Cowgirl Read online

  “Easy there, fella. The faster you go, the longer we’ll have to take to cool you down. Walk easy and the water is all but touching your lips.” Aren soothed the large horse but could do nothing to stop Bailey from bolting ahead. She could feel Wyatt’s muscles tense up in a yearning to keep pace with the dog, but he followed Aren’s request and walked at an easy pace up to the barn.

  Within minutes, Wyatt was tied off at the hitching rail, scraping his front hoof against the ground with impatience. His saddle had been removed, as had his bridle, the saddlebags and pad. Aren enjoyed the rides and took most of the distance at an easy walk. It was humidity more than hard work that caused him to sweat so much. She grabbed a currycomb and went to work on combing his wet fur before turning him out to get that much craved drink of water. Knowing him, he’d wade into the pond at least belly deep before dipping his head for a drink. He was goofy that way and his personality continued to tickle Aren’s funny bone.

  After evening chores, Aren made her way upstairs and tossed the saddle bag on the back of the dining room chair. She released a latch and pulled the large loft door inward. Light poured into the loft and a gentle breeze tickled her skin. She stood in the opening, taking in the brilliant blue sky. Heavy rain clouds loomed far off in the distance. Clouds coming in like this would make for a brilliant sunset. The evening was too beautiful to cook inside, and it seemed like a perfect night for a campfire.

  “What do you think of potatoes and steak tonight, eh, Bailey girl?” Aren asked the dog while unwrapping a rib eye steak. Bailey barked twice, which Aren took as an agreement.

  “Okay, I’ll mix some in your food, but no potato for you. A girl’s gotta watch her figure, ya know. You can have some of the cucumber and tomato salad if you want, but tomorrow you’re back on your diet,” Aren said, laughing as she set the steak on a plate. Bailey barked again and ran down the stairs. She never had company, and some days she longed for it. Longed for a conversation, but then, Bailey never talked back, made her feel bad, or asked questions she couldn’t answer. It was for the best this way.

  Aren diced up her potato adding a touch of salt and pepper along with a few other spices, then topped it with a tab of butter before sealing the aluminum foil pouch. Next, she cut up a tomato and a cucumber, adding a touch of olive oil to the mixture of vegetables in the bowl. The process of adding a touch of this spice and a dab of that always reminded her of the evenings she spent cooking with her foster mother as a teenager, learning the little touches that made things taste just right. The thought made her melancholy. She’d never have that chance again. Aren shook her head, letting the mental image drift away. She poured herself a large mason jar of cold tea from the refrigerator and gathered it all onto a tray before joining Bailey by the fire pit.

  The fire pit sat about ten yards away from the entrance to the barn. She had a couple of logs set on the end for side tables next to her chair. She’d built the circular pit herself from a mix of concrete and rocks. She was proud of her work on it and quickly got it lit. Once the fire was established, Aren lowered the metal cooking grate onto the concrete ring, placing the potato packet off to the side to cook. Before long, she could smell the potatoes and knew it was time to lower the steak onto the heat. The meat instantly sizzled creating a smell that had long strands of drool running from the sides of Bailey’s mouth. Aren inhaled deeply and smiled. It wasn’t the life she’d once envisioned for herself, but at times like this, it was enough.

  “Just a few more minutes girl,” Aren said, flipping the steak one last time. “I’m going to run up and get the coffee pot. That steak had better be there when I get back!”

  Campfire percolated coffee was one of Aren’s favorites. Not much else tasted or smelled so good. Aren took the stairs two at a time and filled the old black percolator with water. She added grounds to the metal basket and assembled the parts before snapping the lid on tightly. Returning to the campfire, she found Bailey inching closer to the steaks.

  “Careful not to burn your nose again.” Bailey salivated and whined in reply.

  Aren set the coffee pot on the hottest edge of the fire before scooping the steak off the flame. She cut a section off for Bailey, scraping the cubed fatty pieces into a bowl of dog food and then set it on the ground next to her chair. She fixed her plate with the fire-roasted potatoes and her salad. Just as she pierced a tomato chunk with her fork, Bailey began a deep-throated growl. The sky had darkened to a starless night. Heavy storm clouds were rolling in.

