Chapter 11 "The Rider Who Fell from Heaven"

From here on this story is for adults only. And this is your trigger warning too. Things are about to heat up and get gritty.

This is the second draft of the 11th chapter of “The Rider Who Fell from Heaven.” It will likely be different from the final version based on additional edits and YOUR INPUT!

Sera realized he was holding Eliza too tightly and eased off.

She derailed every routine he’d built. A typical morning meant checking the perimeter, finding something to eat, putting a couple of cups of tea in his stomach, and then, as Eliza said, to start cracking skulls. And he had several skulls to crack today.

Eliza’s detour last night and the bath this morning were a betrayal of his rituals. Yet, it troubled him how much he craved her excursions.

Service. Orders. Routines. And then came Eliza.

Despite his vast history, she had moved him. It was undiscovered country. It felt dangerous.

She placed her hands on the edge of the tub, eased herself up, kissed his chest and smiled, “I’ll give you a full shave tomorrow. I’m going to make cathead biscuits and coffee... and some tea for you, of course.”

She climbed out of the bath and toweled off. He admired her ass and the way her red hair cascaded down her porcelain back. Once she donned her chemise she went to her stove.

He missed her warmth immediately. He could have held her close for much longer, but nothing gets done in the wild west unless you get started early. Once Sera dried himself, he gathered his scattered clothes and reluctantly put them on. When your boots were on, the day’s responsibilities began.

Eliza started a fire in the stove and put coffee in the pot. Even if he didn’t prefer coffee, the distinct smell signaled the day was underway.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

She approached him and got on her toes to kiss him. He obliged and bent down to meet her lips.

“Just sit down at the table. I’ll take care of everything. There will be plenty of time for you to right wrongs once we eat.”

The ranch house was filled with bright morning light. The outside world creaked to life. Sera pulled out a chair at the dining room table and watched Eliza prepare breakfast.

She put flour, salt, sugar, and baking powder in a bowl and worked in some butter, milk, lemon juice, and bacon grease until it was the right consistency and shaped them into balls that she placed in a cast-iron skillet. After putting the skillet in the oven, she poured some coffee for herself, made tea for Sera, and sat down with him at the table.

She pushed the cup of tea over to him and stared into her cup. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“First the Sheriff, for some answers, then I’m going to visit the Shaw brothers.”

Eliza took a cautious sip of the hot coffee, looked out the window and glanced at Sera before looking away. “We could just stay here and enjoy the day together.”

Sera placed his hand on her arm and squeezed lightly. She didn’t know he would live until the Sun burned out. It was an incredible blessing and a torturous curse. This world offered little in the way of danger, but enough in heartache.

He tightened his grip. “No one will threaten you again.”

His gaze lingered on her. She held the hot coffee with both hands and furrowed her brow, having an entire conversation before she spoke. “You don’t even carry a gun. They’re all armed and they’ve killed people Sera. You’re quick and strong, but one man can’t take on all of them without a gun… even… even you.”

This conversation was why he avoided relationships. How much could he say? Tell her he had stood at the Gates of Heaven with Archangel Michael and defeated Lucifer’s rebellion? Certainly, that was more impressive than a handful of backwater bullies.

His secrets would become her burden.

And honestly, there was much he didn’t know. He was banished without explanation. Fallen. Forgotten. His memory of Heaven was tenuous. Over 40 years ago he woke on Earth, stripped of his wings. The silence from Heaven was unending. Being discarded was an anchor he held close.

“Guns are vile.” He tapped his temple. “This.” He raised his hands. “These.” And rested his hand over his heart. “And this, are all I need.”

Eliza pulled her hand away. Her face was animated with several competing emotions before she spoke again, “I’ve lost so much. I don’t…” She sniffed and threw her head back and sharply wiped under one of her eyes. “You speak with such certainty. And I want to believe you. I really—really do. But too much certainty creates blindness.”

“Trust me. The Shaws will back down when confronted. They aren’t used to anyone pushing back.”

He scooted his chair and stood up. “I’m going to go check outside. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and retreated into her own mind. There was no way to assuage her fears about losing him without telling her the truth. Besides, this would all be over soon.

As he cracked the front door, the cool morning air and bright sun snapped him awake. He walked off the porch and scanned the horizon. Everything looked fine. There was a broken slat on the porch he could fix. And the chicken cage needed some care.

The town clock struck nine times in the distance. The omnipresent dread in Drythorne Junction was gone here. It was one reason he passed out last night. The Narrator disappeared when you were far enough away.

