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Don't Cry for Me
Sharon Sala
A soldier's homecoming. Mariah Conrad has come home. Badly wounded on active duty in Afghanistan and finally released Stateside, she has no family to call on and nowhere to go—until Quinn Walker arrives at her bedside. Quinn…her brother-in-arms, ex-lover and now maybe her future. Quinn brings Mariah to his log cabin in the Appalachian Mountains of Kentucky to rest and recuperate both physically and emotionally.While she's incredibly grateful, Mariah is also confused and frustrated. She's always stood on her own two feet, but now even that can literally be torture. She's having flashbacks and blackouts, hearing helicopter noises in the night. She wants to push Quinn away—and hold him closer than ever. But will she get the chance?Those helicopters are more than just post-traumatic stress; they're real—and dangerous. Bad things are happening on the mountain. Suddenly there's a battle to be fought on the home front, and no guarantee of survival.


A soldier’s homecoming
Mariah Conrad has come home. Badly wounded on active duty in Afghanistan and finally released Stateside, she has no family to call on and nowhere to go—until Quinn Walker arrives at her bedside. Quinn…her brother-in-arms, ex-lover and now maybe her future.
Quinn brings Mariah to his log cabin in the Appalachian Mountains of Kentucky to rest and recuperate both physically and emotionally. While she’s incredibly grateful, Mariah is also confused and frustrated. She’s always stood on her own two feet, but now even that can literally be torture. She’s having flashbacks and blackouts, hearing helicopter noises in the night. She wants to push Quinn away—and hold him closer than ever.
But will she get the chance? Those helicopters are more than just post-traumatic stress; they’re real—and dangerous. Bad things are happening on the mountain. Suddenly there’s a battle to be fought on the home front, and no guarantee of survival.
Praise for the novels of


“Vivid, gripping…this thriller keeps the pages turning.”
—Library Journal on Torn Apart
“Sala’s characters are vivid and engaging.”
—Publishers Weekly on Cut Throat
“Sharon Sala is not only a top romance novelist, she is an inspiration for people everywhere who wish to live their dreams.”
—John St. Augustine, host, Power!Talk! Radio WDBC-AM, Michigan
“Veteran romance writer Sala lives up to her reputation with this well-crafted thriller.”
—Publishers Weekly on Remember Me
“[A] well-written, fast-paced ride.”
—Publishers Weekly on Nine Lives
“Perfect entertainment for those looking for a suspense novel with emotional intensity.”
—Publishers Weekly on Out of the Dark
Don’t Cry for Me
Sharon Sala






www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
Soldiers are trained for battle—trained to fight to the death for country and their fellow soldiers. They are trained to be tough—and to follow orders without question. They accept that when they go to war they may not come back and they are willing to pay the sacrifice to keep their country free from tyranny.
They are trained to die—but no one has told them what to do when they come home in pieces, shattered in body, mind and spirit. They come home forever changed by what they’ve seen and what they’ve done in the name of war, and the only other people back home who truly understand how they function have either been cremated and scattered to the winds or lie buried six feet under.
I dedicate this book to the wounded warriors of our great nation, who have come home from one fight to fight again every night in their dreams.
I do not know your names, but I do cry for you.
You are my heroes.
Contents
Chapter One (#u548a9e8e-91d6-57a2-959c-388661dde039)
Chapter Two (#ua05148f6-b49c-50e3-9d49-3bb5ae23e4c9)
Chapter Three (#u8b10434d-4a77-574c-b04a-b4d4e8b3b881)
Chapter Four (#uaaeeee60-e52b-56a2-8fcb-ac8dd46c3109)
Chapter Five (#ua20bd9e2-a2d3-51a6-bc08-10bd329bd0ad)
Chapter Six (#ud2d4f445-b457-5c17-86de-3895da37b13e)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Rebel Ridge, Kentucky
April
“Sniper at three o’clock. Get down! Get down!”
Bullets ripped through walls. Someone screamed. Someone was praying to God to let him die.
Quinn was on his belly, crawling toward an opening to get a bead on the sniper, when the world exploded.
One minute Quinn Walker was back in Afghanistan watching PFC Wooten’s head explode all over again and the next moment he woke up. He sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding, his body covered in sweat.
He threw back the covers and staggered to the window overlooking the high mountain meadow. Less than an hour until sunrise. The sky was already showcasing the imminent arrival of a new day.
Why did this keep happening? Why couldn’t he let it go? He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, willing the nightmare back to hell, and wondered if there would ever come a time when that horror faded—when he was able to accept that he was back home in Kentucky?
The little something called PTSD he’d brought home from the war had an ugly habit of recurring just when it was most inconvenient. It wasn’t like sand fleas, which fell by the wayside after a good dose of tea tree oil. There were no meds, no vaccines, no magic wand to wave and make it go away. It was the gift that kept on giving, night after night in his sleep, and in the bright light of day when he least expected it. A word, a sound, even a scent, was all it took to yank him back. It was the son of a bitch on his back that wouldn’t go away.
Too early to get ready for work and too late to go back to bed, he made a quick trip into the bathroom, and then grabbed a pair of sweatpants and headed downstairs from the loft.
The hardwood floors in the cabin echoed his steps as he turned on the lights and moved into the kitchen area to make coffee. As soon as it was done, he took his first hot, steamy cup outside to the wraparound deck to wait for sunrise.
Disturbed by Quinn’s appearance, an owl suddenly took flight from the A-frame roof and flew into the trees.
Fog hovered waist-high above the ground all the way to the trees. He caught a glimpse of something moving off to his left and waited until a large buck with a massive rack slowly emerged from the fog. It was the prince of the forest, and the antlers were its crown. The buck suddenly stopped, as if sensing he was no longer alone.
Although Quinn didn’t move, he knew the buck smelled him—or at least smelled the coffee—but it wasn’t enough to spook him. After a few moments the buck moved on through the clearing in stately fashion and disappeared into the forest. It was a far better greeting to Quinn’s day than his nightmare had been.
He sat on the top step with his elbows on his knees, waiting for the coffee to cool, remembering when this had been his grandparents’ place, and he and his family were still living at home. Only this cabin wasn’t the house that had been there then. This one was new. Quinn had built it with the help of the family after the old home place was blown up during a gunfight with some hired killers from L.A.
They’d come to silence a witness who was hiding here in the mountains, intent on keeping her from testifying against their boss. That witness was not only a distant relative but his brother Ryal’s long-lost love.
The bad guys lost the fight.
Ryal and Beth and their baby daughter, Sarah, were living happily ever after.
Quinn was still trying to outrun a war.
A few moments later a coyote came out of the tree line near where he was sitting, lifted its head then tucked tail and disappeared.
“Yeah, I know, I’m screwing up the status quo this morning, but mine got screwed up, too,” Quinn said, and took a quick sip of coffee before he was satisfied that it cool enough to drink.
He sat with one eye on the meadow, watching the night creatures going to ground and the day creatures coming out, all the while waiting for sunrise.
As a backcountry ranger for the Daniel Boone National Forest Service, the area he kept track of was off-road and unpopulated except for the wildlife. The fewer people he had to deal with, the better he liked it.
Finally the sun did him the honor of rising to the occasion, and Quinn went about the business of getting to work.
By midmorning he was on the opposite side of Rebel Ridge, hiking up Greenlee Pass to look for Robert Lane and Wayne Hall, two hikers who were over a day late checking out of the park. He wasn’t expecting problems, but in country this rough, having an accident and no way to get medical attention could mean the difference between life and death. He carried food and first aid, and was in contact with ranger headquarters by two-way radio. The last reported contact with the hikers was at a location just above Greenlee Pass. Since he hadn’t met them on the trail on his way up, it stood to reason they were still ahead of him. Unless they’d done something stupid like diverting off the hiking trail and getting themselves lost, in which case the search would turn to air, horseback and rescue dogs. In the eighteen months since he’d been on the job, they’d only had one such search, which had ended on a happy note. He was hoping that would be the case again.
He’d been walking for almost three hours when he paused at an outcrop to use his binoculars. A careful sweep of the area revealed nothing that alerted him. No smoke. No distress flag. Nothing. He pocketed the binoculars, got a drink of water and continued upward.
Less than a hundred yards later he found the first sign of blood. He would have missed it but for the unusual number of ants swarming on it. After the first sign, he found another and then another. He couldn’t tell if it was human or animal, but either way it wasn’t good. He didn’t want to walk up on an injured animal, but he had no option but to keep following the blood trail upward, in case it was his hikers.
It didn’t take long to find the source. Another hundred yards up and he caught the scent of something dead. A few yards farther he found one of the hikers—or at least part of one. An arm and a foot were missing, along with most of the internal organs.
The sight spun Quinn’s head back to Afghanistan so fast that for a moment he nearly lost it. He grabbed for the dog tags he still wore and held on as if his life depended on it. The metal dug into his palm, and it was that pain that helped him focus.
He turned away from the sight and began looking at the scene, trying to figure out what had happened. There was one backpack about twenty feet up from the body, hanging from a limb. It appeared to have been ripped apart by teeth and claws. There were black bear in the park. This wasn’t good.
When he found claw marks on a tree trunk where the bear had marked its territory, he stopped and stared. The claw marks were nearly ten feet high. That was one damn big bear.
He grabbed his radio and quickly called in to dispatch.
“This is Walker, come in.”
“Go ahead, Walker,” the dispatcher said.
“Found one of the hikers. Dead. Looks like a bear attack. I’ve got claw marks on a tree a good ten feet high.” He gave the GPS coordinates of the body. “I have a blood trail that leads down the mountain, and I’m going back to follow it. We’re still one hiker short. Stands to reason it might be him.”
“Copy that, Walker. Stay safe. Over and out.”
Quinn slipped the rifle strap off his shoulder, took the gun off safety, jacked a shell into the chamber and headed back down the trail.
Now that he knew what he was hunting, all his instincts kicked in. The forest had gone silent—like everything was holding its breath. He stopped, listening. Not even the air was stirring. After a moment he kept moving, following the blood into the trees, keeping his eyes on the ground and his ears tuned to the sounds around him.
About ten yards in, a twig suddenly snapped. He crouched instantly as he swung his rifle toward the sound. A few moments later a raccoon ambled out from under one bush and disappeared just as quickly beneath another one.
Shit. He let out a slow breath and kept moving.
The earth beneath the trees was spongy—covered in dead leaves and pine needles—but it wasn’t the type of ground cover that held prints. It wasn’t until he came upon a place void of leaves that he found his first footprint. It was human. Now that he knew he was trailing a man and not a bear, he started calling out loud. He didn’t know which man was dead and which one had walked away from the bear attack, so he shouted both names.
“Hello! Hello! Robert? Wayne? Where are you?”
He kept shouting as he walked, following blood drops, broken limbs and the occasional footprint. He’d been on the trail for a good twenty minutes before he heard a faint sound. He stopped to listen, then called out again.
“Hello! Robert? Wayne?”
He heard the sound again. It was a faint call for help. His heart skipped a beat.
“Keep yelling! I’m coming,” he shouted, and ran toward the noise.
One moment he was pushing through a thicket of brush, and the next he had to jump to keep from stepping on the body.
The man was lying on his side, covered in dirt and leaves and an abundance of dried blood. One leg had claw marks all the way from thigh to calf, with ants swarming the wounds. When he rolled over onto his back and saw Quinn, he started to cry.
“Thank God, thank God.”
“Are you Robert or Wayne?” Quinn asked.
“I’m Robert Lane. Wayne is… Wayne is…”
Quinn put a hand on his shoulder. “I found him. Just rest easy, man. I’m Quinn Walker with the ranger service. Help is already on the way. Give me a second. I need to let them know I found you.” He took out his two-way.
“Dispatch, this is Walker, over.”
“Go ahead, Walker.”
“I’ve got one alive. I’m sending GPS coordinates. Send me some help, ASAP.”
“Copy that, Walker. Help is on the way.”
Quinn eyed the area carefully, then dropped his backpack and knelt by Robert. He took out his canteen and lifted the man’s head, slowly pouring water into his dry, cracked lips.
Robert grabbed frantically at the water, wanting all of it at once.
“Easy,” Quinn said. “A little bit at a time so you don’t choke, okay?”
Then he poured a little on a rag and wiped some crusted blood from one eye.
Robert groaned.
“Sorry, man,” Quinn said softly, and doused the leg liberally with water, washing off the ants. “Did the bear follow you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened? Why did it attack?”
Robert moaned and then started to cry. “I don’t know. It was coming up the trail toward us. The minute it saw us it charged. We never had a chance. It swiped at me first. I went down, and Wayne grabbed a branch and started screaming and yelling, trying to get the bear’s attention.”
Robert paused, choked on a sob and then broke down and wept.
Quinn let him cry. He knew how it felt to watch a friend die. He gave Robert another drink of water, and finally he was able to finish the story.
“Wayne saved my life. The bear ripped his belly open with one swipe. I heard him scream.” Robert shuddered. “He was screaming and screaming, and then all of a sudden it was over. Wayne was…you know, and the bear was tearing into him like he was starving. I got up and ran. I ran. I ran away and left him like a coward.”
“No. He was already dead,” Quinn said. “Would you have had his sacrifice go for nothing? He did what he did to save your life. It would have been a stupid move not to try and get away, okay?”
Robert nodded, but he was crying again.
“How old are you, Robert?”
“Twenty. Wayne was twenty-two. We’ve been best friends since I was in the sixth grade. Oh, my God, this is going to kill his mom and dad.”
Quinn touched the other man’s forearm. “Death is always a hard thing to face, but it comes to all of us eventually. Just hang in there.”
Robert moaned. “I think I’m gonna pass out. Don’t lea—”
“I won’t leave you, man. I promise.”
