13. Clint
CHAPTER 13
Clint
O nce I wrap up with the latest shipment of horses, I head over to Foster Ranch to help with the alfalfa. Shane texted Landon and me earlier, informing the both of us that we would be supporting Nora and her dad to finish up the hay. While I don’t love the plan, I trust that Shane has a good rationale as to why.
Our argument from earlier is sticking in my throat like a bad batch of whisky.
Shane and Landon are both completely taken with Nora. And, I admit, I know the appeal. Watching both of them fuck her last night? I’ve never seen anything hotter.
It took everything in me to stop myself from pushing both of them out of the way and taking her sweet pussy. The noises that she made when Shane was pumping himself in and out of her… It makes me hard just to think of it. I’ll probably be jacking off to that memory for the rest of my life.
You could make it a reality .
I dismiss the thought. Nora isn’t as important as the ranch or my friends. It’s inevitable that she and her dad are going to run that ranch into the ground, and when they do, we’re going to buy it. Plain and simple.
After that happens, there’s no doubt in my mind that Nora is going to hate us. She’ll stop any of this bullshit, and there won’t be any more sex. Better to just keep myself from being involved than to feel the pain of her leaving us high and dry when she does.
The day is almost done; the hay is baled up and covered so the weather tomorrow doesn’t rot it, and we’re all heading back to the Fosters’ barn when something seems wrong. I’m not sure why, but I move faster, my eyes peeled on the distant spot on the horizon where the barn is.
The wind shifts, and I realize what’s wrong. I smell smoke.
I have Storm saddled today, and I kick him into a gallop. Shane follows on Buce, and Landon and Danger pull out ahead, Danger’s tail streaming like a banner as we race for the barn.
We come up over the rise, and my heart sinks.
The top half of the barn is on fire.
I don’t even wait for Storm to stop running. I jump off of his back, hitting the ground at a half run, and sprint toward the barn. “Call the fire department!” I yell to Landon.
He whips out his phone, dialing. Even if they started now, it would take them a solid half-hour to get here. The best we can do is rescue any of the horses and hope it doesn’t spread to the house or the fields.
I throw the barn door open. Smoke is pouring out, and I take my bandana and tie it over my nose and mouth. I can see flames licking at the roof and at the far side of the barn. To my knowledge, the horses are all on this side, which is good.
There’s still hope.
Inside, the horses are screaming. The mare who is still pregnant, Joan, is nearest. I open her stall, and she clops out, her sides heaving with effort. She looks around, mildly confused. I try to shoo her, but she stomps, swirling this way and that. Poor thing is disoriented.
“Storm!” I yell. I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but the stallion makes a sound, calling out to the horses still screaming in the barn. Ears pricked forward, the mare ambles out, heading straight for the barn door.
The gelding follows, and then when I get to Thunder’s stall, my heart sinks. She’s wide eyed, her head on a swivel as she looks between her two foals .
“Come on!” I shout. “We gotta get both of them out!”
She takes a cautious step, but one of the foals is tucked in the back of the stall, shivering. It’s the smaller one, and I’m guessing that it’s just paralyzed by fear.
“Go!” I yell to the mare. She snorts at me, her ears flicking back.
Fucking mares.
I dash in behind her. She aims a kick at me, but I know she won’t get out of this goddamn barn without her babies. I scoop up the foal and then wince as one of the mare’s hooves lands squarely in my back, right over my kidneys. Pain explodes over me, but I can’t take time to feel it. I run past her, the foal in my arms. “Come on! I have the baby!”
The mare rears up, trotting out, ready to bite me. The other foal follows, and I dash outside, where I set the little foal on the ground. Thunder comes roaring out, her teeth bared, but she’s blocked by Storm, who rears up to keep me from being mauled.
“Holy shit!” Nora calls. “What the fuck?—”
“Grab the horses, try to get them to the pasture over there,” I say, gesturing to the closest paddock. We slowly herd them over there. Landon gets one big bite in from Thunder before we put all the horses, Storm included, inside it.
Nora and her father are staring at the flames as they eat away at their barn. Richard’s eyes are wet, and Nora looks like she’s going to throw up.
As the sirens come up, there’s a cracking sound. I grab Nora, tugging her back, just as the roof caves in. When it does, Nora screams, and I hold onto her as she turns into my shoulder and starts sobbing.
Hours later, the sun has long set. We’re all sitting in the Foster living room. Landon disappeared at some point to pick up barbeque from town, but I don’t think any of us want to eat it.
The horses are fine. We moved them over to our barn, and the vet established that each one, including the little foals, is healthy, if a little freaked out. We’ll have to wash them tomorrow to get the smoke smell off of them, but for now, they’re safe .
I made sure that some of the guys we have working for us know that if something happens to our barn, they won’t just be fired. I’ll fucking kill them.
