Chapter Fourteen
MITCHELL HEARD THE knock on his front door and was saved from the nightmare gripping him. In his head, his horse had thrown him and he was being continuously stomped in the guts. Over and over again. Pain and powerlessness were an extremely disabling feeling.
“I’m coming...” he called out, his throat tight and rusty from sleep.
As he rolled to his side and gently got up from his sweat-covered sheets, he silently thanked whoever had disturbed his sleep. That was not a dream he wanted to stay within.
“Faaar out...” Mitchell groaned as he grabbed his single crutch and hobbled through the house. It was only nine thirty. He’d gone to bed around eight because of his headache and had not expected company.
He reached for the front doorknob without looking through the peephole
