I turn to look at him. He’s standing beside Dixon.
“But what about—”
His face is hard. “Do as I say, Son.”
I understand. Whatever is about to happen next, he doesn’t want Dakota around for it. I follow his instructions, cutting the tape at her ankles and ripping it off her jeans. Her wrists are trickier, because he taped her skin. I cut it, but leave the tape on her skin. When she’s free of the binding, she throws her arms around me. She rubs my neck, the back of my head, her fingers trickling over my face and chest.
“I know, I know,” I soothe her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s over now. Let’s go.”
I lead her down the steps. My brothers and my dad stand a few feet away, waiting on us to leave. Dakota pauses and shrugs me off. On unsteady feet, she walks over and hugs each one in turn. They nod at her, and then my dad looks at me only, inclining his head toward where we left the horses. His meaning is clear. Get out of here.
I take Dakota by the hand, using my flashlight to lead us back to the horses. We’re slow going, because her legs are shaking and she tells me they hurt. She also needs to pee, so I unbutton her jeans and tug them down, then help to keep her steady so she can go to the bathroom. She laughs shyly, and despite everything we’ve been through tonight, her cheeks flush.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Dakota.”
She finishes and I help her stand upright. Looking at her face, her strawberry hair, swathed in shades of darkness with only the flashlight to provide a slice of light, I’m overcome by how much she means to me.
She sags against me, and it reminds me of how much she has been through. I need to get her back to the homestead so my mom can look her over.
I untie Ranger and help Dakota up, then sit down behind her. She leans back into my chest, and we retrace our way through the woods, this time at a much slower pace.
The danger has passed.
I’ve got my girl.
And starting right now, I’m going to do things differently.
By now I know how I react to crises. I turn off my emotions, respond, and later, when I’m alone, I let go of the emotions I strangled. Tonight is no different. A lone tear slips down my cheek and I wipe it with my shoulder.
The hand that rests on my knee? It’s quivering, which is why I’m tapping my fingers. I can’t stand to watch my own shaking hand.
The other hand? It holds a generous two-finger pour of whiskey.
I’m sitting on the front porch of the homestead. My heritage is spread out before me, thick and lush grass, dirt road, and pine, but it doesn’t smell like my home. The fire was extinguished hours ago, and even though the smoke has dissipated, its scent clings to the air.
I’m looking at my land, the land I was willing to marry Dakota to get, but I don’t really see it. My mind is filled with Dakota.
Her shocked expression when I walked into my dad’s office that day. Indignant and angry, thinking I didn’t remember her. Then later on my front porch, her face softened with concern, urging me to help myself heal.
Dakota on her back, legs encircling my waist and riding a high with me.
Dakota on her knees, terrified.
And just a few minutes ago, allowing me to carry her into the guest room and lay her on the bed. On a normal day, that wildly independent woman would stand on her own two feet, but tonight is about as opposite from normal as it can get.
The front door opens and my mom steps out. She folds her arms across her chest and grips her upper arms as if it’s cold, even though it’s not. Perhaps she’s chilled by the events of the night.
She perches on the arm of the chair beside mine. “Dakota’s okay. Exhausted. I left her so she could get in the bath. She has some pretty good scrapes, especially on her knees. She said—” Mom cuts off, and when I look at her I find her cautious gaze already on me. “She said the scrapes on her knees are because she tried to run from him, and he tackled her from behind.”
Dixon can’t hurt Dakota anymore, but hot rage still burns through me. He got off easy, not just because of what he did tonight, but also because of the damage he’s been inflicting in town. The families he tore apart, the lives people lost due to his selling. Everyone is responsible for their own choices, but some choices wouldn’t be made if the opportunity never presented itself.
“But…” My mom’s voice upturns, like she’s grasping for a bright side. “She said she did a reverse head butt sort of thing to him.” She demonstrates by throwing her head back. “So I guess she got something good in.”
I can’t bring myself to feel good about it, because she shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. Dixon took her because of me.
My interest is piqued by the distant sound of hooves. Mom and I sit, quiet, as the sound grows steadily louder, and watch two riders appear around the corner of the house.
Warner and Wyatt.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask, at the same time my mother says, “Where is your father?”
“He told us to leave,” Wyatt answers, coming to a stop.
“And you listened?” I drain my whiskey glass and place it on the table. Standing, I say, “He shouldn’t be out there alone. I’m going to—”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
It’s my mother’s voice, quiet and strong, that stops me. I look down at her. The weariness in her eyes reminds me that she, too, has had a long night. After what happened to Dakota, the barn feels like a distant memory to me.
“You’ll understand when you have kids,” she starts, looking at the three of us in turn. “Whatever your dad is doing now, he had reason to send you away. Respect that.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the three of us utter in unison. We all sound reluctant.
“You two,” she points at Warner and Wyatt. “Get to bed. You’ve had a long night. And you…” She turns to me. “Get upstairs. I bet Dakota could use some help washing her back. She’s awfully sore, and it’s only going to get worse before it gets better.” It’s her way of apologizing to me for her attitude toward Dakota.
I nod my acceptance and head across the porch for the front door. I stop, calling out to my brothers just as they’re turning their horses toward the stable. They both look at me.
Side-by-side like they are right now, you wouldn’t know Wyatt once hid out in a bush and shot Warner in the thigh with his BB gun, or that I let Warner drive a ranch truck in town when he was fifteen and he hit a fire hydrant and I took the blame. In the twelve years I spent in the Army, and the last five years I’ve spent pushing everyone away, I didn’t notice my little brothers becoming men. I told myself they could never understand what I’ve been through. I pushed them away because they didn’t go to war alongside me. But after tonight, I’ve recognized something even more valuable. Warner and Wyatt would go to war alongside me.
Tonight, they did. Three shots were fired at the same time.
My eyes sting as I look at them. I want to apologize for pushing them away for years, but I’m still working on finding the right words, so for now, I say, “Thank you for tonight. I love you guys.”
Warner grins, like he knew if he waited long enough I’d come around. Wyatt ducks his head, nodding at me, and starts for the stable.