Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
ELIZA
Two Weeks Later
“No more dead bulls or crop circles?” Jo asks, drawing my attention back from the window where I stare, searching the horizon for a figure who will never appear.
I shake my head, letting the gauzy curtain fall back over the window.
“And your search for a new ranch hand?”
I shrug. Haven’t put much effort into it. “Café’s been keeping me busy.”
Jo regards herself in the mirror, bringing a hand up to smooth her black bob. “I don’t like the thought of you out there alone.”
I sigh. “Maybe Frank was right. Maybe I need to give up the cattle business and the ranch.”
Her eyes lock with mine, sadness blossoming behind them.
I huff a laugh, trying to keep things light. “It was too ambitious trying to keep the ranch going alone. Should’ve known. Besides a quiet little bungalow a block or two from Main Street could be nice. No upkeep beyond maybe mowing the lawn. Sounds… easy.”
“If you do a lawn at all. You could always xeriscape.”
“What?” I catch myself, my thoughts drifting again to dark hair and beards, tattoos glistening in moonlight.
“Xeriscape,” Jo repeats.
I straighten her veil, smiling thinly. “You look beautiful. Are you ready to do this?”
“Yes,” she beams, more sure than I’ve ever seen the skeptical anthropologist.
Her enthusiasm pierces my heart. I look away, trying to keep it together.
“And the last man who was helping you?” she ventures.
I look away. “Temporary. Knew it wouldn’t last.”
She presses her lips tightly together. “Ash told me he saved you from a rattlesnake.”
I nod, quickly swiping the back of my hand over my cheeks. “Weddings always choke me up,” I excuse.
In truth, speaking of Kael, even in this roundabout way, heightens the ache I’ve felt ever since first laying eyes on him.
“Maybe you could post an advertisement in Redfern Feed,” Jo offers, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know how much the family ranch means to you.”
“Yeah.” I sigh long and low. “It’s just with no help and the government men still following me, showing up nearly every morning at the café… I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”
“Fortunately, you don’t have to decide today.”
“No,” I say, fixing my mascara in the mirror. “And today isn’t about me, anyway. It’s about you and that handsome cowboy who worships you with every look, every breath he takes.”
Jo’s cheeks glow. “You make it sound so romantic.”
“It is,” I say too quickly. “He adores you. What woman wouldn’t want a man like that?”
“Wildbloods,” she says under her breath, so soft I have to lean closer to catch it.
Heat sprouts behind my chest. “Like Kael.”
“And Ash,” she says, green eyes meeting mine. Unspoken things hiding there.
“Does it worry you at all?” I ask.
“What?”
I look away, searching for the right word. “The novelty of it?”
She giggles, staring down at her bouquet. “It wasn’t what I expected. That’s for sure. But I couldn’t imagine anyone else. He’s my everything.”
The words put a lump in my throat. My eyes blur as I adjust one stray hair, pushing it behind her ear. “You deserve this.”
A soft rap sounds at the door.
“It’s time,” Martin grumbles.
“Thank you, Grandpa,” she calls.
“Okay. Let’s do this,” she says, reaching out and squeezing my hand.
I grab another tissue, shove it into the hidden pocket of my dress.
Ash and Jo say their vows in front of an expansive field of minty sage and yellow cheatgrass. Time-blackened boulders shoot up from the earth around us like an island, the sun glistening against ancient symbols and drawings etched in stone.
I should’ve guessed Jo would insist on marrying among her rocks. Her passion and field of study… apart from Ash.
The wedding party is small, consisting only of the oldest families in Raven’s Ridge. The original ranching ones and the ones called Wildbloods like Ash and Kael.
Jo’s mother and stepfather didn’t come despite an invitation. Some kind of bad blood between them. I didn’t want to dig into it. As a small-town waitress, I already have enough gossip floating around my head.
Mags officiates, eyes scanning the ridge often. Storm clouds gather over the Starborn Range as they always do.
Soft booms warn of impending thunder and lightning. The wind picks up slightly, and it throbs through me all at once like a great ache.
My eyes search the distant treeline, dark and brooding. Looking for the impossible.
Him.
