The Door at the Top of the Stairs Read online

  Morgan, meanwhile, was standing across the street talking with the sheriff about the fixture for the first hunt. She had no idea Jesse was even in town until she looked up and saw her flying through the plate glass window at Harley's Bar. She watched Jesse shake her head, jump onto the windowsill and throw herself back inside the bar.

  "Shit! I'm gonna kill her." Morgan sprinted across the street, running into the bar just in time to see Jesse punch Jimbo Jenkins while two other men grappled nearby. Men and women ringed the fighters and cheered loudly each time someone landed a good punch. One man collected quick bets while his girlfriend wrote shouted orders from the people around the circle.

  Morgan yelled at the sheriff who had followed her into the bar, "I'll get the woman! The rest are yours." As Morgan pushed her way through the onlookers, Jesse took a punch in the eye that sent her staggering back. Morgan grabbed Jesse's shirt, slipped an arm around her neck and pulled her through the crowd toward the back of the room.

  Jesse, thinking someone new had joined the fight, reached up with both hands and grabbed her assailant’s hair intending to throw them over her back.

  Morgan lowered her center of gravity, tightened the headlock and yelled in Jesse's ear, "Goddamn it, Jesse, let go of my hair!"

  When she heard Morgan's voice, Jesse immediately let go and stopped fighting. Morgan kept her neck locked in the crook of her elbow, waiting for the sheriff to break up the other fighters. Once everyone separated, Morgan let go of the full arm lock but held on to the back of Jesse's shirt to keep her under control.

  The sheriff picked his cowboy hat up off the floor and asked the general assembly, "Okay, who's gonna tell me what happened?" Everyone found something else to look at, so the sheriff scratched his balding head and pointed to the bartender.

  “Andy, suppose you tell me what started this whole mess."

  Andy came out from behind the bar and righted a chair, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he spoke. "Well, Hank accused Tom of cheating so they got into a fight. Jimbo decided Tom couldn't handle Hank alone." The room broke into laughter since Tom was twice the size of Hank. "Once she saw the fight was unfair....” He looked around and then pointed toward Jesse.

  “That lady there jumped in to even things up. She did too." There were general nods of agreement around the room.

  The sheriff settled his cowboy hat on his head. “All right then.

  Andy, do you want to press charges for disorderly conduct or criminal damage?"

  Andy shook his head. “Hell no. I just want to know who's gonna pay for my window."

  The sheriff looked over his shoulder at the broken glass. “Who threw her through it?"

  Tom raised a beefy hand. “I did."

  The sheriff nodded. “Then you'll pay for the window. Now, do any of you men want to press charges against anybody else?"

  They all shook their heads. The sheriff looked at Jesse.

  “Ma'am, do you want to press charges against any of these men?"

  Jesse shook her head.

  The sheriff pointed to some men. “All right then, you boys get this place cleaned up. Morgan, my thanks, and the two of you are free to go."

  Morgan seethed as she hauled Jesse out onto the sidewalk and shoved her toward the truck. “Get your ass in that truck and wait there until I'm done with my business."

  Jesse caught her balance and stopped in the middle of street, glaring back at Morgan.

  The low growl in Morgan's voice left no doubt about her intentions. “Don't push it, Jesse."

  Jesse waited a few beats, pushing Morgan as far as she dared, then turned toward the truck.

  Once Jesse climbed into the bed, Morgan went back to the feed store to pay her bill. Rows of vet supplies, dog bones, fly spray and worming medicine lined the center of the store. She walked up and down each aisle to give herself time to calm down.

  If Jesse hadn't started for the truck, Morgan had intended to flatten her right there in the street. When she'd sufficiently gotten her anger under control, she paid the cashier and walked back out to the truck. "Get in the cab."

  Jesse hesitated, then jumped over the side of the truck and got in the passenger seat. She slumped down and stared out the passenger window. They drove to the farm in silence, Morgan angrily tapping her fingers against the steering wheel and Jesse wondering whether she still had a job. They pulled up to the house and Morgan shoved in the emergency brake. Without saying a word, she walked around to the passenger side to wait for Jesse to get out, then moved in so close that Jesse backed up against the truck to give herself room.