Robert Lane’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Quinn felt for a pulse. It was too rapid. The wounds were showing signs of infection. The guy would be lucky if he didn’t lose the leg.
He stood up with his rifle steady in his grip. It wasn’t the first time he’d stood guard over a man who was down.
He contacted the ranger station again.
“This is Walker. Do you copy?”
“Go ahead, Walker.”
“From what the hiker said, I think we’ve got a rogue bear. It’s either sick or been injured. Might need to send some trackers up here to find it before it attacks someone else.”
“Copy that, Walker. I’ll pass the message on.”
“Walker out,” Quinn said, and pocketed his radio, then resumed guard.
It was close to an hour before he heard a chopper, and somewhat later before he heard people coming up the trail. He was deep into the trees, but they had his coordinates. They would find him. When he began to hear voices, he called out until the rescue crew came into view.
Within minutes they had the hiker’s condition assessed, started an IV in his arm, sluiced the rest of the ants out of his wounds with disinfectant, loaded him onto a stretcher and strapped him down. The eight-man crew would take turns, two at a time, carrying him down the mountain to the clearing where the evac chopper was waiting.
Another crew was recovering the other hiker’s remains. It would be dark before Quinn got home.
* * *
Quinn drove up to the cabin, turned off the headlights of his Jeep and got out. With the sun down, the air was already getting cool. He took his boots off on the deck, unlocked the door and then carried them through to the utility room. He would clean them up later, but not now. He needed to wash the blood off himself first.
He stripped where he stood, tossed his clothes into the washing machine and started it up before heading through the house to his loft. Within minutes he was standing beneath a spray of hot water with his eyes closed, willing away the gore of what he’d seen.
His life was solitary for a reason. Until he could figure out how to cope with his flashbacks and nightmares, he wasn’t in any frame of mind to build a personal relationship. He knew this and accepted it, but it didn’t make the lonely nights any easier to get past.
* * *
A couple of hours later he’d finished cleaning up in the kitchen and grabbed a beer as he headed for the sofa. Even though living in the mountains was usually a recipe for poor-to-no phone or TV signals, the satellite dish he’d had mounted on the roof served him well. There were a couple of shows he liked to watch, and later he hoped to catch the local news to see if they reported on the injured hiker’s condition.
He’d just kicked back and reached for the remote when his cell began to ring. The Caller ID showed an Out Of Area message. He frowned as he answered.
“Walker.”
“Quinn, it’s me, B. J. Pettyjohn.”
The hair crawled on the back of Quinn’s neck. It had been over three years since he’d heard from anyone in his old unit.
“Hey, B.J. How the hell did you ever get this number? And tell me this isn’t bad news.”
“No, oh, hell no, sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a start or nothin’. And I called a good number of Walkers before I found one who would claim kin to you. He gave me your number.”
Quinn grinned. “Then it’s good to hear from you.”
B.J. laughed. It was a silly kind of nervous laugh, but a three-year gap made chitchat difficult to pick back up.
“Look, the reason I called… I remember you saying you were from Kentucky, right?”
“Right. Why?”
“You remember Conrad from our unit?”
The smile slid off Quinn’s face. “Yeah, why?”
“So I heard through the grapevine that Conrad—who by the way is a corporal now—was in a Humvee when it hit a land mine and has been stateside at the army hospital in Fort Campbell, Kentucky, for the past two months. The doctor’s about ready to sign off on a release, and I remembered hearing Conrad grew up in foster care, without any family or anywhere to go. I just hated to think about one of us turning into some homeless vet and sleeping on the streets, you know? Thought you might know of a place that could help.”
Quinn didn’t have to think twice. “Yeah, I know a place. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
“That’s great! It’s a worry off my mind.”
“Yeah, sure. Are you home on leave or what?” Quinn asked.
“No. I’m out for good as of six months ago. Can’t wrap my head around normal living yet, but hey…it’s bound to come back one of these days.”
Quinn knew exactly what he meant. “One of these days for sure,” he echoed.
“So, talk to you soon, and tell Conrad I said hey.”
“Will do, and thanks for the heads-up.”
“Right.”
Quinn ended the call, and then set the phone aside and reached for the remote. He found the show he wanted to watch and then kicked back and took a drink of his cold, yeasty beer.
But the show was the furthest thing from his mind. He kept remembering the last time he’d been with his unit. They had been doing a sweep of some empty buildings when the world had blown up in his face. He’d been burned and bleeding and half out of his head when someone grabbed his arm. It had been Conrad, shouting, “We got you, Hillbilly, hang on! Hang on! Don’t you dare die.”
Now Conrad was the one hurting. The least he could do was provide a place for R & R until his fellow soldier was one hundred percent. Tomorrow he would make a few calls. Make sure the doctor didn’t sign the release papers before Quinn could get there, and see if he could borrow Ryal and Beth’s SUV. The backseat lay down flat, making the rear of the vehicle into a fairly decent bed. It was a long way to Fort Campbell, which meant it would be a long way back here. A hard drive for anyone who was healthy—and the ride from hell if everything hurt. They had a history of getting on each other’s last nerve but also had a great respect for each other as soldiers.
* * *
Just after daybreak, Quinn began making phone calls. He found out Conrad’s doctor was a man named Dr. Franks, then called around the hospital until he located him. After he explained the situation to Franks, the doctor assured Quinn that he wouldn’t sign the release papers until he arrived.
Then he called Ryal.
“Hey, brother, are you up?” Quinn said.
“I am now,” Ryal said, and then chuckled.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Look, I need a favor. A soldier from my unit is in Blanchfield. That’s the army hospital on base at Fort Campbell, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. That’s where you were, right?”
“Right. So this friend is about to be released and needs a place to stay. I’d like to borrow your SUV so I can make a bed in the back for the drive home.”
“Yeah, sure! When do you need it?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Come get it. Anything else I can do for you?”
“I have to go back up on the south side of Rebel Ridge and help look for a rogue bear or I would do this myself. But since you asked, there are some things I’m going to need. Are you up for a trip into Mount Sterling?”
“Wow, this must be some good friend.”
“It was Conrad who pulled me out of the fire after the explosion.”
Ryal frowned. “Enough said. Bring your list and your money, brother. I’ll do anything you need me to do.”
“Thanks. I’ll owe you.”
“No, I’ll never be able to repay you for saving Beth’s life. Just consider it a favor from one brother to another.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah…but what’s the deal with the bear?” Ryal asked.
“Killed a hiker and tore another one up pretty bad. We’re thinking it’s either sick or wounded, and it’s still out there. Even though the attack happened on the far side of the mountain up on Greenlee Pass, I would nix any personal hunting trips until further notice, okay?”
“Definitely, and I’ll spread the word in the family.”
“Thanks. Kiss Sarah for me and tell Beth I said hi. See you soon,” Quinn said, and disconnected.
After that he began gathering his hunting gear. By the time he reached the ranger station and checked in, he learned that the trackers and their bloodhounds were already on the mountain.
The backcountry of Daniel Boone National Forest was huge, and there were places he had yet to see. Given that they’d had a pretty dry winter, he needed to check out the amount of deadfall on the mountain, which could impact firefighting should a blaze break out. Deadfall was also a place where a sick bear might shelter. After picking up a handheld radio and a map of the area, he headed out in one of the forest service trucks.
The day passed without incident, as did the following day. The bear was still in the wind but had not been seen again. They’d passed the message on to all the people living in the area and hoped they could find the bear before it killed again.
For Quinn, it was all he could do to focus on work. It was going to be weird having someone else in the cabin, and he had no idea how messed up Conrad was. The possibility existed that he was making trouble for himself, but he couldn’t turn his back on the situation, either. He slept fitfully, knowing that tomorrow his life was going to take a drastic turn.
* * *
Quinn was on his way to Ryal’s house by sunrise to trade vehicles. Upon arrival, he wasted no time transferring the pillows and blankets that he’d brought or pulling down the backseats to make the rear of the SUV into a bed.
“Need any help?” Ryal asked.
“I got it,” Quinn said, and folded a quilt until it fit the space, then threw in the pillows and a blanket. “That should work.”
“You said you had a list?” Ryal asked.
Quinn took a paper and a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket. “I think this should cover it, but if it’s more, we’ll settle up when I get back.”
“Was Conrad hurt bad?” Ryal asked.
Quinn stopped.
Ryal didn’t know what was going on, but all expression had just disappeared from his brother’s face.
“I don’t know, but it won’t matter.”
Ryal sighed. “I didn’t mean it like—”
“Let it go, brother. It’s just me being me,” Quinn said softly. “I’d better hit the road.”
“Yeah. So…drive safe and we’ll see you soon.”
“You, too, and thanks for helping me out,” Quinn said.
As Ryal watched Quinn driving away, he had a sense that Conrad, whoever he was, was going to make a positive difference in his brother’s life.
* * *
As Quinn drove in one direction toward Fort Campbell, Ryal, Beth and the baby went the other way into Mount Sterling to fill Quinn’s list. Once they finished, they headed back to Rebel Ridge and took everything up to the cabin.
Beth washed and dried new sheets while Sarah played on a blanket nearby. Ryal pulled out the sofa that made into a bed and pushed some furniture around to accommodate it. As soon as the linens were ready, Beth made up the bed, adding an extra quilt at the foot in case of cool nights, then went to tell Ryal she had finished. She found him standing on the back deck with Sarah in his arms, looking out across the meadow.
“Hey, I’m ready if you two are,” Beth said, and kissed her baby girl, who was almost asleep.
Ryal slipped an arm around his wife, holding her a little longer and tighter than usual.
She sensed something was bothering him.
“Honey, what’s up?”
He shifted Sarah to a more secure spot on his shoulder, then looked back across the meadow. “I was remembering what happened here and how close I came to losing you.”
Beth leaned against his shoulder, the one without the baby. “It’s you we nearly lost, and all because you threw yourself over me when the house blew up.”
He shuddered. “If you had died, living without you wouldn’t have been possible.”
Beth cupped the side of his cheek. “But I didn’t. All that’s in the past, and look at what a beautiful place Quinn has made here.”
“Yeah, it suits him.”
“Because of the solitude?” she asked.
He nodded. “And the memories. This was Granddaddy Foster’s old homestead, remember? We loved coming here as kids. I think this is a good place for him to heal.”
Beth frowned. “Do you think he will? Heal, I mean.”
He shrugged. “He’s already healing, but who knows to what extent? War changes people. He’ll never be the same.”
“But he’ll be the best Quinn that this Quinn can be.”
Ryal smiled. “That’s for sure. He’ll never settle for less.”
Two
It had taken just under four hours for Quinn to reach Fort Campbell. Since it was the same hospital where he’d been sent after he was wounded and where he’d mustered out, he knew the base setup. He drove straight to the visitors’ center at Gate 4 to get a pass. Although he hadn’t been here in over three years, he had the weird feeling he’d never left.
The feeling persisted as he drove through the base, and the closer he got to Blanchfield Hospital, the more his anxiety grew. By the time he pulled into the parking lot the skin on his body felt tight and hot. He resented the anxiety. It made him feel weak, and weak was not an option. This was about Conrad, not him.
He got out of the car, checked the bed in the back one more time, making sure nothing had shifted out of place, and then made a call to Conrad’s doctor to let him know he was there. The doctor answered on the third ring.
“Dr. Franks.”
“Hello, Dr. Franks, this is Quinn Walker. I spoke to you a couple of days ago about having one of your patients, a Corporal Conrad, released to my care?”
“Yes, yes, I remember.”
“I’m here on base and in the parking lot at Blanchfield. How do I go about getting Conrad signed out?”
“Hang on a sec, let me check,” Franks said, and put him on hold.
As Quinn was waiting, a van drove up and pulled into a handicap parking space across from where he was standing. A woman got out, then circled the van and opened the side door. He glanced up just as a platform slid out, lowering a man in his wheelchair. Quinn’s gut knotted, and then he looked away, feeling guilty for being thankful that wasn’t him.
When Franks came back on the line, Quinn’s focus shifted.
“Mr. Walker, are you still there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I remember you telling me you’d been a patient here before. Do you remember where Physical Therapy is located?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Conrad is there now. I’ll meet me you in PT in about fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be there.”
Quinn dropped his phone in his pocket and headed into the hospital. Now that he was here, he was anxious to find out what he’d let himself in for.
He headed for the bank of elevators, refusing to make eye contact with the people in the lobby. When he got on the elevator, he quickly turned his back on the other occupants and stared at the door, waiting for it to open. It was as if the past three years had never happened and he was still on crutches, with healing burns and scars that screamed Look at me! He was startled not only by the anxiety that he felt but also the insecurity. This hospital was not a good place to be.
When he entered the physical therapy area, he was even more hesitant, eyeing the patients in various stages of rehabilitation. As he began scanning the room, looking for Conrad, he heard someone cursing.
Quinn smiled. He’d just found his comrade.
* * *
“Damn, damn, damn, that effing hurts!”
The physical therapist eyed the frown on his patient’s face. They had been working at this one exercise for nearly fifteen minutes and he knew Conrad was tired, but it took pain to get progress, and so he kept pushing, urging the wounded vet up and down a set of steps to stretch and strengthen the injured leg muscles.
“You know and I know that’s how you get better, so try again, okay?” the therapist said.
“Hell no, I’m not going to try. I’m going to do it!”
“Hey, Conrad, how’s it going?”
Mariah Conrad froze. That was a voice straight out of her past, a voice she’d never thought she would hear again. She looked over her shoulder, and then her heart skipped a beat.
“Oh, my God.”
Quinn grinned. “It has been a while, but I thought you would at least remember my name. It’s not God, it’s Quinn.”
Mariah blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to get you.”
The physical therapist smiled at Mariah and patted her on the back.
“Since you have a visitor, we’ll call this session over. Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll take you back to your room.”
