Page 12 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter nine

Killian

I’m out of feed for the dogs and horses. So I’m forced to go to Livingston’s Hardware and Feed, and endure the nervous looks, and withering stares. It would appear this is a trial by opinion and I’m already guilty.

Pushing through the door, Mrs. Harding sees me and her eyes widen before she turns the corner of the aisle. With my flatbed rolling behind me, I go to the feed aisle and get enough for a few months. I don’t want to be here if I don’t have to be.

When I’m done stacking my bags of food, I pull the flatbed toward the registers. Mrs. Boudroue and her daughter spin on their heel avoiding the lane I was headed to. I try to ignore the disappointment in my gut. It was only a few years ago I retired from being a Captain.

I dedicated my life to protecting the people of Black Lake.

But even small towns have short memories.

I’m no doormat, but I wouldn’t hurt anyone, let alone a woman and her child.

I would kill myself before I did something like that.

Now they look at me as if I am the very evil I did everything I could to protect them from, mistakes and all.

The frustration turns to anger in my chest. I need to get out of here. When the people in front of me are done, old man Winters counts my bags, and enters the price. He doesn’t ask me questions. He doesn’t smile. Fine with me.

I pay in cash and leave, almost desperate to get away.

On my way out of town, I drive past Cricket’s and turn left. As I turn the truck, I spot a bicycle in the ditch off to the side. Worried that it could be a kid, I throw the truck into park and hop out to check.

Jogging to the ditch, my heart almost stops as I stare at a woman lying in the ditch, unmoving.

Ignoring the additional repercussions of finding another woman dead or in trouble, I slide down into the ditch.

Slipping my fingers over her pulse, I feel it beat strongly, which means she might have been knocked out.

“Ma’am,” I say, shaking her shoulder.

She doesn’t open her eyes and I don’t have my damn phone with me. I look at her arms and legs and nothing appears broken, but she clearly hit her head hard enough to knock her out.

“Ma’am?” I call again and shake her shoulders gently.

Her eyes finally open and they widen on me. I take a step back, trying not to scare her. She sits up and I quickly stoop down to help her. She holds my arm tightly, surprising me.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, despite the obvious. “Do I need to take you to the doctor?”

“So many questions,” she mutters.

“Do you know what day it is?” I ask her.

“Wednesday.”

“Do you know your name?”

“Eliana Greer,” she mutters.

“Do you remember what happened?” I ask her. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that name, but I think I’ve seen her only a handful of times. Her family has been around as long as mine.

“Yeah, I remember, some asshole ran me off the road and I fell into this ditch. Then everything went dark,” she grumbles.

“Someone did this on purpose?” I ask her, ignoring the sour taste in my mouth.

She scoffs and runs her hand through her long white hair. “I can’t say I’m surprised, people don’t really like me. Especially since my grandma is gone now.”

That’s where I heard the name recently. Juniper Greer died.

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell her.

She looks up at me, and her blue-grey eyes see right through me. I try to ignore how uncomfortable her stare is, but she holds me captive. She’s not looking at me like I’m a serial killer. It’s more.

Pressure builds in my chest, and her eyes widen like she recognizes me. I guess that’s not unusual, since we’ve lived in the same town for a long time. Not that I know her.

She’s still looking at me, and then she mutters something under her breath, and I take a step back.

“I recognize you,” she whispers.

Okay then… “I mean, we both live in this tiny town, so that’s hardly surprising,” I say and offer my hand to her.

She takes it, and grunts getting to her feet.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Did you break anything? I can take you to the hospital,” I offer, noticing the knot on her head.

“No!” she yells.

I take a step back, and she seems to catch herself.

“Sorry, uh, it’s fine. I have something at home that will help with the headache.”

“Alright, and maybe you should call the police.”

“I don’t have a cellphone,” she says.

“Fair enough, they barely work anyway. But I can drop you off if you’d like.” That would really give the people of this town some extra fuel.

I look down into the ditch at her bike. Its front wheel is bent nearly in half, and totally unrideable, but I might be able to bend the rim back. White bars are strewn across the grass, and some sit in the water running through the creek.

Glancing up, I find the girl with piercing blue eyes and silk-spun white hair staring at me again, and it’s starting to creep me out, but she needs help.