  "When you work for this farm, everything you do reflects on my standing in the community. I've already warned you about that.

  Do you understand what that means?"

  "Yes Ma'am." Jesse knew she was about to be fired, and held onto the smallest hope that she'd keep her job if she played by Morgan's rules. Her eyes focused on a spot on Morgan's right shoulder while she waited for the hammer to fall.

  "Since you can't stay out of bars and fights, you can pack your things and get out of here. I've worked too long and too hard to build a solid reputation in this community without you coming along and destroying it." She stepped back, waiting for Jesse to leave.

  Jesse stood there, hands at her sides, staring at the ground.

  Morgan pointed toward the gate. “Go."

  Jesse didn't move.

  Ryland stood on the porch listening. She walked out to the truck, put her arm around Morgan's waist and said quietly, "Jesse, why don't you go on down to the apartment. We'll be down in a little while."

  When Morgan opened her mouth to object, Ryland pinched her waist. Morgan pursed her lips and watched as Jesse walked toward the barn. She turned to Ryland and pointed back toward the path, her face red, her eyebrows pulled down so far it was a wonder she could still see. “I'll be damned if—"

  Ryland held up her hand, guided Morgan into the house and shut the door. She walked over to an overstuffed chair and sat, waiting patiently while Morgan went to another chair and angrily lowered herself into it. They sat quietly until Morgan took a deep breath. “All right, I'm fine now. Say what you want to say."

  Ryland waited. She hadn't lived with Morgan for ten years without learning patience.

  Morgan started in. “I had to pull her out of the middle of a bar fight today. She pulled my hair and practically threw me over her shoulder, then challenged me when I told her to get in the truck.

  I've had it with your experiment, Ryland. I want her out of here!"

  "Why was she in the fight?"

  "Jimbo and Tom ganged up on Hank and she thought it was her job to even up the odds."

  Ryland nodded, but didn't say anything. It was always better to let Morgan figure things out for herself. After a little while she asked, "Why did she almost throw you over her shoulder?"

  "I grabbed her in a head lock to get her out of the fight."

  "From behind?"

  "Yes, from behind!" She glared at Ryland because she knew exactly what she was getting at. "Okay, she didn't know it was me, and when she heard my voice, she stopped fighting." Morgan tried to stay angry, but as she listened to herself she felt a little foolish.

  "Fine...okay, fine...she can stay, but you go tell her. I don't want to deal with her anymore today."

  Ryland walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. She took out an ice pack, returned, and handed it to Morgan. "It looked like she was starting a nice black eye. You might want to take this down with you."

  Morgan grabbed the ice pack and headed out the door.

  Sometimes she wished Ryland didn’t know her as well as she did.

  When she reached the barn, Jesse was sitting outside with her back up against the wall. Morgan tossed the ice pack at her. “Here. Put this on your eye."

  Jesse set the pack beside her. “I don't need it."

  Morgan focused on the roof of the barn. “Why do you have to argue with everything I say?"

  Dejectio
n sounded in her voice as Jesse picked up the ice pack and held it to her eye. "I don't know."

  Morgan studied her, then turned and sat on the ground with her back against the barn, legs drawn up, arms resting on her knees.

  Jesse put her head against the barn and closed her eyes. “I don't know why I do a lot of things."

  Morgan picked up a stone and flicked it toward some ants that were crawling around a dead bug. "I lost my temper today. I was wrong to fire you."

  "No you weren't. You never should have hired me in the first place."

  Morgan laughed. “Well, at least we agree on one thing." For the first time since she'd known her, Morgan actually saw Jesse smile. Not a big smile, but enough to grab onto. "Look, neither of us is perfect. I'll try to lighten up on you if you try to play by my rules. Deal?" She held out her hand to Jesse who looked at it but didn't take it right away. Playing by other people's rules had never been easy for her. She slowly raised her hand and clasped Morgan’s in a strong handshake. It wouldn't kill her to try.