The Shaws made their point last night. But he wasn’t going to let them sneak around here again. An angelic scribe taught him how to create wards long ago. After finding a stick, he walked around Eliza’s home and wrote Enochian symbols in a circle, one set to the north, then to the east, the south, and completed to the west. The symbols sparked then glowed with blue luminescence before fading into the dust. There would be no more surprises here, from the Shaws or anyone else.

When he entered the house he was greeted by the pungent smell of something burning and Eliza’s cries from the stove, “Oh, no! Not now...”

She yanked the biscuits from the stove and clanked the skillet down, waving over them with a towel. Eliza stared at the pan with pained eyes, “I burned them.” She stared into the blackness of the pan. “They’re ruined.”

Sera went to her, hugged her from the side and kissed her head. “Let’s eat.”

She took the skillet to the table, pried out a couple of biscuits and placed them on plates she had laid out. Eliza pushed the butter and honey in front of Sera’s seat as they sat down. Her attention was fully on Sera as she fiddled with her own biscuit by breaking it apart, then blowing on her fingers.

There was a thin crust where the biscuits had been burned. Sera simply peeled that off. Following her lead, he broke open the fluffy biscuit and used a knife to slather some butter on both exposed halves. Then he reached for the honey. Honey was a favorite. Sera had always loved honey, or anything sweet, really. His existence was filled with regiment, and orders, and pain... but honey was a treasure. It was always sunshine and a deep unapologetic indulgence.

Sera dipped the honey spoon into the jar of honey and let it gush all over his biscuit halves until he created a pond of the sticky treat. He glanced up at Eliza whose eyes were wide at his excess. She was holding her breath until he took his first bite.

Picking up one half, with no concern over the mess of butter and honey dripping everywhere, Sera popped the entire half into his mouth, savored the muddle, closed his eyes and swallowed.

“These are amazing!” he said.

Eliza let out a squeak as her face lit up, “Really...?”

“Absolutely,” he said, as he sopped up some more butter and honey with the other half and took another bite, this time savoring it more. He went back to the plate to clean anything that was left. The biscuit was gone like the wind.

Eliza stood up and reached for the pan. “Do... you want more?”

“Yes. I’ll eat any you don’t want.”

She spooned the rest of the burned biscuits onto his plate and sat down to eat her own. “Jonas always ate what I cooked and was very polite, but I don’t think he cared for it much.”

Sera had his mouth stuffed with another biscuit, and chewed it before he responded with a half-full maw, “People don’t realize how fortunate they are to have food prepared for them. It’s a boon.”

After reaching for more honey, he said, “And... I think I’ve found a new favorite thing to eat with honey.”

He shoved another biscuit into his mouth and looked at Eliza, who was staring at him with wet eyes. He swallowed his food fully and reached out to her hand, holding it. “Thank you, Eliza.”

“You are very much welcome Mr. Sera.”

Despite the great breakfast and the company, Sera felt guilty for this diversion. He was married to chaos. And it was a jealous lover.

He shoved another full biscuit into his mouth and stood up, “I need to get into town.” Sera walked behind her, placed his hand on her narrow shoulder and kissed her on the head.

“Why are you in such a rush?...”

“The day is waiting.” It was wrong to let himself imagine another morning here.

“I want you to stay here today. You’ll be safe. Make sure your shotgun is handy.”

“You could take the shotgun with you…”

Sera tried to ignore the worried look on her face or how she reached out to touch his hand as he pulled away. His concern for her feelings distracted him. He walked to the door and grabbed his duster off the rack.

Without looking back he said, “I told you I don’t need it.”

This is my midnight of the soul chapter and I really struggled with editing this. I added a lot and then removed a lot. I think I eventually cut about a quarter of the chapter to make it tighter and trust you to figure out much of what I was explaining.

I’m still feeding you more on Sera’s past. You’re in on his secret now.

The first draft of this chapter had almost no conflict. Here’s a secret of my own. I grow to like my characters and I hate to make them fight. Of course, that’s my job. If everyone gets along there’s no story, no character arcs, and it just means nothing.

This version is ten times better than what I had the first time around and it sets up my climax nicely.

What do you think?

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I want to hear from you! What did you love? What did you hate? Did I miss something? Predictions? Let me know in the comments below! Your input could change the final version of this story.

This is the second draft of the book and will not be the final printed version.

To read from the beginning start here: https://kdhooper.substack.com/publish/post/199260832