Chained Read Free

bed was covered with a large sheet of plastic. She
folded it up and laid it in the bottom of the closet, then pulled linens from
the dresser drawers and made the bed.
    Still using the flashlight, she carried the groceries to the
kitchen. When she and her father had lived here, they’d used a generator for
several hours a day. With it off, there was no electricity at the ranch, but
she carried the milk and eggs out to the springhouse, then went back to the car
for the ice.
    It was cool inside the little building sunk into the ground
over a natural spring, and the large ice blocks should keep for several days.
    Back inside the house, she opened some of the high windows
that were too narrow for a man to climb through.
    With the door bolted, she felt more secure. She was glad she
didn’t have to go outside to use the bathroom. The house had running water,
piped in from the spring. Cold water, at least. If she wanted hot, she’d have
to heat it on the propane-fueled stove.
     Although she had hardly any appetite, she fixed herself a
quick dinner of bread and cheese and brought it to the familiar rough wood
kitchen table, along with the gun, which she set at her place. She also opened
a bottle of white wine from her father’s stock and poured herself a small
glass, then bowed her head and said a prayer for her safety and his.
    As she ate, she thought about her family. Her father was her
only relative. The only one who counted. Her older brother had been killed by
General Lopez’s men, although nobody could ever prove it.
    Mama had left them because she’d been too afraid to stay.
Isabella hadn’t seen her in years and wouldn’t even know where to find her,
since she’d gone into hiding.
    Isabella sipped the wine, trying to relax. When the meal was
finished, she washed up quickly and changed into a T-shirt and shorts, keeping
her thoughts away from the windstorm that had greeted her. But finally it was
impossible not to come back to it.
    She shivered, contemplating what she’d been trying to avoid.
The ghost.
    If it had been lurking around the ranch, why hadn’t she seen
it when she’d lived here before? And now, why had it called her by name?
    She kept the gun with her and laid it on the bedside table
before climbing under the covers. She’d been exhausted earlier. She was even
more tired now, but she lay in the darkness, her mind churning over everything
that had happened in the past few hours.
    Finally, she fell into a restless sleep filled with the
sound of the wind in the trees and the sensation of being lifted off her feet
and carried through the air.
    Something woke her before dawn. Not sure what it was, she
lay very still under the covers, her eyes slitted, trying to look like she was
still asleep. Her gaze flicked to the window, the door, the closet, probing the
shadows.
    She saw no one, yet she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling
that she was no longer alone in the room.
    Music wafted toward her, barely audible, yet it sounded like
someone playing a guitar.
    Straining to hear, she made out the song.
    Down in the valley. The valley so low.
    Hang your head over, and hear the wind blow.
    It was one of the songs Matthew Houseman had played and sung
out on the patio at night. Did she really hear it now or was she only dreaming
of the past?
    She clenched her fist, digging her fingernails into her
palm, feeling the pain. That proved she was awake, didn’t it?
    Or was it still part of a dream?
    As she stared into the darkness, light began to flicker in
one corner. Ghostly light.
    She might have screamed if the breath hadn’t been frozen in
her lungs.
    She might have run if she hadn’t felt compelled to stay.
    She lay perfectly still, her heart pounding as she waited
with a kind of tingling anticipation for what would happen next.
    The moon had long since set. The room was almost totally
dark, except for the hazy white light still flickering in the corner. She
wanted to run, but at the same time she knew that would