his trail in a field near here. But then I found your house and thought ‘maybe he’s in there.’ So I hid out and watched the place, waiting for the one I wanted to emerge but he never did. When your men rode off today,” he shrugged, “I decided today was the day I find the man I have been searching for. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I repeated, continuing to walk backwards. If I could just get to the house, I’ll be safe.

  Behind me I could hear Eva running down the porch steps, shouting at the man to not touch me.

  That’s when I knew it was time to turn tail and run.

  Like a small animal desperate to escape certain death, I scrambled away. Before I made it very far, the man reached out and grabbed me. I squealed in alarm. His fingers dug through my jacket into my skin. I struggled against him, trying to yank my arm away. Tired of fighting, he shook me hard, making my hair fall into my face and blind me.

  Flipping the gun around, he raised it above my head. The barrel was now in his fist, looking like a deadly club. He’s going to hit me with it, I thought with horror.

  Before I had a chance to fight him, a shot rang out. I screamed as a bullet struck the ground near the man’s feet, inches away from my own foot. Dirt and grass flew everywhere, spraying my shoes.

  The stranger swung me around to face the house, my back pressed up against him. Using me as a human shield, he kept me in front of his body.

  That’s when I saw Ryder standing on the porch, a shotgun propped on his shoulder with the barrel pointing at the stranger. His shirt was unbuttoned, the edges flapping in the wind. Faded jeans rode on his hips, zipped but not buttoned. I could picture him pulling them on in his haste to reach me, leaving them barely hanging. A bandage was around his abdomen, peeking out from the edges of his shirt and jeans. How he had managed to get to his feet and out of bed was beyond me.

  “Let her go!” Ryder shouted, looking down the barrel of the gun.

  The man holding me captive flipped the gun around, jamming the end into my ribs.

  “My quest is over. I have finally found who I am searching for,” he muttered, tightening his hold on me.

  I heard the pumping of the shotgun a second before another shot rang out. This one right above my head. My ears rang, muffled for a second from the blast.

  “I said, let her go or you’re a dead man!” Ryder roared, pumping the shotgun again. Beneath his scruffy beard, his eyes blazed a dangerous kind of blue. The kind full of murder.

  “I came for you, my friend,” the stranger shouted back. “I have no need of this woman.” His American accent disappeared, replaced by one I didn’t recognize.

  “You better let go of that woman or the next breath you take will be your last,” Ryder bellowed, keeping his head low over the gun and his eyes peering down the barrel.

  I held my breath, not flinching when the end of the gun dug painfully into my ribcage. I waited for the shot to ring out, the one that would end the life behind me. I knew that Ryder would do it too. He would pull the trigger and kill the man just to protect me.

  But he didn’t have to. The man let go, giving me my freedom. Stunned, I turned, watching as he backed away. He raised his arms over his head in a sign of surrender, one I didn’t trust.

  His dark eyes were guarded as they stayed on Ryder. A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “They say you are a dead man, my friend. The men think you have become a ghost that walks among men. I say they are wrong. You are a man with luck. But one day, you will not have luck and I will be there when that happens.”

  He continued walking backwards, his next words full of warning. “You Americans have said that terrorists have invaded your lands but know this, my friend, I will invade yours.” He glanced at me, his meaning clear.

  Another shot rang out. This time, it hit its mark.

  The man was slung backwards, the slug ripping open his shoulder. A spray of blood went flying through the air, almost hitting me. Somehow, the stranger managed to stay on his feet despite the blood running down his arm. Clutching his shoulder, he stared at Ryder a second longer before sprinting across the yard.

  “Maddie!”

  I spun around, forgetting about the stranger when I heard Ryder shout my name. He faltered on the top step, his eyes staying on me.

  I raced to the porch, terror making it difficult to move. Ryder’s eyes never left me, but they rolled back in his head once before he forced them open again. By the time I reached the porch, he was pale and struggling to stay standing.

