A Place to Heal. CA J.D. Bodiford
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.
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