Chapter 10

Brick stood at the screen door, staring across the yard towards the barn. In the weeks since his talk with his father his determination to improve had only increased. He was glad to say that physically at least it was paying off. The weakness in his right arm was very nearly gone. It mostly only troubled him now when he was especially tired or if he tried to lift a too heavy object. If only the same could be said for his ability to communicate he thought dejectedly.

No! He wasn't going to do this again. He knew the depression that constantly threatened was an enemy he couldn't afford to give into. But the lack of progress made it difficult to keep the depression at bay. Jerks like their current guest didn't help.

The man, in spite of being told about his injuries, wouldn't quit treating him as if he were an idiot. Brick hadn't told his father about the attitude knowing what his reaction would be and they needed the money that paying guests brought. They couldn't very well shut the business down while he recovered; especially with the medical bills that had resulted from the attack. He could tolerate the man's attitude for the few hours left in his stay. Thankfully most of their guests had been more understanding and tolerant.

Pushing the thoughts away Brick focused once more on the barn. Emmons' trial date was moving closer with each passing day and still he hadn't remembered a thing about the night of the attack. Dr. Carson assured him the lack of memory was normal, that it might in fact never return. Brick didn't know if he really wanted to remember but the blank spot bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

He knew it, the memory, was going to be bad if it ever returned. If his injuries and the month long coma hadn't clued him into that, his reaction to the shop side of the barn would have. Though it was closing in on two months since he'd come home he still couldn't go near the place without breaking into a cold sweat. With a start he saw their guest coming towards the house. In no mood to deal with the man, Brick turned and headed up the stairs to his room.

Leigh heard Brick climbing the stairs at a quick pace. Glancing out the window she saw what she expected, Mr. Kevin Wilson headed straight for the house. Every time she saw the way the man looked at her brother-in-law she wanted to slap him. She suspected he had done more than look at Brick with disgust when nobody was around. But the younger McKenna hadn't said anything and Leigh didn't want to embarrass him with her suspicions, so she kept quiet. Thank God the man would be leaving today.

"Coward and a dummy, you're no good to anybody boy," a voice laughed from the shadows. Brick turned in circles, searching for the voice but he could see nothing. He tried to answer back, no words would come. The laughter came again, louder this time. Sweat beaded on his forehead as pain exploded jolting him from sleep.

The nightmares had become more frequent in the last week. He didn't know why. Didn't he? he scoffed. Throwing back the covers he climbed from the bed, moving to stand at the window. The cool night air drifting lazily through the open window brought with it a shiver. Staring out at the barn he almost thought he could see the shadow of his car. He knew the dreams were connected to his fear of the barn and his inability to remember the night that had changed his life.

Disgusted with himself he turned from the window. Grabbing his jeans he roughly pulled them on, followed quickly by a flannel shirt. Picking up his hiking boots he quietly made his way down the stairs, putting the boots on only once he was outside. This ended tonight. He might not be able to do anything about the lack of memory but he could damn well do something about the fear. He was a McKenna and as Jack would say McKenna's don't run!

Brick strode resolutely towards the barn. Moving past the side where the horses were stabled, he moved closer to the shop side. He rubbed suddenly sweaty hands along his jeans. He could feel his heartbeat thumping in his chest, he could almost hear it. "Stop!" he sternly told himself. He wasn't letting this fear cripple him any longer. Emmons was in jail, there was nobody hiding in the shadows of the building, nothing to hurt him. Taking a deep breath he took another step and another slowly bringing himself to the doorway.

You can do this he told himself as he paused, staring into the dark interior. With trembling hands he reached out until the wall came within reach. Moving along the wall he came to the switch he'd been seeking. Light suddenly flooded the barn. Brick could feel his heartbeat slowing as he took in the space, empty except for his car and the tools they kept here.

Bracing himself he stepped into the barn. Running his hands over the car, he made his way to the driver's door. Brick closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar smells and sounds of the ranch. The pain took him by surprise, dropping him to his knees, his hands moving to grasp his hair. Disjointed flashes hammered at him, pain and laughter vying in equal measure for his attention. With an anguished cry the pain won as Brick fell forward into the dirt.

Jack woke with a start. He lay in the darkness, trying to determine what had woke him. He didn't hear anything unusual. The house was silent except for the occasional creak as the old wood settled. Giving a mental shrug he closed his eyes only to open them moments later in resignation. He wasn't going to get anymore sleep, he knew, until he checked on his family.

From the moment of Guy's birth he had experienced nights in which he would wake with a start, unable to sleep again until he checked on each member of the family. As the children had grown such nights had become fewer and fewer until they were only a rare occurrence. Then Guy had died and the need had returned with greater frequency, finally tapering off about a year later. He hadn't been very surprised to experience it again after the attack on Brick.

Climbing out of the bed he threw on his robe and opened his bedroom door. Making his way down the hall, he checked on each of them. Leigh, Cassidy, Harry, Rose and finally Brick; Jack was surprised to find his son's bed empty. The bathroom door stood open, maybe he had gone downstairs. Quietly Jack made his way down the darkened stairway to the kitchen. "Where is he?" he whispered.

Turning to make his way to the living room a light caught his eye. Moving to the window he was surprised to see light shining from the barn. "Good for you son," he grinned. Knowing his son might be angry with him but needing to see for himself that Brick was alright he headed for the barn.

He didn't see him at first, when he did he was sure his heart stopped beating. "No, please no," he moaned. Much like that horrible morning Brick lay in the dirt, blood making a puddle by his head. Breaking from his frozen state he rushed to his son's side, turning him onto his back. "Thank you," he whispered with a glance towards the sky. Now that he could see his son's face it was clear that his only injury was a bloody nose. It must have happened when he hit the ground. "Brick, son wake up," he called lightly tapping the boy's face. He was rewarded with a small moan.

Brick scrunched up his face, ow, why did his nose hurt? Blinking open his eyes he looked into the worried face of his father. For a moment he was confused before memory returned. "Remember," he rasped, involuntarily shuddering within the safety of his father's arms. As the strong arms tightened around him his shaking slowed.

TBC...

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