Nella
I’m still scrambling to get back into my pants when the alarm goes off.
Immediately, I hear movement above me. I assume if anyone slept through Max’s midnight serenade, this high-pitched beeping would’ve penetrated for sure. It’s the kind of noise that puts you on edge if you weren’t already there.
My body is still recovering from that delicious orgasm, but now my heart is racing with the added surge of adrenaline and my mind is already bouncing around like a pinball.
I know Fletch told me to get down behind the couch, but there’s no way I can without at least knowing what is going on. Sticking to the shadows, I inch along the wall toward the hallway.
I’m almost there when I hear footsteps come down the stairs. I poke my head around the corner to see Thomas flipping open the alarm panel by the front door, which is wide open. Beyond him I see a red glow coming from the direction of the barn and I suck in a sharp breath.
“Dad gum it, girl! Y’all scared the livin’ poop outta me,” he complains as he quickly punches in a code.
The sudden silence is as startling as the alarm was, but then I hear a sound that has my entire body break out in goosebumps.
“Is that—” I begin to ask when Thomas steps out on the porch.
“Oh, dear Lord…” the old man mutters as he hurries down the steps as fast as his legs will allow.
I walk outside and the sounds are louder here. The barn is engulfed in flames and what I’m hearing are the frightened squeals of horses.
“Nella, call 911, make sure the fire department is coming fully loaded! And the vet, number is on the tack board in the office,” Alex barks in passing as she sprints past me.
For a moment I’m frozen by the spectacle when suddenly my sister brushes right by me too and heads in the same direction.
“Now, Nella!” she yells.
My legs come unglued and I stumble inside the house to the first door on the left.
I locate the portable phone and almost drop it when it starts ringing.
“Hello?”
“Nella? This is Wayne Ewing, everything all right there?”
I’m guessing he gets some kind of notification when the alarm goes off.
“No. The barn is on fire. Oh, my God…the horses. I have to call the fire department. Fletch and Thomas are out there. And my sister. Oh, Jesus…Pippa.”
My teeth chatter with the violent shakes overtaking my body.
“Nella? Where are you?”
“I’m in the office. I need to call the vet.” A high-pitched whinny can be heard clear as day. “Can you hear the horses? I have to go help.”
I’m already walking out of the office, barely aware of the tears streaming down my face as I listen to Ewing’s calming voice.
“Listen to me. I’m on my way, so is the fire department, and I’ll call the vet. What I need you to do is take the phone and lock yourself into the downstairs bathroom, okay?”
“Okay,” I lie.
No way in hell can I cower inside and listen to this, knowing the people I care most about in this world are out there, doing the right thing.
“Hang in there,” I hear the sheriff say as I step outside.
Fletch
Flames lick down from the hayloft and it’s raining burning embers on my shoulders as I wield the ax at the door.
The fire must’ve started in the tack room. I found the entire front of the barn engulfed and inaccessible. I directed the old man and Alex to the rear barn doors to release the horses from there, but King’s stall is nearer to the side door leading to the manure pile. My horse is cut off from the barn doors on both sides.
I can hear him inside—the terrified sounds he makes, the stuff of nightmares—and I swing the ax again. I keep telling myself as long as I can still hear him, he’s alive. Someone must’ve thrown the heavy-duty latch on the inside and I’ve tried kicking it down without success. When the hole is big enough for me to reach through, I ignore the falling embers burning my skin and I rock the latch back and forth until it finally slides free.
Smoke billows out the moment the door is open, and I quickly pull my shirt over the bottom half of my face. Visibility is zero and it’s only by feel and memory I find the latch to King’s stall, but nothing happens when I throw open the door. I’m not thinking of my own safety when I reach a hand in front of me and step into the pen. Some of the straw in the stall is smoldering which is likely why he’s cowering against the far wall.
“Let’s go, King,” I rasp against the thick smoke. “Come on, boy.”
My fingers encounter quivering flesh and a hot puff of air. His nose. Instinctively my hand grabs onto his halter and he follows me without hesitation.
It’s an amazing bond between horse and man, one built solely on mutual trust. I know I can close my eyes and trust King to navigate me down the steepest cliffs, just as he trusts me to lead him from danger, even if what I’m asking of him is against every instinct he has.
I lead King away from the barn and straight to the corral, where a small group—Thomas, Pippa, and Alex—is keeping the other horses calm. Six of them in total. King is almost vibrating beside me when Alex, who is ready with the hose, douses both my horse and me before aiming it back at the others.
Smart of her to focus on the horses instead of the barn. It would’ve been a futile attempt, I’m afraid. The hay became fuel to the fire and before I even got outside, it had spread along the entire length of the loft. I can hear sirens coming closer but I don’t think the fire department is going to do much more than make sure the fire doesn’t jump.
I glance around at the horses to gauge their injuries but it’s difficult to tell, even though someone thought to flick on the floodlight next to the corral.
“We sure this is all of them?” I ask.
“Yup.”
This from Thomas. Pippa is standing beside him and looks to have a very nervous Missy in hand.
“Don’t start with me,” Nella’s sister snaps when she catches me looking. “I wasn’t going to sit around.”