Mariah nodded but couldn’t quit staring. A muscle in her leg was beginning to knot. She needed to sit down or move, but she couldn’t think past looking at Quinn’s face. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been so bloody and burned she’d been scared he wouldn’t make it, and when she’d never heard from him again, she had finally allowed herself to accept that he was out of her life. Then she remembered what he’d just said.
“You came to get me? What are you talking about?”
Quinn saw panic in her eyes and realized he hadn’t considered the possibility she would refuse him.
“I heard they were going to release you and thought you might like to spend a little R & R in the mountains with me.”
Mariah grabbed on to the step rails with both hands and then sat down to keep from falling.
“In the mountains—with a hillbilly?”
Quinn grinned. “Yeah, with a hillbilly.”
A surge of emotions ran through her. Without family to turn to, she’d been in something of a panic, wondering what was going to happen to her when they kicked her out of Blanchfield. Quinn was a godsend, but she was a long way from the woman she’d been and felt obligated to warn him.
“Are you sure? I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. I’m a wreck. My honorable discharge just went through. I’m so screwed up the army doesn’t want me anymore.”
“That’s okay. I want you.”
She looked anxious, which was an emotion he never would have associated with her. The Conrad he’d fallen for had been a first-class grunt with a daredevil gene. Over the two years he’d known her, they’d made love in every isolated place they could find between Iran and Afghanistan. War had definitely kicked her butt, but he had to believe she was still in there. All she needed was peace and time to find her way back.
“Are you sure?” she asked again.
“I know exactly what I’m asking for. I’ve already cleared it with your doctor. Now it’s up to you. Are you going to come?”
She blinked back tears. “Yes.”
“Aces.”
She looked up. “Here comes my doctor.”
“Hey, Mariah. How’s it going?” Dr. Franks asked, and then eyed Quinn. “Mr. Walker?”
“Quinn, and yes, sir.”
Franks put a hand on Mariah’s shoulder. “Are you in agreement with being released to this man’s care?”
Mariah frowned. “In his care? What does that mean? I’m ready to be released on my own. I’m just going with him, right?”
Franks smiled. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”
“Just so we understand each other,” Mariah muttered.
The doctor eyed Quinn. “Are you sure you’re ready for all that attitude?”
The red flags on Mariah’s cheeks were something Quinn had seen before. “All that and then some,” he said.
“Then I suppose we need to get some paperwork signed so you can get on the road. I believe you have a ways to go to get home, isn’t that right?” Franks asked.
Mariah looked up at Quinn. “How far?”
“Does it matter?” he asked.
She started to argue, then caught herself. She had nowhere else to go. Her shoulders slumped.
“No.”
Quinn held out his hand. “Trust me?”
She turned loose of the railing and grabbed his hand.
“Yes.”
The doctor waved at an orderly. “Let’s get Conrad back to her room so she can pack.”
* * *
Two hours and a ream of paperwork later, Quinn was in the parking lot, tucking a pillow beneath Mariah’s injured leg and then another under her foot to keep it elevated during the ride.
She was wearing sweatpants and a loose, army-issue T-shirt that had seen better days. In bright daylight the healing scar from the head wound she’d suffered was easier to see through the short dark curls of hair.
“You okay in there?” he asked, as he pulled the covers up to her waist so she could reach them.
Mariah nodded. The quilt on which she was lying was thick and soft, and the pillows and blanket smelled like lavender. She reached for his hand, briefly clasping his fingers.
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you,” he said, and then shut the hatch and pretended he didn’t know she was crying.
* * *
Mariah couldn’t believe this was happening. She had awakened again this morning with the same feeling of dread that had been with her for the past two weeks. The closer she got to a release date, the more panicked she’d become. She’d never had a family, and had grown up in foster homes in and around Lexington.
By the time she’d aged out of the system she was a street-smart eighteen-year-old with a chip on her shoulder. She’d wanted something more out of life than what she’d been dealt, but with no way to attain it, she’d joined the army. Even though the country was already at war, it had seemed like a good idea. She’d been fighting just to exist all her life. Surely she could fight a few more years for something bigger, and learn a trade at the same time. The decision was a combination of ignorance, näiveté and the best-laid plans.
Within six weeks of leaving basic training she was on her way to Afghanistan, and it didn’t take long for her to realize that enlisting wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. Besides the ongoing war, she’d never been as hot in the summer or as cold in the winter as she was over there.
And then she’d met Quinn—a kindred soul with a daredevil heart—and fallen hard. The chemistry between them had been instantaneous, and they took advantage of every moment of downtime they could to be together, which usually meant having sex. She’d told herself it was just part of what was happening. No promises. No ties. She’d never meant to fall in love with him, but she had. After he’d been wounded, his absence left a huge hole in her life. She hadn’t expected to ever see him again, but his arrival today had been the answer to a prayer.
She was most worried about what he expected from her. At this point, it was all she could do to walk six feet without stumbling, and her head was a mess. Between the flashbacks and the memory loss, she wasn’t anywhere close to a functioning human, but dear God, she was grateful to him—as grateful as she’d ever been to anyone in her life. The only problem was that she was in no state of mind to resume their prior relationship, but she had been too big a coward to tell him that for fear he would change his mind.
Lying in the back of the SUV was far better than having to sit up for hours, and the pillows Quinn had shoved under her healing leg were lifesavers. The last thing she remembered was looking at the back of his head. Lulled by the motion of the car and the soft music from the radio playing in the front seat, she cried herself to sleep. Only when she felt the car slowing down did she begin to stir.
* * *
Mariah woke up and rolled over, but it wasn’t until she bumped against the back of the seat that she remembered where she was. She sat up gingerly, wincing when a muscle knotted in the back of her healing leg.
“You okay?” Quinn asked.
“I slept.”
He hid a grin. “I know. I’m stopping for gas. You’ll want to take a bathroom break here, because we have another two hours to go.”
“Okay.” She hesitated, then knew the sooner she got it said, the better. “You’ll have to help me into the store.”
“I know that, honey, and it’s no big deal to me, okay? If I hadn’t had my family to help me when I came home, I would have been in a world of hurt.”
The word family suddenly sank in. She began to wonder if she’d signed herself up to be staying in a house full of strangers.
“Do you still live with them?”
“Lord no,” Quinn said. “I have my own place up on Rebel Ridge.”
“What’s Rebel Ridge?”
“The name of the mountain where I grew up, remember?”
Her expression went blank. “No. I don’t. There’s a lot of things I don’t remember.”
Quinn glanced up in the rearview mirror. “But you remembered me, right?”
All she could see were his eyes looking back at her. “Yes, I remembered you.”
Their gazes briefly locked, and then his attention shifted as he turned off the highway into a large quick stop. He gassed up, then pulled up to the convenience mart and parked.
“Hang on and I’ll help you out,” he said.
Mariah ran her fingers through her hair and then rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It would feel good to stand up.
The hatch opened. Before she could think what to do, Quinn scooted her slippers onto her feet and then held out a hand.
“You move at your own speed. I’m just here to steady you, okay?”
“Yes.” She rolled over to the edge and then sat up.
Quinn grabbed on to her arm as she slid out, then locked the car.
“Ready when you are,” he said.
She took a deep breath and then a first step. Her body was stiff, but as soon as she began to move, it became easier.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Almost two in the afternoon. Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
“We’ll get something to eat before we leave here,” he said.
“I have some money,” Mariah said.
“That makes two of us, and we’ll be using mine,” he said, as he opened the door for her.
She gave him a look, which he ignored.
Quinn paused at the counter and asked the clerk, “Which way to the bathrooms?”
The clerk pointed.
Quinn slid his hand under Mariah’s elbow as they moved in that direction and then into the small hallway at the back of the store. Two doors faced each other. When Mariah tried to go into the women’s bathroom, she discovered that the door was locked.
“Somebody’s in there,” she said. “I’ll wait.”
Quinn reluctantly left her standing there as he went into the men’s room.
She leaned against the wall to take the weight off her bad leg and waited for the door to open. It didn’t take long for her to realize there was more than one person in there, and they seemed to be having a good time, which was weird. She could hear laughing and talking, and an occasional thud, like one of them had bumped against a wall. She’d had fun in a lot of places, but a Quick Mart bathroom wasn’t one of them.
A couple of minutes later Quinn came out, and when he saw that she was still leaning against the wall, he frowned.
“Are you still waiting?” he asked.
She nodded and rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a party going on in there.”
He moved toward the door, then stopped as if he’d just been punched.
“I smell smoke,” he muttered.
She nodded.
He leaned closer. “No. I smell pot.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Suddenly he doubled up his fist and began pounding on the door.
“Police! Open up!”
The clerk up at the front jumped off his stool and ran to the end of the counter to see what was going on, while inside the bathroom the sounds of squeals and shrieks grew louder, followed by a sudden flushing and a lot of running water.
“Open up!” Quinn yelled again, pounding harder.
The door swung inward. Two teenage girls came stumbling out of the bathroom. They took one look at Quinn and then stopped.
“Hey. You don’t look like the police.”
“I lied, and smoking weed will rot your brains,” he muttered, and pulled them out of the doorway so Mariah could go inside.
She was struggling not to laugh as she shut and locked the door. The bathroom smelled like the back room of a bar she knew down in Lexington, but at least it was finally vacant. By the time she came out, the girls were long gone and Quinn was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
She grinned.
Quinn looked her up and down, then slowly smiled, like he was trying her on for size and had decided she was a fit.
“Corn dogs, burritos or overdone chicken strips are in the deli case,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose. “Do they have any cans of Vienna sausages in the grocery section?”
His smile widened. “Why yes, I believe they do. What would you like to go with them?”
“A dill pickle, crackers and a Pepsi.”
“I am so remembering why we clicked,” Quinn drawled.
Mariah rolled her eyes. “And all this time I thought it was about my boobs.”
He laughed out loud. “For that, you also get dessert.”
“A Butterfinger? I haven’t eaten a Butterfinger candy bar in forever.”
“You can have anything you want. Do you want to go back to the car to wait, or are you still okay?”
“I’m okay, but I’ll wait up at the counter and let you do the shopping.”
Quinn hesitated, then touched her cheek. “I am so sorry this has happened to you, but I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you again.”
Mariah shrugged. “Just wait until I come unglued on you, then see if you still feel the same.”
He frowned. “We’re all fucked, woman. It’s how we came back. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to quit living.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean you still have—”
He interrupted. “Let’s get our stuff and get back on the road. We can talk later.”
It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about himself any more than she wanted to admit what was going on inside her head.
Instead of making her worry, it was oddly reassuring.
“Don’t forget my pickle,” she said.
“I won’t,” he said, and then held out his hand. “I didn’t forget anything about you.”
Mariah took it gratefully to steady herself. “Everything I remember is in a jumble in my head.”
“It will get better,” Quinn said. “I promise. However, all you have to remember today is who you’re going home with, and that’s me. Let’s go get the grub so we can get back on the road.”
* * *
The remnants of their meal were in a sack between Mariah’s feet. She’d fallen asleep in the front seat with a half-eaten Butterfinger in her hand, pickle juice on the front of her shirt and tears on her face. A muscle jerked in his jaw as he shifted his gaze back to the road. He could imagine what was going through her head, but he couldn’t fix it. At this point all he could do was keep driving, because he wasn’t going to wake her.
The next time she woke up, Quinn was slowing down again. When he took a turn off the highway onto a two-lane blacktop road, she sat up, wincing as stiff muscles complained.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Pretty close to home. Welcome to Rebel Ridge,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “This is where you grew up?”
“Yeah. Are you okay? Do you want to lie down in the back again? This has been a hell of a ride for you today.”
“I’m okay.”
“We’ll be at my brother’s house in about fifteen minutes. You can stretch your legs and go to the bathroom there before we head up to my place.”
“How far is it to your place from there?”
“About an hour.”
Mariah looked up through the windshield, but all she could see was a winding road disappearing into the thickly growing trees. She was used to cities and people. Even when she’d been deployed, there were always lots of people around. This was definitely out of her comfort zone.
“This is a really big mountain, isn’t it?”
Quinn nodded. “It’s very quiet where I live. No sirens. No neighbors to hear me freak out in my sleep…just the critters and me.”
“Critters?”
“Raccoon, owls, deer and the occasional coyote, but nothing scary, honey.”
“I’m not afraid of anything on four legs,” she muttered, then sat for a moment, absorbing the concept of that much peace and quiet. The longer she thought about it, the calmer she became. Then she looked up at Quinn.
“It sounds like heaven.”
“We’re high enough up that I’d say we’re pretty darn close.”
Three
Ryal was in his woodworking shop staining a special order dining table when he heard Beth calling his name. He dropped the brush into a container of paint thinner and stepped outside. She was standing on the porch with their puppy, Rufus, at her side and Sarah on her hip, pointing toward their driveway.
He saw Beth’s SUV coming up the road and waved to let her know that he’d seen it, then headed toward the house at a jog. They would finally get to meet the guy who’d saved Quinn’s life.
When he reached the porch, Beth was grinning.
“What?” he asked.
“Look in the front seat,” she said. “And whatever you do, don’t make a fuss.”
Ryal turned. “Why would I…? I’ll be damned! He’s a she!”
Well aware of how the Walker brothers teased each other, Beth felt obligated to repeat herself. “Ryal! Do not make an issue out of this, especially in front of her. You don’t know what she’s been through or what condition she’s in. Understand?”
He tweaked her nose and then winked. “I’m not completely dense. Of course I understand,” he said, then jumped off the porch and went to meet them with Rufus at his heels.
* * *
Quinn was trying to see Ryal’s house from the perspective of a stranger, rather than a kid who’d grown up inside those walls, wondering what Mariah would think. Granted, Ryal had done some remodeling with the wraparound porch and a fresh coat of white paint after their parents moved out, but it was still a mountain house, simple in style and size. The fact that his brother was a master carpenter didn’t hurt, though, and since Beth had come to live there, the landscaping had taken on a softer, more feminine look. Flowers local to the area had been planted along both sides of the rock walk leading up to the house, and the bushes were trimmed, rather than allowed to grow wild.
