Long past dawn, p.1
Long Past Dawn, page 1
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
A Letter from Katie Mettner
About the Author
A Note to My Readers
Long Past Dawn
The Cowboys of Bison Ridge, Book Two
Katie Mettner
Copyright 2022 Katie Mettner
All rights reserved for this book and its content. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication, or cover art, may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Dedication
Remember me every time a bird flies over the horizon, when the apple blossoms bloom on the trees, and when the waves wash over your toes.
In loving memory of Linda Mettner
Prologue
Twenty years ago
When I met Blaze McAwley at the start of third grade, I knew we would be best friends. He was funny and loved to get into trouble with mean Mrs. Hasselback as much as I did. When I found out he lived on a ranch, I was so excited. I’d always wanted to ride a horse and rope a steer, but living in the middle of town made that impossible, even in the heart of Texas. Things were so much different now, though. I was alone, and if it weren’t for Blaze, I’d probably be on the street.
I slipped into his daddy’s barn through the side door the way he’d shown me when we hatched our plan. I checked around the barn to make sure all the hands had left for the night before letting my guard down even the slightest little bit. I would have from ten p.m. until five a.m. to sleep before I had to leave the barn again and hide out somewhere else on the ranch. Thankfully, they had thousands of acres, so it wasn’t hard to keep myself hidden during the day. If school were in session, I’d stay there, but since it’s the middle of July, that’s impossible. At least when Blaze can get away from his daddy for a few hours, he always hunts me down to go for a swim.
I checked the old digital watch he’d given me when I first got here. It had an alarm on it, so I would know when to get up and leave the barn. It also told me he’d be by soon to drop off some food to eat for the night. It had been our routine for the last two weeks, and it worked okay. During the day, I could snack on apples and carrots I’d steal from the barn bins. I didn’t think the horses would mind much if I ate a couple of their treats.
Blaze had made me a bed of hay in the loft and kept blankets and a pillow hidden for me to get out every night. We didn’t want any ranch hands getting suspicious and reporting to Blaze’s daddy that someone was in the barn.
The shower at the end of the stalls called to me. It was so hot today, so I was dusty and dirty. Since I only had two sets of clothes, the one I was wearing when I ran away, and the one Blaze was letting me borrow, I would have to wash them tonight and dry them tomorrow in the sunshine.
I checked the watch again, nervously chewing on my lip. It was half-past ten, and Blaze was usually here by now. Maybe he fell asleep and forgot about me. If he had, I’d grab another apple and go to bed, hoping tomorrow he’d show up with breakfast. My stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and I rubbed it absently. It had been so long since I’d eaten three meals a day that I couldn’t remember the last time. It was probably back when school was open. That was two months ago now. Before that, it was when my momma was alive. I leaned against a bale of hay and let out a heavy breath. I didn’t like thinking about Momma. I missed her so much. My foster family used to tell me I had to stop talking about her since she’d been dead for a year. I didn’t think that was right. The counselor at school told me I could talk about her as much as I wanted. I didn’t know who to believe anymore, so I just believed in Blaze. He’d never done me wrong and never would.
I didn’t talk about Momma anymore, though. Instead, I thought about her in my mind and wrote down all the stories I could remember about her. My foster family told me I’d forget what she looked like one day, and I didn’t want that to happen. I had pictures of her saved in a secret place where no one would find them, and I had my notebook full of stories. That was all I had now besides Blaze. Living out here like this was hard. I was so scared of being found out, but I was more scared of going back to foster care.
There were footfalls on the gravel outside, and my heart started pumping hard in my chest. I pushed off the bale of hay and ducked behind it until I knew for sure it was Blaze. If a ranch hand forgot something or needed to check on an animal, I didn’t want him to find me.
Blaze called out softly. “The horses are quiet tonight.”
That was our secret phrase, so I knew it was safe to come out.
I jumped up, anxious to see what he brought me for supper. I was starving. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight,” I said, stepping around the bale of hay.
What I saw froze my feet and my words in place. Blaze stood there with his daddy holding one arm and his momma holding the other. He didn’t have any food, and his eyes told me he was scared. My gaze darted around, looking for a way out. The closest door was the one I came in, and I ran for it, my legs pumping as hard as I could make them on what little food I’d eaten today. My heart was pounding, and I was almost there when a hand grabbed the back of my shirt.
“Stop now, son.”
It was Blaze’s daddy, Ash. He was gruff and bossy with his ranch hands, but Blaze always said he was a good man.
I swallowed hard and hoped he’d see reason. “I—I was just leaving, sir,” I said, my voice shaking. “I stop—stopped on by to sa-see Blaze. You know how long it stays lig—light in the summertime,” I yammered, praying he’d let me go. I didn’t know where I’d go, but as long as it wasn’t back to that awful foster family, I didn’t care.
It was Blaze’s momma who spoke once I quieted. “Why don’t you come inside the house, Beau? I’ve got leftover burgers from dinner and some apple pie.”