  Morgan watched as Jesse leaned her head back against the barn and closed her eyes again. There would always be unhappy people in the world, and she'd had her share of surly employees, but she'd never kept one for more than a few days because their egos usually couldn't keep up with her temper. She pushed herself to her feet, brushing the dirt from the back of her pants.

  “Tomorrow 's the first day of cubbing. That means we take the young hounds out and teach them to hunt. My hunt staff will be here, and a couple of people from the club. I'll need Aristotle and Barney saddled by six-thirty. Then you'll need to help everyone else with their tack or whatever they need done."

  Jesse didn't move.

  Morgan shook her head as she turned to walk back to the house. She didn't know how long she could last, but she trusted Ryland and would give Jesse the benefit of the doubt for as long as possible.

  Chapter Five

  The first day of cubbing arrived with hectic, last-minute details and frenzied questions from her hunt staff. Morgan loved every minute of it. Cubbing was a time to introduce the younger hounds and foxes to hunting, and it took several outings to iron out the details after a long summer break.

  Once all the initial problems had been seen to and she was ready to call for the hounds, she looked up to see Jesse helping one of the club members into his saddle. Bear, one of the dogs who hung around the barn, stood next to Jesse, and Morgan realized she'd forgotten to tell her to kennel him. "Jesse, would you come here a minute, please?"

  Jesse finished helping the man adjust his saddle before starting over. While she waited, Morgan tucked her hunting whip under her arm and ran her fingers through Aristotle's coarse mane. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jesse start her way, then stop abruptly.

  Morgan looked down to see what was wrong.

  Jesse's face went from tan to pale to ghost white in a matter of seconds. She stared at Morgan's whip and backed up, finally turning as if to run. Directly behind her, Andy, one of the whippers-in, had just let down his whip and was recoiling it into a tighter loop. Jesse started back again, tripped over Bear and fell backward into the dirt. She scrambled up and pushed through the horses before disappearing around the side of the barn. Morgan saw Ryland dismount and quickly followed suit, catching up to her just as she reached the corner of the barn.

  Ryland stopped her before they went any further. “I don't know what happened, but leave your whip here. I think that's what set her off."

  Morgan dropped the whip onto a bale of hay and climbed over the bale, Ryland close on her heels. They found Jesse squatting with her back up against the barn, her head on her knees. Ryland knelt beside her. “Hey, what's wrong?"

  When Jesse looked up, Ryland was startled to see sweat beading her forehead. "Nothing. I...I just needed some fresh air, that's all. Too many people."

  Ryland didn't buy that for a second. "Jesse, what happened back there? Why did you run away?"

  "I didn't run away. Get the fuck away from me!" She pushed herself to a standing position, shoved past Morgan and hopped onto the bale of hay to get away. The second she saw the whip coiled between her feet, an electric shock surged from her head straight down through her heart and everything went black.

  Morgan grabbed her before she hit the ground. She'd fallen face first, and when Morgan moved to turn her over, she felt Ryland's hand on her shoulder.

  "Wait." Ryland stared at the lower part of Jesse's back where her t-shirt had come un-tucked. Morgan followed her gaze and saw a strange pattern of scars crisscrossing the exposed skin on the girl's back. She lowered her the rest of the way to the ground and watched as Ryland checked to make sure she was still unconscious and that no one else was around. When Ryland reached over and gently lifted the shirt, Morgan felt her skin go cold. “Holy Mother of Jesus."

  Deep scars and patterns of burn marks covered every inch of Jesse's back. Ryland softly traced one of the scars before lowering the t-shirt. The two women stared at each other, too horrified at what they'd seen to speak. The sound of an excited hound jerked Morgan out of her trance and she called for Rico to come carry Jesse into her room.

  Rico hopped the bale and stared at Jesse lying on the ground.

  He knelt beside her and looked up at Morgan. “She okay? Good?"

  He normally spoke Spanish, and his English often came out in halting, broken sentences. His gentle face betrayed his frustration at not knowing how to ask what had happened.

