Chapter Thirty
Nora woke to the acrid bite of smoke clawing at her throat.
For a moment, she didn’t really know what was going on.
She was confused by the unnatural glow dancing across the walls of her bedroom.
It was a threatening, violent shade of orange that didn’t belong to dawn.
Then, a sudden crackling reached her ears.
Already breathing heavily, she bolted upright when a choking smell, that bitter sting of something burning, hit hard.
Finally, she saw smoke billowing under the door in slow, curling tentacles, each second growing thicker and darker.
She lunged from the bed barefoot, her nightdress clinging to her skin with sweat she hadn’t felt was there before.
Heat radiated up through the floorboards.
The walls, once pale, were smeared with shadow and flame.
She could hear it now, the fire snarling as it fed, as if it had teeth. Somewhere downstairs, glass shattered.
“Mary Jane!” she cried with a hoarse voice.
There was no answer. She stumbled to the door and yanked it open.
The hallway in front of her was now a tunnel of smoke and firelight.
Embers drifted like dying stars through the haze.
The banister was glowing red in places. The wallpaper peeled in long, curling strips, scorched from the inside out.
Heat slammed into her face like a wall, driving her back a step.
But that didn’t make her quit; she threw an arm across her mouth and ran.
“Weston!” she screamed.
Luckily, the moment his name left her lips, she saw him. He was already on the other side of the hallway, all dirty and soot-streaked. She saw another silhouette against the smoke and flame. Mary Jane was clutched tight in his arms, with her face buried in his shoulder.
“Thank God,” Nora gasped stumbling toward them, feeling her knees nearly buckling. “Thank God you’re—”
“We have to go,” Weston cut in. He was calm in a way that only made the panic tighten in her chest. “Now. The front door’s blocked. We’ll have to take the kitchen.”
Mary Jane sobbed and twisted in his arms. “Are the cows okay?”
“I don’t know, honey,” Weston said with the same calm. “We’ll check once we’re out. Just hold on, okay?”
The little girl nodded and Nora saw her tiny hands wrapping tighter to Weston’s shirt.
They started moving as one. Nora was at his side, her hand brushing Mary Jane’s foot just to feel something real.
The heat was searing and the walls groaned, as windows started cracking from the pressure.
Smoke roared around them like water through a broken dam.
“Stay by my side,” Weston said, turning to Nora. “Breathe through your shirt. Don’t stop for anything.”
Nora nodded, as she tried to still her slamming heart. She didn’t let herself look back. Don’t turn…just keep going…
Suddenly, a deep, splintering crack split the air into half, as if the very bones of the house were breaking. For one awful second, everything went still. Then, the ceiling groaned.
“What was that?” Nora screamed. She looked up and saw the boards bowing, as plaster started raining down in dusty puffs. Somewhere behind them, in the parlor, a timber let out a final, creaking protest… and gave way.
“Watch out!” Weston groaned, pulling her closer to him.
The collapse came all at once. A mass of burning wood, beams, and debris tore through the ceiling like a landslide of fire, crashing down into the hallway they’d just crossed. The heat hit them like a fist. Flames surged, roaring and hungry, reaching for whatever was in its way.
Mary Jane screamed in Weston’s arms.
“I’ve got you!” He tried to steady her as they kept pushing forward.
Nora saw the way he shielded the girl with his body, ducking as sparks and ash rained down around them.
Nora scrambled up; she was coughing hard as her throat burned.
Her chest felt tight and it ached so badly, but she didn’t stop.
“Kitchen door,” Weston barked. “Quick!”
He then took her hand and they started running faster. They plunged into the kitchen, smoke chasing at their heels. Weston crashed his shoulder into the back door, but it wouldn’t budge.
Nora froze. Don’t look back…. However, she didn’t have to turn around to know that the fire was on their way. Come on, open up…
Weston backed up and hit it again with a grunt, as his boots scraped against the soot-slick floor. Still nothing. Flames crackled behind them; they were louder now, closer, spitting sparks like angry bees.
“Come on…” Weston growled through clenched teeth, adjusting Mary Jane higher in his arms. Then, he rammed it one final time with everything he had.
With a loud crack, the door burst open, and a gust of cool night air rushed in like a flood of grace.
Finally, they tumbled out into the yard, into the dark, into safety.
Nora’s bare feet hit the cold dirt. Coughing and gasping, she fell to her knees, clutching her chest. The pain was unbearable. To make it worse, she could hear Mary Jane softly whimpering against Weston’s neck. But they were out, and they were alive.
Weston crouched beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Nora… Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. I’m… I’ll be fine. Just give me a moment.”
As she looked up at him, she saw Mary Jane cautiously lifting her head. “Is the fire going to take away our house?” she cried, rubbing her wet eyes with fingers now black from the smoke.
“No,” Weston said gently, brushing hair from her face. “At least, not yet. But we are all here, together. That’s what matters.”
He’s right. Nora nodded in agreement, then forced herself upright. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she stayed standing.
“We have to go,” Weston said quickly, flicking his eyes toward the back of the yard. “Back field…now!”
