Chapter 43
Stand By You – Rachel Platten
Cassidy
All I could see from the distance was black, billowing smoke and flames of deep orange and blue whipping up against the inky blue sky.
Each flame that rose sent a shiver of fear through me.
Not just fear but bone wracking horror at the sights and sounds coming from the area of the stables.
From my perch on an old tree stump to avoid being trampled, I watched as horse after horse charged into the paddock.
A couple ran beyond it, but one of the stable hands who was with me told me not to worry.
We were surrounded by thousands of acres of Miller land so they would be safe enough.
Honestly, they were the last of my worries, all I cared about was Gunner, but there was no sign and with each passing minute my anxiety grew tenfold.
It clutched at my throat, strangling me with its icy fingers.
When I heard the sirens of fire trucks I turned my head in the direction of the house to see two engines careering towards us.
Thank God.
Looking back toward the stables I could see that the flames had got higher, the smoke thicker.
As the trucks screeched past me I stopped breathing, every ounce of hope seeping away as a couple more horses ran into the paddock without any men following.
I knew Gunner and I knew he’d be fighting the fire.
Fighting to save his pride and joy, his work and dreams and I was petrified.
Another horse, a straggler, ran in, and I was thankful it was a big enough space to take them all, especially when I saw Songbird protecting Gypsy, her foal, against the fence. We didn’t need a crushed foal or a horse fight to add to the enormity of the chaos and destruction.
When I heard running feet coming my way, a jolt of optimism shot through me. It was Mikey, though, his face and clothes blackened from the smoke and disaster of the night.
“That’s the last of the horses,” he called to the stable hand as he pushed the gate closed. “I’ll look for the others when it gets light.” He turned to me and held out his hand. “Here, let me help you.”
“Gunner?” I asked, ignoring his help and jumping down.
Mikey didn’t answer me with words, but his eyes shifted in the direction of the devastation.
“No,” I gasped as my feet took me on the road to my worst nightmare.
“Miss,” Mikey yelled, his feet pounding behind me. “Cassidy. Miss. Turner, he wanted you to stay safe.”
Ignoring him I carried on, my legs pumping, my lungs screaming at me to take a breath, but I couldn’t not until I found him. My Gunner. My cowboy.
When I reached the stables it was pure bedlam. Men were dousing flames on anything that had caught fire from the sparks, the fire crews were hooking up their hoses to the ranch’s hydrant and Wilder was being held back by a fire fighter as he fought and kicked to get away from him.
My heart stopped like an old clock; its springs uncoiled, making it useless. “Wilder, where is he?”
Wilder whipped around in the fire fighter’s arms and tugged at his hair. “They’re in there, Cassidy and they won’t let me in.”
I looked over his shoulder at the stables to see the roof had partially collapsed and the fire was spreading rapidly. No one was stopping me from going in there. I instantly ran toward the burning building pushing past Wilder who held out an arm to grab me.
“Get her,” someone yelled behind me. “Jack, grab her.”
Whoever Jack was I didn’t give a damn. I had to get to Gunner.
I had to try and save him. The heat was scorching as I got closer and the smoke denser and clogging, the acrid smell of burning wood and something else, something terrible, filled the air, but I didn’t care.
I was almost there when a hand grabbed my arm and jerked me back.
“No way.” A man’s arm came around my waist, clasping me tight against their body.
“I need to find him.”
“Let me go you fucker.” Wilder clearly had the same idea as me.
I continued to fight to get free when I heard Wilder scream out a curse.
Dread snaked itself into my blood making it as cold as ice as I whipped my gaze back to the stable.
I thought I would pass out with relief as Nash and Gunner stumbled out of the cloud, blackened by the smoke, coughing and spluttering as they held onto each other.
Wilder and I ran to them both reaching them at the same time and dragging them into our arms.
“Baby,” I sobbed. “Are you okay?” Gunner bent over, his hands on his knees as he retched and hacked.
I gasped when I saw the palm of his right hand, the skin angry and blistered.
He held it slightly away from his body, a reflex against the pain that must have been excruciating even through the shock and grief.
“You fucking idiots,” Wilder yelled. “How could you?” He had his hand on Nash’s back as he bent at his middle, too. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Ariel.” Gunner sounded like he was sobbing, as I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. “Mom. Ariel.” It wasn’t just Ariel. It was his mom. It was every memory he still held onto like it could keep her close. Losing Ariel must have been like losing the piece of her he could still touch.
He sank to the floor, like his legs couldn’t hold him any longer, like they were made of cooked noodles.
I went down with him, gathering him into my arms as he wept for his lost horse.
For his mom. Over Gunner’s shoulder, I could see Nash was leaning heavily against Wilder, his breathing labored and a nasty gash running across his forehead.
His eyes met mine briefly, filled with pain and something else—guilt, maybe, that they couldn’t save Ariel.
He gave me a small nod before dropping his gaze back to his brother who was quietly sobbing in my arms.
Around us, the ranch hands had fallen quiet, the only sounds were the distant hiss of water on flames and Gunner’s ragged breathing.
Everyone’s expressions were a mixture of shock and solemn respect.
Mikey pulled his hat from his head and held it against his chest, while others averted their eyes from their boss’s rare display of vulnerability.
These men who’d seen Gunner as unshakable were witnessing the depth of what Ariel had meant to him.
I did all I could do and let him cling to me.
I had no idea how long we were there, but someone eventually put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.
“Miss, we need to get him to the hospital. He’s probably inhaled a lot of smoke.”
I turned to see an EMT looking cautiously at Gunner. To my left I saw Wilder move to one side to let another take a look at Nash. When I tried to pull away, Gunner clung tighter to me.
“Baby, you need to let me go. You have to go to the hospital.”
“Ariel,” he whispered, tears tracking through the grime on his face. “I couldn’t save her, Cassidy.”
His normally bright, happy eyes were full of pain and grief, and I felt it in my own bones, wondering if he’d ever fully recover from what he’d lost tonight.
“I know, baby, I know.” I stroked his face, hoping it was giving him some comfort but not sure it was or could.
The EMT gently eased his arm under Gunner’s shoulder.
“Sir, we need to get you up now.” Gunner’s legs trembled as he tried to stand, and I slipped my arm around his waist, feeling him lean into me as if his usual strength had been consumed by the fire along with everything else.
Each step toward the rig seemed to cost him, his body suddenly heavy with exhaustion and grief.
“Go with them,” Wilder said. “I’ll go and talk to Lily and then come back here to check on everything.
” His tone was commanding, no nonsense and not to be questioned, so I nodded and got into the back with Gunner and Nash, desperately clinging onto the hope that Gunner had only lost his beloved horse in all the ruin of the night.
As the rig doors closed behind us, I looked at Gunner’s ash-streaked face and swore silently to myself that whatever came next, the physical recovery, the rebuilding, the grief, I wouldn’t let him face it alone.
Some losses cut deeper than others, and I recognized the wound of this one.
It wasn’t just a horse he’d lost tonight, but a piece of his past, a connection to his mother that could never be replaced.