He sneaked a glance at Mariah, trying to judge what she thought, and was surprised to see a slight smile on her face.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She pointed toward the house, and the man and puppy coming down the walk.
“Your brother looks like you.”
“Yeah, I guess he does. You can pretty much always find the Walkers in a crowd. We’re all pretty tall.”
Mariah’s eyes widened. “There are more of you?”
“Ryal and Beth have a daughter, Sarah, who’s a little over a year and a half. I have another brother, James, and his wife, Julie, and their two kids. And there’s my sister, Margaret—but we call her Meg—our mom, Dolly, and a whole lot of cousins.”
She couldn’t imagine. “It must be a good feeling to know who your people are and where you come from.”
“I’m ashamed to say I never thought about it, just took it and them for granted. But it is exceedingly good to know there are people who have your back,” Quinn said.
All expression was gone from her face, and he hated that he’d caused her one moment of pain. He reached for her hand.
“I have your back, Conrad. We all do. If you don’t believe it now, you will in the days to come.”
Mariah was saved from having to answer as Quinn pulled to a stop.
“Sit tight. I’ll help you,” he said, and quickly circled the car.
A cool breeze flowed past her as he opened the door. Mariah took his hand as he helped her out, then stood for a moment to get her bearings.
“Hey, brother, you made good time,” Ryal said, as Beth came down the walk behind him, carrying Sarah.
Quinn didn’t bother with chitchat. He knew they were surprised and curious, but he wasn’t going there, and the sooner they figured that out, the better.
“Ryal, Beth, this is Mariah Conrad. Mariah, my brother Ryal and his wife, Beth. The cutie Beth is holding is Sarah, and this very shy pup is Rufus.”
Mariah pushed a shaky hand through her hair and grinned at the puppy, who was licking everybody’s shoes.
“Nice to meet you. Thanks for loaning Quinn your car. It made the trip a lot easier for me.”
“We’re the ones who should be thanking you for saving Quinn’s life,” Ryal said. “He can be a pain in the ass, but we were grateful to get him home in one piece.”
Mariah was surprised that Quinn had credited her with his rescue.
“I wasn’t the only one there,” she said.
“You’re the only one I remember,” Quinn said.
Beth handed Sarah to Ryal and slipped an arm through the crook of Mariah’s elbow. “Why don’t you come into the house with me while they switch stuff from one vehicle to the other? It’ll give you time to freshen up and stretch your legs for a bit.”
Mariah glanced at Quinn. “Do we have time?”
“We have all the time you need,” Quinn said.
Beth led Mariah into the house at a leisurely pace, while Ryal and Quinn transferred things from the SUV to Quinn’s Jeep.
“You neglected to mention that Conrad was a girl,” Ryal said.
“And now you know,” Quinn said, as he transferred the quilt and pillows into the backseat of the Jeep.
“She really saved your life?” Ryal said.
“Pulled my ass out of a burning building.”
Ryal glanced toward the house. “She must be one tough lady.”
“As tough as she needs to be,” Quinn said, and tossed her duffel bag between the seats. “Did you get the stuff on my list?”
“Yes. Beth and I have already been to your place, made up the bed and left the rest on your kitchen table.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Did you have enough money?”
“Yes. Your change is on the table, too. So do you have any feelings toward her besides gratitude?”
Quinn turned, his face suddenly expressionless. “That’s none of your damned business. Are we clear on that?”
Ryal held up his hands. “Clear as day.”
“Good. Be sure to pass that along to the rest of the family, because I’m not going to satisfy anyone’s curiosity at the cost of her privacy.”
“Absolutely,” Ryal said.
Quinn glared. “You’re grinning.”
“Am I not supposed to?”
“Not unless something is funny,” Quinn snapped.
“But you’re so damned entertaining,” Ryal said, and punched Quinn on the arm.
Quinn sighed. “Damn it, Ryal…”
“Chill out, bro. It’s all good. If you have everything transferred, come up to the house. Beth made an apple pie this afternoon. I’ll bet they’re already digging in. Here, kiss your niece hello. It’ll put you in a better mood.”
Quinn picked up the baby, kissed her soft cheek and grinned when she poked a finger up his nose, then followed Ryal into the house. The interrogation had ended, but he knew his brothers too well, and this wasn’t over. They wouldn’t stop until they were completely satisfied they knew all his business, or at least thought that they did. He just hoped they didn’t spook Mariah into thinking he had an ulterior motive, because he didn’t know why he’d done this, either. It wasn’t going to be easy living with anyone, especially someone who might have the same kind of issues he had. The fact that she didn’t remember a lot of her past was a little sad. They’d shared a lot besides sex.
“See…I told you they would be hogging all the pie,” Ryal said as they entered the kitchen.
Beth shook her head as she dished the pie onto plates. “Such a baby. There’s plenty for everyone.”
Quinn glanced at Mariah. She was quiet but seemed at ease. Then Beth took the baby and put her down for a nap, and the moment passed.
* * *
Mariah was taking everything in and had learned more in the past five minutes about Quinn Walker than she’d known the entire two years of their mutual deployment. Watching him so at ease with his niece was unsettling. She was trying to picture herself that way and failing miserably. Then she made herself focus on them and not herself.
His brother’s house wasn’t elaborate, but it felt homey. The furniture was simple but beautiful. Family pictures on the walls rooted the house and its occupants in a past she would never know, and the pie Beth was cutting was like something out of a magazine. If it tasted half as good as it looked it would be amazing. She couldn’t cook worth a darn, and didn’t have a marketable skill beyond her sharpshooter medal and a better-than-average eye when it came to pinpointing liars.
Then she reminded herself that it didn’t matter, because she wouldn’t be here long enough for anyone to judge. As soon as she was able to stand on her own two feet again she would be gone. She and Quinn had a history, but nothing that had ever warranted a forever kind of bond. They’d shared a war and a bed, and that was all.
“How about that pie?” Ryal said.
“As you can see, I’m cutting it,” Beth said. “Why don’t you get the iced tea out of the refrigerator and make yourself useful?”
Ryal grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “He’s not usually this malleable. I think he’s just showing off for company.”
Mariah’s leg was throbbing. She needed some of her pain meds but was embarrassed to ask. When Beth put the pie on the table, Quinn scooted a piece toward her and handed her a fork. She took a bite and rolled her eyes.
“Oh, my gosh, this is good,” Mariah said.
Beth grinned. “It’s a recipe my Granny Lou gave me. She’s the best cook in the family.”
“Lou Venable is the best cook in both families,” Quinn said, then added for Mariah’s sake, “We’re actually distant cousins to the Venables, who happen to be Beth’s family, too.”
Mariah didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “You two are related?”
Ryal nodded. “We’re very distant cousins, which is not all that unusual on Rebel Ridge, although we all grew up knowing each other. Not a lot of people ever move off the mountain, and those who do usually wind up coming back. What about your family? Where are they from?”
“I have no idea,” Mariah said. “I was an abandoned baby who grew up in a series of foster families. Aging out of the system at eighteen means a kid like me winds up on the streets. I needed to belong somewhere, so I joined the army in the hopes of learning a trade and ignored the fact that we were already in a war.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ryal said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, don’t apologize. I don’t want anyone to cry for me. It is what it is, and Quinn already knew all this, which I assume is why he offered to babysit me through the rest of my healing.” She wouldn’t look at Quinn, couldn’t look for fear she would see pity, and that was something she couldn’t bear—not from him. “I am unbelievably grateful, but I can’t promise to be the ideal houseguest. My memory’s shot, and my leg is a mess.”
“But you’re alive,” Beth said. “And trust me, I know how to appreciate that more than most. But that’s enough serious stuff for now. Who wants ice cream on their pie?”
“I do,” Ryal said.
“Well, we all knew that,” Quinn drawled. “The only person in the family who eats more than Ryal is James.”
Mariah smiled and held out her plate. “I’ve been eating hospital food for two months. I won’t turn down ice cream.”
Beth doled out the ice cream, and for a few minutes conversation was sparse. As soon as they finished eating, Quinn carried their dirty plates to the sink.
“Thanks for the loan of the car and for helping out, but we need to get moving.”
Then he glanced at Mariah. Her hands were curled into fists and the knuckles were white. Damn it. How had he let her get that bad without noticing? He walked over to where she was sitting and leaned down.
“How bad are you hurting?”
“Enough.”
“The doctor gave you pain pills. Where did you pack them?”
“They’re in the outside pocket of my bag, the one with the zipper, not the snap.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Beth turned just as Quinn walked out. She started to ask where he was going, then saw the pain on Mariah’s face and guessed what was happening. She got a glass of water, then took it to the table and sat down beside her.
“I’m so sorry. Here we were acting like this was a party, and you just got out of the hospital. Why didn’t you say something?” she asked as she set the glass in front of Mariah.
“It just started getting bad a few minutes ago,” Mariah said.
Beth touched the top of Mariah’s head, then the side of her face. “You don’t have to hide how you feel from us. We don’t judge, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” Mariah said, then breathed a sigh of relief when Quinn came back.
“Here,” he said, and dropped two pills into her outstretched palm.
Mariah downed them quickly. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Do you need to go to the bathroom before we leave? Like I said, it’s about an hour to the cabin.”
“I guess,” she said, but when she tried to stand, her leg went out from under her. Quinn grabbed her before she fell. “Damn it!” she muttered.
“I got you,” he said, and slipped an arm around her waist to walk her down the hall to the bathroom door.
“Can you make it from here?”
There were tears in her eyes. “Yes. Just wait for me.”
“Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
* * *
By the time they said their goodbyes and he got her to the Jeep, the pain pills were having enough of an effect that she was feeling some relief. He put a pillow on the passenger seat before helping her inside.
“The Jeep’s shocks aren’t as good as the SUV’s, but if you sit on this pillow I think it’ll help.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she said, as Quinn reached across and buckled her in.
He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. What she was thinking was disconcerting in the midst of so much pain. Then he turned, and she found herself caught in his gaze.
“What happens if I want to worry about you?” he asked.
Longing washed through her. “I don’t know. I guess I can’t stop you, can I?”
Quinn’s pulse was racing. He was so close he could almost taste the kiss, but he wouldn’t go there. Not until she was standing on her own two feet and no longer dependent on him for her care. It wouldn’t be fair, and if he had a chance in hell of rebuilding this relationship they had to start on equal ground.
He winked to lighten the moment, then backed out of the Jeep and closed the door. By the time he got inside, she had her emotions in check.
“I know you must be exhausted, but this is the last leg of the trip. Once we get to the cabin you can sleep, relax and watch some TV, whatever you want.”
“I’m okay. The pain pills are kicking in.”
“Good. Next time, don’t wait so long, okay?”
“I won’t.”
She waved at Ryal and Beth, who were standing on the porch, then leaned back against the seat as he drove away.
“Your family is really nice.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty special, but they’re also nosy. You’ll probably meet more of them than you’re ready for over the next few weeks.”
She shrugged. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered.
Mariah grinned. “Take a breath, Quinn. I’ve been fighting insurgents for almost five years. I’m not afraid of your family.”
The smile on her face was like a breath of fresh air. It was the first time since they’d left the hospital that he’d gotten even a glimpse of the Mariah he’d known before. It gave him hope that the rest of her was in there somewhere, waiting until it was safe to come out.
When they got back to the main road he turned left and headed up the mountain. Just a little bit farther and they would be home.
It didn’t take long for Mariah to notice the houses they were passing. Some were bunched together in twos and threes, and others were set so far back off the road all she saw was the driveway and the roof. A lot of them were in varying stages of disrepair. She knew what it meant to choose food over shelter.
Most of the vehicles she saw were up on blocks or were being stripped for parts. Children playing in their yards paused and waved as they drove past. A couple even gave chase until called back by a family member keeping watch from a nearby porch. It was obvious that the job market around here was weak.
Quinn caught the changing expressions on her face as they drove and couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.
“I’m guessing this lifestyle is pretty foreign to you,” he said.
Mariah frowned. “The rural part, yes, but the obvious poverty, not so much. Some of my foster homes weren’t much better, and after I aged out of the system I was homeless. I would have gladly chosen any of these houses rather than sleeping in an abandoned building or a sewer pipe with a half dozen others just like me. In fact, these people are all better off than me. If not for you, I would be homeless again.”
“You never said anything about being homeless before,” he said.
She shrugged. “Why would I? We were too busy trying to stay alive to dwell on what I’d left behind me. I never thought I’d come back all messed up, or that I’d be right back where I started before I signed up. No, that’s not the truth. I have a ways to go to get back where I started.”
“And you have all the time you need to do it,” Quinn said.
She frowned then shook her head. “I can’t stay with you forever.”
“You’re not looking at this from the right angle. All you need to do is take one day at a time, honey. One day at a time.”
She leaned back and then sighed. “You’re right. As usual, I want everything put back together yesterday so I can get on with tomorrow.”
Quinn frowned. “If you think like that, then you forget to live for today.”
She’d never thought of life that way before. It was something to consider.
A short while later he began pointing out places of interest, and her focus shifted.
“My brother James and his wife live down that road,” he said. “They have two of the cutest kids.”
“Beth told me she’s an illustrator and Ryal makes furniture. What does James do?” Mariah asked.
“He farms a little tobacco, but his main job is with the postal service. He’s the mail carrier for all of Rebel Ridge and parts south.”
“I don’t mean this to sound prejudiced, but how come your family seems to have a higher standard of living than a lot of your neighbors?”
