Promise Me Light (13 page)

A lone person was walking out of the woods, heading my direction.

“Oh, shit!” I muttered, swinging the heavy shotgun up and
pointing it at the man.

My heart thumped loudly as he continued walking straight for me, at
least five hundred feet away now. His stride was slow, almost weak.

My hands shook as they held the gun.
Should I get on
the horse and ride hell bent for leather or should I stick it
out?
Without moving my head, I scanned the wooded area behind
him. No one else emerged from the trees. He seemed to be alone.

Squinting my eyes, I tried to get a better look at him. My heart
started racing when I realized a pistol hung limply from his right hand.
He was armed which meant he was dangerous.

A strange man did not bode well for a woman alone. I knew from
experience that men were dangerous. I had killed one already for
touching me. I didn’t want to add another to that list.

My horse started snorting and dancing around, jerking on the reins
and frightening me. I held tight to the leather straps but refused to
lower the gun.

The man kept coming toward me, his eyes on me now. His footing
faltered as he stumbled over the small valleys and low ditches of the
field.

I took a step back, bumping into my saddle. The horse sidestepped
away from me.
She smells the scent of fear on
me.

I held the gun up higher despite the heaviness of it. Resting it on
my shoulder, I watched as the stranger continued on, staggering closer.
His hand clutched his side, holding it there like he was injured.

But he still kept a firm grip on his pistol.

I pumped the shotgun, the sound loud and clear in the quietness of
the day. The man stopped, leaning over as if he was going to topple to
the ground.

When he started walking again, I took a step back. He was closer now.
Too close.

“Don’t move another step, mister!” I shouted, moving my finger
to the trigger of the gun, ever so gently resting it there.

My voice only made the stranger walk faster.
Damn!

I started to squeeze the trigger, just to send a warning shot, but
something stopped me. Looking down the barrel, I studied the man. I
could see long brown hair that looked dirty and matted. A full beard
obscured most of his lower face, hiding his mouth and jawline from view.
He seemed tall, much taller than most men.

Tall.

I pushed the thought away
. There were many tall
men.
But there was something about the way this man moved…the
way he rolled his hips when he walked…

I sucked in a breath and watched him, noticing the wide set of his
shoulders and the unleashed power behind his stride.

Was it possible?

“Ryder?” I said weakly, so low there was no possible way the man
could have heard me.

The shotgun suddenly became too heavy for me to hold. I dropped it an
inch, feeling the strain in my arms. A breeze picked up loose strains of
my hair, entangling them in my eyelashes. But I never took my eyes off
of the stranger.

A cloud floated by and opened up the heavens, bringing sunlight down
to earth. The sun shone down and filled me with warmth that had nothing
to do with the literal heat. As if leading me home, the sun hit the man
just right.

Blue eyes. The man had bright blue eyes.

I took a step forward. The world tilted at an odd angle as if I was
on one of those tilt-a-whirl rides at the state fair.

The man’s lips moved but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

I took another step forward. Everything disappeared. The trees, the
dry grass brushing against me, the birds overhead - it all vanished.
There was only the man in front of me.

Blue eyes. Tall. Familiar walk.

Oh, God! Oh, God!

I dropped the reins and took off running, flying across the land. The
muscles in my legs worked hard to cover the distance.
RUN! Faster! Faster!

I picked up speed, watching with agony as he stopped and dropped to
his knees. His eyes stayed on me, silently begging for help. He reached
one of his hands out toward me, needing a lifeline to home.

I ran faster than I had ever run before. Grass slashed at my jeans,
slapping against the well-worn material. My feet barely touched the
ground. Within seconds, I was in front of him, where I wanted to be for
the rest of my life.

“Ryder?” I whispered, afraid if I spoke too loudly the image of
him would disappear. Just a mirage of false hope.

Crystal blue eyes stared at me from behind dirt and grime. Above a
thick beard and long hair, he struggled to focus on my face, forcing his
eyes open each time he blinked.

“Maddie?”

With that one word, I knew. He was home.

I let out a sob, the protective cage around my heart crumbling to
dust.
He’s home!

