Chapter 6
Astifled scream shattered the midnight hush, yanking Josh from the depths of sleep.
His heart slammed against his ribs as he bolted upright, sheets already off his body, legs swinging over the edge of the bed as instincts honed by years on the frontier seized control.
He grabbed the rifle propped by his bed, the cool metal grounding him as he moved silently through the dark ranch house.
His mind raced through the different threats that could be lurking within the home as he followed the sound, his bare feet silent on the wooden floor.
The front door stood ajar, moonlight spilling across the porch.
There, on the steps, sat Catherine, her knees drawn tight to her chest, trembling despite the warm summer air.
Her black curls hung loose and unkempt, framing a face as pale as the starlight.
Her gaze was fixed on the darkness beyond the prairie, as if she could see monsters prowling in those shadows.
Terror etched her delicate features, a raw, haunted look that stopped Josh cold.
No intruders were looking to line their pockets, nor predators to fill their bellies.
There was only a woman caught in a nightmare’s grip.
“Catherine?” he called softly, setting the rifle against the wall.
He approached her as he would a spooked mare, slow and deliberate, his hands open to show he meant no harm. “Are you all right?”
She did not respond, her gaze still locked on the horizon.
Josh’s chest tightened. He had seen that look before in his own reflection, haunted eyes peering back through the mirror after the blizzard that stole Mary and their unborn child, Grace.
Nightmares, he knew all too well, had a way of dragging old wounds into the light.
“Hold on,” he said, his voice low. He stepped back inside and grabbed a quilt from the chest in the parlor.
His fingers curled around the familiar blanket for a moment, old memories flashing before his eyes.
It had once been Mary’s favorite, its patchwork blues faded but soft.
After a breath, he returned to the front porch and draped the quilt over Catherine’s shoulders.
“There you go,” he murmured, easing onto the step beside her, close enough to offer comfort but not crowd her.
The prairie hummed with night sounds—owls hooting across the vastness, cattle lowing faintly in the pastures, the whisper of wind through dry grass.
Josh said nothing, letting the silence stretch as long as Catherine needed.
He’d learned, in the long months after Mary’s death, that a quiet presence often spoke louder than words, especially when demons came calling in the dark.
They sat for a long time. The stars overhead were bright, twinkling in the velvet darkness that colored the sky.
Gradually, Catherine’s trembling eased, and her breathing steadied.
When she finally spoke, her fingers curled around the fabric of her nightshirt, and her words were barely a whisper, carried on the breeze.
“I’m sorry, Josh. I did not mean to wake you. ”
“No apology needed,” he said, keeping his tone gentle. “Nightmares do not ask for permission.”
She pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders, eyes still fixed on the darkness. “Sometimes I dream of terrible things,” she said, her voice faltering. “Things I can’t—” She stopped, her lips pressing into a thin line, as if the words were too heavy to speak.
Josh nodded, his gaze on the horizon, too.
He moved a little closer, his thigh now touching hers.
“I know the kind,” he said quietly. “After Mary and our little girl passed, I would wake up seeing that blizzard, hearing her voice over and over. Still do, some nights. Helpless feeling, ain’t it? Being trapped in the past.”
Her head turned, her eyes meeting his gaze for the first time. “You lost a child, too?” she asked, her voice soft with something like recognition.
“Grace,” he said, the name a weight on his tongue.
“Never got to hold her. The blizzard kept the doctor away, and… well, it was just me and Mary.” He swallowed, the memory as sharp as ever, a knife still pressing between his ribs and into his heart every time he breathed.
“You never forget, but it fades sometimes. Time does heal all things, but what they don’t tell you is how long it takes. ”
A flicker of understanding passed between them.
This time, Catherine leaned in another inch, their bodies side by side.
Josh half expected her to rest her head on his shoulder, given how she inclined her head toward him, but instead she just continued to hold his gaze as if searching for something in the depths of his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “That must have been unbearable for you.”
“It was,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Thomas pulled me through the worst of it. Kept the ranch running when I couldn’t get out of bed. Now I’m here, sitting with the woman he was going to marry, hoping I’ll do right by him.”
Her breath hitched. She looked away, her fingers twisting the quilt’s edge. “I don’t deserve your kindness, Josh,” she said so softly he almost missed it.
“Why’s that?” he asked, tilting his head to catch her eye. “You’re here, aren’t you? Thomas saw something in you, and I trust his judgment.”
She shook her head, a shadow crossing her face. “You don’t know me,” she returned, her voice trembling. “Not really.”
Josh studied her profile in the moonlight.
There was the delicate curve of her cheek and the way the starlight caught in her curls, giving them an iridescent sheen.
It reminded him of the beautiful purple hue of a raven’s feather.
The protective tenderness stirring in his chest was different from what he’d felt for Mary.
It was neither better nor worse, but simply a new kind of feeling, like a melody he had never heard before.
“Maybe I don’t,” he said softly. “But I know you’re scared, Catherine.
And I know you’re trying. That’s enough for now. ”
She glanced at him, her eyes searching his again. “You are too good, Josh McKenna,” she said, a faint smile breaking through her fear. “Thomas was right about you.”
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He would argue that I am a stubborn fool half the time, but I will take your assessment as a compliment.”
Her laugh was small and fragile, yet real, reaching her eyes and bringing new light to them. The sight warmed him more than it should. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now. “For sitting with me. For… not pushing.”
“Anytime,” he said, and he meant it, too. He stood, offering his hand to help her up. “Let’s get you inside. Morning comes early on a ranch, and Ma won’t care if we’ve been up all night before she has us both peeling potatoes like it's the path to salvation.”
She chuckled, taking his hand, the quilt still wrapped around her shoulders. “I can handle potatoes,” she said, the light in her eyes turning liquid amber.
Josh grinned, picking up his rifle. “We’ll see about that.”
As they stepped inside, the door creaked shut behind them. Josh glanced back at the prairie, at its vast expanse cloaked in shadow. Whatever haunted Catherine’s dreams, whatever secrets she carried, he’d made a vow to Thomas. He would keep her safe, even from the demons she would not name.