“I don’t know. There are plenty of others like us. We find ways to support ourselves knowing we won’t ever be rich, but we know how to be happy with what we have. The people on Rebel Ridge aren’t any different from people down in the city. Some are willing to settle for less, some aren’t. It’s just a fact of life.”
“Do you have a job you go to every day?”
He nodded. “I work for the Daniel Boone National Forest Service as a backcountry ranger. I’m not in constant contact with the public like some rangers, which suits me.”
“Then what do you do?”
He shrugged. “It varies. Just before I went to get you we had two hikers go missing.”
“Did you find them?” Mariah asked, and then knew from the set of his jaw that something had gone wrong. “I know that look,” she said. “What happened? Couldn’t you find them?”
“No, I found them, but one was dead and the other severely injured.”
“Oh, no. What happened?”
“They were attacked by a rogue bear, but that was on the other side of the mountain. He killed one. The other managed to get away. He was in bad shape when I found him.”
She shuddered, her eyes widening as she peered into the trees lining the road. “Did you kill the bear?”
“Last I heard they were still tracking him. But don’t worry, they’ll find him and do what they have to.”
She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “What else is up here that I need to be concerned about?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say that would be me. I snore. I have some serious flashbacks that turn into living nightmares, and I’ve been known to shout in my sleep.”
She rolled her eyes. “At least now I know I won’t have to worry about making a fool of myself in front of you.”
“There are no fools where I live, girl—only members of the same survivors’ club. Now stop worrying. It’s all good. You’ll see. I only have one bedroom, but my sofa makes into a bed, and we’ve got it all fixed up for you. I would have let you have the bedroom and taken the sofa myself, but the bedroom is up in the loft and the stairs are steep.”
“Loft?”
“Yes, my place is an A-frame. Two stories, with one bedroom and bathroom upstairs, and one big open room downstairs, with a kitchen at one end and the living area at the other. There’s another bathroom downstairs, next to the utility room. It makes more sense for you to be on the main floor. And there’s a wraparound deck that will be great for you to get your exercise without having to walk on uneven ground. It’s not luxurious, but it’s pretty new, and I’m not a slob.”
Mariah was silent, picturing the home and him in it, when he added, “We’ll be okay. No pressure to do anything but relax and get well. Understand?”
Relieved that he’d finally brought up the issue of nothing personal expected between them, she could finally relax. Whatever happened, she was grateful to be with someone she trusted.
* * *
Up in the high country on the other side of Rebel Ridge, Jake Doolen, his sons and their bloodhounds were still trying to pick up the bear’s tracks, desperate to find it before it attacked and killed someone else, but the signs were scarce to nonexistent. It was as if the bear had just vanished.
As far from the hunters as it could get, the bear was carrying an arrow in its rump, and the wound was infected, making it impossible for it to hunt as it once had. It was sick and in pain—two issues that drastically increased the danger quotient. Within hours of first sensing the dogs and the hunters it had made an about-face and begun moving in the opposite direction. If the Doolens didn’t find it in time, it would emerge from the reserve and right into populated territory.
Four
The sun was already sliding toward the western tip of the mountaintop by the time Quinn and Mariah reached the cabin. Her first glimpse of the site he’d chosen for the simple A-frame made her think Quinn was still in soldier mode. He’d set the cabin in the middle of an open meadow that was surrounded on all four sides by trees, with only one road in and out.
In fact, the original homestead had been built in this same place nearly a hundred years before for essentially the same reason: distrust of the federal government in general. The first Walkers to live here had believed that if you couldn’t be found, you couldn’t be counted, and if you couldn’t be counted, then you were off their radar. That mind-set still lingered in some of the more remote areas of Rebel Ridge and the rest of the South.
“Home sweet home,” Quinn said, as he pulled up to the cabin and parked.
Mariah couldn’t quit staring. All it needed was some gingerbread on the eaves and snow on the roof, and it could pass for a fairy-tale cottage from a picture book. The deck was deep and wrapped around the cabin on three sides. The railings were strong and sturdy, built for sitting or leaning. And just like that, all the tension she’d been feeling was gone.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” she said.
Pleased that she hadn’t freaked about the isolation, Quinn relaxed, too. The first hurdle was over.
Mariah opened her door, carefully swung her legs toward the side, then slowly slid out of the seat.
“It feels good to stand up.”
Quinn quickly circled the Jeep and slid an arm around her waist to steady her.
“The ground can be a little rough. Hang on to me until we get up the steps.”
Mariah didn’t argue. The last thing she wanted was to bust her nose before she got in the house, although it wouldn’t be the first time she’d taken a tumble since she’d been wounded.
Once they got up on the deck, Quinn stopped to unlock the door. It swung inward on silent hinges, revealing a large open room with a two-story ceiling and a shiny hardwood floor. The walls were cedar paneled, and the massive stone fireplace at the far end of the room was a statement in itself. She could imagine being snowed in up on this mountain with a fire blazing and Quinn at her side, then shook off the fantasy. No need dwelling on things that weren’t going to happen.
“You must love living here.”
“It’s okay for a hillbilly, I guess.”
She frowned. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I only called you that because I…liked you, and because you always called me twerp.”
“Well, you were a twerp. Now you’re a corporal,” Quinn said, and started to tousle her hair when he felt the scar on her head and stopped short.
“Ooh, sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Mariah traced the crooked ridge of scar tissue with absent fingers.
“No.”
“How bad were you hurt?”
“Bad enough. It makes me nuts that my memory’s scrambled,” she admitted.
“But that means if I tell you that you always used to rub my feet and scratch my back, you’d have to believe me.”
She laughed out loud, startling herself with the sound. It had been a long time since she’d felt like laughing.
“Sorry, mister, but I’m not that bad off. I’m not the foot-rubbing, back-scratching kind.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Quinn said. “You were damn good at scratching certain itches.”
“And so were you, but that doesn’t mean we’re picking up where we left off, right?”
“Right.”
“So stop making me nervous and show me around, okay?”
“You get the fifty-cent tour, which means all of the downstairs. If you get strong enough to walk up the stairs on your own, you’ll get the other half.”
He proceeded to show her the bathroom, the little utility room next to the kitchen, then the kitchen itself. He stopped by the kitchen table to sort through the things Ryal and Beth had left for him, then moved to the sideboard and took a cell phone out of a drawer.
“As soon as I charge this up, it’s yours. It’ll keep me in touch with you, and you with the outside world, when I’m at work, okay?”
Another niggle of worry had just been laid to rest. “Very okay,” she said.
“I assume you know how to use a gas stove?”
“I can turn one on and off and I can use a can opener, but cooking like Beth cooks…no way.”
He frowned. “I didn’t haul your cranky ass all the way up here to cook for me. I just need to make sure you know how to heat a can of soup when I’m not here. Understood?”
She stifled a grin. “My cranky ass?”
He ignored her and led her out onto the back deck.
“This is a good place to critter watch or, if the weather’s nice, read a book.”
Now she was the one frowning. “Critter watch as in cute critters, right? Not killer bears?”
“Definitely not killer bears,” Quinn said, but he wasn’t entirely truthful. He didn’t want to scare her, but until the bear was found and put down, he couldn’t really guarantee anything. “However, you would be smart if you stayed inside the cabin or, if you’re out, don’t go farther than the deck when I’m not here.”
She shuddered. “Consider it done.”
He eyed the setting sun. “I need to unload the Jeep before it gets dark. If you want to walk around a bit before you go inside, you can hold on to the deck railing for stability. You saw your bed in the living room. The TV remote is on the table beside it if you’d rather stretch out. I’ll make us some supper later.”
“Do what you have to do and don’t worry about me.”
He’d started to go inside when, despite her words, she stopped him with a touch.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“I would never have believed when I got up this morning that I would be here with you before nightfall. The fact that I am is beyond amazing, and I want you to know how grateful I feel.”
He ran a finger down the side of her cheek. “I didn’t do it for your gratitude,” he said, then went back inside, leaving her alone.
She would have pursued the conversation just to ask him why he had done it, then, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to handle the answer.
Using the railing as he suggested, she walked the length of the deck and back again a couple of times, but as the sun finally dropped behind the mountain, she went inside.
Quinn was at the kitchen stove. A bowl of salad was on the counter, a pitcher of what looked like iced tea beside it.
“Something smells good,” she said.
“Hamburger steaks and fried potatoes.”
“Oh, my Lord, that sounds good,” she said. “I’m going to wash up.”
“Don’t dawdle. I’m dishing it up now.”
“Yes, sir, right away, sir,” she said, and headed to the bathroom.
She was halfway across the room when something hit her in the middle of the back. She turned, looked down and saw a wadded-up dish towel on the floor.
“Hey!”
“You’re dawdling,” Quinn said.
She rolled her eyes, picked up the towel and tossed it on the table as she passed.
Quinn could see the stiff set of her shoulders as she walked away, but he smiled as he filled their plates. If he kept her guessing, she would have less time to dwell on her situation. As for the nights, there was no way to prevent the inevitable as they slept. Hell was a hard thing to climb out of when your defenses were down.
* * *
One thing between them had not changed. Quinn knew he’d always had the ability to get on Mariah’s last nerve, and it was still happening. Before, they’d always ended their squabbles by making love, but that release was no longer available, and he found himself pushing and teasing to keep from taking her back to bed. By the time the meal was over and the dishes were done, Mariah wanted to hit him and Quinn knew it. He needed to disarm the situation and decided the best thing he could do was leave her alone.
“I’m gonna go upstairs and shower. Do you need anything before I go up?”
“Where’s my bag?” she asked.
“I put it on top of the washing machine so it would be close to the bathroom.”
“If I take a shower, will it use up your hot water?”
Quinn began to smile. “I don’t know. Wanna race to find out?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
He shrugged. “I want a shower. You want a shower. I’m going up to my bathroom. You’ve got the one down here. I guess we’ll find out if the water heater holds up, won’t we?”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or light into him. “You have got to be kidding,” she muttered, as she swung her aching leg around and headed for the bathroom.
Quinn waited until he heard the door swing shut and then he headed upstairs, grinning as he went. Bringing her here to stay with him just might turn out to be the best idea he’d ever had.
Mariah stripped without digging into her bag and was a little anxious as she turned on the shower, afraid the water would get cold before she was through. She couldn’t believe Quinn was actually planning to take his shower now, too. Chances were they would both wind up finishing in cold water.
A fresh towel, a new bar of soap and a small bottle of shampoo were on the little counter, and she guessed he’d put them there for her. His thoughtfulness was touching, but a cold shower was not. By the time she stepped in, she was caught up in the idea of racing to get clean.
The water pressure was good. The water was nice and hot. She squirted a small dab of shampoo into her hand and lathered up, racing through the suds and rinsing faster than she’d ever rinsed before. By the time she got to washing herself, the water had gone from hot to comfortably warm.
“Oh, crap,” she said, and began rinsing the soap off her body as fast as she could. Her bad leg was hampering her, because she had to hold on to the railing with one hand as she scrubbed at her skin.
Then the water went from warm to lukewarm.
“No, no, no,” she squealed, as she turned around to rinse off her back.
At that point lukewarm shifted to straight-from-the-well cold, and Mariah screamed and turned off the taps.
There she stood, dripping wet, shivering and listening to the booming laugh right above her.
Quinn! The jerk. She still couldn’t believe he’d done that.
She rolled her eyes, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, then got another one and began to dry her hair. The dryer she got, the warmer she became—and, grudgingly, she began to grin. That was, without doubt, the funniest shower she’d ever taken. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something just for fun.
Once she was dry, she realized the bag with her clothes was still on the washing machine on the other side of the door. She peeked out, saw the coast was clear and started to go get it just as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Oh, no, no, no!” Moving as fast as she dared on her gimpy leg, she grabbed the bag and darted back inside the bathroom, and none too soon.
“Hey, are you okay in there?” Quinn asked.
“I’m just fine,” she said.
“Do you need any help?”
“I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure? In case you don’t remember, I’m good in the shower.”
She grinned. Clearly he was gonna play that “lost her memory” card as long as she let him.
“Hey, Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut the hell up.”
He grinned. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just be in your bed watching TV.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
She heard footsteps. He was walking away. She didn’t know whether to be glad the pressure was off or worry about what she would find waiting for her in her bed.
* * *
Quinn figured he’d pushed enough of Mariah’s buttons for one night and left her on her own in the bed watching television while he finished some work.
He was busy on his laptop at the kitchen table, finishing a report on his last trip up to the area around Greenlee Pass where the rogue bear had last been seen. As soon as he was done, he hit Save, then emailed it to the office.
According to the latest info they’d sent him, the trail had gone cold. After forty-eight hours without a solid hit, the powers that be had made a decision, and pulled the Doolens and their dogs off the mountain. Until there was a new sighting, they were at a loss as to where to look. But this decision had led to another one.
Come Monday, all the rangers were to begin notifying people in their areas about the possibility of a bear attack and advise them to stay out of the woods until the bear had been found.
Quinn read that directive without any confidence that it would be heeded. Telling mountain people to stay out of the woods was like telling them to stop breathing. They hunted the mountain and fished the creeks to feed their families. He would follow orders and spread the word, but he had no faith in anyone listening. Discouraged and more than a little bit worried, he finally turned off the laptop and went to check on Mariah.
The television was still playing softly in the background, but she had fallen asleep with her leg propped up on a pillow and the covers in a wad at the foot of the bed.
He picked up the remote and turned off the TV, then straightened out her covers and eased them over her, taking the time to assess her more carefully when she wasn’t aware.
She was pale, and much thinner than he remembered, but all of that figured. Two months in a hospital would do that to anybody. Her dark hair was much shorter, as well, but he assumed that was because they’d probably shaved most, if not all, of it off because of her head injuries. As he watched, her eyelids began to flutter, and he knew she was dreaming. When she suddenly moaned, it was like someone had just shoved a knife into his gut. It was startling to realize he was that connected to her distress.
