CHAPTER 23
It was a beautiful Saturday with spring flowers in full bloom, the bright golden sun rising, warming the ground below, and waking nature from its frosty slumber. Up long after the roosters warning of a new day, Guy and Morgan reluctantly joined the world after a long night of making passionate love again…and again. Unlike their escapade by the hunting cabin, this was slow, emotional, and confirming.
Their silent promise to each other was forever. Their passion, at every turn, so completely in sync with each other it was as if it was intentional, that they were made for each other – soulmates. Though a day, alone, in bed, was what they desired, a day with their friends on the ranch for Colton and Meg’s wedding rehearsal was what they were getting. Just one week to the day, it was the big finale, before the big day. With busy work schedules, and the annual Rodeo coming, it was easier to plan their rehearsal for this day, and get everyone in the same place at the same time.
The men put the final coats of stain on the newly erected arbor that sat at the edge of the property, overlooking McKenzie Ridge, near Morgan and Guy’s spot. The women arranged the hay bale benches that would be their guest seating for the ceremony, so it would be ready for Megs fresh floral décor, and fluffy trimmings on the big day. Only Fancy Pants
herself could pull off hay bales with elaborate floral sprays adorned with crystals and make it work like a magazine worthy display.
Each busy, divided by the sexes and job duties, Morgan and Guy sent each other knowing adoring looks, and managed to squeeze in simply physical affections here and there between their respective wedding countdown to-do lists. As the tasks dwindled, and preparations were in place, the final deed was a ceremony run through before they broke out the beer and fired up the grill.
With their mock bouquets in hand, each girl practiced her solo run down the aisle. They each held their own flower that Meg picked just for them in hand. The maid of honor, and sister of the bride, Lydia, carried gladiolus. The sword like shape flower represented the fierce spirit that has both luck and protection. Completely Lydia.
Sam walked with a gather of her favorite, daisies, in every color. They represented cheer, innocence, and purity…perfectly Sam. Everly and her stargazer lilies came next. Honor and aspiration…so Evie. Tulips…bunched together with a soft satin bow, were next. They represented grace and elegance…faultlessly Carigan.
There is always one. The one that walks the wrong side of a straight line. The one that pushes boundaries, and acts questionably because if she didn’t the world would be too right…Jessie. Chuckles erupted, burning to full blown, knee slapping, tear jerking laughter when she had her spotlight, carrying a…cactus.
The thorny edges, and crude, dreary nature is a first impression that encompasses all that is Jessie on the outside. But, it is its ability to survive a drought, sustain both the hottest and coldest of days, and still kick ass that was truly Jessie. A pain in the ass, but there until the end.
Finally, Morgan. Guy’s breath caught and his heart skipped. She was beautiful, no doubt, but her presence made the earth stand still, and the air shift, simply just being. She was like a beautiful song, playing in the background of life and he never wanted it to stop. She was his song. The one he woke to, the one he fell asleep to. The song he danced to, played to, and made love to. His beautiful song, Morgan. Irises filled her hands, in blues and yellows, representing passion, courage, admiration, and wisdom…all Morgan.
A strange unfamiliar emotion took over, filling his eyes with joyful tears. Pride danced in his heart, and happiness tingled his skin. Happiness. That was the unfamiliar feeling that seemed to radiate through him and make him want strange things that he couldn’t recall ever wanting, which didn’t mean much because he still couldn’t remember his own name.
This feeling, this need, this want – surely something he would remember, if ever exposed before – was all Morgan. As she moved closer, the feeling grew. It pained him to stand there cemented, unable to go to her. So he did what any love sick, dumb struck fool would do – he left his post next to the groom, marched down the aisle, met her halfway, swept her off her feet and kissed the girl.
As his head came down from the clouds, and the world around them came clearer, the hoots and hollers chased by high pitched whistles nudged him from his love drunk state of mind. Back on her feet, she wiped a tear while her prince charming escorted her to her
spot at the arbor, smacked her ass for good measure, and took his place so the bride could close the show. And close the show, she did!
Standing in scattered groups along the back deck of the main house, the friends enjoyed their last meal together before their dynamic changed, once again, when two are claimed by marriage. Colton and Meg spent some time with Doc Charles going over the final list of music he and The Scalpels would play at the wedding. Granny Lou, with Moonshine secured to her hip in his puppy sling, fed snickerdoodles to Blake and the kids, while the rest stood around shooting the shit about everything and nothing.
An eerie transfer in mood rocked Guy to the depth of his soul. Something was wrong – off maybe? A cool sense of awareness hit him, standing his hairs on end, as his skin felt prickly. Learning to trust his intuitive gut, he scanned the immediate area in search of its source; he couldn’t help but notice Blake’s change in demeanor. Something – someone – was watching them. But where?