Nora felt as if her feet barely touched the ground as she followed Weston ahead of her, with Mary Jane still cradled tight in his arms. Every few steps, she would almost stumble through the smoke-hazed dark.
The fire lit the sky behind her in a flickering, furious way, throwing her shadow long and trembling on the dry grass.
They were heading for the paddock when, suddenly, a figure stepped out of the barn. Nora skidded to a stop. Just like that, her whole body froze. The moonlight caught the glint of steel and she saw a gun, aimed right at them.
“Nash Colter,” she heard Weston’s deep voice.
“It’s a bit odd seeing you outside, in the middle of a night, don’t you think?” Nash asked through a sarcastic smile.
“I knew it was you!” Nora yelled, despite the pain she felt. “I knew it was you who did this!”
“No, darling, it’s you who did this.” Nash’s voice rang clearly across the yard. “You brought this on yourself!”
Weston put Mary Jane down. The girl quickly ran toward her sister, hugging her thighs with both hands. “It’s okay, little bug…” Nora whispered, caressing her tiny head. “It’s all fine…”
Weston stepped forward and placed himself between Nash and the girls.
“Put the gun down, Colter,” he said calmly.
Nash’s broken, ugly laugh filled the distance between them. “And why would I want to do that?” he asked, as his gaze snapped to her. “Tell me, Nora…why?”
The moment Nash looked her directly in the eye, her knees threatened to buckle. Her lungs still burned from the smoke. Mary Jane whimpered behind her now, clinging to her like a frightened kitten.
Nash took a step closer. “You took away what was supposed to be mine, Nora,” he said, his voice cracking. “You ruined me.”
The flames crackled behind them, hungry and wild, spitting embers into the dark like sparks from hell. The heat licked at Nora’s back, but she couldn’t move. She stood still in the yard, her heart hammering like a bird trapped in a box.
Weston took another step forward. “Colter, listen to me,” he said. “You really ought to put that gun down.”
Nash didn’t respond to Weston’s call. His face, twisted by smoke and fury, looked almost inhuman in the firelight. His features were carved in shadow, his eyes catching the blaze like shards of glass.
Nora could feel his rage. It was like a storm tightening around them, deaf to reason, blind to mercy. She held her sister tighter. This wasn’t about land anymore, or pride. It was about her, about the choice she had made.
“You took everything from me,” Nash insisted. The barrel of the pistol swung in her direction. “You humiliated me. You made a fool out of me!”
Nora brought Mary Jane closer to her chest, shielding her instinctively as the fire kept hissing behind them. Nash’s words rang in her ears. Everything in her wanted to run. Yet she couldn’t, not with Mary Jane in her arms, not with Weston standing between them and the barrel of that gun.
The air stank of smoke and burning timber, but all she could smell was the sweat in Mary Jane’s hair, the innocence clinging to her like honeysuckle. Her arms trembled around the child’s small body. If this is the last thing I do, then please, God, protect her…
She forced herself to breathe, swallowing down the scream rising in her throat, then put her sister down and crouched low beside her
“Go, little bug,” she whispered. “Go hide behind the big elm, like we used to do in hide-and-seek. And don’t come out until I call for you, okay?”
At first, Mary Jane’s eyes just kept staring So Nora said it again, more firmly. “Go,” she prompted. “Now.”
The little girl hesitated, then turned and ran barefoot toward the tree line, her nightdress fluttering behind her like a pale flag in the dark.
Nora took one careful step forward. “Nash,” she said. Her throat felt like sandpaper. “This isn’t the way. You can’t—”
“Oh yes, I can,” he cut her off, his grip tight on the pistol.
She stopped, completely out of breath. Mary Jane’s soft cry tore at her heart. “Please,” she whispered. “Not in front of her.”
None of them moved. The fire roared behind them, collapsing part of the roof with a shuddering groan. Smoke rolled across the yard, choking the sky, and still, Nash didn’t blink. His gun stayed raised.
That stare…it’s not even human. It was as if a hollow and merciless creature looked back at her. There was no grief left, no wounded pride, just cold intent that knew no bounds.
“You should’ve picked me, Nora,” he growled, putting his finger on the trigger.
“Nora!” Weston shouted her name.
He moved like a flash. One heartbeat he was behind her, and the next he was in front, throwing himself into the line of fire without hesitation.
“Weston, no!” she cried, trying to reach for him…but in vain.
The gun cracked. The sound tore the night in two, and Nora saw Weston’s body jerking back. The sudden weight of it hit the ground at her feet.
“Weston!” she screamed, dropping to her knees. Blood was already blooming across his chest. It was spreading fast, soaking through the fabric like red ink.
She looked up. Nash was standing still, as if he was made of stone. The pistol was still in his hand, the smoke still curling from the muzzle. She could see the sliver of shock creeping in behind the rage on his face, as if he’d just realized that this time, he had really crossed the line.
Nora couldn’t hold her gaze on him for long. All she could see was Weston. All she could hear was Mary Jane crying, and all she could feel was the fire’s heat burning her face, devouring everything she once called home.