Saddle Up by CJ Bishop

CHAPTER 7

“The Hound”

The storm came up out of nowhere, the bitter wind sweeping down on Garland, bringing with it flurries of snow. Shit. This wasn’t good. He had an idea where the horses might have gone for shelter last night but there was no way he could reach them now with the blizzard blowing in so suddenly.

He thought about Heff; if the boy left the house right after Garland took off, he could’ve made it to town. But if he lingered at the house… the storm would be upon him before he had a chance to leave. And he’ll be alone… possibly without power. The electricity had come back on early that morning, but the blizzard would knock it out again. Last night’s storm was nothing compared what was coming now—and Heff had been terrified.

He needed to turn back now if he hoped to beat the storm back to the house—

His mount shifted and whinnied, side-stepping this way and that. The gelding was used to storms and didn’t usually get spooked, but he wasn’t liking this. Garland bore down on the left rein, craning the horse’s head to the side and inward toward its shoulder, forcing it to move in a calculated circle without the freedom to whip its head and possibly bolt.

Come on, boy—calm your ass down.

Garland was losing visibility fast. If he got disoriented, he was fucked. There was an old hunting cabin nearby that he and Frank kept stocked in the winter with firewood, food, and oil for lamps—for just this sort of situation. If he could get to it, he could hole up there till morning.

What if Heff didn’t make it to town—and he’s still back at the house?

He could only hope the boy had left already. There was nothing Garland could do about it if he hadn’t. It was a greater risk to try and get back to the house, than search for the cabin. When he got the gelding under control, he headed in what he hoped was the right direction.

Wind and snow whipped beneath his hood, trying to tear it off his head. He tugged his bandana over his nose and mouth as his face grew numb from the bitter chill. Even through the leather gloves, he felt the cold invading his fingers. For a split second, the flurries shifted, creating a pocket of visibility, allowing Garland a fleeting glimpse of his surroundings. He knew every inch of this property like the back of his hand and a glimpse was enough to get him back on track. He knew exactly where the cabin was and urged the gelding that way.

As he neared the tree line, something whipped by his head, barely missing him. Garland swore and ducked low over the saddle horn. A tree branch? High winds could rip limbs right off the trees. Garland stayed low, digging in his heels, working the gelding up to a fast trot. The cabin should be close.

The gelding bolted when something struck its haunches and Garland brought it up short in a hurry before it got away from him. “Easy—easy!” he hollered through his face covering. He was losing his sense of direction as the snow thickened in the air and all he saw was a mass of swirling white.

Fuck—Fuck!

A distant snap amidst the blizzard—and Garland hit the ground, blood draining down his face, the world warping and spinning all around him. The gelding snorted and whinnied and took off into the storm.

Garland lay on his side, blood running across his cheek and over his lips, dribbling into the snow. Maybe this was how he deserved to die… after taking everything from Heff and leaving him lost and alone.

They’re gone because of me, Heff… because of me…

Garland closed his eyes, his tears mixing with the blood and freezing on his cheeks as the final remnants of his heart broke apart.

I’m sorry, Heff… don’t give up… you got this, baby.

…………………………….

Garland, please come back.

Heff paced the living room, then the hallway, approaching the front door and halting. The wind was building as it had last night. As Garland had warned, the storm was growing stronger today, wrapping around the house, shaking the structure. Heff felt trapped inside the belly of a beast, no way to escape. But even his acute astraphobia didn’t supersede his fear for Garland.

He’s on his way back. He has to be. He would come home once he realized the storm was coming in.

Heff cleaned up the kitchen because he had to do something or go crazy. When the chore was done and Garland still hadn’t returned, Heff resumed his pacing, pausing at every window in the house that faced the barn and pastures beyond, searching for any sign of Garland and his mount. Before long, he wouldn’t be able to see the barn.

This can’t be happening… it can’t be. Heff fought back a well of burning tears and refused to consider he might lose Garland, too. He’d thought he was totally alone now with Mandy and Frank gone, that he had no one left in the world to hold onto, who truly mattered to him. He was wrong. He just didn’t realize it until now—until Garland’s life was in jeopardy.

“Please, God…” Heff whispered, watching through the window as the blizzard swallowed up the world outside. “Please don’t take him, too.” His chin trembled, body shaking. “Even if he doesn’t care about me…” A sob caught in his throat as his tears won the battle and ran down his cheeks. “… I still need him in this world with me. Don’t leave me here alone…” He touched his head to the window frame, shaking with sobs. “… please…”

A muffled neighing jerked his head up. Heff clutched the window frame, leaning close to the cold glass. Everything blurred through his tears, and he furiously rubbed his arm across his eyes then squinted into the storm.

A dark form appeared amidst the swirling snow.

Heff held his breath. A horse!

Garland made it back!