No, I imagine she wasn’t, then again, I didn’t expect her sister to either. Or Dan, for that matter. My gaze automatically goes to the house where I see the sheriff’s cruiser parked. There is no sign of him though, which seems odd. The front door is wide open and an icy sliver of unease makes my breath catch in my throat.
I let go of King and start walking to the gate, my eyes never leaving the porch.
“What’s wrong?” Thomas is the first to ask.
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully.
Two fire engines are coming up the driveway, and I wave them over to the barn. Then I continue toward the house, taking the porch steps two at a time. I’m about to walk in when Ewing appears at the end of the hallway, an inscrutable expression on his face.
When you’ve been in the field for decades, body language becomes an almost more effective mode of communication than words. And the sheriff’s body language is conveying nothing good.
Something is horribly wrong.
“Nella?”
I can barely get her name out, still have her fucking taste on my lips.
“Was talking to her as I was pulling onto the highway. Found the phone lying on the porch when I got here. I can’t find her, Boone.”
Storming through the house like a man possessed, I throw open doors, check behind and under furniture, and call her name in hopes perhaps she did as I asked and hid. Nothing. She’s not here.
I fucking left her here. Ran out like an idiot to rescue a bunch of horses and a goddamn barn, and left the woman I was supposed to protect alone.
A frustrated howl rips from my chest as I grab my head with both hands and bend over.
Life can’t be this cruel.
“Where the hell is my sister?”
Pippa barrels through the door and stops in front of me, planting her hands on her hips. She juts her chin defiantly, despite the abject fear on her face.
“I’ll find her,” I promise.
“What happened?” she demands to know.
“I think I know.”
A woman’s voice I can’t immediately place comes from behind Pippa, who instantly steps aside.
“Gemma, what are you doing here?” I rush to the frail woman’s side.
Gemma is Dan’s mother, who has advanced metastatic colorectal cancer. Gemma and Dan moved into one of the cabins before the summer, when Jonas discovered the farmhand was struggling to look after his mother while also maintaining an income they could live off.
“Dan went after them.”
“Who is them?” Ewing inquires.
“I never saw them, but he said there were two men and a woman. Dan was on his way to help at the barn when he spotted them.” Then Gemma turns to me. “I’m sorry. He told me to call the house and I tried but no one answered, so I walked here instead.”
She sways on her feet and I slip a careful arm around her. The woman is so slight, I’m afraid I’ll break her.
“Do you know where they went?” the sheriff pushes.
“My boy thought they might be heading for the old logging road along the river.”
That road is more like a trail by now. It would be fastest to get to on horseback. Otherwise, we’d have to drive out to the highway, head south for half a mile and hit that overgrown cutoff right before the bridge. Problem is, the only tack that didn’t perish in the fire is mine. It’s still out there on the porch. I can’t take King, he’s injured, but maybe one of the other horses is in better shape.
“Look after her,” I instruct Pippa, handing Gemma to her before I tear out of the house.
“Hold up,” Ewing says when I collect my saddle and bridle and make my way down the steps. “Where are you headin’?”
“Logging road. It’s a good fifteen, twenty-minute walk if they cut straight through the woods. I may be able to catch them on horseback, but my guess is they’ll have a vehicle waiting. If you access the road from the highway, we may be able to block them in.”
I’m already rushing down the steps when his next words stop me in my tracks.
“We may be too late either way.”
He’s not wrong, it’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed my mind that whatever they intended to do to Nella was already done. In all the chaos here, a gunshot could’ve gone undetected. But I’m not ready to consider that possibility. Not yet.
“We’re gonna find her,” I insist, just as Pippa comes bounding down the porch stairs.
“I’m coming,” she announces.
“Like hell you are,” Ewing counters.
I don’t have time for this shit.
With long strides I make my way over to the corral and snatch Buttercup. She’s an old biddy, but still has some fire in the tank and pretty much unflappable. While I quickly saddle her, I fill in Alex and Thomas and let them know Gemma is up at the house by herself.
Then I swing onto the mare and dig my heels in.
The sheriff’s cruiser is just pulling out as I head around to the other side of the house. I’m not surprised when I get a glimpse of Pippa in the passenger seat. The Freling women are not easily deterred.
I guide Buttercup past my cabin and into the woods. It’s dark, especially under the tree cover, but every so often the moon will peek out, giving me a bit more visibility. I wish I had my night-vision gear but I don’t, nor do I have my compass. I’m going purely on gut here, and I hope to God it steers me right. Normally I’d be looking for tracks, signs someone passed through, but that’s not an option now. Speed is imperative or they will get away, and my instinct is all I’ve got.
Every now and then I stop Buttercup, long enough to listen for any sounds of movement. I’d imagine three people stumbling through the woods in the middle of the night would make some noise.
Through the trees I can see an occasional silver ripple—a reflection of moonlight—and I know I’m getting close to the river. The growth is less dense. I pull back on the reins so I can dismount and walk the rest of the way. Buttercup makes too much noise and I don’t want them to hear me coming.
I’ve walked maybe twenty feet when a hand shoots out from behind a tree, clamping on to my arm.
“Fletch…”