But it’s been two weeks since I last saw Kael ride away with Ash. And though he and Mags have sworn the cowboy made a full recovery, something just doesn’t sit right.
Maybe I can’t imagine him leaving me like that… without another word. Maybe it’s something worse.
Tears splash over my bottom lashes as I stand next to Jo, her sole bridesmaid. In the turquoise shimmer of Ash’s eyes, I find an echo of Kael’s heated gaze.
His hot breath on my cheek, his lips so close I could almost taste him.
Mine.
The wind presses harder into us, Jo’s veil climbing into the sky, a lacy trail of white against periwinkle.
Reddish dust swirls around the bride and groom’s feet. Mags’s face goes determined, eyes squinting through dust, voice projecting as she says words passed down from generation to generation.
That’s when I feel him. Somewhere far off.
Like a memory in blood and bone. The electric impulse behind each heartbeat.
Kael Guthrie.
A dark vision—one I can’t erase.
Ash’s eyes catch Mags, and they exchange a knowing look. Clay and Wilton, two members of the council, lift their heads, surveying the crowd. The air goes thick.
But nothing happens. No one appears. The ceremony goes on, and my blood burns… no satisfaction in sight.
“May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ash Merrick,” Mags hollers at the end, fighting the wind. A dust devil looms in the distance, black and menacing.
The fiddler starts in, playing from memory, squinting through dust. Cheers rise against the impending storm.
Miranda Reyes, Jo’s grandma, squeezes my hand. “At least, this breeze took the edge off July.”
I nod. “Can I help with anything?”
She shakes her head. “No, I think we can manage. Want a lift back to the house?” she nods toward an old pickup, more rust and patina than paint.
“Thank you, but I think I’ll walk back.” I say, distracted, eyes snagging on a distant petroglyph.
“Alright then. Don’t get caught in the rain.”
“I won’t, ma’am.”
After the wedding party departs, I walk among the petroglyphs. The air vibrates. My heart throbs behind my ribs. For the first time in two weeks, I sense him.
I lift a hand, shielding my eyes and staring off into the distance. It’s not possible. It can’t be. All I see are cows and fields in every direction.
I climb the stony outcropping for a better view. Then, I spy it—a familiar symbol. I carefully wind between rocks in my strappy lilac-colored sandals, perfectly dyed to match my off-the-shoulder gown.
“That’s what’s in my field,” I rasp, leaning forward and pressing palm to stone. I trace the lines. It feels cool beneath my touch.
Thunder sounds closer now, dark clouds blotting out the sun. I should go back before I get drenched by the rain. But I can’t. I won’t.
My feet won’t move in that direction. Instead, they go the other way, leading me to another outcropping and a new series of glyphs.
I would recognize them anywhere…
Symbols that glittered over Kael’s chest and arms beneath the stars. I raise a shaking hand, touching one glyph.
Somewhere deep inside stone, I feel a hum, then a pulse. I blink hard, mind scrambling for an explanation. Seismic activity? The approaching storm?
It comes again, stinging my palm. Buried deep between rock and bone.
“Kael Guthrie,” I whisper. The lonely wind carries it away. The stone no longer speaking. Still my fingers trace the image. “What does it mean?” I whisper, the cowboy’s name still hot on my lips.
Back at the ranch house reception, Mags draws me aside. Her lavender eyes exude warmth, her voice gentle yet firm. “The stones. Did they speak to you?”
I half-sputter, half-laugh. “Speak?” But guilt bores into me. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets.
She leans closer, her voice a whisper. “It might feel like a pulse or a tremor.” She casts her eyes to the side, searching for the right words. “Even a small earthquake.”
The last words hit too close to home. I step back, pressing my fingers to my temples. Mama was right. Stay away from the Wildbloods.
I search the room, separating them from regular ranchers. Suddenly feeling out of place.
Clay and Wilton… Mags and Ash.
The last two names stick in my head—the things they said to Kael. The way Ash treated him after the snakebite still nauseates me.
I shake my head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes narrow. She doesn’t believe me.
But before she can say another word, Miranda comes over, patting my hand. “You look hot, Liza. Tea or lemonade?”
“Tea, please,” I say, grabbing her hand and escaping into the kitchen.