Chapter 11

• Jack stirred in the dim light, his eyes flickering open as though emerging from a deep and troubled dream. "Jack_ dear!" Ellie’s voice trembled with a mix of relief and dread as she leaned over him.
• He murmured weakly, "My head… it aches, Ellie, as if_ " His words faded into silence, and in that quiet moment she knew that the memory, as vivid as blood on stone, was still fresh in his soul.
• "You're all right now, honey. I've come here to take care of you_ I won't leave you. Poor Jack!" she soothed, her voice soft against the harsh whisper of the night.
• "How did you know?" he managed, his tone trailing off into an uncertain haze.
• "Grim Fang came for me," she replied, a bittersweet smile stirring despite the pain. "Good ol’ Fang!"
• Even in his weakened state, Jack could see the great wolf, Grim Fang, slinking closer. The beast came to him, nuzzling his outstretched hand with an almost gentle ferocity as if to offer Grimwood comfort.
• "Why, Ellie, I’m on the floor and it’s dark… Am I still in Grinder’s place? Yes_ I can see clearer now." Jack’s voice grew steadier as the darkness lifted, though a dull throb persisted. He attempted to rise, but Ellie quickly pressed him back down with tender insistence.
• "If you try to move too soon, you might catch a fever. I’m going back to the house to bring down some blankets. Grinder says you’ve lost a great deal of blood and must not ride or strain yourself till tomorrow," she explained, her voice firm yet full of gentle care.
• Jack exhaled a weary sigh. "Ellie," he said simply, testing the sound of his own name.
• "Yes, honey," she replied, her touch as light as drifting snow across his brow. His hand met hers, and the cool caress of her fingers momentarily eased the burning heat of his pain.
• "I feel as if I’ve been forged in fire… I still see red," he confessed, his eyes dark with memory.
• "Jack, that frightful vision_ let it go! Forget all that has happened. Promise me you'll do so," she implored.
• For a long, suspended moment, Jack was silent. Then he exhaled slowly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Maybe I can, Ellie. But it feels as if there is something inside me_ a message, written in red letters. I must read that writing before I can speak truly."
• Her words floated past him as she continued to caress his fevered brow, her heart filled with a blend of awe and melancholy. In that fragile half-light, she felt as if some inner door had opened_ a door through which Jack could at last peer into her soul. There was terror in the intimacy of that exposure, but also a strange gladness that warmed her despite the chill of uncertainty.
• "Ellie," he murmured again, his voice low and reflective.
• "Yes_ honey!" she replied, her tone buoyed by a newfound tenderness.
• "What were you hummin'?" he asked softly, the question trailing into the quiet of the room.
• Startled, she admitted, "I didn’t know I was hummin’, Jack."
• "You were, all right. It sounded familiar_ like one of your own tunes."
• A tremor ran through her, and she feared that he might notice the quiver in her voice. "I must go back to the house, Jack. Perhaps Dad has returned. If he has, he can see to it that you are carried safely tonight."
• "I don't want to think of movin', Ellie. I feel strangely comfortable here. I’m forgettin’ all about the ache in my head. Ain’t that odd? Why, Ellie, what in the world are you laughin' about?"
• "I don't know, Jack. I'm just happy," she replied, a soft smile warming her face despite the shadows in her eyes.
• "Ellie," he said, his voice now mixed with gentle amusement and something darker. "I like you pretty much."
• Her eyes lit up with a fragile hope. "I'm so glad!" she exclaimed.
• "You and Grim Fang, and even Nightfall_ " Jack began, his tone shifting as if he wrestled with a secret grief.
• "Oh!" Her voice faltered, sensing the undercurrent of a conversation that transcended mere words.
• "Why are you trying to pull your hand away, Ellie?”
• “Don’t you care for me any more than you care for your horse_ and your dog?"
• "It's different, I reckon,"
• she whispered, searching his face for meaning. "Tell me"
• "If Grim Fang died_ " his voice wavered as the beast let out a low whine at the sound of his name.
• "Good ol’ Fang! Well, if Fang died, maybe someday I’d find another dog to love as much," he said softly.
• "Yes," he murmured, his eyes distant. "And if Nightfall died_ even that wild, untamed Nightfall_ I might someday care for another hoss, though none would ever be quite like him. But if you were to die_ it would be different. A vast, crushing difference."
• "Why?" she pressed, her voice barely a whisper in the hush of the room.
• Jack paused, the question panging in his mind like a cruel echo. "I don’t know," he muttered finally.
• A smile, hidden in the dim light, played upon her lips, she was thankful for the dark to hide her smile.
• "Maybe you know the reason, Ellie?"
• Her laughter, rich and bittersweet as a melody played on a forgotten piano, filled the space between them. His grasp on her hand relaxed as he considered a new thought, and when he laughed in return_ a laugh unlike any he’d given before_ it startled her. "What is it, Jack?" she inquired gently.
