Chapter 28 Reid
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Reid
The ranch feels different today. A bit off. Maybe it’s the way the sky’s hanging on to that gray, overcast weight.
Or maybe it’s just me trying to focus on anything other than what happened last night.
Because I don’t know if Clint and Sawyer are ready to discuss it yet. Much as I’m desperate to get it all off my chest.
Clint’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Fire?” I stare at Clint in shock. “Did you just say fire?”
“Call the fire department.”
Shit.
I pull out my phone, hands shaky as I run after Clint along the edge of the north pasture, my boots pounding against the earth in a race to beat my heart.
I can barely see the damn numbers through the panic setting in. I press the call button anyway.
“Yeah, it’s Reid Stone,” I say quickly. “We’ve got a barn fire at High Ridge Ranch. It’s bad. Get here now.”
The dispatcher reassures me they’re on their way, but I don’t trust anything right now.
The smoke hits me before we even reach the barn, and when it does, my lungs tighten with a mix of fear and frustration.
The once-proud red barn—hell, the heart of the place—has flames licking around the bottom of it. The stench of burning wood and hay stabs into my nose, and I’m already thinking of everything in there that’s going to be lost.
I don’t even register the heat at first. My mind’s already screaming at me about the damage, about how we’re already stretched too thin to deal with this shit.
“Who the hell would do something like this?” Clint breaks into my thoughts as he pushes through the gate to the barn, his movements sharp.
I catch up to him, wiping the sweat that’s forming on my forehead. “This is bad, Clint.”
“We need to get the horses somewhere safe.”
My brain goes into overdrive as I scan the area. The flames are climbing higher, curling around the wood like a beast coming to devour everything we’ve worked for.
We need to get the horses out, yes, but there’s no way to do that without getting too close to the fire. It’s spreading too fast.
“Clint, hold up!” I grab his arm, stopping him.
He looks at me, eyes blazing bright as the fire itself.
“We don’t have time for this!” He’s furious, trembling from the strain.
“We can’t just rush in there!” I yell back, the heat getting unbearable now. “We need a plan. We need to—”
Then I hear it. The crack of wood splitting.
“Shit!” I shout, my heart leaping into my throat.
I yank Clint back as part of the wall collapses in a burst of embers and dust.
We stagger back, both of us gasping as we watch the flames consume the building. The barn’s going to go up entirely soon.
Sawyer’s already on his way over, his face pale as he takes in the sight. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches, a grim kind of understanding in his eyes.
The flames roar loud as a wild animal, twisting and snapping. I hear the cracking and popping of wood as the barn burns, the smell of smoke heavy around us, searing my throat.
It’s a damn nightmare unfolding in real time, and I can’t help but think that this might be the beginning of something worse.
Sawyer’s face is pale, his eyes locked on the inferno, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a quiet urgency.
“We’re not gonna be able to save it,” he mutters, his voice lost in the crackling of the flames. “No way we can fight this ourselves.”
I don’t argue with him. He’s right. The ranch hands are already scrambling with shovels and water barrels, fighting a battle we’re clearly losing.
Clint’s already moving again, pushing through the smoke, heading for the barn’s back door.
“Clint, wait!” I shout. But he’s not listening. He’s too far gone.
I grab his arm, stopping him before he runs headfirst into the inferno. “You don’t have a plan, man. You can’t just rush in there—”
“Then what the hell am I supposed to do, Reid?”
I nod. We don’t waste any more time with words.
The horses are skittish, their instincts picking up on the danger. I can hear them whinnying in panic, some of them pacing in tight circles, others standing frozen, eyes wide with fear.
We need to calm them down, get them moving, but the smoke’s thick now, and it’s hard to see anything clearly.
I run to the nearest stall, trying to move fast, my hands reaching for the first horse I can get to. A big bay gelding, already pawing at the ground nervously.
I throw a quick glance over my shoulder. Sawyer’s at the next stall, working to get one of the mares out.
“Come on, boy,” I mutter under my breath, sliding the halter on the gelding and leading him out of the stall.
The animal resists at first, but I’m not about to let it freeze in panic. I move quickly, gently pulling the horse forward, guiding him toward the safety of the back pasture.
The smoke burns my eyes, and I can barely see through the haze, but we have to move.
Clint is already heading out with one, but Sawyer is still wrestling with the mare, her hooves kicking out in fear. He’s doing everything he can, but there’s no time to waste.
“We need to go faster!” I shout.
The heat is too much, but Sawyer’s not backing down. He finally gets the mare under control, leading her toward the pasture as the smoke thickens.
We’ve got three horses out now, but I know we’re pushing it. The barn’s starting to fall apart. Pieces of timber are breaking off, falling to the ground in flaming heaps.
We move faster, and before the barn can give in completely, we’re dragging out the last horses.
Then I hear it. The unmistakable sound of sirens wailing in the distance. I let out a breath. They’re finally here.
I shout to Sawyer, “Fire trucks are here!”
He doesn’t respond, but I see the subtle shift in his posture, the smallest relief in his shoulders. He’s still worried. Hell, we all are.
The barn’s not going to survive this. But at least now we’ve got backup.
By the time the fire trucks pull up, the smoke is so thick I can barely see them. The firefighters jump out of their rigs, already in their gear, moving with purpose. The first one heads straight for us, looking around to get a quick read on the situation.
“You guys need to clear out!” he yells over the noise of the fire. “We’ll handle it from here!”
Clint doesn’t argue, but I can see the frustration in his eyes. He wants to stay, to make sure they don’t screw it up, but there’s no fighting the professionals. We’ve done what we can.
I lead the horses to the farthest corner of the pasture, trying to keep them calm, but the tension is intense. The fire’s still raging, and I can see it tearing through the remaining structure of the barn, inch by inch.
There’s nothing left to save.
“They’ll take care of it,” I say, trying to calm him down.
Clint doesn’t respond. His eyes are still locked on the fire. His fists are balled so tight, his knuckles white, he’s trying to hold the whole damn ranch together with sheer force of will.
And then he does the one thing I didn’t expect. He turns, his boots thudding on the dirt as he marches to his truck.
“Clint?” I shout after him, but he’s not slowing down.
“I’m getting a surveillance system,” he snaps. “Cameras everywhere. I want eyes on every damn corner of this ranch. Whoever’s doing this is gonna regret it.”
I freeze. We’re barely holding on as it is. The ranch is a business, and we’re stretched thin, especially with the repairs we’re already making. And now this.
A system like that wouldn’t come cheap. Not even close.
Sawyer looks at me, his brows furrowed. “I guess he’s right. It’s time to put an end to this.”
I glance back at Clint, his truck already pulling out of the driveway, heading toward town.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I let out a frustrated sigh, my breath turning into steam in the cold air. “We can’t just wait for someone to finish the job. We need answers, and we need them now.”
Sawyer’s gaze is fixed on the inferno. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. The only thing betraying the turmoil inside him is the way his fists are clenched at his sides.
“Sawyer,” I say quietly, walking up beside him, “there’s nothing more we can do.”
He doesn’t look at me, but I can tell he’s hearing me. He nods, just a slight movement of his head, and then turns toward the fire department.
This shit needs to stop. And it needs to stop today.