  Chapter Four

  Carol inhaled deeply. Two of her favorite scents teased her, campfire and coffee. She’d left her aunt and uncle’s house about an hour earlier, craving an after dinner walk to help digest the heavily fried meal. She inhaled again, turning her head to find the source. She looked left and right but saw nothing. Then, just as she stepped past the dark, shadowy farmhouse on her left, she caught sight of an orange flicker off in the distance. Carol stopped mid stride in the center of the road. A silhouetted figure sat next to a campfire, talking to someone that Carol couldn’t see. She waited for a reply, yet heard nothing. Carol squinted, trying to find a second person. She caught movement next to the silhouetted figure. What was that? A dog? Was that laughter she heard? There’s a dark cloud hangin’ over that farm. Carol could hear her aunt’s voice in her head. She hadn’t been able to shake the conversation with her aunt about this farm or its owner. Consumed with curiosity, she ducked between strands of barbed wire and made her way toward the fire light. She’d walked about half the distance when the silhouetted figure spun around.

  “Who’s out there? Make yourself known or I’ll release the dog.”

  Carol froze in her tracks. She squeezed her eyes shut, chastising herself for trespassing onto this woman’s property. What had she been thinking? She allowed her breath to escape and then drew in another before trusting her voice.

  “My name is Carol Matthews. I’m here visiting my aunt who lives just across the way. I saw the fire while I was out taking a walk and thought I’d say hello.”

  “Would you come on up here to the light, Carol Matthews? I’d like to see who I’m talking to.”

  Carol’s heart was pounding in her chest with such force she felt deafened by it. She put one foot in front of the other, cautiously making her way toward the stranger next to the fire. She looked around, taking in how large the shepherd type dog was, especially given that it was baring its teeth and growling at her. She felt every bit the fool for coming here. She froze, her breath catching, when the woman suddenly snapped her fingers and made a hand signal to the dog. Great, she would be mauled to death and no one knew where she was. Instinctively, her eyes squeezed shut, though she forced them to reopen when nothing happened. There was no movement, no dog lunging for her throat, nothing at all. Carol allowed the trapped air to escape when she saw the dog eating from a bowl on the ground.

  The woman smiled at Carol, half of her face hidden in the shadows, half lit by the fire light.

  “Hi, Carol. My name is Aren Jacobs and this is my dog, Bailey.” Aren extended her hand in greeting.

  Carol took one step forward, closing the distance needed to shake Aren’s hand. She noticed, by touch more than sight, how rough and calloused her hands were.

  “We’re just sitting down to dinner. Would you like anything?” Aren motioned toward the plate of food.

  “I’ve already eaten, thank you. I should go, allow you to eat in peace.”

  “Sit if you like, enjoy the fire. You’re welcome to this chair if you prefer it over a log. I’m sorry I only have the one out. I don’t get many visitors.”

  “Please don’t give up your chair. A log is fine. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Well then, the log is all yours. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Carol inhaled. She had to admit the coffee smelled wonderful, “I would love a cup, but I will only accept it after you’ve finished your meal. Please, eat. It was rude of me to intrude.”

  “Fair e
nough. So, you’re visiting your aunt and uncle?” Aren picked up her fork. She scooped a few potato pieces onto the tines before popping them into her mouth.

  Carol turned her attention to the flames dancing in the firepit. She heard the pop of the hot sap trapped in the log and then watched the released sparks as they floated up into the air. Suddenly, she realized she’d been asked a question. “Sorry, yes, visiting. I arrived a couple of days ago.”

  Aren nodded, chewing on another bite of her meal. She set down her fork. “The coffee is done. Why don’t I get you a cup so I don’t feel like I’m eating in front of you? The cups are just upstairs. It would only take a second.”

  “The coffee does smell amazing.” Carol smiled.

  Aren lifted herself from the chair. She was much taller than Carol had expected. She seemed so nice. Much too nice to be a murderer. The fire cracked and popped again, pulling Carol’s attention back to the floating orange embers.

  “Do you take anything in it?” Aren turned to ask.

