Page 61 of Deacon

Darkness and all.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DEACON

She sleeps, curled up with her cheek pressed to the back of her hand. Before I leave for chores the next morning, I kneel beside the bed. Her hair, which she usually braids down her back, is loose. The voluminous curls are a tangle around her head. I brush them back, and she stirs but doesn’t wake.

I’m so aware of how fragile her presence is.

She’s afraid of me sometimes. Maybe I would be too if I were her size.

And yet, she didn’t run.

Out of nowhere, I flashback hard. One second, all I see is her angelic face. Then, I’m drenched in hot blood, dragging my body down the hill toward the farmhouse with a metal stake sticky in my fist.

A monster.

I stand so fast, I see stars. I’ve worked hard to erase everything that happened here all those years ago. I burned the house to the ground, tore out the foundation. I made a ghost of what I did.

The home I built in its place is the complete opposite of Phil and Amie’s farmhouse. The people who work here are happy, well paid. We have a strong sense of camaraderie. No man or woman workswithout proper compensation. Not the way I did, breaking my back with those horses so Phil could cash out.

I thought I could mask who I am, but after last night, I’m done with that. She doesn’t know what I’m doing to get her. But she saw me clearly last night, and she didn’t leave. Maybe once she’s finally mine for good, I can admit everything I’ve done.

The truck door slams in the yard. It takes me a second to come down to Earth and remember I was expecting company. Silently, I put my work boots on, fasten my belt, and grab my jacket and hat. She’s still asleep as I shut the door and head down the stairs, through the front hallway, and out onto the porch.

It’s colder than I expected today. Everything smells like wet leaves.

In the driveway is a silver truck with double tires in the back and a horse trailer hitched to it. I put my hat on and pull my coat over my shoulders, making a circle around it to find Jack Russell digging through the back seat.

“You forgot I was coming,” he says, stepping out and slamming it shut.

“I didn’t.” I shrug. “Took your sweet time, though.”

His dark green eyes narrow as he fits his hat on. “I’ve been busy over the summer. There’s shit going on all the damn time.”

“Ain’t one thing, it’s another.”

“Let’s get the horses out,” Jack says, heading toward the barn. “I can’t stay longer than a few hours.”

We go into the barn. Luckily, I already had Apocalypse in Exile pulled from the barn where we keep the studs the other day for a checkup. He’s at the far end, pale head hanging over the stall door. Jack makes a beeline for him, standing while the stallion sniffs his shoulder.

“You want to take them out?” I ask.

He nods, unlatching the door. I take Bones out and saddle him up. Jack takes his sweet time getting the saddle on Exile, but I don’t mind. He’s letting him sniff over his shoulders and every piece of tack before he puts it on. Exile seems to like him, not shying away.

“Is he usually this calm?” Jack swings astride him, adjusting in the stirrups.

I shift my weight, and Bones heads out the door, Exile at his heels.

“Exile’s one of my calmest stallions,” I say. “Never scares, doesn’t stir up shit.”

We head east to the flat area by a group of trees. Here, there’s a paddock and a course set up for barrel racing. I do most of the training in this space, and it’s small enough to keep the horses from getting distracted. We ride past it, and I shift to a posting trot, Jack following my lead. Exile’s got the smoothest trot I’ve ever seen, next to Bones.

“You got problems,” Jack says.

I don’t bother to ask how he knows, I just nod. We ride through the valley and crest the hill on the other end. From here, the upper east side of Ryder Ranch is fully visible. Jack slows to a walk and Bones falls into step beside him.

“Gonna ask you something,” I say.

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