Then again, maybe there is a reason she was driven off the road.

I don’t have any room to talk. People here like to believe rumors instead of facts, and this woman is probably amazing, but no one took the time, like they haven’t with me.

Now that she’s standing, I look her over once more, and there’s a giant bloody gash dripping down the front of her shin.

I reach for her again, and she almost leans into my touch. “You’re bleedin’ pretty good.”

She looks down. “Oh, I didn’t notice. I guess I should clean this up before I walk home.”

“Yeah, if you don’t want to go to the hospital, then at least let me get you some bandages or something.”

“I can’t…” she trails off and looks down at her bike.

She sighs and squats down, picking up white bars, and I catch a whiff, realizing it’s soap. In fact, I think I use that soap. I noticed it didn’t have any labels when I saw it at Cricket’s, but I bought a few bars because I liked the smell. And it works wonders on my rough calluses.

“Wait, do you make that?” I ask her.

“Yep,” she mumbles, and shakes off a couple of the wet bars. “Do you want these? I can’t exactly sell them now.”

“Sure, but I’ll pay you for them.”

She shrugs and places a few in my hand. “Don’t worry about it.” Eliana puts the rest of the bars in her little basket and unclips it from the bike. Limping back over to the rise of the ditch, she attempts to climb out, but bumps her leg and curses under her breath.

“Here, let me help you,” I say and pick her up, carrying her bridal style to where the ditch flattens out, and I can walk up it with her in my arms.

“Thanks,” she rasps.

“Yeah, no problem.”

I set her on her feet and then slide back into the ditch to get her bike.

“Dammit,” she mutters.

“I can give you a ride, but I’m going to ask one more time do —”

“No, please stop asking. I don’t… my grandma doesn’t — didn’t believe in modern medicine and neither do I,” she says.

I frown. To each their own, but that’s kind of weird. Then again, Juniper Greer was the medicine woman in this town, I can understand that. “But you know, getting a cat scan isn’t a bad thing.” She sighs and tilts her head.

“Fine, but I’m taking you back to my place to help you clean up that cut,” I tell her, leaving no room for discussion.

She purses her lips. “Fine,” she says as if I’m the one inconveniencing her.

I help her up into the truck and put her bike in the truck bed.

When I get in and start driving down the road, I glance at her again.

She keeps taking quick peeks at me and then looks away.

“I know with concussions someone should wake you up every couple hours. I don’t really think I have one, but then again I was knocked out, so I probably do.

” I nod, remembering some of the light training I received as law enforcement.

“I’ll set an alarm or something,” she mutters and looks out the window.

“You don’t have a friend you can call?” I ask her.

“No,” she whispers.

When we get to my land, I pull up next to the farmhouse, where a gravel driveway runs across the front, next to the wrap-around porch. The house is white, always has been, and the green metal roof still shines in the sun.

Eliana pushes her door open, and then her basket goes tumbling out. She curses and mutters to herself, but it sounded like she was responding to herself, which is again, weird. I’m starting to understand why she doesn’t have friends to call.

She grumbles, trying to pick them all up. Now, the edge of her sock is almost drenched in blood. “Here, just take the rest,” she says and shoves the basket into my arms.

“Um, thanks,” I tell her and set it on the ground.

“Let’s get you inside.” I wrap an arm around her waist, and an electric shock goes through me.

She gasps and leans away, the look she gave me earlier returning to her features.

It almost felt like when I shocked myself trying to fix one of the light fixtures in the barn and I didn’t shut off the power, too much in a hurry.

I clear my throat and reach for her again. She almost hesitates for me to help her limp into the house, but lets me do it anyway.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

Reaching across her, I unlock the door and push it open.

“Killian,” I grunt, helping her limp into the kitchen off to the side.

“That’s right,” she says to herself. I can feel her eyes on my profile as I pull a chair out at the table and help her sit down while I get my first aid kit from the bathroom.

Out here, most people have a few extra things since it’s hard to get to a hospital.

There is a clinic, but it’s not great. Many go to Ms. Greer.

Luckily, I never had to, but I have stitched myself up a time or two.

“Then stop and let me do it. I understand what you’re saying, but that doesn’t help me right now.” I hear her saying under her breath as I come back into the kitchen.