  “Yes, both cream and sugar, if it’s no trouble. Thank you,” Carol answered before she looked up. When their eyes met, Carol’s breath caught in her throat. Aren’s face was now completely lit by the fire light. Scars surrounded Aren’s left eye, and the eye itself didn’t look quite right either, though it was difficult to distinguish why in the dim light. Carol did her best to control her breathing and stifle her shock.

  Aren nodded, turning back toward the barn. The large dog, Bailey, was right at her side. Her back was now illuminated by the firelight. Carol was working hard to gather her composure when she caught sight of a large wood handled knife secured on Aren’s belt. Who carries a knife around? Carol’s heart pounded. What if she stabbed her mama right in the neck? Carol heard her aunt’s voice in her head again. She remained statue still, waiting for Aren to disappear into the barn before she bolted back to the fence line. She tripped on something in the grass and fell to her knees. She blinked a couple of times so her eyes could adjust to the darkness and then shot for the fence line. Carol ran all the way back to the safety of her aunt’s house.

  Chapter Five

  At three o’clock in the morning, Aren forced herself out of bed, giving up on the hope of any decent sleep. Her dreams were relentlessly filled with demons from her childhood. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she wondered what had brought this round on. Surely talking with Maggie for that quick minute couldn’t have been enough to trigger all of this. All she knew for sure were that her demons were screaming, demanding her attention.

  Aren flipped on the lamp and stumbled into the kitchen hoping coffee would help. She picked up the coffee pot from the tray she’d carried up a few hours earlier and made her way over to the kitchen sink. Twenty minutes later, the Coleman stove was fired up and the coffee was cooking.

  With a steaming mug in her hand, she walked to the loft door. In the evenings, she’d fasten large screen panels over the open doors which allowed a light breeze to flow in without the mosquitoes. Though the insects would still be out in full force, she removed one of the screen panels and sat on the ledge of the open doorway. The storm had intensified, throwing bolts of lightning across the sky followed almost instantly by loud claps of thunder. Lightning highlighted the huge raindrops falling over the landscape. Clad in only cotton shorts and a tank top, Aren was grateful for the deep overhang that kept her dry.

  A downstairs light flipped on and then flipped back off a few minutes later in the house across the way. The house, she assumed, where Carol Matthews was staying with her family. Aren took another long sip of her steaming coffee and wondered what had spooked the young woman. Well, she guessed Carol was young. Her skin was fair and wrinkle free, at least by firelight. Aren thought of her own reflection and chuckled to herself as Bailey nudged her and curled up at her side.

  “Not everyone weathers life quite as hard as I do, eh, girl. Look at me. I’d guess I was already in my mid-fifties instead of thirty-five, especially with these wicked scars!” Aren ruffled the dog’s fur.

  Suddenly, a blinding flash of light lit the landscape, simultaneous with a ground shuddering boom. The barn shook and rattled, almost jarring Aren from her perch. A loud series of cracks and pops pulled her attention back across the country road. She could faintly see an orange glow and smoke rising from the silhouette of a tall, old maple tree. Another bolt of lightning lit the sky, illuminating a frightening sight. The old maple tree had been split by the lightning, and half of the mammoth tree had crushed the house where she’d just guessed Carol Matthews was staying. The second story had splintered beneath the weight and momentum of the tree’s collision. Boards stuck out at all angles through the tree’s limbs and leaves like a monster from a nightmare.

  Aren jumped up and ran for her jeans and boots. She stuck her knife into the back of her jeans out of habit more than need and ran for the stairs. At the base of the stairs, she grabbed a headlamp she used in the wintertime. She pulled the gadget onto her head and clicked on the lamp, then grabbed a large coil of rope before she bolted across the field and through the pounding rain.

  Electrical pops and lumber creaks were all that she heard coming from the crumpled dwelling. Aren had never been inside the house and had no idea as to where to start looking for those who may be trapped.

  “Can anybody hear me?” Aren yelled out, trying to be heard over the storm. She listened intently but couldn’t hear anything.

  “Hello, can anybody hear me?” she screamed again, stepping over debris to look into each window she passed.

  “Over here. Please, please help me,” a voice called out from the rubble.

  “Keep talking so I can find you.” Aren looked for a way to access the house. “Are you upstairs or down?”

  “Downstairs, in the front, by the road, by the window.” The voice was clear and scared.