  “Maddie,” he rasped so low I almost didn’t hear him. “Get in the house.”

  Blood soaked his bandage, the white turning red. I immediately wrapped my arm around his middle when it looked like he may pass out. Leaning against me, his arm went around my shoulders, holding onto me.

  Eva put her arm around his other side, helping me get him into the house. Once inside, we bolted the door behind us, locking us in and the danger out.

  “Someone should go after that man,” Eva said, staring at me with a scared expression. “He can go back and lead the others here.”

  “No.” Ryder ground his teeth together in pain, forcing his words out. “It’s too dangerous.”

  He became heavier, swaying on his feet. Eva and I had barely made it inside when he fell, taking us both with him to the kitchen floor.

  Franticly, I got to my knees, kneeling beside him. His hand stayed on me as I checked his wound. Blood trickled down his side, the bandage doing little to catch it.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice weak.

  I ignored the tears that ran down my face and into my lap. Ryder was lying on the floor bleeding, a bullet hole in his side, but he was worried about me. Me! And Eva wondered why I loved him? Was there any doubt?

  “I’m fine,” I said, grabbing a towel off of the kitchen table to press against his wound. Anything to stop the blood flow.

  I watched as he gave up the fight and passed out, his hand still on me. Tears flowed faster down my face, leaving streaks on my cheeks.

  This was it. The truth. The reason we both lived and breathed. Some called it friendship. Others called it love. I just called it each other.

  We needed each other to survive.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I walked across the yard, the cold wind whipping against my body trying its best to knock me over. Turning my face into the upturned collar of my jacket, I tried to hide from the bitter, icy chill. The end of my braid flopped against my chest, feeling heavy against my breastbone. I pulled my knitted hat further down on my forehead then stuffed my hands in my pockets, seeking some warmth for my fingers.

  I was so weary but there was no time to be tired. For days, we had all been on edge, waiting for the terrorist to show back up again but it stayed quiet. No one ventured onto the ranch and there was no sign of anyone trespassing. Maybe we were safe. Maybe they would forget about him.

  I could only wish.

  My stomach rumbled, the feeling of hunger a constant now. A piece of bread, a can of fruit, a tough piece of smoked meat. They had been our breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the past few weeks now. Rice and beans were always on the menu, two things I was afraid we would never run out of. I hated them so much. Our coffee was now gone. All we had left to drink was water, filtered from the creek. I wanted a Diet Coke so badly that I could almost taste it, cold and bubbly on my tongue.

  I swallowed and pushed the memory from my mind as I ambled to the house. Thinking of what I missed would only drive me crazy. Remembering what I didn’t have would push me over the edge, depositing me in a dark place that might be impossible to return from. I couldn’t get depressed over missing a soft drink or a real meal. There were so many other things to be worried about, like the collapse of the country and the thousands dying. Or the fear of having a baby without proper medical care. No, there were many things to be concerned about; what I co
uldn’t have just didn’t seem all that important anymore.

  A shout from the front gate caught my attention, jerking me awake from my sleepwalking trance. I turned my face to the wind, watching as Cash herded cattle toward the barn. The brim of his cowboy hat lifted in the wind and almost left his head. I saw him smack it back down, holding it in place as he kept an eye on one particular cow that was not following the rest of the herd.

  My gaze shifted to Roger. He was riding his own horse, a big quarter horse that had a bad attitude but was a good worker. The horse kept the cattle moving, making Roger look like he was only along for the ride.

  I shivered as Brody walked from the barn, a large knife in his hands. I knew he was waiting for another cow to be brought in where it would be killed as humanely as possible.

  Two days ago we were all sitting around the table, each of us bundled up like Eskimos as we ate our dinner. The shortwave radio was on, taking a place of honor in the middle of the table. It was our new form of entertainment.

  The tinny voice of a man rattled through the small radio, filling the silence of the kitchen. “Government troops are scanning the countryside, seizing all livestock. Cattle are being butchered for meat to feed the hungry. Horses are being taken also, used for meat or for U.S. cavalry soldiers. Anyone refusing to hand over their livestock will be arrested. Ranchers be aware.”

