Chapter 1

You wounded me deeply, finding some kind of perverse pleasure in it, and I was thinking of all the things I wanted to say - do, while you stood there in the doorway lazily smoking your cigarette.

There was a self-satisfied smirk twisting your lips, and I closed my eyes; picturing me slapping it from your face, hearing the resounding crack, letting it echo through the halls of my mind, and feeling the fulfillment of my hand connecting with your cheek.

I can almost taste the delicious feel of my palm to your skin, as the smile dies from your eyes, and I want that, want it so much, I can feel it coursing through my veins, but I will not give you that satisfaction. I won’t let you move me to violence, ’though I’d sooner resort to that than tears, believing I’ll never, ever, fucking surrender that!

You looked to me with a smug coolness that made me get up and pace the floor, and that is a path which is too well-worn and deeply grooved, so I threw on clothes and grabbed my keys, meaning to do whatever I must to fill this emptiness.

I fumbled through my drawers, tossing this and that aside, digging for the cross that I never leave without. Finding my precious memento, I pressed it to my lips and murmured a quick prayer, knowing that I would need my very dear friend, whom it once belonged to, with me tonight.

I palmed the cross and turned to leave, with eyes closed, and I crashed directly into you; unaware that you had been watching me, waiting for me to reach my breaking point.

Pulling me to you hard, you tilted your head down and kissed me. Everything in me wanted to give into you, but I wrestled myself free and ran through the door; bolting out into the night, not knowing where I was headed, and not caring. The only thing I knew with certainty was that I must, must escape you.

I jammed the key into the ignition and offering up a fervent prayer, and pushing the accelerator to the floor,

“C’mon! Start, baby! Start!”

The engine roared to life: wings to my wounded soul. I fondled my treasured cross, car wheels screeching, as I pulled out onto a road that may never end.

I drove blindly for an hour, racing the highway and weaving recklessly, before stopping at a bar near the edge of town. Knowing that I needed to collect, as my new speeding ticket would attest to, I uttered an oath, got out, and slammed the car door behind me.

“What’ll you have?”

I ordered my first drink, your drink, and inhaled the wonderful liquid, feeling it stinging my eyes, and burning all the way down my throat. I’d never had hard liquor before, but think to myself, all demons exorcised by degrees.I rolled my eyes and tossed my head back, swallowing hard to inhale the shot of Wild Turkey in one mouthful. By my third shot, I stopped counting, and placed an order for another, when a voice cut me off.

“I’ve got that.”

I turned to see a cowboy standing close behind me. Removing a bill from his wallet, he spoke without looking at me.

“Hello Miss. Are you alone?”

The question stunned me and I considered my options.

“Y, yes” I stammered and looked away, really feeling just how truly alone I was at that moment. I winced in my seat and offered him a “Thanks,” hoping that he would go away and leave me to the insanity of the night.

I really wanted - needed, to fall into a tolerable, drunken rage; needing to, at least, have the solace of that, and then that voice,

“So what’s your name, cutie?”

By now, I was fiercely trying to hold it together - and failing. Without forethought, I spit out my acid reply,

“My name is fucking force of nature that you don’t want to fuck with tonight, Cowboy.”

I lit a cigarette, praying that he would leave me to my rage.

“Whoa, little miss! Who pissed you off?”

But I was in fine form, and promptly replied,

“Mad at the world, Cowboy.”

Nonetheless, his eyes were smiling, quite obviously amused at my discomfiture.

“Well, that’s good. I’m not from this world,” he said, beginning an old pickup line.

I shot him a warning glare and lifted my purse onto my shoulder. One more person wanting anything from me, could’ve been the thing that shoved me over the edge.

I gathered my keys and cross and turned to leave.

Feeling the blood drop from my face to my feet, I realized that this may not have been the night to slam hard liquor, so I steadied myself at the barstool and straightened my back.

