Echoes of Danger

She wanted him to tell her his sorry story, she wanted to know what kind of business he was involved in, she wanted to understand why he’d been so kind to her, and how he’d managed to make her feel safe in the middle of a raging storm. But she could only look up at him, and keep wondering.

Bren stared down at her, his dark eyes searching her face, seeming to memorize her features, which only made her more aware of him. She knew she was a mess, hair damp and probably frizzing to the high heavens, face more muddy than made-up, lips pale and wind roughened, but she didn’t stop him from looking. She studied him just as candidly. He, too, was wind tossed and dampened. She’d never seen a man with such rich, dark, too-long hair, and with eyes to match the finest black-blue velvet. He looked like some dark lord of the manor from another time.

Before she could look away, Bren reached for her and tugged her close, his fingers moving over the tender spot on her head. “If you need anything—”

“I’ll be all right,” she said into the soft cotton of his black shirt. “I’ll never forget what you did.”

He reached inside the pocket of his jeans and handed her a soggy card. “There’s a number where you can reach me—a private cell phone number. Call me if you need help. All I ask is that you don’t give that number to anyone else.” Then he let her go.

The warmth from his body left her, to be replaced with a cold, uncaring wind. She stood in the misty rain, watching as he got into the big, black van and drove away. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was watching her. Dana waited until his van was out of sight down the long straight road. Then she looked around over the torn and battered countryside, finally turning her face toward the heavens.

And off in the distance, a satin-sheened watercolored rainbow shot over the clouds, blinding her with its sparkling brilliance.

“You can stay as long as need be,” Emma said the next morning as she handed Stephen another chocolate-covered doughnut—his and Emma’s version of breakfast. Stephen champed down on the drippy confection, leaving a wide ring of chocolate around his mouth.

The Prager General Store had been spared. Except for a leaky roof where a few shingles dangled, and a strip or two of missing tin, the sturdy old building was still intact. And so it was the natural place for the townspeople to gather and talk about the storm that had swept over the area. Dana wasn’t the only victim, although from all the talk, her place had probably sustained the worst damage.

“She’s right, Dana,” Harvey Mize, one of the old-timers, said from his perch on a tall vinyl-covered barstool. “We’ll all do what needs to be done, to help you out.”

Dana looked around the cozy store. She should feel safe here, among these good people she’d known all her life. She was thankful and appreciative, but she also knew she’d have to do most of this on her own. “You’re all very kind,” she said, taking the cup of coffee Emma shoved in her hand. “I just don’t know. I don’t think we’ll be able to salvage the house. And I don’t have the money to build from scratch.” Thinking of how tired she was, she added, “Maybe I should sell the place.”

“What about insurance?” Frederick asked as he rocked back on the heels of his worn work shoes.

Dana looked down at the planked floor. “It’ll cover part of the damage, but I’ve already got a second mortgage on the house….”

The explanation was left hanging, just as the storm had left her hanging, in limbo, unsure and unprepared. Needing to be away from the pitiful looks and shifting eyes of the townspeople, she called to Stephen. “Finish your doughnut, brother. We need to go back out to check on the livestock.”

“Need a hand?” Harvey offered.

“No. I’ll call if I change my mind though,” Dana told him with a wave as she headed out the door. She’d gotten a cell phone a few months before, to keep her in touch with Stephen and Mrs. Bailey at all times. It would come in handy now, too, she reckoned.

A few minutes later, they turned the old truck in to the rocky lane leading to the shattered house. Dana saw the spot where she’d wrecked the day before, her hand automatically going to her bruised head. Thoughts of the man named Bren played through her weary mind, the memory of how he’d protected her in the storm warring with the uncertainty of her future. Stephen’s hushed words brought her mind back to the task at hand.

“It’s a mess, ain’t it, Dana? Don’t like a mess.”

She stopped the truck near the ripped, gaping remains of an ancient oak tree. In the brilliant, ironic sunlight, the damaged house looked forlorn and still, as broken as Dana’s spirit. Funny, for years before her parents’ death, she’d wanted so much to get away from this old house, to go out in the world, to find a place of her own. Right now she’d gladly give anything to have the old farmhouse back, for Stevie’s sake, if nothing else. The boy loved their home.

