Page 46 of Haunted By the Shadow of Death

I’d thought he wanted to make sure the place was empty, but instead he knelt, undoing some sort of booby traps.

He straightened and then held the door open for me to go in. It looked well kept too, if not updated in a good half-century. It was cozy, with the stone fireplace that drew you over. I ran a hand along the mantel.

“I wouldn’t risk lighting a fire unless you’re in the mood to kill something tonight,” Kicks said.

It was a flippant remark, a quick statement he hadn’t given much thought. And yet it burned. How could anyone get past my victim list at this point? I thought about it constantly, and obviously so did he.

“I’d rather be cold,” I said, not going as far as defending myself but laying it out there all the same.

He froze and locked eyes with me. “I didn’t mean it like that.”His voice held a hint of regret.

“I know.” He might not have meant it the way it sounded, but it was in his head. It was hard to fault someone when you were thinking the same thing.

“You can take the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

I peeked around the corner, only seeing one bed.

“Try to get some rest tonight. We’ve got to make a stop tomorrow.”

“Where?” It was the first I’d heard of any detours.

“There’s a small human community that acts as a trading post of sorts. It’s a bit more than halfway between here and the California pack. It’s good for information and to keep an eye on what’s happening farther out from our borders. It keeps me plugged in.”

“Who do they think you are, exactly?” It sure wasn’t going to be the truth, not that I was judging. I was learning how the truth didn’t always set you free in the hardest way possible.

There was a lengthy pause before he said, “A rancher.”

I stared at him, trying to envision him with fresh eyes. Had I ever been naïve enough to see him as a rancher? No. My mother had once told me I’d come out of the womb with a cynical eye. I’d had a few slip-ups through the years, more lately than ever before. But not even my youngest of selves would ever see Kicks as a rancher.

“So you’re happy-go-lucky traveling rancher Kicks?” It was hard not to laugh at the whole thing.

“Actually, it’s Rancher Ed, who has a sister in California I go and check on.” A hint of a smile was forming on his lips. He couldn’t even take this disguise seriously.

“Rancher Ed?” I wasn’t sure these people had any information worth listening to if they believed that story.

“Yes. I’m going to go hunt us up some dinner. I’ll be back in a few. Don’t wander.”

“Okay, Rancher Ed.”

He raised a brow.

“What?” I shrugged. “I’m practicing.”

“You sound like a bad actor trying to talk with a twang,” he said, smirking.

“That’s why I have to practice, Rancher Ed,” I said, laying it on even thicker.

It was the first lighthearted talk we’d had all day, and it felt nice to cut the tension for a second.

He laughed softly before he left.

Chapter Twenty

We pulled down a winding road the next morning, driving under a large ranch sign that brought back memories. It was just like an old TV series my mother had liked to watch when she was sick: Dallas. She’d watched it growing up, and toward the end of her life, when she couldn’t seem to do much more than lie in bed, we’d binge-watched it together.

I wondered what she’d think of this place. It was like it was plucked right out of her show. There were horses and cows in the distance. They’d definitely had a good running start when the end of the world came.

There were a few men on the porch, drinking and talking to each other as we parked the bike. Some more people were out in the field, looking as if they were trying to get the animals settled in for the night.

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