Page 2 of The Witch and The Cowboy

I wanted to run—every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, yet I stood as still as a statue, paralyzed by the thought. A different woman’s face flashed through my mind. An older, kinder face with laugh lines and my blue eyes. A face that was ruined in the hit and run that killed her.

Though I doubted the woman trapped in the woods was old enough to be a mother, someone must be looking for her. Someone’s world would tilt off its axis without her, all because I was too scared to help.

I couldn’t leave her—I was her last hope.

I pulled my pistol from its holster and raced toward her, though I doubted the weapon would do much against whatever had crafted her trap. I kept it on me for bears and wolves, not bizarre hostage situations. The strange, musical chant grew louder with my every step.

She shook her head frantically, but I reached for a nearby rock and ignored her. I smashed the rocks that trapped her legs to no avail. Pain laced up my arm from the impact, but I hit it again and again. The woman swayed above me, and her leg brushed against my neck. Hot, sticky blood stuck to my skin. Time was running out.

Laughter twinkled behind me. I spun around, but only darkness, looming trees, and fallen pinecones greeted me.

“Silly mortal,” a bodiless, feminine voice purred. “Are you going to shoot me?”

“Where are you?” I shouted. “Too scared to show your face?”

My voice was more stable than I felt. My hands shook at my sides, and my heart thundered so loudly, it almost drowned out the chant. I strained my eyes, but I couldn’t even discern a silhouette among the trees.

“You’re the one that’s scared, mortal,” the voice crooned. “I can smell it.”

Nausea seized my stomach. It was no longer the desire to help that kept me in place, but the weakness of my knees.

“Settle, mortal,” the voice continued, “you won’t remember this anyway.”

*

“Dude,” Sawyer said, “where’s the firewood?”

For a second, I could only stare at him in confusion, then I glanced at my empty hands. Laney paused assaulting Sawyer’s neck with her tongue long enough to offer a concerned look.

“You drink too much?” she asked.

I shook my aching head. “I don’t think so. I just-just need to get home is all. It’s late. I should check on Cadence.”

Sawyer threw his head back dramatically, and Laney almost fell out of his lap. If I wasn’t so overwhelmed by the strong urge to check on my sister, I would’ve laughed.

“You can’t even get the firewood?” he complained.

I grew more impatient with the conversation with every passing breath.

“Get it yourself,” I said and turned to walk home.

“Man, I don’t get you,” he called, “you’ve been crazy overprotective ever since—”

As I heard what he didn’t say, my steps stuttered.

Ever since your mom died.

Well, Mom didn’t just die. She was killed, and not even maliciously, but by some idiot out there who had the bright idea to drive drunk. Anything could happen to Cady—the world overflowed with idiots. My head ached with worry.

I shut off all thoughts of Sawyer and hurried home to my sister. I kept a pace that left me breathless until I finally swung open the old doors of our house, crept down the dank hall, and slipped into her room.

Moonlight pooled over Cadence’s lightly tanned skin. Light brown, ram-rod straight hair fanned across her pillow. Her little face was scrunched up, like she’d eaten a sour lemon. She'd always had vivid dreams.

I sat on the edge of her frilly, pink bed, and stared at her. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to assure myself she was safe, though I didn’t know why. Maybe I had separation anxiety, like Sawyer said.

I couldn’t remember what exactly had triggered the need to see her and every time I tried to pinpoint it, my head throbbed. I’d probably just drank too much and gotten spooked. Alcohol had the tendency to make me uneasy.

After staring at her for a few more moments, I felt like a creep and left her to her dreams. The tiny hall that led to my room needed to be swept, but at least there was minimal dust on the family photos that hung on the walls. Dad’s snoring filled the space, despite his closed door. I rolled my eyes and continued to my room, which was farthest down the hall, next to Cadence’s.

---