“Yep, it’s pretty much gone,” she said as she slammed the steering-wheel-mounted gears into park. So this is it? she asked God. This is my future? No plans for a husband and a family, no hope for a normal life like her parents had? Just a mundane existence, here in this sleepy town, waiting and wondering, hoping and praying that she could save this pitiful old farm? Was this how it was meant to be, she had to wonder.

“We still got each other,” Stephen said, his soft green eyes watching her face. “You got Stephen. Stephen’s got you. Each other, Dana.”

Seeing the solid fear in his eyes, Dana chided herself for being so bitter. Taking his hand in hers, she forced a smile. “Yeah, we sure do.” Then, looking down in the floor of the truck, she added, “And your prized Ruby Runners!” She’d forgotten all about those shoes.

Stephen’s face lit up. “Can I put ’em on?”

“They’ll get all muddy.”

“Oh, okay.” He hopped out of the truck. “But I am, when we get back to town. I am. I am.”

Relieved that he hadn’t thrown a tantrum, Dana followed. As they neared the house, she realized something was terribly wrong. Carefully making her way up onto the torn porch, she saw it immediately.

The side of the house that the storm hadn’t destroyed had been ransacked. It had been hit, but not by a storm.

“What in the world!” she shouted, her frantic words carrying out on the constant, moaning wind.

Startled, Stephen looked up at her. “What’s the matter?”

“We’ve been robbed,” she said, each word ground out between a held breath. “Somebody looted what little we had left.”

It was true. The kitchen drawers were torn out of their sockets. Silverware had been strewn all over the soggy wooden floor. Dishes were shattered, clothes strewn, closets left open and emptied, books tossed about. Nothing had been left untouched. But even more odd, nothing much had been taken.

Looking up at a fluffy white, overstuffed cloud, Dana shouted to the wind, “I can’t take much more, really I can’t!”

Stephen started to cry, the tears full-bodied and rushing, but the sound soft and keening. “I’m scared, Dana.”

Rushing to where he stood in the middle of a heap of torn books and strewn clothes, Dana pulled him into her arms. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Stephen buried his tousled head against her chest. “I miss Daddy, Dana. I wish he’d come back. He’d know what to do. And Mama, too. She’d—” he hiccuped “—she’d have this place fixed, wouldn’t she?”

Dana’s own tears tasted bitter in her mouth. It was little comfort to know that no matter how fiercely she loved her brother and wanted to protect him, she could never take the place of their parents. “Yes,” she said on a raw, torn whisper. “Yes, Stevie, Mama and Daddy would know what to do, and I’m sure they’re watching over us. But they can’t help us now. We have to take care of things ourselves.”

Lifting his head, she wiped a fat tear away from his chubby cheek. “You know I love you, don’t you?” At his bobbing nod, she continued, “And you know I’ll always, always take care of you, no matter what, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, running his T-shirt sleeve over the embarrassing tears, his eyes as bright as a summer stream. “And you do a good job. It’s just that—”

Dana finished for him. “It’s just that we’ve had one too many raw deals. This is the last straw. How could anyone rob us when it’s obvious we’ve suffered enough?”

As if by instinct, she looked toward the white brightness of the Universal Unity Church. Why did she get the gut feeling this attack had been deliberate? Maybe it was the creepy feeling in the pit of her stomach, maybe it was the memory of Caryn Roark’s unguarded expression when she hadn’t seen Dana watching. Maybe she was just going crazy. No, she wasn’t crazy. This was very real.

But why?

Was this someone’s way of kicking her while she was down? The bank might as well come on out right now and take the land, since Dana didn’t see any clear way of keeping it at this point. But this second attack of pure meanness left her more disgusted than the storm ever could. Should she question Caryn Roark again? Could it be someone from her compound, just some kids out for kicks, not willing to accept that consequences came from their random acts of terror?

Telling herself it really didn’t matter a whole lot at this point, Dana resigned herself to defeat. She couldn’t hold on to this land. Might as well accept that.

Well, whoever was behind these attacks might try to get the land, but they wouldn’t get what was left of the inside of her house. Her anger acting as a balm, she stepped back to look down at Stephen. “You okay, sport?”