Heff abandoned the window and rushed to the front door, hesitated only a moment before jerking it open. The wind nearly knocked him on his butt and a flurry of thick, icy flakes struck him in the face and chest. He squinted, shielding his eyes with his hand as the horse raced through the blizzard.

The animal veered to the side of the porch, galloping a few paced then coming back, agitated and dancing back and forth.

Heff stared in horror at the empty saddle—and loose reins whipping in the wind.

Garland…?

The storm wailed like a creature and Heff stumbled back inside, slamming the door, heart racing like a freight train. “No… no…” he cried. “Where is he—where is he?” His legs giving out, Heff slid to the floor and curled his arms over his head, rocking and shaking. “No… no… no…”

He’s out there somewhere… hurt… or freezing… dying?

Heff reached up and grabbed the doorknob and pulled himself to his feet. He leaned against the door as the storm screeched and howled outside—magnifying his terror of the beast. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the doorknob until his hand cramped.

You have to find him—you have to!

The house shuddered and lights flickered. “I can’t… I can’t go out there,” he cried. “I-I can’t… I can’t.” He wanted to puke; he was so scared. His lungs began to seize, cutting off his breath. I’m gonna pass out… I can’t breathe…

A gust of wind struck the side of the house so hard it sounded solid.

Heff jumped and cried out.

Garland is out there in this—he needs your help!

Broken sobs hitched up his throat. “I can’t…”

Goddammit, you can! You GOT this!

Heff stood paralyzed, gripping the doorknob.

You got this, baby.

His hand slowly released the handle and he moved shakily to the hall closet, found the warmest jacket in there, and grabbed a scarf from another hanger. He pulled on the oversized coat, found some gloves in the pocket, and put them on. They were too big but would keep his hands warm. His legs shook as he approached the front door and stopped.

You got this.

Heff wrapped the scarf around his face and pulled up the hood of the jacket. His heart beat furiously against his chest wall, laboring his breath. Could he really go out there? Panic filled him with nausea. The fear he’d felt last night when he’d gone to the barn was nothing like this. The last time he was this scared… was the night his parents died.

You got this, Frank whispered in his head.

You got this, little brother. Mandy.

Heff trembled.

You got this, baby, Garland assured and Heff felt his arms around him again… his lips pressed to Heff’s hair… the safety of his presence. It struck him deep in his heart how much he wanted to feel that again—how much he wanted Garland.

How much do you want it? How much do you love him?

Heff slowly turned the knob, hesitated as a tremor ran through him, and pulled open the door. The fury of the storm blasted him, knocking him back a step but he didn’t retreat despite the fear bubbling up in his gut. He stared out into the raging beast, the barn a mere shadow in the whiteness—and reality struck, plowing through him with the force of a wrecking ball.

How am I going to find him in this?

He’d been so busy fighting his fears… he hadn’t stop to consider anything else.

I’ll never find him…

Heff started to sag against the door frame as a crippling hopelessness washed over him… when as distant howl drifted on the wind. Not the howl of the storm…

Straightening up, Heff listened.

Another howl—coming from the barn.

The hound.

Shaking with fear, Heff stepped out on the porch, started to pull the door closed behind him, then abruptly rushed back inside to the closet. He grabbed a flannel shirt he was sure belonged to Garland and returned to the porch.

The gelding was still out front, still in a state of agitation. Heff hurried off the porch and grabbed the horse’s reins and tugged him toward the barn. The animal resisted some but yielded to the pull of the reins, its training overpowering its fear.

Heff made it to the barn, and it took all his strength to shove open the heavy rolling door as he tried to hold onto the gelding. He managed to get the horse inside and into a stall. The hound bellowed from another stall that Frank had turned into a dog pen.

“One minute, boy.” Heff’s voice shook along with the rest of him as he forced himself to focus on one thing at a time, afraid to think too much about his imminent trek into the storm. He quickly tacked up Frank’s horse, not wanting to take Garland’s gelding back out there. He was too riled up and probably half frozen as it was. Heff led Frank’s gelding from the stall then found a long piece of bailing twine and tied it to the hound’s collar. He squatted down and held the dog’s face in his hands. “You gotta help me out, boy.” Tears burned his eyes. “I don’t know how to do this, so I’m hoping you do.” He took Garland’s shirt and let the dog sniff it. “Please tell me you can find him out in that mess.” Heff touched his brow to the dog’s head, tears dripping into the animal’s short fur. “Obi-Wan, you’re my only hope.”

The hound shoved his nose into the shirt as if it understood what Heff wanted of it—then leaped against the twine, yowling toward the barn entrance. Frank had trained it well.

Heff fastened the other end of the twine to the saddle horn and led the horse and the dog out of the barn and mounted up—as the lights in the house and barn went out.

The hound rushed forward, bellowing into the storm. Heff urged the gelding to follow, clinging to the reins and the saddle horn as the raging white beast swallowed them up.