  We stopped eating to listen. One word stuck in my mind; seize.

  “I repeat, reports are that the U.S. government is seizing all livestock for rationing purposes.” The transmission disappeared into static, the rest of the news garbled.

  Brody reached over to hit the side of the handheld, his version of fixing it. This time, though, it didn’t work. The thing was dead.

  Gavin sat his fork down, the small amount of food on his plate forgotten. “Dad?” he asked, looking to his father for instructions.

  Roger put some canned tomatoes in his mouth, chewing for a moment. I could see the gears turning in his head, going over our options. After he swallowed, he sat his fork down quietly. Folding his hands on the table, he looked at each of us.

  “When I was a boy, my great grandmother told me stories of the Depression. She said the government took cattle from ranches in Oklahoma and Texas to drive the price of beef up. When they heard the news, my great grandparents butchered every cow they had. Darn government wasn’t gonna git their cattle. So they canned the meat and hid it. Come to find out, that’s the only thing that saved them from starving that year.”

  He scratched his chin, thinking over his next words. “Time’s ain’t changed so much, kids. Thanks to darn thieves we got five cows left. I think we need to start butchering them tomorrow. I say we keep two hidden for milking. My grandbaby will need the milk eventually.”

  Since that night, I helped them from sunup to sundown. It was awful, bloody work. I would never forget the image of cattle being killed, skinned, and cut up into pieces for us to can. The men did the butchering. Eva, Janice, and I did the final cutting and canning. Thanks to Janice’s knowledge of preserving food plus Roger’s passion for stockpiling survival items, we had a pressure canner and enough canning equipment to save the meat and any other food we could find. It was a long, drawn-out process but at least we wouldn’t starve.

  That’s what I kept telling myself as weariness made standing almost impossible. Taking a deep breath, I climbed the porch steps, holding onto the railing to pull myself along. I am so tired. My eyelids felt heavy and my legs felt like Jell-O. I had never been so tired in my whole life, even when we had walked home after the EMP hit.

  Besides helping with the canning, we took turns caring for Ryder. He was still unconscious. Still fighting a nasty fever. Today I had drawn the shorter straw; I had to help with the butchering.

  Opening the door to the house, I dragged myself inside, wanting to find a change of clothes and a soft place to rest my head. Maybe a bar of soap too. What I didn’t expect to find was a voice yelling, booming through the house.

  “Where the HELL is she? I’m going to crawl out of this goddamn bed if you don’t tell me where Maddie is!”

  Ryder. He’s awake!

  Forgetting about my exhaustion, I took off running down the hallway, my booted feet leaving muddy footprints behind. My scarf trailed behind me, the knitted threads bouncing against my back as I ran. Within seconds, I was standing in the open doorway, staring at the scene before me.

  The warmth of the small makeshift heater surrounded me as I stood in the threshold, warming my frozen nose and chin. Eva stood beside the bed with her hands on her hips, glaring at Ryder as he eased his legs over the side of the bed. He held onto his injured side, agony twisting his face.

  “He’s awake, Maddie,” Eva quipped. “And he’s back to being his perfect Prince Charming self. Lucky us.”

  Ryder’s eyes immediately found mine. I saw relief rush across his face, his worry disappearing.

  “Maddie,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes ran over my body, making sure I was okay. His fingers spread wide in his lap, palm out, somehow begging me to come to him.

  I saw his hand and heard the pleading in his voice but I couldn’t move. I just wanted to stand there and stare at him. I needed to soak in the sight of Ryder.

  His hair was longer. New streaks of blonde were interwoven with the brown, making me think he had been outside for long periods of time. Wispy curls lay against his neck, giving him a look of innocence that I knew was just a façade. A thick beard covered most of his face, making him look like a stranger. It was the bright blue eyes staring back at me that told me it was really him.