  Aren ran over to the sound of the voice. An arm reached out of a shattered window, and the frame creaked beneath the shifting weight above. Aren poked her face into the unstable opening and saw Carol buried under wood and drywall from the ceiling.

  “Are you hurt?” Aren asked.

  “My leg is stuck. I—I don’t know what’s got me pinned.” Tears streaked the dirt on Carol’s cheeks.

  Aren twisted, taking in the mangled room. There wasn’t any other way to help Carol beyond getting her through the window. Aren pulled her knife from the waistband of her jeans. She heard Carol gasp at the sight of the eight-inch knife but ignored it. She turned the knife around in her hand, clutching it by the sheath covered blade and poked the handle at the ragged shards of glass that stuck up from the frame, making them fall but careful not to send them toward Carol, who shielded her face anyway. Satisfied that she’d removed most of the larger pieces of glass, Aren grabbed a crumpled, wet pillow near the opening and laid it across the frame. She leaned in through the opening even farther, trying to see what was pinning Carol’s leg. A beam from the ceiling had broken free on one end and hung diagonally across the room. Part of the beam crossed the bed with Carol’s leg pinned beneath. If she could get in there and shift the bed just a bit, perhaps she could free Carol’s leg without dropping the rest of the ceiling on them.

  “Can you lean back a bit? I’m going to have to climb in there with you,” Aren asked.

  “I think so,” Carol said, trying to push herself away from the opening.

  Aren wiggled in through the window frame and carefully made her way to the edge of the bed. She looked more closely at the angle of Carol’s leg. Deciding it was likely broken and she was going to have to pull Carol from the building, Aren tried to force the beam up using her shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge. She felt around Carol’s leg and realized how soft the mattress was. If she pushed down on the mattress, maybe Carol could pull her leg free. She explained her idea to Carol, who agreed to try. Aren wiped the rain from her face with her forearm and pressed down on the bed with all the force she could muster. Carol screamed out in pain. Wrapping her hand around Carol’s ankle, A
ren wiggled and pushed until the leg was free of the beam.

  “I think we got it!” she said. “Do you think you can pull yourself onto the windowsill?”

  “I don’t know, oh God, it hurts so bad!” Carol sobbed.

  If she hadn’t thought the house might come down any second, she would have stopped to call for help, but between the driving rain and the smoke and flames still rising eerily from the tree, she knew there wasn’t time. She had to get Carol, and anyone else she could find, out of there fast. Aren climbed back out through the window, then reached back in and wrapped her wet arms around Carol and pulled. Carol screamed as her leg turned. The sound gave Aren a queasy sensation in her stomach that she forced herself to suppress. She kept pulling until she could shift to the side and scoop Carol over the windowsill and into her arms. Aren walked her over to the soft grass and gently set her down. She smoothed back the hair in Carol’s pain filled eyes just before they fluttered shut and she passed out. Rain quickly soaked the nightgown Carol was wearing and Aren wished she’d brought a blanket of some kind.

  “You’ll be okay now. I’ll get you some help, okay?” Aren looked back at the house and had no idea where to begin searching for anyone else.

  Headlights crested the hill coming up the road. Aren could hear the engine roaring toward them. She ran out to flag the person down.

  “Hey, we saw the bolt of lightning and had to see if everyone’s okay,” a young guy said as he pulled up.

  “Do you have a cell phone on you? I believe two more are trapped inside. We need to call nine-one-one.” Aren swiped at the rain. “I got one person out, and she’s hurt.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He picked up his phone and reported the emergency. “Holy shit!” He shook his head at the sight of the house in his headlights. “I’ll walk around the back and yell, see if anyone else shouts.” He took off into the rain.

  Aren ran back over to Carol’s side. She found her awake and shivering. She was likely going into shock. The rain began to come down in relentless sheets. Lightning shot across the sky followed by another thunderous boom. Carol screamed and cowered and sobbed, her hands over her face. Aren ran over to the open window and crawled back inside. She dug around for a blanket or something to cover Carol up with. Aren found a quilt folded up on the floor. She grabbed it and then climbed back out of the window and ran back to Carol. She draped the quilt over her shivering body, not that it would do much good as it too would be soaked through in seconds.