Trying to appear as dignified as I could, I walked quickly past the Cowboy, in a less than straight line, and headed down the hall to the door. I was almost free, almost in the clear, when I felt a large hand clamp around my upper arm, spinning me around.

I looked directly into his eyes, where he could see the venom in mine.

“I can tell that you’ve got determination, little miss, but I don’t want you to be driving around in your condition.”

Automatically, I rifled through my mind for the best assurance that I would be fine, and opened my mouth to voice it.

“Let me just take you back to my place for the night,” he said kindly, but I whirled on him, glaring daggers into his eyes, and then bolted for the door. He had a firm grip on me, and I was stopped in my tracks.

“I promise. No funny stuff. Scouts honor.”

My skin was prickling, and I bristled at the large hand keeping me from...

From what? I question myself silently.

Just for a moment, I relented, and seeing me relax a little, Cowboy tried again.

“Look, I’m not going to take advantage of you. I can see you are fit to be tied. I’m offering refuge from the storm for a night, but don’t get any ideas, or I’ll have to hog tie you.”

I glanced at the speeding ticket in my partially open purse, and heaved a troubled sigh. He could see that I was defeated.

“Wait right here. Let me pay the bar tab and I’ll meet you right back here,” he ordered and began to walk off, but then turned back in one step.

“Give me your keys,” he demanded. He held out his hand, palm up, and I realized I was less afraid of him than I was of driving drunk and furious, so I dug into my bag and handed over the keys.

Cowboy walked away, without a backwards glance, and I banged my head against the wall, wondering how I got myself into this fix. I pulled out my cross, palmed it, and muttered a prayer under my breath,

Stay with me Joey. I need you, my angel.

Cowboy returned and, wordlessly, took my hand. I froze, and wrenched my fingers from his, but he just smiled softly and opened the door for me.

I slipped into the seat of his truck, with some unease, but he was careful to keep his words soft and his movements slow. I smiled to myself, briefly thinking, First battle won, but remembering that he still had my keys.

Then, finally, I took a deep breath and exhaled, feeling like it may be the first time I had breathed all night.

“What’s that ya got there?” His eyes were on my hands.

“Nothing. None of your damned,” I ground out, but my voice trailed off as I realized that Cowboy had been nothing but kind to me, and likely didn’t deserve my wrath, so I struggled for a slightly kinder reply,

“Never mind. Just keep your eyes on the road, Cowboy.”

Just then, a smile lit up his face.

“Okay, little miss. We’re home.”

He unlocked the door and held it open for me, and I stepped inside his log cabin trepidatiously.

“Don’t be afraid. Just make yourself to home,” he said, as he hit the lights.

I stood in the middle of the room, rooted to one spot, with my thoughts racing; wondering how many bedrooms he had, and how many beds, but there was something comforting about the place.

He gestured toward the couch, with a bowing motion, his arm outstretched, and it brought a smile to me.

“Nice to see your pretty smile, little miss.”

Assailed with the rage and pain that brought me here, the smile died on my lips.

“I’m going to get wood for the fire. Wait here, I’ll be back in a minute.

But I didn’t really hear him. I was lost in reliving my last experience of you. I sat silently, on the edge of the couch, as he went back outside and reentered again; arms filled to capacity with logs.

He lit the fire and I watched him make his way into the kitchen, which seemed almost too small for his tall, stocky frame.

I hadn’t taken notice earlier, of how he towered over me, and I was somewhat surprised that I wasn’t astute enough to be very afraid of him.

After disappearing into the kitchen for some time, Cowboy reappeared with two drinks.

Approaching cautiously, he handed one to me. He took a chair facing me, and I was thinking, He seemed so relaxed, so comfortable. A feeling I couldn’t fathom in that moment, and the air crackled in contrast to my tension.

I moved to sit on the floor, still silent, staring into the fire, with images of you in the arms of someone else assaulting me, and seeing the words I’d read in black and white: “Meet me at the Motel-6 near you.” I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, trying to force you from mind.