Ryder’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp. He
started to topple face first to the ground but I dropped the gun and
caught him, letting out an involuntary cry. Using muscles I didn’t
know I had, I eased him down to the grass.

“Ryder! Ryder!” I cried, letting another sob escape as I dropped
down beside him. I pushed his long hair away from his face, needing to
see him and know that my eyes were not playing tricks on me.

Beneath his thick, scruffy beard, I saw his lips move as if he was
trying to say something. His dark eyelashes rested against cut and
bruised cheekbones. A bloody gash slashed through his eyebrow and dried
blood was matted in his hair.

His hand brushed up against my leg, trying to grasp me. I glanced at
his hand and that’s when I saw it: blood.

It was everywhere.

Immediately, I started running my hands over him, trying to find the
source of the blood. My hands moved frantically, my mind rushing through
the possibilities.
Cuts? Wounds? On his stomach? Leg?
Where is it coming from?

Unbuttoning his threadbare coat, I sucked in a breath.
No! NO! NOOOO!

Blood oozed from a wound in his side. The flannel shirt he wore was
no longer brown but a dark, deep red. The blood continued to spread
outward, saturating the cloth, taking his life and soaking it up like a
sponge.

With a sob I placed my hand over the wound and pressed down, trying
to stop the bleeding. He grunted with pain and rolled his head to the
side, twitching at my touch.

Through my tears I studied his face. His cheeks were hollow, his lips
cracked. His eyelids slowly lifted, forced open against the pain. He had
trouble focusing on me but when he did, I saw that his eyes were
glassy.

“Maddie,” he rasped past dry, cracked lips. “I’m dead.”

I wanted to break down and cry but I didn’t. I had to be strong for
him. His life depended on it.

“No, Ryder. God no, you’re not dead,” I said, glancing down at
the blood covering my fingers, turning my hands red.

I watched as he closed his eyes. My gaze drifted to his chest. I
watched as it moved up and down, his breathing shallower than it had
been seconds ago.

He’s dying!
The thought filled my mind like
a neon sign that kept blinking obnoxiously. I felt sick, nausea rolling
around my stomach. But it wasn’t from morning sickness. It was from
fear.

I closed my eyes, pressed harder on his side, and took a deep breath.
Breathe in through nose. Out through mouth. Again. In
through nose. Out through mouth. Okay, I could do this.

I opened my eyes and glanced around, unsure what to do next.
Calm down. Think through options.
He was too heavy for
me to lift on the horse and no one would hear me if I yelled for help.
That limited my options.

His pistol caught my attention. It lay a few inches away, close
enough to grab. I glanced down at the blood seeping around my hand, not
sure I wanted to let go.
What choice did I have? He
needed help.

I inhaled deeply, removed my hand, and leaned over to grab the gun.
It was slippery in my bloody hands. Aiming into the distance, I fired
off three shots, one right after the other.

With each round Ryder’s body jerked, reminding me of someone being
shot. I wanted to wail with anguish but I refused to fall apart. I let
the pistol drop to the ground and again placed my hands over his
wound.

Ryder started shaking violently from head to toe. It could have been
from the cold but more than likely, it was from shock. I yanked off the
flannel jacket I wore and laid it over him.

But he continued to shake.

I climbed to my feet and ran to the horse. She tried to bolt away
from me but I grabbed the reins. Pulling the saddle off of her, I let it
fall to the ground. I snatched the saddle blanket and raced over to
Ryder, hurriedly covering him.

I needed to stop the blood flow. I took off one of the two shirts I
wore, gathering it into a ball and pressing it to Ryder’s side.
Instantly, it absorbed his blood, turning a dark red.

I could feel it beneath my fingers, coating my hand, slick and sticky
against my skin. Tears gathered behind my eyelids.
He
can’t die! I just found him. I can’t lose him again!
I
pressed harder, willing the blood to stop flowing, hoping for a
miracle.

He grunted at the pressure and tried weakly to push my hand away.
Tears fell down my cheeks as his hand grabbed my wrist, holding it
surprisingly strong as I pressed down on his wound.

