I hoped what she’d said was true. Though I hoped Ridge was okay, I didn’t know how he could be. To lose a parent in that way and never know if you would ever see them again—I didn’t even want to imagine such a thing.
I’d chosen to say nothing more about Ridge or Farmer Cross that day. I’d heard my papa’s warning loud and clear. Stay away or else. But that didn’t mean I had any intentions of listening.
Hence why the boy was standing in front of his property, aiming a shotgun between my eyes.
It was my second time seeing the boy, and I couldn’t stop my pulse from racing at just how good looking he actually was. With high cheekbones that kissed the sun, almond-shaped chocolate eyes that looked lost, smooth skin that clearly spent time outdoors, and a strong angled nose that gave him a distinctly different appearance from anyone else I’d ever known, the new boy in town was utterly fascinating, so much that I ignored the flags and whistles that blew with our first meeting.
I propped my hands on my hips and leaned forward so that my small voice would carry over the bridge. “You can put the gun down, Farm Boy. I’m not leaving.”
My papa had taught me to stand my ground in the presence of a bully. He told me that in most cases, the one doing the threatening was the real coward. My mama, on the other hand, had warned my papa that he was making me too confident for my own good. I wasn’t afraid to test both theories.
The boy clenched his jaw then shook his head before jabbing the gun in my direction.
I tilted my head and squinted, trying to determine whether everything my papa had told me about the boy was true. “You’re Ridge Cross,” I said finally. I was confident in the statement, but it irked me that the boy didn’t even flinch at the fact that I knew who he was.
According to my papa’s rant, which had seemed to last the good part of the previous day, the boy didn’t speak—ever—but I wasn’t convinced it was because he couldn’t. “Are you really a mute?”
The boy’s eyes flashed with anger.
Blood raced through my veins. “It’s fine, you know, if you don’t want to talk. I don’t mind. My parents tell me I talk enough for everyone else, anyway.” Daring a step forward, I cautioned him with my eyes. “I just want to come a little closer and introduce myself. Is that okay?”
I didn’t wait for his permission again. After a series of long strides over the center of the forty-foot-long bridge, I slowed to assess the situation. Ridge still hadn’t moved an inch as he spied me with curious brown eyes and a stiffened frame. And he hadn’t taken his barrel off me.
“I’m your neighbor. I live right through there.” I pointed behind me at a thick patch of forest that separated a section of landlocked public property from my parents’ vineyard. “Where the grapevines grow?” I said the last part as a question to see if I would get any sort of response from him. Even a simple nod would have appeased me.
Again, he didn’t shift an inch, causing me to sigh as I took another step forward. Annoyance was starting to twist its way through me. I didn’t like to be ignored.
“I’m standing on public property. You shoot me now, you go to jail.” I pointed toward a large spruce tree marked with red spray paint by my papa. “Your property is past that red X.”
That time, the boy looked, following the direction I’d pointed to, and I took it as an opportunity. I marched the rest of the way to him then wrapped my fist around the barrel of his gun and shoved it away from my face.
His head snapped back to mine, and my lips curled into a smile.
I stuck out my other hand. “Camila Bell. Nice to meet you.”
His face bunched into a deeper scowl as he glanced at my hand then back to my face. He didn’t shake my hand in return or speak. Instead, he blew out a breath and yanked his shotgun from my grip before setting it against a nearby tree. I chose to believe it was a truce of sorts.
I nodded past him again, gesturing to the plot of land his father owned, where the cornfields grew tall over the summer. “Wanna run with me?”
Confusion replaced his scowl.
“I like to run through the cornfields. It’s fun. You’ll see.” I reached for his hand, but before I could even touch it, he yanked it away.
Shock and annoyance rippling through me, I stumbled back. Not only was I curious, but I was also determined. “Okay, fine. Whatever.” Holding up my hands, I rolled my eyes. “I was just trying to be nice.”
With a glare, I turned to make it look like I was leaving, but then I pivoted and made a dash for the tree that held his gun and turned the barrel on him.
His eyes flashed with surprise as I started forward, causing him to have to walk backward. “You think you’re some tough guy, huh? Pointing this shotgun at me like it gives you power? Well, it doesn’t. The most powerful weapon you possess is your tongue, Farm Boy, and it appears you don’t like to use yours much. So, tell me, who has the power now?”
I stepped forward one more time, and it was enough. Ridge took a final step back, his foot caught on the edge of the creek, and he fell back into the water. The shock on his face was priceless as water soaked through his white shirt and dark jeans.
I laughed a little too hard and pulled the gun back to check the safety. As soon as I confirmed my suspicions, I grinned. “Surprise, surprise. Safety’s on, Farm Boy.” Then I inspected the chamber and laughed even harder when I saw that it was empty. “I knew it.” I threw the gun to the side and backed toward his land while he pulled himself out of the creek.
He shook his head so adamantly at me that it made me laugh.
“What is it, boy? You don’t want me to trespass?”
He nodded just as viciously as he’d shaken his head.
“Well, that’s too bad.” I took another step back, crossing the red X on the tree. “I’ve been running through the fields for years. Besides, it’s the easiest way to get where I’m going.” I shrugged. “So come with me or don’t. But you sure as heck ain’t stoppin’ me.”
With that, I turned and took off through the woods and into the cornfields.
2
The Hunter
Through the scope of his binoculars, the hunter tracked their movements at the bridge and through the woods then lost them when they tore through the cornfields. He didn’t bother chasing them there. He’d followed the girl enough to know exactly where they were headed and would take another path.
Twigs snapped and leaves crunched beneath his heavy boots as he worked his way along the creek toward the hilltop, not even bothering to be quiet. No one dared to walk that route. Not only was it inaccessible to the public, but it was dangerous terrain, just a narrow piece of land above a steep slope. The bed of water below widened and rushed faster where it got deeper and colder—which was why the girl preferred the forbidden route through the corn.
With each step, annoyance swirled inside the hunter like it did every time the girl broke the rules. Camila Bell was beginning to become a problem. Her papa was too blind and stupid to see the trouble behind his little girl’s eyes, but the hunter saw her for the mischievous little brat she was and would always be. Something would have to be done. A lesson would need to be taught.