48
“T he horses?” Charlie shouts as he and Wyatt run out of the house. They sprint across gravel and grass, and I’m right behind them, rushing to keep up in my bare feet. My legs are numb and wobbly but my stride is fast.
“Ford and Davis are there now, trying to get ‘em out.” In his panic, Wyatt trips, and Charlie grabs his brother’s arm to keep him from face planting. “We got the fire department on the way.”
“Lightning?” Charlie asks.
“Not lightning. Someone started it. The door’s nailed shut. The horses are trapped.”
Wyatt’s words chill my blood.
A dark curse blasts from Charlie’s mouth.
My entire body trembles as I race after Charlie. Smoke coats my nostrils and floods the dusky sky.
The horses. Please let them be okay.
Horrified, we all skid to a stop in front of the barn. The fire’s small, the light rain dousing most of the flames, but it creeps with a low blaze, spreading slowly. Flame licks up the wood and over the front door.
My hands fly to my mouth. “No, oh no.”
Some of the horses have already smashed through, kicking down the stall doors to escape the flame and smoke. Wild eyes, nostrils flaring, they race across the pasture. Ford and Davis swing the axes in their hands, smashing holes in the wall to evacuate the rest of the trapped horses.
Terror floods my body.
Charlie grabs my arms, pushing me back, away from the blaze. “Stay here,” he shouts, fear on his face.
I fight against him. “No. I can help. They’re our horses. This is our ranch, Charlie.”
He kisses me hard. His eyes molten, frantic. “Use the rope. Lead ‘em to the pasture. Tie ‘em up so they don’t run back into the barn.” Chest heaving, he levels a big finger at me. “That’s your fucking job, Ruby. Nothing else.”
And then he and Wyatt rush off to help their brothers.
I snap into action.
Heart thumping in my chest, I grab a length of lead rope from the pasture fence.
I work fast like Charlie showed me, looping the rope around the necks of the free horses and walking them calmly to a fence post where I tie them up.
I round up Arrow and Pepita and Eephus. I don’t see Winslow or the demon horse that Wyatt broke over the summer.
I count seven horses, which means there are eight still trapped.
The tight knot in my stomach turns into a gaping hole. My hands shake. I feel so helpless. Everything’s commotion as the crackle of fire snaps in the evening air. Davis, Ford, and Wyatt work together, smashing wood, tearing down the front of the barn.
I do a fast sweep of the ranch, looking for Charlie. I don’t find him. Ice freezes my bloodstream.
Oh god. Where is he? I squeeze my eyes shut, praying he didn’t run into the barn.
That’s when I hear a familiar, terrified whinny.
My head whips around.
Winslow.
He’s trying to kick his way through the back of the barn, a section of hallway not yet engulfed in flames.
Rage has me running.
I can help. I can do something.
Spying one of the small axes used during the campfire dinner stuck in the woodpile, I grab it up. I edge closer to the burning barn. The flames sear, and I hiss out a breath. But I steel my shoulders and hammer away at a small hole Winslow’s already kicked in the side.
The small hole becomes bigger.
Biggest.
My muscles burn, and I cough, choking as the smoke engulfs my lungs, nostrils, and eyes.
I drop the axe.
This time, I use my hands, tearing at the already broken sections of barn wood. My pulse pounds in my ears and my vision pinpricks. I ignore the pain in my fingertips. My chest.
My body tells me to stop. My heart tells me to keep going.
Shouts carry across the pasture—maybe Wyatt, maybe Ford—but I keep my focus on the task in front of me.
The tips of my fingers are bleeding and blackened, but all I can think about is getting the horses out. I wrap my hands around a huge chunk of wood, and bracing one foot on the barn, I pull.
The wood gives.
I tear it away, big enough for a body.
A scream of victory rips out of me when Winslow lurches out like he’s been waiting for me all his life. He comes to my side.
“Good boy,” I sob, stroking him on his withers.
Dizzy, I manage to walk him to the pasture. I tie him up with the other horses and listen for sirens, but there are none.
That’s when I double over into a violent coughing fit. The smoke curls deep into my lungs like gnarled fingers taking root. Panicked, I take large gulps of air. It feels like I can’t get enough oxygen, like my heart is starving.
There’s a clap of thunder and the skies unleash. Rain pours down in earnest.
The rain.
It’ll save us.
Gasping, I straighten up and stand in the darkness, shivering, smoke swirling around me, staring at the ranch that saved my soul this summer. The ranch Charlie and his brothers love. The land that let me live.
Wyatt watches, wide-eyed, hands on his head, as the rest of the barn burns. An insane rush of relief hits me when I spy Charlie, dirty but unharmed, loping out from behind the burning barn.
Blinking back tears, I take a step toward him, but the world spins.
“Oh,” I whisper, licking my dry lips. “Oh, no.”
My entire body thumps. Pulse points. Chest. Temples.
A low-frequency throb fills my ears. Blackness creeps around the edge of my vision.
That’s when I see my mother standing in the pasture.
Mom.
She reaches toward me, one graceful hand outstretched toward my heart. I can hear her whispering to me. Come, come with me . I want to run. I want to scream no . But all I can do is feel my heart race.
This isn’t just a flutter.
This feels different.
Suddenly, I’m so very scared.
I shake my head and turn away, trying harder to breathe, to think a clear thought, to find a way away from my mother’s sight. I grab the tall fence post for balance and gasp for air.
Help. I need to tell someone I need help.
Once again, my vision blurs as I search for Charlie in the smoke.
My cowboy.
The minute my eyes land on him, a sense of calm fills my soul.
Beating or still, my heart belongs to Charlie.
I look up at the stars and inhale one last breath.