When I looked up, I realized that Cowboy was gone. Hearing kitchen noises, I got up and went to investigate. I found him in the kitchen with milk and Kahlua on the counter.

“You like mudslides,” he asked cheerfully.

I nodded my approval, and returned to the floor in front of the fire, hugging my knees against several kinds of coldness, unable to stop shivering.

Cowboy returned with both drinks in hand. Sitting them down gingerly on the hearth, he joined me at my side; close enough to be touching, but making no move to put his arm around me.

I returned my attention to the flames, making a concerted effort to burn you from my soul, knowing I would happily leap into the flames, if it would drive the pictures from my eyes. Failing that, I began drinking, heavily enough to stay somewhat sedated.

“Want to talk about it,” he asked without looking at me.

Dragging my thoughts back to the cowboy at my side, I stumbled,

“Huh? What?”

“Do you want to talk about it,” he queried again.

I stared harder at the flames, and formed the only response I had,

“No.”

“I realize that you are going through your own personal hell, little miss. Might help to talk about it.”

His eyes were filled with compassion, but I had no voice for this yet. I drew a deep breath and hugged my knees tighter, while we sat together in silence. Cowboy didn’t move, except to refill our drinks steadily and, when he last returned, he sat next to me, extending his arm around me.

“May I,” he asked quietly, not taking his arm from around my waist.

I wasn’t sure that I had it in me to care anymore. Declining to answer, I looked down into my glass, stirring the ice cubes with my little finger; a small but necessary distraction.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I grimaced slightly and replied, “I told you.”

“Oh C’mon. Give a guy a break, okay? ‘Fucking force of nature that you don’t want to fuck with tonight, Cowboy’ is too long to fit on your driver’s license!”

I could feel the amusement in his voice, and it made me giggle at the picture of us; me there in the bar, so small at all of 5”1”, verbally blasting this very tall, muscular cowboy, and it made me laugh out loud for a second.

Then he was smiling into my eyes,

“Well, let me in on it!” he grinned.

“I was just picturing our ‘scene’ at the bar,” I smiled.

“Yeah, scared the hell outta me,” he responded, nearly falling backwards laughing.

Finally, I was laughing, and I let him pull me a little bit closer, but then turned my eyes back to the hearth.

“Please don’t do that.” It was almost a whisper.

“Do what?” I queried, softly.

“Please don’t retreat back into yourself. I just got you to laugh for the first time. I like your laugh, little miss.”

Genuinely smiling then, and still playing with my ice cubes, I replied, “I like yours too, Cowboy.”

Cowboy reached to tilt my chin up, and he placed a soft kiss to my lips. I was instantly aware of the heat given off by the fire, and the heat that he was giving off.

Suddenly assailed by nerves, and some guilt, I picked up my glass and jumped to my feet, but the floor rose up to meet me, and I was sprawled on the rug.

Laughing heartily, he helped me to a sitting position, and picked up our glasses.

“Better let me get those, little miss.” And he took our glasses into the kitchen.

I felt terribly foolish, and the color rushed to my cheeks. I was stunned at the effect that hard liquor had on me, thinking, Boy, Wild Turkey’s some tricky shit!

I made a serious effort to stand, but failed again. Watching from a distance, Cowboy quickly returned and, gently but firmly, pushed me back down to the carpet.

“I told you. Don’t get any ideas, or I’ll have to hog tie you,” he teased me. Still blushing furiously, I teased him back,

“You wouldn’t!”

Cowboy retorted,

“Wouldn’t I?”

Without thinking, I responded,

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” he stated, cutting me off.

His tone was now dead serious and his eyes burned into mine. I hesitated for a long moment before breaking the tension.

“You’re such a kidder, Cowboy!”

“And you are no match for me, little miss,” he replied staunchly.

There was no anger in his voice, just an authoritative determination that floored me. I was opening and closing my mouth, trying to form words that would convince him that he doesn’t scare me; something that would make him believe I was in complete control, regardless of what condition I was in.