Читать книгу A Place to Heal - CA J.D. Bodiford - Страница 10

CHAPTER 7 May 2010

Оглавление

Reed slowed the big four-wheel drive truck, looking for the driveway. Everything was so overgrown and wild now. It had been years since anyone had been here. He wasn’t even sure he could find it himself even though he had grown up here. Being away for so many years could fade a lot of memories. He had just passed a huge boulder when he spotted the rutted drive. Now he remembered the rock had stood at the entrance to the ranch. It had been a long time since he had sat on that very rock and drawn whatever his imagination could come up with. He pushed the childhood memories away and turned onto the dirt track. He took his time covering the mile long drive. Surprisingly, the house was still standing. No one had lived there since his father had died close to ten years ago. He got out and walked up onto the porch, being careful to avoid the rotten boards. The front door swung open with a push and the sound of small animals scurrying away made him shake his head. Maybe trying to move back here wasn’t such a great idea after all. As it stood right now, the house wasn’t even fit for the animals that had taken up there, much less humans. He made his way to the living room, glad to see the stone fireplace was still in good shape. The windows were still intact as far as he could see. If the rest of the house was fairly decent, he could just camp here instead of making the long drive back to town. This would almost be considered luxurious compared to some of the places he had slept in during his travels. He wandered through the rest of the house. It was a lot smaller than he remembered. The floor plan was one big room with only the two bedrooms and two bathrooms closed off for privacy.

Without a lot of square footage to cover, he quickly found himself on the back porch looking out over the meadow. It certainly hadn’t changed. The deer and other animals kept the overgrowth down with their grazing. It always amazed him to see just how things stayed the same when humans stayed out of the way. He could have still been five years old, waiting breathlessly for his first glimpse of a wild animal. His father had built this place from the ground up on weekends and days off and they had moved here to get away from the pressure of living in the city. His father had been a writer and when he had finally written the best seller they had all been waiting for, he had bought this land and they had left the rat race behind. It had been a turning point in Reed’s young life. He had thrived in the wilderness, spending hours in the woods. His mother had home schooled him and when he went to the local community college, he had been way ahead of his fellow students. Her death when he was nineteen had sent his father straight into the bottle and he had not seen a sober day from then until the day he went out into the forest and shot himself. Reed had left as soon as the funeral was over. With enough money to do whatever he wanted, he had bought a camera and set out to see the world. Along the way he had discovered his talent didn’t lie so much in taking pictures as in solving problems. Now he had come full circle. His own fortune was made and he had come back to the only place he had ever considered home. The morning sun was bright in his eyes and the day was already starting to warm up. May in the Gila Wilderness of New Mexico was still the most beautiful place in the whole world to him.

Reed stirred the fire in the old stone fireplace, grateful for the warmth. The smell of the steak on the grate wafted through the house, making his stomach growl as he reached into the cooler and pulled out a cold beer. His muscles ached from the long day of work but he had gotten the inside of the house cleared of debris. His father had built the house from the best materials he could find and the wood was still as solid as the day it had been cut and nailed. He would need a new pump for the well and the plumbing and electrical would need to be redone but overall the house was not far from being habitable. He smiled as he listened to the sounds of the wilderness at night. He had missed the music made by the animals. The crickets, the frogs, the coyotes, even the occasional mountain lion. He pulled the steak off the fire and set it aside to cool. Rummaging around in the kitchen, he found the cabinets just like they were left the day his father died. No one had come to the house to clean or pack because Reed was the only one left. No brothers or sisters, no aunts or uncles. Just Reed. No one had any reason to be there and it was far enough into the backcountry that no one came snooping. There was evidence that a few hikers had taken refuge there, probably during a storm, but no damage had been done. He savored the taste of the rich beef, wondering just what it was that made food cooked over a fire better. He smiled as he remembered the various things he had eaten over the years. He’d take a good American steak any time.

Reed leaned the axe against the side of the house, pausing to wipe the sweat from his forehead and take a long drink of icy water. June was in full force and even here in the mountains, the heat was oppressive. He looked around, taking stock of what he had accomplished in the last month. The old homestead looked almost like it had the last time he was there. He smiled in irony. It was amazing what a cell phone, a name, and money added to sheer hard work could accomplish. There had been a steady stream of delivery trucks in and out for the last few weeks and all the creature comforts a man could want were at his disposal now. He had been lean before but six weeks of physical labor had added several inches of muscle to his tall frame and his skin was a dark bronze from the sun. His eyes glittered like the deepest emeralds as he watched a hawk soaring overhead. He could easily spend the rest of his life here perfectly content.