Brow furrowed, eyes in an icy dark stare, and jaw clenched, he came to his feet in a swift movement, taking a defensive stance. One would expect clenched fists, but in reality it was open relaxed hands you had to worry about with Blake. Those hands were lethal, ready for anything, from what Guy had gathered.
Meeting each other’s glance, a simple raise in Guy’s brow, earned a nod from Blake – he felt it too. It was happening. Whatever had been chasing them, threatening them – or him – was back. One more look through the guests and only one was missing. Duncan Haines.
The men moved closer to their women, Chappy and Granny Lou escorted the children inside, picking up on the body language and sheer anxiety Blake and Guy were putting off. A teasing flash, small, but present, landed in Guy’s peripheral. A quick jerk to his left, chasing whatever it was he saw, was all he needed before catching the silvery glare that had been the flash staring him down – the sun reflecting off a gun at the edge of the property, tucked just inside the tree line. A gun aimed at him.
“Blake, gun!” he shouted.
Guy swooped at Dawson and Sam who stood far too close for comfort, should bullets start flying, taking them to the ground. Dawson pulled Sam into him as they began to fall, shielding her from whatever was headed their way. Just as he heard that all too familiar crack in the air, that was already flooding his mind, not once, but twice, three times, and a forth…he fell into his living nightmare.
And there it was, like a slideshow on repeat, flashing through his mind. Guy watched his accident again, and again. His horse reared at the first shot. He tried to calm him but was thrown by the second shot, as it did every time he went through the motions. There was no surprise anymore, as he had done this enough to know what would come next. Oddly, the knowing removed much of the fear and anxiety that tended to bring him to present.
He held on to the experience, this time. He wanted to see the face, see who was trying to destroy all that had become important to him. So he looked to his left to see the prairie and livestock he expected to see. Oddly, he saw the hunting cabin in the blurred distance this time – something new. There was something different about it, though; he couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was nothing at all, he hadn’t seen the cabin before the previous night – or had he?
Sticking to the order of looking from left then right, he turned his head again. Blake’s voice rang through his mind, sometimes we see, know, and remember more than we think
, was that what this was? Another memory, finding its way back?
Had he known the cabin was there all along and was just now remembering it? The cabin had felt familiar the night before, perhaps this was why. But, what’s the sudden relevance, why was he fixated on it? He’d have to explore that thought later because he had little to no control over his nightmare. It was on its own timeline and moving on to the man, at the edge of the tree line.
Squinting his eyes, trying to get a closer look, nothing had changed. The same basic image danced around his mind, telling him nothing more than it had the time before. Then fading to black, that was it. Before he opened his eyes, and as the chaos around him came back into view, there was one last flash.
Morgan. Her big beautiful eyes staring back at him, concern dancing around them with curiosity playing along. She was the first and last thing he saw after the accident, while being readied for transport that frightful day. God, that just might have been the very moment he chose to love her forever.
“Guy? Open your eyes!” Morgan’s voice was panicked, he heard her before he saw her. “Oh my God, he’s bleeding!”
Those words and the fear that weighted them snapped him out of wherever it was his thoughts went when these living nightmares stole his mind. Rushing sounds of feet, fuming voices, and an overwhelming stir to chase whatever took a shot at them had Guy to his feet so fast, he lost his footing and nearly kissed the ground again.
“Whoa, man. Sit down, you’re hurt,” Dawson said, his hand on Guy’s shoulder.
A quick glance at his surroundings revealed the source of Morgan’s panic, and purpose for the pressure Dawson was applying. Blood.
“Doc!” Dawson hollered, “you need to look at this one.”
Barely making sense of his surroundings, Guy tried to sort out the scene unfolding, still trying to put his strange episode behind him. Doc was a few feet away, tending to Meg, who had fainted. Evie applied pressure to a small cut on her forehead, assuring her it didn’t need stitches and wouldn’t interfere with her wedding the following week. It was going to be nicely hidden in her hairline.
Remembering the quick movement to get the children inside, he saw Chappy standing inside the house, on the other side of the sliding glass door. Good, they were safe. Dawson and Sam were tending him, while Doc ruffled through a large orange duffle bag – a first aid kit.
Nearly everyone was accounted for as he played back the four shots he remembered hearing before taking the people he cared about to the ground, protecting his friends from bullets he was certain were meant for him. Dawson turned to look behind him, his expression emanating both anger and concern.
Guy followed Dawson’s line of sight to the wooded border of Pinecrest, just in time to see Blake disappear into the darkness of the forest. Colton and Jessie, weapons drawn, traced the outside, covering Blake and keeping whoever they were hunting away from the rest of their family. Jumping to his feet once more, Guy was stopped once again by Dawson.
“Dawson, he just went in…alone.” He said in a panic, referring to Blake. “We need to help them.”
Dawson chuckled, “Blake alone in there is more dangerous for whoever he’s tracking.”