He started to wake her, but he knew how hard it was to get back to sleep once the nightmare took over and changed his mind, hoping she would just sleep through it. Instead he began turning off the lights until the house was completely dark except for a night-light up in the loft by his bed.
She moaned again, this time mumbling beneath her breath before the moment passed. Then she flinched, and he kicked off his shoes, pulled back the covers and slid into bed beside her. As many times as they’d made love, they had never had the luxury of sleeping together. But this wasn’t a night for passion, and she wasn’t sleeping in the true sense of the word. She was still fighting a war, and he couldn’t let her do it alone.
He eased as close to her as he could get without bumping her injured leg, then rolled over onto his side and tucked her close against his body. There was a moment when he felt her tense.
“Easy, soldier, easy,” he whispered. “I’ve got your back.”
He heard a sob and rose up on his elbow. She was crying in her sleep, but her body had begun to relax. For now, it was enough.
He eased down and let go of his own tension. Within minutes he, too, had fallen asleep.
* * *
Ten miles over and another mile higher, the bear had taken shelter beneath an overhang of trees and rock. The festering wound in its hip was a constant pain that kept it in a pain-filled daze. It was sick and starving—a recipe for disaster. The cougar that usually bedded down in this lair smelled the bear and the festering wound. And sensed the danger. It was enough for the big cat to give the bear a wide berth and slip quietly away.
About two miles from where the bear had holed up, a couple of hunters had taken to the woods to run their dogs. They were sitting around their makeshift camp with their lanterns lit, laying bets as to whose dog would strike a trail first, when they heard one of the pack began to bay.
“Woowee, Warren, you hear that bugle? That’s my big red, Samson. You owe me five dollars. I told you he’d be the first to pick up a good scent.”
Warren rolled his eyes. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, and handed over the five, which his buddy promptly pocketed.
They picked up their lanterns and shouldered their guns as they listened to the rest of the pack begin to sound. The dogs would bay in a different tone once they treed their prey, and the hunters wanted in on the kill.
“Sounds like they’re running something a little east but coming this way,” Millard said. “What say we head out?”
“I’m with you,” Warren said, and they disappeared into the woods.
* * *
The bear was in a sleepy daze when it heard the hounds. If circumstances had been normal, the sound of the dogs would have sent the bear in the opposite direction, but not this time. In its pain-addled brain, that was food on the move.
As it began to move, it recognized its own weakness, which in turn fueled its desperation to kill.
* * *
Warren and Millard were following the pack by the sounds of the yips and bays when all of a sudden they heard everything change. The barking went from trailing to full-on attack. Even though the men were more than a half mile away, they could hear the howls and growls, the shrieks and the yelps, in what they could only assume was an all-out fight.
“What the hell?” Millard said, and started to run, holding his lantern with one hand and a finger near the trigger of the gun he carried in the other.
Warren was right behind him.
Even as they ran, they could tell something bad was happening. The dogs were no longer in fight mode. They could hear constant cries of pain, until, one by one, the pack went silent.
The hunters kept running, but by the time they reached the kill site the bear was gone and seven dogs were dead or dying—bones crushed, bodies eviscerated.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Millard said, going from body to body in disbelief.
Warren held up his lantern as he made a 360-degree turn, his gaze fixed on the inky darkness of the woods.
“What in hell did this?” he asked.
Millard was crying. “Samson’s not here. I can’t find him anywhere. Maybe he ran off. Maybe he got away.”
“Look. Here’s drag marks,” Warren said, as he swung the lantern to their left. “What in hell could do all this without the dogs bringing it down? I don’t understand. It damn sure wasn’t a cougar. It would have just took to the trees, not fought a pack of dogs like this.”
“Maybe a bear?” Millard said.
“I guess, but not even a full-grown black bear would take on a pack of eight dogs.”
“Well, something did, and whipped ’em bad,” Millard said.
“Here, the drag marks lead—”
He stopped in his tracks, staring down at the ground.
“What?” Millard asked.
Warren swung his lantern again. “Come here, Millard. Look at this.”
Millard moved closer to the light, saw the paw print and squatted down, using his hand to measure the size.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered, then stood abruptly and swung his rifle into position against his shoulder.
“I never saw a black bear big enough to make a track like that,” Warren said.
Millard shuddered. “We need to get back to the truck.”
“But what about the dogs?” Warren asked.
“They’re dead. You wanna be next?”
Warren shook his head. “It’s not right to just leave them out here to rot. They’re like family, damn it.”
“We’ll come back in daylight,” Millard said.
“I don’t know about you, but right now I’m not too sure about where we are. How the fuck do you suppose we’ll find ’em again?”
“Buzzards,” Millard answered grimly. “Now let’s get the hell out of here while we’re still in one piece.”
The men eyed the sky, found the North Star and started running.
* * *
Mariah woke up the next morning to the sounds of birds singing and the scent of freshly brewing coffee, and wondered where the hell she was. Then she heard Quinn talking to someone on his phone and remembered that her life had taken a one-eighty for the better.
Without registering the indentation on the other pillow, she threw back the covers. Her muscles were stiff and, as usual these days, aching in too many places. But she silently gave herself the “at least you’re alive” pep talk as she swung her legs off the mattress and stood up.
Almost immediately, her injured leg gave way. She grabbed the back of the sofa to steady herself, and waited until the feeling came back and she was confident it would hold her weight before trying to walk.
She waved self-consciously at Quinn as she headed for the bathroom. He winked and waved back, but she could tell by the tension in his face that something was wrong. Whatever it was, she would prefer to hear it fully dressed. After she used the bathroom and washed up, she dug a pair of clean sweats from her bag and then finger-combed her unruly curls. The fact that her heart-shaped face was devoid of makeup was standard for a female soldier in combat. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were as dark as her hair, and her eyes were what Quinn called cat-green. In her opinion, there was nothing remarkable about any of it. Anxious to find out what had put the frown on Quinn’s face, she headed back into the kitchen.
“Do you want eggs and bacon or something lighter, like cereal?” Quinn asked.
“Forget feeding me. I can do that myself. What’s wrong?”
“We may have a new lead on that rogue bear.”
“Oh, Lord, please tell me it did not attack another person.”
“Two hunters were running their dogs about fifteen miles from here last night. They heard them strike a trail, then what sounded like a massacre. By the time they found them, seven dogs were dead and one had been dragged off. They found tracks from a very large bear. My boss down at the ranger station said they’ve called back the trackers and their dogs. I hope to hell they find it this time. If it’s no longer in the national forest area, then it’s way too close to civilization.”
Mariah shuddered. “What do you have to do?”
“The local authorities will tell the residents to stay out of the woods, and keep kids and animals close by. I wasn’t supposed to work today, but this has changed everything.”
“I don’t need anyone to babysit me, Quinn. This sounds like a dangerous situation. Go do what you have to do. I’ll be fine. I’m grateful to be here.”
Quinn didn’t have a choice. But he wasn’t willing to leave her unprotected.
“Pour yourself some coffee. I’ll be right back,” he said, and bolted up the stairs to the loft.
Mariah poured a cup of coffee and was stirring in sugar when he came down carrying a rifle and a box of shells.
“I don’t believe the bear will ever make it this far down before it’s found, but I saw what it did to those two hikers, so I’m playing it safe. Under no circumstances should you be outside today, okay? Bears can move really fast, and you can’t.”
She reached for the rifle. “Can I see it?”
He handed it to her. He knew she could use it, but he didn’t know how this would affect her mentally.
“I need to ask you something,” he said.
“Okay, ask away.”
“Can you be here by yourself, under this kind of tension, and not suffer some kind of setback?”
“You mean, is this gonna make me freak?”
He grimaced. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Then the answer is no. I have that phone you gave me. I have a house full of food, a bed and a TV, and if I need to protect myself, I obviously can. Go do your job and quit worrying about me.”
“I’ll call to check on you, and if you get spooked about anything—and I mean anything—then by God, you better call me.”
“I promise.”
He started toward the door, then stopped. “Damn, I hate this. This isn’t the way I planned to get you settled in.”
“Yeah…the best laid-plans and all that,” Mariah said.
Quinn patted his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed, then started for the door.
“Hey,ƒ Quinn?” He turned to face her.
“Don’t be a hero.”
He grinned. “And don’t you eat all my cookies.”
She was still smiling as she watched him drive away. Then, the moment the Jeep was out of sight, she locked both doors, and made sure all the windows were shut and locked before pouring a bowl of cereal. There were plenty of things she could do today. Without the physical therapist dragging her through an exercise regimen she might actually get in a little extra sleep. And when the mood hit her, she could do her exercises on those stairs that led up to the loft. Being able to scale those steps might come in handy some night when she couldn’t sleep—and Quinn couldn’t sleep—and the world was a kinder place.
Five
Lonnie Farrell had been born and raised on Rebel Ridge, but his journey away from home sweet home began when he was fourteen. He got himself arrested for making and selling meth, which resulted in a four-year stint in a youth offender facility. He came out a wiser criminal than the kid he’d been going in and headed straight for Chicago, where he hooked up with the uncle of a kid he’d met in jail.
Among other things, Uncle Sol was a bookie with a somewhat tenuous hand in the business of prostitution. It soon became Lonnie’s job to make debtors pay up, which included dunning the “girls” who worked for Sol, making sure they didn’t shortchange him. Within twelve years Lonnie had revamped the whole prostitution angle from streetwalkers to high-class hookers, more than tripling Sol’s income.
But for Lonnie, the world of hookers and pimps was growing stale. He wanted more—more money, more challenges, more risks—which took him straight back to the reason he’d first gone to jail: making and selling drugs. No more cooking meth for Lonnie Farrell, though. He wanted in where the big money was: cocaine. He had everything in place except where he was going to set up shop, and for that he wanted a location that would be extremely secure. He’d thought about it long and hard before it came to him in a dream, and once it took hold, he’d considered it genius. Not only would it take him off the radar, but it would be unbelievably easy to protect. And the best part of it was he had a built-in link to cheap labor in the residents of Rebel Ridge. All he had to do was contact the long-distance owner and he would be in business.
* * *
Sylvia Dixon was furious. As of today she was officially divorced, and in her eyes that meant she had been cheated out of a proper settlement. Her ex, Robert Dixon, was worth a fortune—the last heir to one of Louisville’s old-money families. It was her opinion that the fact that she’d been married to him for less than four years should not have mattered, and she was still pissed at herself for signing that prenup.
Here she was, at the waning age of thirty-nine, with only a lump sum settlement of a quarter million dollars, her BMW, the uptown condo and no prospects in sight. With her lifestyle, that money would be gone within the year. She needed to make new plans—fast.
The three-inch heels of her Jimmy Choos marked her rapid stride with a clip, clip, clip as she stomped back to her car, slamming the door behind her as she got in.
“Smarmy bastard,” she muttered, as she pulled the settlement check out of her purse and quickly endorsed it before driving by the bank.
Her cell phone rang as she was about to leave, and the tone of her voice when she answered still mirrored her anger.
“Hello.”
Lonnie Farrell heard anger and immediately shifted into a different mode of approach than the one he’d planned.
“Hello. Mrs. Dixon?”
“Yes, who is this? How did you get my number?”
“I’m sorry. I should have identified myself first. My name is Lonnie Farrell, and your family lawyer gave me your number. I represent a company interested in buying some property you own back in Rebel Ridge.”
Sylvia smiled as her heart skipped a beat. In your face, Robert Dixon. I can still land on my feet.
She immediately shifted mental gears. “I apologize for my abruptness, but a woman in my position can’t be too careful.”
“Of course, I completely understand. Now, as to the reason I’m calling. Are you interested in selling your property?”
“You are referring to the Foley Brothers Mine and surrounding land?”
“Yes, ma’am. The company I represent is interested in buying it.”
Robert Dixon was not Sylvia’s first husband, nor had she hooked her well-to-do exes by being stupid.
“The mine is played out.”
“Yes, ma’am. We know.”
“What are you planning to do with it?”
Lonnie hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Right now the plans are in a development stage, but that shouldn’t concern you if you’re interested in selling.”
Sylvia had run her own cons, and this sounded suspicious.
“You want to buy an abandoned mine, but you’re not interested in mining?”
Lonnie was getting pissed, but there was too much riding on making this happen to let it show.
“I understand your curiosity, but I assure you, it’s not a secret. It’s the dark, damp interior and the constant temperature that make it ideal for our needs. We want the space for mushroom farming.”
Sylvia blinked. There couldn’t be much money in that. “I don’t know if this is going to work out. I can’t imagine there’s all that much profit in selling fungi, and I’m not in the market of giving things away.”
“You’d be surprised,” Lonnie drawled. “We’re willing to offer you half a million dollars.”
Sylvia stifled a gasp. “A half million dollars to grow toadstools? Obviously you think I’m an idiot. I do not want to be involved in anything illegal.”
“Toadstools are poisonous, and you’re overthinking our offer, Mrs. Dixon.” He threw in an amused chuckle for effect. “Do you want to do business, or shall I inform them you’re not interested, in which case we will just look for another source?”
Sylvia felt trapped. If Robert hadn’t divorced her, this conversation would have ended before it began, but a half million dollars? How could she refuse?
“I’m sure you understand my concerns, but it won’t be necessary for you to look any further.”
“Perfect! I’ll have the papers sent to you. The check will be with the papers. Just sign them both. You send me one copy and keep the other, as well as the check.” He waited, guessing that the offer of a lot of easy money would be hard to reject.
“I want a cashier’s check,” Sylvia said.
Lonnie grinned. “Of course,” he said. “What address should I use?”
Sylvia gave him the address of the condo where she would be living.
The call ended a moment later, and she dropped the phone in her lap and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands as she looked out the windshield.