Deciding he had enough fence rail split for today, he grabbed a towel and bar of soap off the table by the back door and headed down to the creek. The sun made the water glitter like diamonds as he quickly stripped and waded in. The sudden chill made him inhale sharply but it was welcome after the heat of the afternoon. The deepest part of the stream was about fifty yards up so he made his way slowly through the swift moving water. He enjoyed his daily ritual of bathing outside; winter would come soon enough and he knew there would be days on end when he would be stuck inside. Unconcerned with his nudity, he dipped his head under and lathered up. His eyes were closed as he squatted in the thigh deep water to rinse the soap from his hair. The soft breeze was cool on his body, making him shiver but the sudden distinctive sound of a pump shotgun changed it to a cold chill. He froze, his hands still in his hair, every muscle in his body tight. Son of a bitch! The first thing he had learned when he left home was to always be on guard and here he was, literally caught with his pants down! Hell, he wished he had his pants! The sound had come from his left so he turned very slowly in that direction, still keeping his hands up but easing them down just a bit as he pushed his hair back from his forehead so he could see. At least whoever it was had waited until he got the soap out of his eyes! Sure enough, there on the hillside above him stood a tall figure in dirty coveralls holding a shotgun. He was unable to clearly see the man’s features because he had a baseball cap pulled down low on his head. He was tall but didn’t seem to be a very big man but it didn’t much matter if he was a midget; the shotgun was all he needed to have the advantage at this distance. They stood motionless, staring at each other for what seemed like forever. Reed was reluctant to start the conversation-he liked for his opponents to make the opening move when they were the aggressor. It gave him a better idea of what he was dealing with.

The stranger’s voice was husky, almost feminine when he finally spoke.

“You mind telling me what you’re doing on my property?”

Reed frowned. His property? As far as he knew, no one else had ever lived up here but him and his family. Just his luck he had probably stumbled onto some crazy ass tree hugger who thought wherever he was, he owned it. He would ask that later. Right now he just wanted to get out of this freezing water and get some clothes on! If he stood here much longer he would be able to get away because the guy was gonna drop his shotgun laughing. No man would be able to resist cracking a joke about the state of his manhood right now regardless of the situation they were in!

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” he said cautiously. “My name’s Reed Callahan. I live here.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow, looking around the clearing where they were standing.

“Don’t believe I see any houses around here,” he said. “Unless you live in a tree house that I haven’t found yet, I have to say, Mr. Callahan, I’m having a hard time believing you.” He seemed totally unconcerned with Reed’s state of undress.

“Do you mind if I grab my towel while we continue this conversation?” Reed asked, beginning to get irritated with the whole thing.

The stranger motioned casually with the gun. “Be my guest.”

Reed backed up cautiously until he felt the bank of the creek behind him. Scrambling out quickly, he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his narrow hips without drying off, grateful for the small comfort of not standing buck naked in front of a total stranger any more. He was trying desperately to keep the sound of banjo strings out of his head. The width of the creek between them made him feel even better. Now that he wasn’t quite so vulnerable, his curiosity was rising. The stranger still hadn’t introduced himself or explained what he meant by ‘his property’ and Reed didn’t see any sort of a vehicle around so where had the man come from?

The man motioned again with his gun, bringing Reed’s guard back up.

“So just exactly where do you live?” the man asked. “I’ve been around here for a while and I think I’d remember a man like you if I’d seen him before.”

The banjo strings suddenly got louder. Reed swallowed and took a deep breath. Hard to be intimidating when you were facing a man with a firearm and all you had was a damn towel!

“I live on the Callahan ranch about half a mile from here,” he said firmly.

“Callahan Ranch?” the stranger asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” Reed answered. “As in Reed Callahan. That was my parent’s place. I grew up there.”

The man snorted. “That place ain’t fit for the raccoons that took up there. Nobody’s been there for years.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been gone for a while,” he said angrily. Enough was enough! Reed had about had a belly full of this.