He nodded. “Sorry I’m like a baby.”

“You’re not a baby. That little cry did us both good. Now here’s the plan. Remember that camping tent out in the barn?”

He nodded, his boy’s eyes lighting up. “Yeah, you won’t ever let me use the thing. Can’t put up the tent.”

“Well, today, you not only get to use it. You get to set it up.” She looked around. “Let’s see…how ’bout over there by that small cottonwood where it looks high and dry.”

“Okay, but why? Why do we need a tent, huh, Dana?”

Her eyes held a determined glint. “We’re going to sleep there tonight.”

“All right!” He danced around in a small circle. “In case they come back?”

“You got it, bud.”

Stephen regained his spunk, strutting around with a new purpose. “You gonna use the shotgun, Dana? We ain’t supposed to play with guns. No guns for Stephen.”

“I just might have to break that rule this once,” she said, her tone firm while her heart skipped and swayed like the beaten bluestems nearby. “I’ll show them they can’t get the best of us.”

The prairie at night was a live thing. Like a great rippling snake, the flat fields around the house slipped and curved and moved in a slithering symmetry. The new wheat and bluestems parried and tangled together in the whining wind, the cottonwoods moaned a soft, rustling lullaby, whispering their secrets to the bright stars that looked so close, Dana thought surely she could reach out and grab one for herself.

She’d never wished upon a star before, but tonight as she lay inside the small close confines of the sturdy tent they’d erected and stared out the opening to the night sky, she picked the evening star, and she said a little prayer for guidance, for strength, for control. Please, God, let my troubles be over. Let me find some peace, let me do the right thing, for Stephen, for myself. Let me do it right, for Mom and Dad.

She’d been thinking about moving to Kansas City for a long time. Tony called at least once a week, telling her of all the fun he was having, the restaurants, the parties, the entertainment, the wonderful social life. “You’re missing out, Dana. This is where the action is.”

Yeah, right. She knew Tony Martin. His only social life consisted of his computers and the Internet. The man lived and breathed technology. It had landed him a great, good-paying job, but it didn’t leave much room for real relationships. He was like a piece of shining tin, brilliant and gleaming on the outside, but shallow and hollow on the inside.

Which is why Dana had turned down his invitation to marry him and come live with him in the big city. Tony didn’t have an ounce of romance in him. Since he’d never taken the hint and even remotely tried to woo Dana back, since he just didn’t get that she had to have more than a live-in computer genius, since he had never once thought about anyone but himself, she’d sent him on his way, alone.

Tony was married to his work, plain and simple. He didn’t have an inkling of what was involved in hearts and flowers, and he certainly didn’t have the patience to deal with a slightly autistic, hyper preteen boy who had the emotional maturity of a seven-year-old. Stephen was one of the main reasons she and Tony weren’t together. They’d never discussed it; he’d never come right out and told her, but she knew by his words and actions that Tony didn’t want to deal with Stephen. Tony wanted her. He didn’t want her little brother.

But he was a good friend in spite of their breakup a couple of years ago, and he did have connections. And Stephen could thrive there with the proper therapy and some new doctors who actually understood his condition. Maybe it was time to cut her losses and head to Kansas City.

She glanced over toward the murky white silhouette of the Universal Unity Church, sitting in the distance like a giant piece of rock candy. The place had suffered little to no damage in the storm. Her neighbor’s good luck had held. And the strangest part, Caryn Roark had sent over two young girls with clothes and food for Dana and Stephen. She’d even extended an invitation for Dana and Stephen to stay at the church compound until they were back on their feet. Dana had declined the invitation, her memories of the meeting she’d had with Caryn Roark still fresh in her mind.

“We’re the only ones left,” Dana said again, wondering where Caryn got all the money to finance her operation. The woman was generous to a fault with the community, and that was part of what worried Dana about her neighbor. Caryn seemed to expect favors in return. “Something just doesn’t set right over there.”

Oh, well, soon it wouldn’t matter to Dana. Soon, she supposed, she and Stephen would be moving on. Once the dust settled and she found out just how much she had left and how much she could sell to make a little moving money, at least. After paying off her debts, she’d take her pittance and start over fresh somewhere else.