“It’s okay, Ryder,” I said soothingly, trying not to cringe
when his hold tightened.

He seemed to relax at the sound of my voice but his hand remained on
me as if he was afraid I would leave him.

Never.

I glanced toward the direction of the house. “Hurry up! Come on!”
I pleaded in a whisper, praying for help.

I tried not to think of the blood covering my hand as I pressed
harder. My body trembled. I wasn’t sure if it was from the freezing
temperatures or the fright rushing through me but I couldn’t control
the shaking. But it wasn’t important right now, anyway.

What was important was keeping Ryder alive.

I glanced up when I heard horses galloping toward me. Two men were
riding at a breakneck speed, heading my way fast. Each was bent over
their horses’ necks, holding tight to the reins as their focus stayed
on me.

Gavin and Cash were sliding out of the saddle before their horses had
even stopped. With guns raised, they raced to me, closing the distance
with urgency and wariness.

“Help me!” I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat. My hands
and my pants were covered with blood. Even the ground beneath me was
dotted with red.

When Gavin saw Ryder lying on the ground, he slung the shotgun around
to his back and dropped to his knees on the ground beside Ryder.
“Sweet Jesus!” he gasped.

“Please help him!” I cried, still pressing on Ryder’s wound
despite the blood coating my hands. “He won’t stop bleeding!”

Gavin brushed my hands out of the way and gathered Ryder’s body
close. Effortlessly, he picked Ryder up and carried him to his horse as
if he weighed nothing. Watching brother carry brother was too much to
handle. I curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth as sobs racked
my body.

I didn’t resist when Cash urged me to my feet, his hand under my
elbow to steady me. I tried not to think of the blood smeared on me or
of Gavin cradling his little brother in his arms like a child.

I watched as he placed Ryder across the saddle, keeping one hand on
him. Mounting up, Gavin dug his heels into the horse’s side took off,
running at a full gallop while he held onto Ryder.

Cash hurried to help me on his horse. I don’t think I’ve ever
climbed into a saddle so fast. As he mounted up behind me, I noticed
that my own horse had disappeared. I didn’t even notice she had left.
I was too busy trying to keep Ryder alive.

What seemed like hours later, we stopped in front of Janice and
Roger’s house. I was out of the saddle before Cash could pull the
horse to a stop and let me dismount.

“MOM!” Gavin screamed as he lowered Ryder from the saddle. I
couldn’t take my eyes off of Ryder as Gavin carried him across the
yard.

Janice opened the door and let out a cry of alarm. For a moment, she
looked like she was seeing a ghost. Her eyes rounded, never leaving
Ryder.

“He’s hurt something bad, Mom,” Gavin said, rushing past her
into the house.

I took the porch steps two at a time, watching as the door slammed
behind Gavin and Janice. My heart raced, making me dizzy. Brushing my
tears away, I flung the door open and ran through the kitchen. In
seconds, I was flying down the hallway, Cash right on my heels.

I halted in the bedroom doorway, watching as Gavin carefully lowered
Ryder onto the full-sized bed. Ryder’s head flopped to one side and he
grunted in pain. I felt sick. The tan that always marked his skin was
gone. Now he looked deathly pale.

Janice immediately started unbuttoning his shirt, searching for the
source of the blood. Her hands moved with efficiency, making quick work
of the buttons.

“Where did you find him?” she asked, glancing up at me. Gone was
the shock on her face. Now she looked determined.

“He was walking out of the woods between my place and his,” I
answered, my voice shaking.

She pushed his shirt out of the way and gasped. His chest was covered
in blood. In some places it was pink but in other places it was a dark
red, almost black. There was a bandage on his left side, low near his
hipbone. It was dirty and looked like it had been there awhile. I
remembered Gavin saying Ryder was shot during the skirmish to get Eva
out. I knew this was that old wound, something that had not been
properly taken care of. But all the bleeding was coming from his right
side. A small hole, about the size of a dime, was two inches below his
last rib. Blood trickled from the hole, running down his side.