Finally, Landon returns, distributing barbeque that predictably no one really wants. Minutes later, however, the fire department knocks on the door.
Nora stands, going to grab it before I can stop her.
The man, an older guy named Rhett who introduced himself to us earlier, smiles at her. “Hey, Nora.”
“Hi, Mr. Grayson.”
“Can I come in?”
Nora moves aside, and he walks in, smelling like smoke and ash. He looks like he’s probably the fire department chief, from the insignia. He gives a sharp nod to Richard, who weakly returns it.
I frown. Richard doesn’t look good.
I know that Nora said he was sick, and for the first time, I wonder what that means. Because if he had any kind of lung stuff, being exposed to the fire would…
The fire chief plops something hard onto the living room table. “We found this at the base of the barn, on the far side, where it looks like the fire started.”
All of us rise, crowding in to look at it. It looks like a lighter.
I look up. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, son, that it appears someone might have started this fire on purpose,” the fire chief says.
There’s a stillness in the room.
Richard coughs. “Rhett, you don’t know?—”
“Rich, I’ve been working in fire for nearly thirty years now. You think I don’t know what it looks like when someone starts a fire on purpose?”
“Arson,” Nora says hollowly. “But who would…”
“Is there anyone who would benefit from scaring the two of you off of this farm, Nora?” Rhett says kindly.
My heart feels like it’s going to collapse.
Fuck. As far as I know, we’re the only ones who have expressed any interest in the farm. We’re the only ones who want to buy it, and we’re the only ones who would stand to benefit should they decide to sell the farm.
I wait for Nora’s eyes to jump to us. But they never do.
“No,” she says slowly. “I don’t think so.”
“Well. It could be a random thing. Some drifter coming through who just wanted to start some shit.” Rhett looks around, though, and we all know that seems pretty weak.
Richard coughs, the noise startling all of us.
“Dad?” Nora says, her voice high. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Nora,” he says. “Just feeling a little under the weather.”
Rhett steps forward. “Rich, did you inhale any of that smoke earlier?”
“No, that was mostly Clint here,” he says, waving at me.
I look down. I don’t like to be the center of attention, so all the eyes on me make me feel… uncomfortable.
Richard coughs again, and this time, it sounds bad. Wet and thick, like he’s catching something.
Nora’s eyes dart to Rhett. “Dad, what if Mr. Grayson took you to the hospital tonight?”
“Don’t need that, Nora.”
“Can I talk to you in the other room?” She rises and walks to the kitchen. Her dad follows, somewhat meekly.
None of us move, but I catch flashes of their argument. The words ‘treatment’ and ‘immune system’ are thrown around a couple of times.
I put the pieces together. Judging from this conversation, the sickness that Mr. Foster had was some kind of cancer. Recovering from that is challenging, and even if he’s in remission, that shit can wreck you in a thousand different ways.
They come out of the kitchen.
“Dad has agreed to go to the hospital tonight,” Nora announces to the room.
“On the condition that Nora stays here, and I’m hopeful that my neighbors will, too,” Richard rumbles.
We blink at him.
“Sir?” Landon says.
“Ain’t no need for Nora to sit and wait for me in the hospital. Likely I’ll be there all night, and she needs a good rest,” Richard says stiffly. “So I’d like for her to stay here, but I don’t want her to stay alone.”
I exchange glances with Shane and Landon. “We’ll stay here and watch out for her.”
“The arsonist might come back, too,” warns Rhett. “Sick son-of-a-bitch might be interested to see what happens if he does.”
“Let him,” I growl. I’m fully prepared to take advantage of Montana’s lenient property protection laws, if that’s the case.
Richard studies us, then nods. “It’s done.”
He stands, and I shake his hand. “We’ll guard her with our lives, sir.”
It’s absolutely the truth.
Rhett gives us each one last nod before heading out.
I turn to Nora. She looks… bad. Pale. Shocked. She crumples on the couch, her eyes trained on the lighter on the table.
Landon sits next to her, pulling her in. She leans her head on his shoulder, and the sight makes something in me bristle. I want to be the one helping her. Not him.
“Are you worried about your dad?” Landon murmurs.
Nora shakes her head. “No. Yes, but not really,” she whispers.
“What’s wrong?” Shane rumbles.
With a shaking hand, she extends her fingertip toward the lighter. “Does that have a monogram on it?”
I lean forward and pick it up. The metal is twisted under my fingers, clearly having been burned a little. I rub my thumb along the side, and I feel the smooth line of etching under my finger. “Sure does,” I say, frowning as I look at it.
“And is it an A, a J, and a T?”
I squint. “Yeah. Nora, why?—”
Nora shuts her eyes and shoves her face into her hands. “I know who started the fire.”
“Who?” I demand.
“Those initials stand for Aaron Justin Thomas. He’s my ex,” she whispers. “He came for me here. He must have followed me home from Colorado. I… I think that he’s going to try to kill all of us.”