The stranger didn’t look to be in any hurry, easily holding the weight of the 20 gauge Remington level with Reed’s gut.

“So you just suddenly come back after ‘being gone for a while’ as you put it, and decide you need a bath in my creek?” he asked sarcastically.

Reed had gone from slightly irritated to full-blown pissed.

“Look. I don’t know where in the hell you’ve been but I’ve been here for over a month now restoring that place. I grew up in that house; I was living in that house when my mother died and I was living in that house when my father died. It’s mine and I intend to stay there so why don’t you just put that damn gun down! I didn’t know this was your creek, for God’s sake! If you’ll notice, there aren’t exactly any signs around! Besides, just who in the hell are you, anyway?!” Reed stood glaring at the strange figure, waiting on an answer. It was almost impossible to figure out just what the man looked like or even come close to guessing how big or how small he was, he realized. He had on coveralls that looked about two sizes too big from the way they were hanging on his tall frame and his hat was pulled down so low, he couldn’t distinguish any of his facial features. Reed didn’t know what in the hell he was doing dressed like that in this heat. He even had on work boots, for crying out loud! Not a single inch of skin was showing except his face and most of that was covered.

The stranger stood motionless, studying the near naked man in front of him. He was silent for so long that Reed actually started to get nervous again. Had his temper finally got the best of him and got him into a situation that he couldn’t get out of? He didn’t stand a chance against the shotgun if the man decided to use it. Reed was just about ready to make a run for it when the sound of a curiously feminine laugh echoed through the clearing. The man lowered the shotgun but didn’t make any move to come closer. Reed nearly sagged, his knees weakening in relief.

“I’ve been gone for a while so I guess it’s possible I missed you. But you’re still on my land. It starts at that clearing about ten yards behind you. Make sure you stay on that side of it and we’ll be just fine.” And just like that, he turned his back on Reed and started up the hill.

Reed stood there, staring, unable to believe what was happening. This man appeared out of nowhere, held a gun on him while he stood there naked, all but interrogated him while accusing him of trespassing and then just walked away?!

“Hey!” he yelled at the retreating figure. “What’s your name?!”

The man paused, looking back. Reed caught a brief flash of white teeth in the shadow of the man’s hat.

“My name’s Sloan,” he called back before disappearing into the trees.

Emma was shaking as she walked back to the house, her knees weak. Good God, where had HE come from? She had lived here for over two years without seeing anyone except an occasional hiker and now this man claimed to live here? She had got home very late last night and hadn’t noticed anything different as she drove by the old Callahan place but then again, it had been pitch black and she had been exhausted. She had been gone for over six weeks on a buying trip to replenish her warehouse. Even though the last few days had been spent lazing around on the beach in Bermuda as a reward to herself, it had drained her and she had been eager to get home.

She wiped the stock of the shotgun clean and put it away in the gun case beside the hunting rifles she had purchased at the recommendation of the realtor when she bought the land. He had taken great pains to be sure she understood that there were wild animals where she was moving to and that people were on the food chain in this part of the country. She walked through the sun filled room to the kitchen, her thoughts still consumed by the encounter she had just had. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cold soda then went out onto the back deck, sinking into one of the overstuffed chairs with a deep sigh. The soda was forgotten as she remembered how he had looked standing naked in the middle of the stream like some pagan man from long ago, his coal black hair shining in the sun. Even wet, it was well below his shoulders when he pushed it back from his forehead. She shivered, her face becoming flushed when she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, recalling every detail of his sculptured body.

He had been as comfortable there in the wide open without any clothes as he would have been in the privacy of his home. She had never seen a body like his, ever. Blake had been well built but this man was in a class all his own. She shifted restlessly, her body warming to match her face when her memory added the last details of his incredible physique. She could honestly say that she had never seen a man to match him, even while standing in the ice-cold mountain water! She shuddered at the thought of what he would look like in the heat of the night. Her eyes filled with tears as she opened them. Memories of another time swamped her, threatening to reduce her to a sobbing mess once again. Dear Lord, would it never end! She had paid the price for her sins a thousand times over and would keep paying it for the rest of her life. She would never be able to be intimate with another man; never be able to trust again. She left the untouched soda sitting on the deck and headed back out to the shop to try to lose herself in her work once again.

A Place to Heal

Подняться наверх