• "He was mighty, Ellie. Bigger than almost any man I've seen! It was kind of funny, in a twisted way. After he hit me, I was almost... glad. I didn't hate him," he confessed, his tone measured as if he were a wayfarer describing a stark landscape. "I didn't hate him_ I wanted to kill him, nearly, and that desire made me glad. Isn't that strange, Ellie?"
• "Jack, if you truly care for me, you must let go of that thought," she pleaded, her hand slipping away from his.
• "How can I do that? That writing inside me_ the red script_ it’s all about him!" he insisted, his voice low with torment.
• "When he struck me the first time_ " he began, but she interrupted, her tone rising in fierce denial. "I won't hear you speak of it!"
• "The blood_ it trickled down my chin, warm as fire. That was what made me burn, Ellie. It’s as clear as the words printed in a book: I must finish him, that’s the only way I can ever forget the taste of my own blood."
• "Jack, listen to me!" she cried out, her voice desperate and trembling. "You’ve told me you love me. Now you must choose: pursue this man, or choose me."
• "You don't understand," he murmured carefully, his eyes clouded with inner conflict. "I must follow him. I can’t help it_ no more than Grim Fang can help howlin' at the moon."
• A long, sorrowful silence fell over them as distant from the hills came the plaintive wail of a coyote_ a sound that cut through the stillness and made Ellie tremble. "Jack!" she called, a note of panic in her voice.
• Outside, Nightfall’s soft whinny echoed like a distant reminder of home. Ellie leaned forward, her lips barely brushing his in a tender plea. But Jack recoiled as though scorched, his face twisting in anguish. "There’s blood on my lips, Ellie! I can’t kiss you till they’re washed clean."
• He turned his head away, and she pleaded again, her voice a gentle, desperate entreaty. "Listen to me, Jack! Here are my hands to shield your eyes and drown out the hateful thoughts. Here are my lips to tell you that I love you_ unless this thirst for killing drives you away from me. Stay with me! Give me your heart so I can keep it gentle."
• For long moments, Jack said nothing. But even in the darkness, Ellie could feel the inner battle raging across his face. Then, as if emerging from a fog, his eyes began to glow from within_ a deep, mysterious light tinted with yellow. In that surreal moment, her heart seized with both fear and passion, and she cried out, "Give me your promise! Just one word, so that you may be safe from yourself."
• Only silence answered her, save for the steady, unnerving presence of Grim Fang, who had crept close, his gaze fixed upon Jack as if demanding an answer from the unspoken void.
• "For the last time_ for God's sake, Jack!" Ellie implored, her voice breaking as she stepped back toward the door. The silence, heavy and unyielding, filled her with cold dread. She backed away slowly, then with mounting desperation, and at the threshold, in one fluid, anguished motion, she spun and fled into the night.
• Up the darkened road she raced, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm. Once, in her haste, she stumbled and collapsed onto the cold, hard ground. She cried out, glancing over her shoulder until she was certain nothing followed her. At last, she reached the safety of her father’s house and did not pause, though the mournful strains of her father’s song haunted her ears. She could not bear to tell him what she had witnessed; he must be spared such torment. Retreating to her room, she huddled beneath the covers, the heavy burden of the night pressing upon her soul.
• Not long after, a soft knock came at her door. Her father's gentle voice asked if she were ill. With trembling composure, she claimed a terrible headache and a need to be alone. He inquired after Jack, and with great effort, she muttered that Jack had ridden off to a neighboring ranch. Satisfied for the moment, her father left, his fading voice mingling with the distant strains of his favorite mournful ballads. The sound deepened her woe, amplifying the terror that clung to her heart like a second skin. She longed to weep, to purge the torment that threatened to burst her fragile heart_ but sleep came only after hours of such tortured vigil, until the roosters heralded the coming dawn.
• Late the next morning, Old Joe Harrington knocked again at her door, his concern deepening as he feared the gravity of her illness. With a purpose born of paternal duty, he announced, "Look out your window, honey, down to Grinder’s place. You remember I said I was going to clean up the landscape?"
• At the mention of Grinder’s place, the horrors of the night rushed back in a maelstrom of memory. Shivering, Ellie drew herself to the window and peered out into the early light. Before her eyes, Grinder’s place was engulfed in towering flames_ a fiery reckoning that defied all hope.
• It could not be real, she thought_ merely another nightmare. Yet her father's jubilant, almost maddened voice drifted on the air, declaring, "There ain’t a shadow of the saloon left, nor a single scrap of it! I went down there this morning and touched a match to it!"
• Still, she stared in frozen disbelief, her eyes transfixed on the inferno that now claimed the place where, just the night before, Jack had lain battered and broken. In the flickering light, she imagined him stirring_ struggling to rise, his weak form dragging itself across the scorched floor, only to be thwarted by the relentless, searing heat. Grim Fang crouched near him, unyielding in loyalty, while Nightfall, the black stallion, burst from the shed and charged into the flames as if summoned by destiny. In that terrible vision, the three_ man, beast, and steed_ were bound together in a final, tragic fate.
• "Jack!" she screamed, her voice raw and broken, as she pitched herself forward, collapsing onto the floor in a desperate plea for salvation.