Chapter 21
The moment Jonas said smoke, Martha was already moving.
She snatched up the basket of drawing supplies, tucking it beneath one arm as she hurried toward the road. The faint gray haze had become unmistakable now, rising beyond the trees in a thickening column.
“The inn.”
Jonas was beside her before she finished the words.
They broke into a run.
Martha's boots struck hard against the frozen ground, her breath tearing from her lungs as she rounded the last bend. Then she saw it.
Fire climbed the side of the stable.
Flames pushed through the roof, bright against the pale afternoon sky, while smoke rolled across the yard. Horses screamed inside, their cries sharp and frantic.
“Oh, God.”
Martha dropped the basket.
“Help!” she screamed, already running. “Somebody help!”
She reached the yard and stumbled toward the stable door.
“Percy!”
Jonas caught up behind her, his stride uneven.
“Martha, wait—”
“Percy!”
She shoved the door open.
Heat struck her face.
The stable was filled with smoke, thick enough that she could barely see across the aisle. Horses kicked against their stalls, eyes rolling white as they fought against the terror around them.
“Percy!”
A cough came from somewhere near the back.
Martha's heart stopped.
“Percy!”
She threw herself inside, Jonas at her side as they pushed forward.
“There!”
Jonas pointed through the smoke.
Percy was crouched beside one of the stalls, his arm over his mouth.
“Get out!” Martha shouted. “Now!”
“I can't—”
“Go!”
She reached him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward the door. Percy stumbled after her, coughing violently.
“Outside,” she ordered. “Run to Eliza.”
“But the horses—”
“I'll get them.”
Jonas reached them as they emerged into clearer air. “I'll take him.”
Martha shoved Percy toward him. “Get him away from here.”
Jonas caught the boy by the shoulders. “Come on.”
Percy hesitated. “Martha—”
“Go!”
This time he obeyed.
Martha turned back.
From inside, a horse screamed in pain and fear, the sound lost in the crack of the wood around them, the roar of the violent flames.
She ran inside again.
“Easy,” she called, though her own voice shook. “Easy. I've got you.”
The first stall door was already shaking beneath the horse's frantic weight. Martha threw the latch open and stepped aside as the animal bolted past her.
“Go!”
Another horse kicked against its stall.
Martha worked the latch with trembling fingers.
“Come on.”
The door flew open.
The horse surged forward, nearly knocking her down. She caught herself against the stall and watched it race toward the entrance.
Jonas appeared through the smoke. “Percy is safe. We can get the horses out together.”
Neither of them waited for an answer.
Jonas moved down the opposite side of the stable while Martha worked her way through the stalls. The smoke grew thicker by the minute, and pieces of burning wood began dropping from above.
“Three more!” Jonas called.
“I have them!”
Martha reached the next stall and fought with the latch. The horse inside was trembling so hard that the boards rattled beneath its hooves.
“It's all right,” she whispered. “Come on.”
The latch gave.
The horse shot past her.
Martha turned toward the next stall.
Jonas was already there, opening another stall door.
“Go!”
They worked together, opening doors, driving the horses toward the entrance. The animals rushed past them in a terrified stream, hooves striking the floorboards as they fled into the open.
Then something cracked overhead.
Jonas looked up.
“Martha!”
She turned.
A heavy beam broke loose and fell down right toward her.
She threw herself sideways, but not quickly enough.
The end of it struck her across the back and knocked her to the floor.
Pain exploded through her.
For a moment she couldn't breathe.
Then she felt heat at her skirt.
Fire.
Martha rolled onto her back and slapped at the flames climbing the fabric. Smoke filled her lungs as she fought to smother it.
“Martha!”
Jonas was coming toward her.
“Go!” she gasped.
He ignored her.
The beam shifted above them.
Jonas reached her, grabbed her beneath the shoulders, and hauled her upright. Martha tried to stand, but her legs gave beneath her.
“I can walk.”
“No.”
He bent and lifted her.
Martha wrapped one arm around his shoulders as he carried her toward the door.
“Jonas, your leg—”
“Not now.”
Another section of the roof groaned.
Jonas moved faster.
They stumbled into the open just as part of the roof collapsed behind them.
Cold air struck Martha's face.
She sucked in a breath and began coughing.
Jonas lowered her carefully onto the ground, keeping one hand behind her shoulders until he was certain she could sit upright.
“Martha?”
She nodded, though she could barely catch her breath.
Around them, Willow Crossing had come running.
Men carried buckets from the well. Others formed a line between the water source and the burning stable. The fire had spread quickly, but with so many hands working against it, the flames were finally beginning to weaken.
Eliza stood near the stable with a bucket in her hands.
Reuben was beside her.
They worked shoulder to shoulder, passing buckets down the line. At one point, Eliza reached for the next one at the same moment Reuben did. Their hands brushed and they both flushed, looking away quickly.
Neither seemed to notice anyone else.
Martha looked away.
She pressed a hand against her chest, trying to force her breathing to slow.
The stable was burning.
She couldn't afford to rebuild it.
The thought struck with such force that she almost laughed.
Of course this would happen now.
She had allowed herself one afternoon beside the river. One afternoon where she had forgotten the inn, forgotten the broken boards and debts and everything waiting for her when she returned.
She had sat beside Jonas and drawn him.
She had listened to him speak about his brothers and his dreams.
For a little while, she had let herself imagine that perhaps there could be something beyond simply surviving.
Now she watched the stable collapse. Into a final dust of dying smoke.
Eliza hurried toward her, tossing aside her bucket now that the fire was out, Reuben close behind.
“Martha!”
“I’m all right.”
Eliza crouched beside her. “Are you hurt?”
“My back.”
Jonas knelt on Martha's other side, he could see a bruise climbing up her shoulder from the collar of her dress.
“She's got a burn on her dress,” he said. “We need to make sure she isn't burned badly.”
“I’m fine,” Martha insisted.
Eliza reached for her arm.
“You don't look fine.”
Martha looked toward the two of them.
Reuben's hand rested near Eliza's as they stood close together. Their fingers brushed again, and this time Martha saw it clearly.
Eliza looked at him.
He looked at her.
Something in Martha's chest tightened.
Just when she thought happiness might be possible, reality found a way to remind her that it wasn't meant for her.
Not after everything.
Not after all the things she had done.
She had no right to sit beside a river and dream about a future when the past was always waiting to collect its debt.
“Martha?”
Eliza's voice sounded far away, the world fading in and out, as Martha fought to stand, her back screaming in pain.
Jonas reached for her, but she stepped away.
She looked toward the inn.
And finally saw it.
The stable wasn't the worst of it.
One entire wall of the inn was gone.
The roof had collapsed across part of the building, sending a cloud of smoke and dust into the air. Broken timber littered the yard. Windows had shattered. The place that had been her home stood wounded and open to the sky.
Martha stared.
Everything she had built was coming apart.
The inn.
Her work.
Her home.
Her life.
She couldn't stay there and watch it happen.
She couldn't let Jonas see her break.
She couldn't let Eliza try to put her back together.
Martha turned.
“Martha!” Jonas called.
She took a step toward the inn, and then stopped, facing away. She couldn’t look at it, she couldn’t be here another moment.
She ran.
She didn't know where she was going.
She only knew she had to get away before anyone could stop her.