“Thanks, Mrs. McAwley, but I-I-I will ba-be on my way,” I said. My stomach chose that moment to rumble, and I willed it to be quiet.
“Son,” Mr. McAwley said, “Blaze told us what’s been going on out here. We’d like you to come inside now.”
I hung my head and shuffled my feet toward the door where Blaze still stood with his momma. He slipped his hand in mine because he knew I was scared even though we were eleven now.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Momma caught me trying to get the food tonight. I didn’t snitch on purpose.”
I nodded but didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was afraid I’d cry. I was going to have to leave my best friend now and go back to that awful place. Mrs. McAwley motioned for me to sit at the table once we were inside the large, open kitchen I’d come to love since I met Blaze. It was always bright, warm, and smelled of apple pie and fresh bread.
I hesitated, but finally, Blaze sat, so I grabbed the chair next to him. “I don’t mean to be na—n—no trouble. I can disappear as f—fa—fas as I appeared,” I promised, my stutter heavy from fatigue and fear.
“You’re no trouble, Beau,” Mrs. McAwley assured me. “Relax and eat.” She set a plate of food in front of me that was too hard to pass up.
I ate half the burger before I looked up to see that Blaze’s parents had sat opposite us. I wiped my lips with my hand. “You always make the best food,” I said, offering a rare smile. “I—I—go once I’m done,” I promised, attacking the pile of fries and washing it down with the giant glass of milk Mrs. McAwley had set in front of me. When I finished, she pushed a piece of apple pie in front of me and handed me a fork.
I ate that much slower, savoring the sweet cinnamon apples and the buttery pie crust. It might be the last piece of pie I ever got from Blaze’s momma, and I wanted to hold onto the memory as hard as I held onto the memory of my momma. A tear dripped onto the plate, now almost empty, which meant it was time to leave them and find my own way. Another tear fell, and I swiped it away with my shoulder while I finished the last bite of pie and swallowed the last of the cold milk.
I pushed the plate away and stood. “Thank you. I’ll sa—see you around,” I said, but Mr. McAwley stood and motioned for me to sit my butt down in the chair.
I lowered myself into the seat again and hung my head, the tears falling faster now that they weren’t going to let me leave. I was in trouble. Big trouble. I ran away from the foster home, and now they’d probably put me in a home for boys and make me dig holes. I heard they even carried guns and used big dogs.
“You’re not going anywhere, Beau,” Mr. McAwley said, his voice booming in the quiet of the room.
“But I—I don’t wa—want to dig holes,” I said, my voice quivering. “I don’t even like d—da—dogs.”
“What are you talking about, son?” Mrs. McAwley asked. “You don’t have to dig holes.”
Blaze sighed from where he sat next to me. “We read Holes in class at the end of the year. Beau’s worried he’s going to get sent away to a camp to dig holes. That’s why I had to keep him a secret.” I could hear how upset Blaze was, and I felt bad for putting him in a position where he had to lie to his parents.
“Do-don’t be upset with Bla-Blaze,” I stuttered, my problem evident now that I was upset. “I ma—made him pra—prom—promise not to tell.”
Mrs. McAwley held up her hand. “We’re not upset with either of you, Beau.”
I nodded once and tried to smile, but the stupid tears made my lips shake. “Than—thank you. I don’t want n-no one to get in trouble, so I’ll be ga—goin’. Da-don-do not tell anyone I was ha-here.”
“Social services is already aware of your whereabouts,” Mr. McAwley said. “We’ve known you were here since you set foot on the property. We didn’t tell Blaze because we wanted to keep you here. If you were here, you were safe.”
I glanced between the two adults in confusion. “Why didn’t they come get ma—me? I ran away from the foster ho—ho–,” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Home.”
“Son, they were just happy to know you were safe and that you had a place to stay,” Mr. McAwley said. “We did some paperwork with social services over the last few weeks, and now you’re going to be staying here.”
I was confused, and my voice shook when I spoke. “I’m staying he—here? In the ba-ba-barn?”
Blaze’s momma laughed and shook her head. “No, you’ll be staying next door to Blaze, in his brother’s room.”
I swallowed again and eyed her carefully. “But—but Bix just left for call—college. He—he’ll be back.”
“We have plenty of room here when Bix comes home. You need a place to call your own, and Bix already said it was okay,” she explained patiently.
“Fo—for sure?” I asked, still suspicious.
“We’re positive, son,” Mr. McAwley said, offering a rare smile. Blaze was right. He was a good man. “There will be chores to do, of course. We’ll expect them done in a timely fashion each day. Blaze will teach you. He tells me you like horses?”
I nodded eagerly. “Yes, sa—sir.”
“Good, then you’ll have your own to take care of, along with several others. You’ll have to keep the stalls clean and the water troughs full. Can you do that?”
I nodded because I couldn’t speak. I was worried the tears were going to start again.