The sun was still shining. The sky was still clear, and if that call had been on the up-and-up, she would soon be another half million dollars to the good. So why did she feel like she’d just sold a piece of her soul to the devil?
* * *
Quinn checked in at headquarters, got the location of the kill site and headed up the mountain. He couldn’t quit thinking about the condition of the hikers he’d found. Knowing the bear had taken down eight full-grown hunting dogs highlighted the growing danger. He just hoped to God that they found the monster before anyone else crossed its path.
Nearly an hour passed before he reached the location where the dogs had been killed. Although the carcasses had been moved, the ground was still black where the dogs had bled out. He could have found the trackers by following the sounds of their dogs as they moved farther up the mountain, but they didn’t need him.
If the bear was sick or wounded, then there would be no rhyme or reason to its movements, and it would likely be in serious pain. Any wound would have become infected, and the bear would be extremely feverish. The fever would keep the bear in a constant state of thirst, and immersion in water would be soothing, as well. He’d been thinking about this scenario ever since the first search had been called off. There was a creek less than a quarter of a mile from where he’d found the dead hiker that snaked downward in this direction.
He first needed to find the water, then search it for sign. If he was right and the bear was walking the creek to cool its feverish body, it would explain why the dogs had lost the trail on the first search, and would also pinpoint the track the bear was taking downward toward civilization.
Concern for Mariah was at the forefront of his mind, and while he hadn’t mentioned it to her, he’d already made a call to his mother and his sister, Meg, asking them to “drop by” and check on her. This was supposed to be his day off, so their appearance wouldn’t be suspect, and they could play dumb about knowing he’d been called in to work.
Of course they’d agreed far too willingly, which told him they were beyond curious about the woman he’d brought home. He sighed. In the long run he would pay, but he would endure whatever interrogation they gave him as long as he was assured that Mariah was okay.
He glanced around the kill site one last time and then checked his map before moving off into the woods. His rifle was hanging at the ready in the crook of his arm, his ear attuned to the sounds around him.
Within a short time he’d found a creek with swiftly moving water. He checked the coordinates and confirmed his suspicion that it was the same one he’d found up near the hikers. Now he needed to see if he could find bear signs. When he waded into the water, it immediately washed over the tops of his hiking boots, soaking his feet in an ice-cold rush.
“Oh, shit,” he said, then ignored the discomfort and began walking up-creek.
* * *
The bear’s gut was full. It had gone back to the kill site the same night and fed on three other carcasses before returning to the overhang. The meat had given it a burst of much-needed energy, and while the wound on its hip was still festering and running with pus, having a full belly gave it one less pain to address.
Just before sunrise a coyote returning from a night of hunting startled it awake. The bear growled in disagreement and then headed for water to slake its thirst. Once that was accomplished, it lay down in the creek, letting the cold, rushing water wash over its suppurating hip until it was blessedly numb.
By the time the Doolens and their dogs had reached the kill site, the bear was already moving downstream.
* * *
It was just before noon when Mariah woke up. The talk show she’d been watching was long since over and a soap opera had taken its place. She wrinkled her nose and switched off the show before making a slow, achy trip to the bathroom, dragging her leg as she went. It occurred to her that she was going to have to maintain a regimen of physical therapy whether she liked it or not, or she would be left with a pronounced limp.
Instead of the high-powered painkillers, she popped a couple of the over-the-counter kind and hoped for the best as she began to poke around the kitchen for something to eat.
She was standing at the cabinet, trying to decide between a can of chicken noodle soup and a can of beef stew, when she heard what sounded like a car engine. Thinking it would be Quinn, she smiled as she headed for the door. But the vehicle she saw through the window wasn’t his Jeep, it was a pickup, and two women were getting out.
One was older and gray-haired, wearing a loose-fitting dress. The other was much younger, but Mariah recognized her features. It was like looking at a female version of Ryal, right down to the slim build and height. These had to be some of Quinn’s family.
She looked down at herself and sighed. Gray worn-out sweats and a U.S. Army T-shirt with a tear under the arm. Not the outfit she’d hoped to be wearing to meet more members of his family.
What the hell? It was only clothes, and she didn’t adhere to the theory that clothes made the man—or the woman, as the case might be. Instead of waiting for them to knock, she opened the door and lifted her chin.
* * *
Dolly Walker was both anxious and curious. Quinn was the only one of her children who’d never married. In fact, he’d never had a girlfriend he considered serious enough to bother bringing her home to meet the family. The fact that he’d suddenly brought a woman home with him out of the blue had the whole family curious. Ryal had filled them in on who she was and why she was there, so after Quinn’s call this morning, she and Meg had been more than willing to check on her.
She’d baked a dried apricot cobbler, and Meg had made a meatloaf and roasted some potatoes. They knew the drill. Supposedly they were bringing some food to help Quinn out, thinking he would be there to introduce them.
As they drove up the winding driveway and across the open meadow, Dolly couldn’t help but think about how different the new cabin was from the old house she’d grown up in, but different in a good way. Her children would never be wealthy, but their occupations and lives were already steps above what hers had been, and for that she was proud.
“Hey, Mom, what are you thinking?” Meg asked, as the cabin came into view.
“That I need to keep an open mind and not judge.”
Meg frowned. “Are you thinking you won’t like her?”
“Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean that. I was thinking about what shape she’ll be in. Remember how Quinn was when he first came back? Whatever we said or did for him was wrong. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he didn’t want any help.”
Meg sighed. It had been hard on all of them to watch him suffer and be unable to help, but it had been hardest on their mom. When they were young, she’d always been able to fix their boo-boos. It had to be hell for a parent to see that kind of suffering and not be able to do anything about it.
“It’ll be okay, Mom. I think the main thing is to follow her lead.”
Dolly nodded as she got out of the car, but she wasn’t convinced. And then the door opened. The young woman standing in the doorway had her chin up and her shoulders back. She looked like she was gearing up for a fight, not greeting guests.
“Oh, crap, she doesn’t look happy,” Meg said.
“She doesn’t know us,” Dolly said, determined that if Quinn liked this woman, then she would like her, too.
She picked up her cobbler and headed for the cabin.
Meg followed with her own offerings as they walked up the steps.
“You must be Mariah,” Dolly said. “Meg and I brought you and Quinn something for supper tonight.”
“Quinn’s not here,” Mariah said, shifting nervously as she stepped aside to let them come in.
Meg frowned. “Oh, we’re sorry. This is his day off, so we just assumed…”
Mariah shrugged. “There was some trouble about a bear. I think they called everyone in to the ranger station.”
“Well, then, we’ll just introduce ourselves,” Dolly said, and set her cobbler down on the counter. “I’m Quinn’s mother, Dolly Walker, but you just call me Dolly. This is my daughter, Margaret Lewis, but we all call her Meg.”
“It’s nice to meet you, and the food smells wonderful,” Mariah said. “I’m sorry the sofa is out of commission, but you’re welcome to take a seat on what is now my bed.”
“We can sit out on the deck,” Meg offered.
Mariah didn’t want to argue, but Quinn had given her orders she wasn’t inclined to ignore.
“Quinn told me not to spend time outside until the bear was caught.”
Dolly glanced at the worry on Mariah’s face. Quinn had warned them about the danger, but she hadn’t taken it seriously until now.
“Then we can sit at the kitchen table just as easily.” She glanced at the clock. It was after twelve o’clock. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”
Mariah shook her head. “I was debating on which can of soup to open when you drove up.”
Meg waved toward the table. “You two sit. I’ll poke around and get all three of us something.”
Mariah sat because she didn’t know what else to do. She was already out of place here. Trying to play hostess would be a joke. She wanted these women to like her, but her track record with women friends wasn’t the best. She supposed it had to do with a lack of bonding as a child. The few times she’d actually gotten attached to a foster parent, she had been moved. After a while she’d quit trying.
Dolly could tell Mariah was ill at ease, but there was one thing they all had in common that would be safe grounds for conversation, and that was Quinn.
“So, you and Quinn were in the same combat unit in Afghanistan?”
Mariah nodded.
Dolly smiled as she reached for Mariah’s hands, holding them firmly in her grasp to punctuate her words.
“I know you saved my son’s life, and for that alone you will always hold a special place in my heart. Thank you, my dear. Thank you very, very much.”
The woman’s warmth was infectious. Mariah’s nerves began to settle. She felt embarrassed to be singled out like this when there were others who’d been there, too.
“We were just lucky to find him when we did,” she said.
“And how are you doing?” Dolly asked.
“‘Slowly but surely’ is a good way to put it,” Mariah said, and glanced at Meg, who was banging cupboard doors and opening drawers with confidence.
Dolly caught the look. “Don’t worry about her. She’s been here enough times in the past year that she knows where things are.”
Mariah nodded, but she still felt useless. She was scrambling for something to talk about and then remembered Quinn telling her that his mother had grown up on this property.
“Mrs. Walker, Quinn said—”
“No ‘Mrs. Walker’ business. Call me Dolly.”
“Okay. So, Dolly, Quinn told me you grew up on this property.”
Dolly’s eyes widened as memories washed over her. “Oh, yes. There were six of us kids, plus Mama and Papa. The old house wasn’t much, but it was home. All the girls slept in one bed. All the boys slept in another, and Mama and Papa were in the loft upstairs. Papa worked the mines, and Mama grew a big garden. The boys learned to hunt almost before they went to school, and all of us girls learned how to manage a house and feed a family with little to nothing to start on. We were dirt-poor and wore hand-me-downs until they were thin as tissue paper, but we always had each other and a whole lot of love.”
The words painted a picture that warmed Mariah all the way to her bones. What a gift it would have been to grow up like that.
“You were very lucky.”
Dolly shrugged. “There are plenty of people who would argue that with you. Living on the mountain can be a hard life.”
“Now, Mom, you know good and well money isn’t everything,” Meg said, and then winked at Mariah.
Meg’s wink made Mariah think of Quinn. “You and Quinn look alike,” she said.
Meg nodded. “I know. All of us Walkers look enough alike that you can definitely tell we’re kin.”
“I think I remember Quinn mentioning nieces and nephews. Are any of the kids yours?” Mariah asked. The smile on Meg’s face shifted just enough for Mariah to know she’d asked the wrong question. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten personal. You don’t have to answer that,” she said quickly.
Meg shrugged. “It’s old news, sugar. Besides, if you’re here, you’re considered part of the family and can ask anything you want. To answer your question, I do not have children. I would like to, but I’m minus a man in my life, so it’s not likely to happen.”
Dolly frowned. “Finish the story, Meg, or I’ll do it for you. It’s time you stopped being ashamed of something you didn’t do.”
Meg’s shoulders slumped, but she managed to put a smile on her face.
“What Mom’s trying to say is, I had a husband, but he’s now in the state penitentiary. I divorced him after he murdered a man down in Louisville over drugs.”
Mariah rolled her eyes. “That’s probably where a good portion of the kids I was in foster care with wound up. It’s also why I joined the army. The first eighteen years of my life pretty much sucked. I was looking for a place to belong, and in a lot of ways the army served me well.”
Dolly blinked. “You were in foster care your whole life? You never knew your parents?”
Mariah tensed, bracing herself for that look she got when people realized she was a throwaway.
“I was an abandoned baby, only a few hours old when someone found me. I grew up in the foster care system in Lexington until I aged out. After that I was on my own.”
Meg stopped making sandwiches and stared at Mariah, trying to imagine what it would be like to be that alone in the world.
But for Dolly, the story was shocking. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry I brought up a touchy subject.”
“No, it’s nothing like that, at least not for me. It’s a fact of my life and definitely taught me to be independent.”
Dolly got up, walked around the table and wrapped her arms around Mariah’s neck.
“Every motherly gene I have is imploding. This just breaks my heart, honey girl,” she said, and laid her cheek against the crown of Mariah’s head.
Mariah didn’t know how to react. She was confused and more than a little embarrassed, and Meg saw it.
“Ease up, Mom. If we scare her off before Quinn gets to work his magic, he’ll kill us.”
Dolly looked embarrassed, but Mariah laughed. And the moment the sound came out of her mouth, a little bit of the sad child she had been disappeared.
“Sandwiches are ready,” Meg said. “Looks like you have cold pop and iced tea to drink. What’s your pleasure?” she asked.
“Iced tea for me,” Dolly said.
“And for me,” Mariah added.
Dolly put the plates on the table, chattering as she worked. Meg was putting ice in the glasses and pouring tea while acting as the straight man for her mother’s monologues.
For Mariah, it was a peek into what a relationship between mother and daughter could be. It didn’t really make her sad, but she could definitely tell what she’d missed. And it was also an interesting view of how his family had molded Quinn into the man he was today.
They continued talking even after the food was gone, and Mariah was still smiling an hour after they left. When she finally lay down to take a nap, she rolled over and fell asleep without feeling a moment of panic. It was the first time since she’d been wounded that she slept without dreaming.
* * *
Every nerve Quinn had was on alert as he kept moving upstream. The squirrels chattering in the trees along the creek was normal, but the sudden silence that followed was not. He was jumping at every rustle in the brush, afraid he was missing clues beneath the water because he was so anxious about walking up on the bear.
Still, he couldn’t quit on this. His gut instincts kept telling him this was how the bear was getting away and why the dogs were losing the scent. Except for feeding, the bear was actually using the water as a highway.
He’d gone about a mile upstream from the kill site when he spotted something in the creek bed that gave him pause. There was a large, moss-covered boulder jutting out of the water with four long, distinct scratches cut into the moss. They were equally spaced and went all the way to the rock. It made him think of claws cutting flesh down to the bone, like he’d seen on the leg of the hiker he’d rescued.
He straightened abruptly, scanning the area to make sure he was still on his own, then took another step, slower this time, and began looking closer as he continued to move upstream. The next clue he found was on the actual creek bank, where a large chunk of earth and grass had been broken off, as if something very large and heavy had stepped too close to the edge and it had given under the weight.
