In The Rancher's Arms. Trish Milburn
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Instead, she slipped her arm around her father’s waist and accompanied him inside.
When they stepped through the door, Arden hadn’t taken two steps before she was greeted by another member of the family. Lemondrop, the family’s spoiled-rotten cat, twined himself in and around her ankles. Arden reached down and picked up the cat, running her fingers through his yellow fur.
“Hey, handsome.” She rubbed her nose against Lemondrop’s, and he began to purr loud enough to be heard in the next county.
“He tried to come with me to the airport this morning,” her mom said. “It was as if he knew where I was going.”
“Maybe he did,” her father said. “That cat is smarter than you think.”
It was a miracle Lemondrop had even lived. Arden had found him wet and emaciated on the side of the road when she was in high school. Dr. Franklin, the local vet, hadn’t held out a lot of hope for the kitten’s survival. Not one to give up, Arden had nursed little Lemondrop back to health and earned his undying devotion.
“You’d never know he was once a scrawny little kitten,” her mom said, echoing Arden’s thoughts.
Throughout the rest of the day, Arden somehow managed to make conversation with her family. They didn’t ask her anything about her captivity, though she knew they had to have a million questions. But she must be giving off an “I’m not ready to talk about it” vibe.
At one point, she curled up on the couch and dozed off with Lemondrop snuggled next to her. It was an unfortunate position for the cat when Arden jerked awake from a nightmare, sending him fleeing as if she’d turned into a fire-breathing monster.
By the time she and her parents finished eating dinner, filled alternately with light topics of conversation and tense silences, Arden was exhausted despite her nap.
“I’m going to go to bed,” she said.
“You need a good night’s sleep,” her mom said as she started to rise.
Arden held out her hand to stay her. “I’m fine. I’ll probably conk out before I hit the pillow.”
But despite being more tired than she’d ever imagined possible, she couldn’t go to sleep. Now that she was alone, her mind started spinning in circles, refusing to let her fall into oblivion. Images she’d held at bay since arriving home broke free to plague her. She shoved hard at them, forcefully replacing them with anything else she could latch on to—the time Lemondrop squared off against an opossum on the back porch, the framed copy of her first article from the high school paper, the time she’d been chased by an ostrich when it broke free of its pen at the county fair. Neil Hartley.
Her thoughts slowed and fixed on him, creating an odd calm within her. No doubt it was only a temporary reprieve from the memories that demanded space in her mind, but she’d take it even if she didn’t understand it. She didn’t really know him well. He was just the older brother of a classmate. And yet he’d known exactly what she’d needed in the convenience store that morning. She’d only made eye contact briefly, but it had been enough to realize he’d gotten even better-looking in the years that had passed. If she was the same woman she was even two months ago, she might try to get to know him better. But she wasn’t that person anymore.
She didn’t know who she was.
Arden jerked so violently as she woke from the nightmare that she almost fell off the edge of the bed. Instinct had her flailing, but she managed to catch herself on the corner of the nightstand. She stayed like that, her hand gripping the rounded edge of the wood, as she tried to slow her breathing and bring herself into the here and now. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat, but even that dragged her back to that cage in Uganda. There she’d wondered if she’d die of thirst before her kidnappers could manage to even find a buyer for her and the other captives in the surrounding cages.
With a shaky hand, she grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She gulped the entire contents of the glass as she tried to prevent her mind from replaying the dream. Why couldn’t nightmares of that place disappear almost immediately the way lots of dreams did when she woke? Why did her current freedom feel as if it might be the dream?
Arden lifted the back of her hand to her forehead to find it warm. No doubt she’d been tossing and turning, her heart racing. As she had earlier, she tried focusing on things other than the dream. But this time it didn’t work. Maybe it was because night cloaked the world around her, which had been the worst time of her captivity. Sure, it had provided some relief from the brutal sun, but it had also turned up the volume on creatures she couldn’t see or identify. As she’d strained to see the source of those screeches and howls, she’d imagined all manner of terrible beasts just waiting for the opportunity to make her their next meal. The truly horrible part was by the time she’d been rescued, she hadn’t known which she dreaded more—death by mystery beast or disappearing so far into the world of slavery that she’d never be free again.
Unbidden, the sound of Treena Gunderson’s crying was so clear that Arden gasped and spun around. But of course, Treena wasn’t there. The aid worker who’d been in the cage next to Arden’s should be home with her family in Minnesota by now. She wondered if Treena was awake, too, haunted by nightmares that she feared might never go away.
Arden set the glass on the nightstand and stood. She walked on shaky legs toward the window but stopped short of it. Even though her rational mind knew there were no human traffickers on the other side of the glass pane, no beasts with razor-sharp claws prowling for a meal, her heart rate sped up again.
She thought of how when she was growing up and couldn’t sleep, she’d slip outside and sit on the porch or go for a walk, allowing the night air to waft against her skin as she took in the expanse of the wide Texas sky and what must be at least a billion stars blanketing the blackness. Now the idea of even getting too close to the window made her heart race and body tremble.
The need to scream, to release the anger that still festered inside, rose up within her. But she couldn’t let it free and scare her parents to death that she was being murdered in her room. They’d been through enough. She had to protect them. Somehow she’d find a way to get past what had happened to her—alone.
Her legs threatened to give way, so she turned and headed to bed. She sat with her back against the headboard, her arms wrapped around her knees, and stared at the window. Pale moonlight from something less than a full moon filtered in through the curtains. She listened but all she could hear was a faint hum from the electricity running throughout the house. After weeks in that remote corner of Uganda, everything sounded a thousand times louder than she remembered.
She shook her head, trying to dissipate the self-pity. Yes, she’d been through an ordeal no one should ever have to endure, but she’d been one of the lucky ones. The horror of watching her kidnappers load several cages onto the back of a truck, the occupants crying and begging to be let go, was something she’d never forget. She’d added her screams to theirs, hoping that maybe one more voice could make some difference. All it had gotten her was a vicious jab with the butt of an automatic weapon and the very real threat that the men might decide to keep her for entertainment instead of selling her.
The mere thought had twisted her insides so much that, combined with the knowledge of what awaited the people being driven away, she’d turned and thrown up what little was in her stomach. Even now, she could taste the bile in her throat.
She bit her lip and blinked several times, not wanting to cry again. It only made her feel worse.
The chirping of the first birds of the morning drew her attention toward the window again. She listened to their familiar song, letting it soothe her the tiniest bit. It wasn’t until the darkness outside began to give way to dawn that she felt her body begin to relax. Even so, she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping anymore. Despite not having had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, her rescue hadn’t brought the