Only, in her heart, she wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight, even if she didn’t have much fight left. She didn’t think she had the courage or the fortitude to face such a formidable task. And she wasn’t about to go begging for charity, whatever Caryn Roark’s intentions were.

Instinctively she touched a hand to Stephen’s head, gently pushing a tuft of thick golden hair off his brow. The boy sighed again and flipped to his side in his Kansas City Royals sleeping bag.

Left alone with the stars and her worries, Dana again thought about the man named Bren. Bren. An unusual name for an unusual man. Definitely not a standard Kansas-type name. But then, she’d known from the start that Bren wasn’t from Kansas. Touching the pocket of her jeans, she remembered she had his card tucked inside. She’d kept it there, close, instead of putting it in the bottomless pit of her shoulder bag.

He’d said he’d help her. She’d been taught not to ask for help. It was going to be a long, lonely night. Or so she thought.

A creaking noise off in the distance grass made Dana’s head come up. A prickling of fear, like needles hitting the center of her spine, warned her that someone was nearby. She listened, her breath stopping, her eyes trying to penetrate the darkness, one hand on Stephen and the other one on the shotgun lying next to her left thigh.

Then everything shifted and moved. The night came to life as a brilliant light glistened near the farmhouse. A minute later an acrid smell drifted out over the prairie.

Fire. Someone was trying to burn what remained of her house!

Grabbing the shotgun, Dana pulled up out of the tent like a madwoman. “Hey, you—”

Her words were cut off by the shots that rang out into the night. Only, Dana hadn’t fired her gun yet.

Rolling back inside the tent, she hushed the now-wide-awake Stephen. “Stay down and stay quiet. Somebody’s trying to shoot us!”

Stephen buried himself inside his sleeping bag, his breath coming in great, scared huffs as his body rocked against the ground in a nervous fidget. “Dana?”

“I’m right here, sport. Just do what you’re doing. Stay hidden and don’t move.”

She watched as the fire grew stronger, leaping and dancing like a laughing demon toward the front of the house. Aiming her gun at anything, hoping to scare the intruders away, she pulled the trigger and waited for the old shotgun’s kick to bruise her shoulder. The lone shot exploded into the night. Dana sucked in the smell of gunpowder with each deep, frantic breath she took.

Then she took one long breath and shouted, “Get off my land!”

Silence from the intruder, hissing from the hungry fire.

Dana tried to raise up again, and another bullet whizzed by, this one coming from a closer angle. Stephen’s muffled cry only added to her own solid fear.

“What do you want?” Dana shouted to the wind.

A harsh laugh echoed through the night, but Dana got no answers to her question. Since Dana already had a sick inkling of who she was dealing with, the silence made her more mad than scared, even though deep down inside she knew she should be afraid.

“Leave us alone,” she called. “Can’t you just leave us alone!”

Dana heard laughter, then footfalls, as if someone were running away. Then only the hissing of the fire as it snaked up the porch railings.

A sick feeling shot through Dana’s stomach, making her want to retch. All sorts of horrible images ran through her mind. These people were mad! This wasn’t just kids out for kicks, and this certainly wasn’t a faith-abiding church like the one she’d always known. Caryn had threatened Stephen earlier and now Dana supposed she had sent her thugs to act on that threat. She had to find out if the other woman was doing this, and she had to keep Stephen safe.

“If it’s the land, you can have it,” she whispered, wishing she hadn’t been so direct yesterday with the crazed woman. But she had to wonder if there wasn’t something more here. Why would Caryn taunt her with threats against Stephen? She’d purposely pulled him out of school to avoid such teasing and taunts. These people didn’t even know Stephen.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Help us, please. She clutched Stephen close, soothing his keening cries with a murmured whisper. “It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She thought about calling for help on her cell phone, but realized it would take the volunteer firemen at least fifteen minutes to get here.

When she was sure it was safe, Dana pulled her brother’s covers off his head. “I’ve got to put out the fire, Stevie. Can you stay here?”

“No.”

Afraid to leave him alone, but even more afraid to take him out in the open, she wrapped an arm around him. “We’re going to crawl through the grass to the house.”