  “Hell, Maddie, say something. Please. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You’re fuckin’ scaring me,” he said hoarsely.

  I knew then that he was truly back. Cuss words had never sounded so sweet. My imperfect man was home.

  In seconds, I was in his arms.

  “I thought I lost you,” I said, burying my face in his neck. His scent swirled around me, encasing me in comfort. I want to stay here forever. In his arms. Against his body.

  His hands moved around my ribcage, gathering me close. Tears ran down my face as his fingers spread wide, encompassing my sides and pulling me closer, needing to hold me as much as I needed to be held.

  Spreading his legs, he fitted me against his body, hardness against softness. His hands ran up and down my back, feeling every inch of me. His thighs rested against my hips, keeping me hostage between his legs.

  “Shit, Maddie, I missed you,” he said, hoarsely. His hands moved to the sides of my head, his fingers threading through my hair. “You okay? Eva wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

  I nodded. “I’m fine. More than fine,” I said in a whisper. Through the tears running down my face, I stared into his eyes. Eyes that were clear of fever.

  “I was so scared, Ryder. I thought you were dead.”

  “Don’t cry,” he said, his thumb wiping a tear off of my cheek. “I came home to you, just like I said I would.”

  I brushed the tears away, probably leaving a smear of dirt on my face.

  His hands dropped down to the front of my jacket. Holding the lapels tightly, he pulled me closer. His eyes dipped down to my mouth, a moan escaping him.

  At first, I thought the moan was from desire but then he grimaced. Letting go of my jacket, he touched his side. I heard a small intake of breath as pain shot through him. The flannel shirt he wore was left unbuttoned, leaving his chest bare. I could see the tattoos that decorated one side of his body, trailing down to disappear beneath the white bandage wrapped around his waist. A bandage that wasn’t white anymore.

  “You’re bleeding!” I exclaimed, taking his hand away from his side to look at the small drops of blood on the bandage.

  When he didn’t say anything, I glanced back up at him, afraid I would find his eyes full of fever-raged unawareness again. Instead, he studied me with clear eyes that seemed to see inside me.

  “And you weren’t here whe
n I woke up,” his deep voice rumbled softly.

  “I’m here now.”

  One of his hands cupped my chin. His thumb ran over my lower lip, his cracked skin feeling rough against my lip.

  “I can’t believe I’m really here, touching you,” he said in a strained voice, watching my mouth.

  “I know. I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes again.

  Gently, I removed his hand away from his side. He sucked in a breath as I started to pull the bandage away. I bit my bottom lip, fighting the urge to weep at the agony I saw on his face.

  “You need to lie down before you pull your stitches apart,” I said, tucking the bandage back in place.

  “How bad is it?” he asked, his eyes on me.

  “Your mom got the bullet out but you lost a lot of blood.”

  “We almost lost you,” Eva interjected, moving to stand beside me.

  Ryder’s gaze moved to her, his hands never letting go of me. “You okay, Eva?” he asked.

  She shifted to one foot then the other, looking at the ground then at the ceiling. Suddenly, she rushed Ryder, throwing herself at him.

  “Thank you,” she said, hugging him close. “I’ll never forget what you did for me. Never.”

  He patted her back awkwardly. “I’d do it again, Eva.”

  She pulled away and sniffed loudly. “I love you in some kind of twisted, love/hate way. As friends only, you understand.”

  Ryder cleared his throat. “Yeah, back at you.”

  Looking satisfied and a little bit love-struck, Eva stepped away.

  “How long have I been out?” he asked.

  “Almost two weeks,” I answered.

  “Shit,” he swore under his breath. Cuss words exploded from him when pain hit his side again.

  “Why don’t you lay back down?” I suggested, stepping away to give him room.

  Before I got very far, his hand snapped out, grabbing my wrist. The heat from his fingers traveled up my arm then down the center of my body.

  “Eva, you might want to leave,” Ryder said, his eyes burning into mine.