Mrs. McAwley stood and motioned for me to get up. She tucked me under her arm and walked with me toward the stairs to the second floor of the giant home. “Tomorrow, we’ll drive into town and get your things from the social worker. We’ll also pick up some proper boots and work clothes for the ranch. Good enough?” she asked, squeezing me gently. It had been a long time since I’d gotten a hug from someone who cared about me the way a momma would.
I turned and hugged her, burying my face in her side to hide my tears. “Than—thank you,” I wept. “I won’t la-la—let you down,” I promised, my body crumbling to the ground from the tears, exhaustion, and relief.
It was Mr. McAwley who scooped me up and carried me to the shower, patiently helping me get clean of the day’s dirt and the terror of the last few months. I would never forget that look on his face for the rest of my life. It was the same look he wore whenever he helped any of his boys. The fact he was wearin’ it now told me I was home.
One
Present Day
The fire snapped and popped every time the wind blew across it, and it pulled me from my memories. Memories of a time like this one where I didn’t know who I was or where I was going. The difference was, this wasn’t Texas. This was northern Wisconsin, and Mother Nature hadn’t had her fill of winter yet. We’d had a warm spell in February, and March rolled in like a lamb, but she was going out like a lion. The bite in the air tonight assured me of it. The animals I was tending wouldn’t mind the cold since bison love snow, but my hide was a lot thinner and less hardy than theirs was.
“Beau?” a sweet voice called out, and I turned, surprised to see Dawn riding toward me on her horse, Black Beauty.
“By the fire,” I called back, standing and grabbing the reins from her so she could dismount. “What’s up?” I asked, hooking Black Beauty to the line where my horse, Cloudy Day, was hanging out.
“Blaze sent me up to check on you. There’s bad weather coming.”
“I’m aware.” I pointed at the walkie by the fire. “He radioed up. He’s such a worrywart these days. I’m not afraid of a little wind.”
Dawn shook her head and rubbed her arms up and down in the chilly night. “Try wind and snow. The weathermen are saying half a foot by morning. You have to stop playing home on the range and go back to the ranch, Beau.”
I motioned her over to the fire so she could warm up. She sat on the old wooden log I used as a backrest and held her hands out to the fire. Her hands always captivated me. They were strong, capable, and should be rough and dry with jagged nails, considering how hard she worked, but they never were. Her hands were always soft, and she wore her nails done up in a sassy purple.
Sassy was an excellent word to describe Dawn Briar Lee. She was fiercely protective of her tribe, and once you were part of that tribe, you were part of it forever. Under her warm Carhartt stocking cap was a pile of strawberry blonde hair I would love to run my fingers through every night. Her eyes were the color of a bison, except for the flecks of gold that dotted them when the firelight was just right. I shifted on the log and tore my gaze from the woman before she caught me gawking. Dawn Lee was so pretty she’d make any man plow through a stump, myself included.
“I’m not playing home on the range,” I insisted, throwing some exasperation in there for good measure.
“You’ve been staying out here for months, Beau. What gives? I know you love camping in the summer, but this is March in Wisconsin. It’s time to go inside before you catch your death of a cold.”
My gaze landed on the small tent set up to the side that admittedly was becoming ridiculously cold. “I’m fine. The fire keeps me warm, and I have my bison coat and blanket. I’m probably warmer than you are.”
She shook her head while rubbing her upper arms through her old barn coat. “Beau, you can’t keep dancing around this issue forever. Blaze and Heaven are getting married, but that doesn’t mean you can’t stay in the house. There are plenty of bedrooms.”
I brushed my hand at her with a shake of my head. “Please. I’d sooner sleep in the barn than in the same house with a couple of newlyweds. Ick.”
Dawn giggled, and the sound shot straight through me like an arrow. I loved her giggles, and she didn’t laugh nearly enough anymore. I hadn’t decided why that was yet, but eventually, I’d get to the bottom of it. There were many things about Dawn Briar Lee that I wanted to get to the bottom of if I was honest. I’d had a crush on her for the entire six years I’d known her, but no way in hell was I going to ruin our friendship to scratch an itch. If Blaze weren’t my best friend, Dawn would be. I guess I had two best friends at the end of the day, and not everyone could say that.
“You’re so romantic, Beau,” she cooed, holding her hands near her chin and batting her eyelashes at me.
I didn’t respond, but I did let my gaze roam over her in the firelight. Something was wrong with Dawn Briar Lee. The light in her eyes had gone out, and she carried an air of sadness about her now. Maybe she was sad for the same reason I was. Our lives were changing, and we didn’t have any control over it anymore.
“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re finding it hard to accept that Blaze is getting married again,” she said, her hands stretched toward the fire.
“If all your brains were dynamite, you couldn’t blow your nose,” I muttered, tipping up a cup of hot coffee to my lips. I didn’t offer Dawn any in hopes she’d go away and stop bugging me about leaving the ridge.
“Where do you come up with all these ridiculous sayings?” she asked, shaking her head. “Is there a book of stupid Texas sayings that you memorized?”
I refused to answer her, biting my tongue to keep from chewing her out. I wanted her to leave me alone, but I didn’t want to hurt her in the process.