“Okay,” he said, this new challenge temporarily calming his earlier fears.

“We need to stop that fire from spreading,” she explained. She saw his eyes in the moonlight, saw the fear mirrored there inside him. “Stevie, you have to be brave. We’re going to get away from here and go to the sheriff.”

“Okay,” came the feeble reply. “I’ll be brave. Stephen can be brave.”

“Okay,” Dana echoed, the shotgun clutched close. “Stay low and stay right beside me,” she said as she inched her way out of the tent, belly-crawl fashion. The going was slow, and the fire was fast. The wind picked up, causing Dana to urge Stephen on beside her. Determined, she struggled to her feet, pulling Stephen up with her to run the last few yards. By the time they made it to the house, the whole remainder of the front porch was on fire. If she could only find the water hose.

They made it to the side of the house where a long spigot ran from the well to underneath the porch steps. Dana always kept a hose connected there to wash mud and dirt from their work boots.

Out of breath, her nerves tingling with fear and worry, she slid up the wall, still clutching her brother, spitting away the grass and dirt they’d gathered on the way. Behind them, the fire hissed and curled, its wrath causing beams to pop and aged frames to cave in like kindling.

“It’s all right, sport,” she said on a windy breath. “All I have to do is turn the water on and we can wash down most of the porch. Maybe we can save it.”

She stood, looking around to make sure the intruders were gone. Then she groped for the long thick noose of the hose, searching in the dark for the fat coil of rubber. Her hands reached out to emptiness. They’d disconnected the hose. It was nowhere in sight.

Above them, the fire rose up, triumphant in its snap-happy victory. The sound of bursting glass shattered the night, and Dana watched as the blue lace curtains of her parents’ bedroom curled and crumbled, too dainty, too delicate, to survive the heat of the angry, leaping flames.

Chapter Three

“So you’re telling me that you can’t do anything to help me?”

Dana looked at the robust face of Sheriff Horace Radford and wondered why she’d even bothered to drive over the speed limit, straight to his house about five miles up the road, and pull him out of what looked like a sound sleep. The man didn’t seem to care one way or the other about all the happenings out on her land.

Remembering how he’d only shrugged and told her how sorry he was about Otto when she’d talked to him yesterday after the tornado, she wished the man hadn’t been reelected. She certainly hadn’t voted for him. Oh, he’d promised her a full investigation, but having a tornado drop down on his town’s doorstep had given him a pretty good excuse to sit on his hands. But having her house deliberately burned to the ground meant Dana didn’t have the same luxury.

“It’s all gone, Sheriff,” she said now, her voice still and resigned. “And I found this note underneath my windshield wipers.”

She read aloud the cryptic note. “‘You have something that belongs to us. Until we find it, watch out for your brother.’” The note had ended with a Bible verse, Proverbs 18:21. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”

Reading it again gave Dana the creeps and put a solid fear in her heart. They thought Dana had something of theirs, and they were threatening her brother to get it. The verse was almost like a warning, telling her not to speak. But what did they think she would have to speak about?

“That don’t make much sense,” the sheriff said after Dana read him the note.

“No, but it’s a threat. I don’t know what they think I have of theirs. Surely you can send some men out to look around. I saw them set the fire, so I know it wasn’t an accident, and I believe these people are a part of the Universal Unity Church. That’s the only ones I can think who’d do something such as this.”

“Dana, Dana,” he said, raising a beefy hand to ward off any further protests, “I’m sure sorry you’ve had all these troubles, sugar. I hate that you’ve lost your house, honey. But you can’t go around accusing people without some sort of proof.”

Dana stepped closer to the sheriff, her footfalls causing his creaky front porch to groan in sleepy protest, her face just inches from the oblong pink wart growing on his crusty nose. “Look at me, Sheriff Radford,” she said on a slow, even keel. “I’ve got dirt all over me. That’s from trying to save my house. Stephen and I fought that fire as hard as we could, but we couldn’t save anything. That’s because they cut off my water supply.” Lowering her eyes to the peeling green paint on the floor, she added, “I couldn’t even get inside to the phone, not that that would have mattered. My line’s been down since the storm. And my cell phone didn’t help. It was too late to call the fire department.”