Nodding in agreement, Guy didn’t doubt that, but his concern was yet to be appeased. “But Colton…Jessie. She’s…”
“A total badass,” Dawson ensured, speaking of Jessie. “I get it. It’s hard to sit here and wait, but that’s what keeps them
safe.” He nodded his head in the direction of Guy’s concern.
Flinching at the pain in his shoulder, Guy noticed Doc at work, cleaning it up, unaware that he had even sat beside him until then.
“Look, we’re all part of the local Search and Rescue,” Dawson added, trying to offer some sense of calm to his friend’s mental chaos. “Our training is a bit more…intense
than the standard. Small town, not too much to do around here, so we train – a lot – for fun. Guess who our lead is – who trained us?”
Guy guffawed, as he watched Colton and Jessie, part of the local Fire House, methodically and systematically make their way down their designated path, perfectly in sync like highly skilled elite team operatives on an assassination mission.
“Blake.” He finally said.
Sam chimed in with her sweet smile and calming way, “Blake takes care of the people he cares about. Hell, even Granny Lou can shoot a fly off a tin can from fifty yards away.”
“Point taken,” he responded.
“No stitches, man. You got lucky. Just a deep flesh wound. A second later and we’d be on our way to surgery in search of a bullet. Good eye, bud,” Doc reassured with a pat to the uninjured shoulder as he moved on to check on Meg who had moved inside with the others.
What was probably only a handful of minutes, felt like hours. Guy sat perched on the deck, Dawson at his side, watching. Watching for anything – signs of his friends, signs of malice, and signs of this bastard, whoever he was.
A sound from behind startled him from his concentrated effort, jarring him to his feet in a defensive manner, when Dunny walked through the sliding glass door, from within the house. Son of a bitch.
“Uh, hey, I just heard,” Dunny offered, pointing behind him, indicating he heard about the afternoon’s chaos from the gang inside. “Sorry to hear about your shoulder, man. You good?
Guy just stared at Dunny, creating an awkward moment of accusing silence. How did this guy always manage to show up at the same time…the end?
It made sense that he pegged Dunny for this, after all, he hated Guy – Dunny would like to take a shot, remove him from the picture where Morgan was concerned.
Looking between Guy and Dunny, Dawson broke the silence, “Just grazed him, Doc said he’d be okay.”
Nodding in surprise, or maybe delight, Dunny replied, “Good…good to hear. So…” Dunny looked around as if he was searching for someone and gave a bewildering look when he came up empty, “did Blake get whoever it was?”
“Doesn’t look like it.” Guy’s response was pointed, and insinuating, going unmissed by Dunny and Dawson. It was clear Guy had Dunny at the top of his list of suspects. He also happened to be his only one.
“Duncan Haines.” Blake’s booming voice rattled them, shaking them from their stare down.
“Blake,” he replied with a sincere nod.
“Where’ve you been? Starting to notice a pattern with you.
BINGO,
Guy thought. This guy Dunny was either really good at being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or he was guilty as sin.
“Around, why?” Dunny sharply replied, knowing full well where this was going.
“Have you been on the property all day? Where’d ya come from? Got your gun on ya?” Blake wasn’t tip toeing around the issue one bit this time. He was laying it all out there. Seems Dunny was at the top of Blake’s list too.
“What the fuck, Blake? You think I did this?” Dunny quickly became riddled with anger, his words escaping through clenched teeth. “I’ve been here all day, I was walking the trails, trying to clear my head, and yes – I have my gun. Like I said before, it’s legal; I’m licensed, so not breaking the fucking law.”
The rest of the gang had drifted back outside, interested in an update when they saw Blake, Jessie, and Colton return, and got to watch a showdown of sorts instead.
“Good. Then you won’t have any trouble coming down to the House with me, talkin’ a bit, and surrendering your weapon for inspection?”
Completely taken aback by the accusation, Dunny replied, “Are you fucking kidding me? Is this guy for real?” He turned to the watchful faces only to be met with silence.
Strike three, it was unanimous, everyone thought it was Dunny – you’re out.
He tossed his hands to the air in defeat and shouted, “Fine!! Let’s go!” in a final move more dramatic, he tossed his wrists out in front of himself, waiting to be hand-cuffed.
“That won’t be necessary,” Blake said in reference to the handcuffs, “but I’ll take your weapon now.”
Reluctantly placing his gun in waiting hands, Dunny then walked down the steps, rounding to the front of the house where Blake’s truck was parked, ready to get this over with. Still silent, the gang followed suit, seeing them off, shocked that one of their own had turned on them. Dunny had never been a constant part of their family gatherings, but they all knew him, well, and he was just always around.
Morgan was especially troubled. She still didn’t want to believe he could have done all that he stood accused of. It was
all circumstantial, without a shred of real evidence, suggesting otherwise. What were any of them to think?