  Some of the staff stuck their heads around the corner while Morgan ran her forearm under one of Jesse's shoulders. Rico did the same, and as they pulled her to her feet, Rico swept her legs onto his other arm. Morgan said, "I hope she's okay, Rico. We'll know more in a little while. Could you take her to her bed, please?"

  Rico carried her past the curious onlookers and into her apartment, with Morgan and Ryland following close behind. Jesse kept the bed pushed into the corner of the little room. Rico walked over and gently laid her on top of the covers. Before he left , he pointed to himself. "You call, I help." He raised his eyebrows and Ryland nodded before pulling a chair close to the bed. Rico left the room as Jesse started to wake up.

  Ryland sat back, her brows lowered into a thoughtful expression. She looked at Morgan, "You go on with the hunt. I'll stay here with her."

  Morgan hesitated before realizing Ryland knew exactly what she was doing. She put her hand on Ryland's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before she turned and headed out to call for the hounds.

  When Jesse sat up, confusion and distrust tightened her muscles. She glanced around the room, looking for Morgan. "How did I get in here?"

  Ryland remained quiet for a time. “What's the last thing you remember?"

  "I was leaning up against the barn."

  "Why were you behind the barn?"

  Jesse thought a minute, red coloring her face as she realized Ryland knew she had no idea what had happened to her. “I don't know."

  Ryland crossed her legs. “Jesse, I'm curious...have you always been an itinerant worker, or did you do something else?"

  "I did something else."

  "Do you mind telling me what you did?"

  Jesse wasn't sure why Ryland wanted to know, and she answered, warily. "I was a cop. I'm a retired cop."

  Ryland raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re not old enough to have a retirement. How old are you?"

  "Twenty-six."

  "How many years did you work?"

  "Five."

  "They gave you a retirement after five years? Why?"

  Jesse blushed even more because the answer confused her as much as the question. “I don't know why...they just did." She thought about the day she'd left the department. The chief had called her into his office, and the department psychologist had been there. They'd told her she wasn't fit for duty anymore, that she was too traumatized to be a cop. But there hadn't been any trauma.

  She'd argued with them for more than an hour before they told her the decision wa
s final. Her eyes had lost focus as she remembered that day, and she jumped when Ryland asked, "Did anything happen where you had to retire? Maybe an injury or an illness?"

  Jesse shook her head.

  "What department did you retire from?" Ryland wanted to call and make a few inquiries to find out why they'd retired her after only five years.

  That was out of bounds for Jesse, who wanted nothing to do with her old department and didn't want anyone from there knowing where she was. "I don't mean any disrespect Dr.

  Caldwell, but that's none of your business." As the sounds of the horses and hounds moved away, Jesse got up to leave.

  "Jesse, just one more question. How did you get that scar on your back?"

  Jesse reached over her shoulder and rubbed the upper part of her back. “I don't know...I didn't know I had a scar there. Look, I've got work to do." With that, she turned and headed out the door.

  Ryland sat quietly, her professional curiosity aroused. She guessed Jesse was experiencing some form of dissociative amnesia, where a person doesn't recall certain traumatic events in their lives. The incidents are stored in their long-term memory, but can usually only be accessed with professional help. It explained Jesse's anger. Many of her previous patients had reported personality changes they had no control over, and anger was at the top of the list.

  As she got up and left the apartment she wondered why Jesse had stumbled into their lives, and what, if anything, she could do to help.

  Chapter Six

  Ryland was at the house when Morgan finished with the hunt.

  She sat on the couch, surrounded by books on post-traumatic stress disorder and dissociative amnesia. Morgan walked through the door, pulled off her grey hunting jacket and reached into the hall closet to hang it up. “I saw Jesse after the hunt. She acts as though nothing happened."

  Ryland put down the book and took off her glasses. She rubbed the bridge of her nose where the glasses had left an indentation. “As far as she knows, nothing did happen. The last thing she remembers is leaning up against the barn. And she doesn't remember why she was behind the barn, either."