He climbed up onto the bank to backtrack, eyeing the forest floor for further prints. But the ground was covered in leaves and pine needles in different stages of decay. If anything had passed that way, it wouldn’t have left any prints. He moved a few yards farther, still looking for signs of scat or the remnants of a kill. He was so focused on looking down that when something large suddenly darted out of the brush to his right, he fell backward. He was scrambling for his rifle when he realized it was only a deer. The doe leaped across his line of vision before disappearing downhill.
“Shit,” Quinn muttered, as he got to his feet and shifted his rifle to a better position.
He paused and looked up, then caught himself staring at the trunk of a sixty-foot pine. The gashes that had been cut into the tree were at least ten feet off the ground, maybe higher—just like the ones he’d found at the site where the hiker was killed. It was the bear—still marking territory.
He pulled out his two-way.
“Ranger Walker to dispatch, do you copy?”
“Go ahead, Walker.”
“What’s the status on the team of trackers? Over.”
“They lost the trail again about two miles from the canine kill site, over.”
“Are they still on the mountain? Over.”
“Yes. They’re moving down and east from Greenlee Pass.”
“I’m going to send you my coordinates. Tell them I’ll be waiting. I think I found something. Over.”
“Will do. Waiting to receive them. Over,” the dispatcher said.
Quinn ran his GPS, sent the location and settled in to wait. At best guess it would take most of an hour for the men to reach him. He glanced at his watch. It was already after 2:00 p.m. Once it got past 4:00, it got dark fast, and he had no intention of leaving Mariah home alone in the dark, nor did he relish a hike off the mountain after the sun had gone down.
He sat down on a rock, shed his backpack and then dug out a bottle of water and an energy bar. It wasn’t home cooking, but it served a purpose. As soon as he finished, he put the wrapper in his pocket, put the empty bottle in his backpack and settled down to wait.
Six
Quinn glanced at his watch, then pulled out his phone to check on Mariah. He made the call, and while he waited for her to answer, he wondered if she was on to him for the sneak visit from his mother and sister, then decided it was too late to worry about that now.
The phone rang several times. Just when he was about to become concerned, she answered, and he could tell she’d been sleeping.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” he said. “You sound sleepy. Did I wake you?”
“Yes, but that’s okay. I’m glad you called. I’ve been worrying about you…uh, I mean with the bear and everything.”
He smiled. “I’m still all in one piece.”
“Oh, my God, do not even joke about that,” she muttered. “Your mother and sister were here. They brought food for dinner tonight.”
The tone of her voice took care of one concern. She didn’t sound pissed.
“Oh. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to introduce you. Were you okay with that?”
“Of course I was okay. They stayed and ate lunch with me. I liked them, Quinn. They’re really nice.”
He grinned. “And you were surprised that they were nice…as opposed to me, you mean?”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” she said.
He laughed.
Mariah grinned and then changed the subject. “What’s going on with that bear?”
“Not sure just yet, but I have a theory. I’m waiting for the trackers and their dogs to get to my location.”
“You’d think dogs would be able to track it. Why is that not happening?”
“That’s part of my theory. There’s a creek that winds nearly twenty-five miles on Rebel Ridge before it hits a river. It was close to where the bear first attacked the hikers, and a few miles down the mountain that same creek is also close to where those hunting dogs were killed. I think the bear is using it like a highway, which leads me to think it’s either sick or injured. If I’m right, that’s one reason why the dogs keep losing the trail. It doesn’t just go in and out of water but stays in it, maybe for miles. That’s also why it’s so important to find it. A weakened animal is a desperate one. It’ll take chances it wouldn’t normally take in its drive to survive.”
She shivered. “I didn’t know all that. Now I am worried.”
“I survived the worst the Taliban threw at me. One sick bear is not going to be how I meet my end.”
“And you know this how?”
He had no intention of telling her that he planned on living to a ripe old age with her. Not yet.
“I just do.” Then he began to hear barking. “Hey, I hear dogs. I guess the trackers were closer than I thought. I’ll try to be home before dark. Take care of yourself, and don’t forget to do your exercises.”
“In the meantime, is there anything I could do? I mean for you?”
“Just take care of yourself.”
He disconnected, shouldered his backpack and his rifle, and waited for the trackers to arrive.
* * *
Everyone on Rebel Ridge knew Jake Doolen’s bloodhounds were the best trackers on the mountain, maybe even in Kentucky. Jake was on call with the Kentucky State Bureau of Investigation, as well as anyone else in need, on a twenty-four-hour basis, but to the best of Jake’s memory, neither he nor his sons, Avery and Cyrus, had ever been called out just to track a bear. It wasn’t that the hounds couldn’t do it, because he had faith that they ultimately would. But this was like tracking a ghost bear. Every time his hounds picked up a trail, it always ended when the bear went into the water. And they’d never been able to pick up the trail again on the other side.
When he got the message from ranger headquarters about a possible new lead, he was ready to jump on it. He was sick at heart from the loss of life, both human and animal, and scared shitless the bear would kill again before they took him down.
According to the directions they’d been given, they should be near the site where the ranger was waiting, and when the dogs suddenly began to bay, he realized someone or something was coming their way.
Cyrus took his rifle off his shoulder, while Avery flipped the safety off his. Just in case. Then they saw the ranger coming toward them and relaxed, Cyrus lifting a hand in welcome.
When Jake saw it was one of Dolly Foster’s boys he felt a twinge of regret. If he’d been luckier in love he could have called them his sons, but Dolly had fallen for Tom Walker and that had been that. He’d settled for his Amanda without too many regrets, and he’d loved her in the best way he knew how right up until the day she died.
“Zeus! Blue! Red! Sit,” Jake said sharply, and all three hounds dropped as Quinn approached.
Avery cradled his rifle as he smiled a hello. The Doolens had gone to school with the Walkers and were old friends.
“Hey, Quinn.”
Quinn nodded a hello, eyeing the big raw-boned men. Jake’s hair used to be as red as his sons’, but it had gone fully gray. They were all outfitted in heavy-duty denim because of the rugged terrain into which they’d been sent, with orange hunting vests for safety.
“Avery, good to see you. Cyrus…Jake, you’re both looking good.”
Jake nodded. “You, too, son. I hear you have some information. I sure hope it’s good.”
“It’s a theory with substance, how’s that?” Quinn said.
“Right now we’ll take anything that might lead us in a new direction. So what do you have?”
“You know I’m the one who found the two hikers, right?”
“Yeah, we heard.”
“As you know, the paw print I found on-site was huge, and the claw marks the bear left on a tree were much farther up the trunk than you would have expected a black bear to leave.”
“We saw the markings on the tree, but the paw print was gone by the time we got to the site. We did find a big one near where the dogs were killed, but the floor of the forest is thick with leaves or rocky as hell. Hard to find tracks, and with the dogs losing the trail, it’s been frustrating.”
“Follow me back toward the creek. There’s something I want to show you,” Quinn said, then led the way.
As they drew closer, the hounds suddenly bayed. They’d already picked up on the scent.
“You got something!” Jake said, as his dog strained on the leash.
Quinn paused and then pointed up at a pine tree in front of them. “Look at that.”
Cyrus cursed beneath his breath. Avery just stared. But Jake grunted in shock.
“Hell’s fire, that’s got to be ten, maybe twelve feet up, just like the marks where you found the hiker’s body.”
“There’s more,” Quinn said. “This way.”
All three dogs were straining on their leashes and baying as Quinn reached the creek bank. He stopped, then squatted, pointing out where the earth had been dislodged.
“See this? Looks like something really heavy dislodged this chunk as it stepped down into the creek.”
The men nodded, but in their opinion, it was just more of the same stuff that they’d already seen. The bear had gone into the water. So what?
But then Quinn didn’t cross to the other side of the creek. Instead he began to wade downstream.
“Follow me down a few yards,” he said.
The men walked along the creek bank, paralleling him.
As soon as Quinn got to the rock where the moss had been scratched, he pointed again.
“Look there.”
Jake stepped out into the water with his dog, Zeus. As soon as they reached the middle of the creek where the rock jutted out of the water, Zeus sniffed the moss and bayed.
“Yeah, I’d say that’s bear,” Jake said. “So, did you find where he went out on the other side yet?”
“Now we get to my theory,” Quinn said. “I’ve said from the start that something’s wrong with this animal. It’s either sick or injured. So say I’m right, and say it’s feverish, that means it will be constantly thirsty. You agree?”
Jake nodded. “Makes sense.”
“And it won’t be able to hunt, so it takes the easiest prey it finds, and that happens to be whatever crosses its path, which is how I view the killings so far.”
Jake was still listening. “I don’t disagree. But if it’s so sick and crippled, then why haven’t we found it laid up somewhere? Why do we lose the trail at the water’s edge and not pick it up anywhere on the other side? It doesn’t backtrack, because we’ve already ruled that out. And we’ve found numerous places where it’s spent a day or two, but it never goes back to the same location.”
“Because I think it’s using the water like a highway. There’s that constant thirst, for one thing. And if it’s feverish, or it’s been injured, lying in this cold mountain water at a moment’s notice would soothe the heat and the pain. I think the only time it comes out of the creek is when it hears something that leads it to a kill. That’s why your dogs can’t find another trail on the other side, because the water is the trail. If I’m right, the only chance we have of finding it is to either follow the creek down, or go all the way down to where the creek runs into the river and come up to meet it. And—again, if I’m right—when it kills again, it will be somewhere that’s not far from the creek.”
Jake’s shoulders slumped. What Quinn was saying nullified the chance of the dogs being able to locate the bear.
“This sucks.”
“I agree,” Quinn said.
“We need more men for sure,” Jake said, then eyed the sun through the trees. It was too close to sundown to set this new plan in motion. “And I can get them, but I need to notify your ranger station. What I am saying is we’re not doing this in the dark. Not with this one.”
“I agree,” Quinn said. “So, unless I’m ordered elsewhere, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Jake nodded. “Yes, and for the record, that’s one damn good theory.”
Quinn shrugged off the compliment. Knowing the animals and the region was just part of the job.
“I’m headed back down to where I left my truck,” he said.
“We’ll go with you,” Jake said. “I have a lot of phone calls to make and some extra plans to figure out.”
“And in the meantime, we pray to God no one else gets hurt before we find that bear,” Avery added.
* * *
The sun was about to slip behind the peak of Rebel Ridge when Quinn got his first glimpse of home. He could not deny that his anxiety had nothing to do with wet feet and an empty belly. It was all about Mariah. As a grown man, he’d never had anyone to come home to before. It felt good.
Mariah came out onto the deck as he pulled up and parked, then frowned when she saw the expression on his face. She’d seen that look before. It spelled both mental and physical exhaustion.
“You look tired,” she said, as he came up the steps.
“You look good,” he countered, smiling as a blush of pink swept up her neck and across her cheeks.
“Well, that’s a lie, but thank you anyway,” she said.
Quinn stopped at the door and pulled off his hiking boots and socks, then started to strip out of his clothes when it hit him that he couldn’t do that anymore without an audience.
“Um… I usually strip out here and throw my clothes straight in the wash,” he said.
Mariah crossed her arms. “Okay with me.”
His eyes narrowing, he tried to decide if she was kidding or if this was a test. It wasn’t like she’d never seen him naked before.
“It’s your call,” he said, as he shed his shirt and dropped his pants. His thumbs were in the waistband of his briefs when she sighed and walked away.
“Whatever,” he muttered, then picked up the wet, muddy clothes and headed for the utility room.
When he emerged the washer was filling with water and Mariah was outside, walking the deck with a stiff, lopsided stride. He couldn’t decide whether she was pissed or just frustrated. Either way, he could identify. He felt a little bit of both himself.
Determined not to make an issue out of this, he went straight upstairs and into the shower. By the time he came out, the scent of heating meatloaf brought him down the stairs double-time. Mariah was at the sink washing her hands. He walked up behind her.
“Something smells good,” he said.
“Your sister’s cooking. Meatloaf and roasted potatoes. Do you want a salad or a vegetable? I can open a can or chop up some lettuce.”
Quinn put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry I was such an ass. I don’t know what made me do that.”
She hesitated. “I do. This whole thing is awkward. We have a history, right?”
“Yeah, I’d say that’s a fact.”
“Only it was nothing but sex, right?”
This time Quinn didn’t answer.
She turned around. “Quinn?”
“I vote for salad.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You asked me if I wanted a vegetable or a salad. I vote for the salad, but if you want, I’ll chop it.”
Mariah sighed. Maybe he was smart to avoid discussing their past. Not when she was like this anyway—crippled in both body and brain.
“Fine. No onions in mine,” she said, and turned away too fast to see the disappointment flash across Quinn’s face.
* * *
The bear had managed to kill a small doe that morning, which had given it a brief burst of strength that had carried it nearly two miles farther down the creek. But the wound in its hip was like a sore tooth—the pain never went away. And it was hungry again. By the time it was dark, the bear had stopped.
As it sat, the water was just deep enough to wash over the infected wound and work a bit of medicinal magic. The cold, swiftly moving water both numbed the pain and flushed the running pus from the still-open flesh.
An owl hooted from a nearby tree.
The bear uttered a soft woof.
The owl took flight.
The bear sniffed the air, sensing a change in the weather.
Clouds were gathering to the southwest. A storm would blow through before morning. Minutes passed as the forest came alive with the creatures of the night.
Somewhere off in the distance, a dog howled. The bear lifted its head and sniffed the air again—anxiously this time. Nearby, a calf had become separated from its mother and bawled in a long, plaintive cry. Moments later, the cow answered back.
The bear’s belly was empty. The calf was near. Without hesitation, it stood up, waded to the creek bank and, grunting in pain as it climbed up and out, disappeared into the dark.

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