“Afternoon, Tom.”
Meggy’s belly gave a sickening lurch at the sound of the man’s voice.
“Price,” Tom acknowledged. “I thought you left camp with the rest of the crew.”
“That’s what I wanted you to think. Ain’t been easy breathin’ smoke and cinders, waitin’ on ya all this time.”
“Guess not,” Tom responded in a level tone. “Care to tell me why you did?”
As he spoke, he lowered his left hand to his thigh, as if resting the fingers holding the reins. Out of the corner of her eye, Meggy watched those fingers edge toward the blanket covering the birdcage that hung off the cantle. She jostled her mare to distract Price’s attention.
“Nah. Don’t believe I do, Tom. Makes no never-mind, now that I’ve got the upper hand.”
Tom nodded. “Miss Hampton’s got no part in our quarrel, Verg. And my back’s beginning to feel a mite warm with the flames moving toward us like they are. How about letting her ride on ahead?”
She grasped instantly what he was trying to do—get her out of the line of fire. She also saw the blanket start to slide off the slatted cage. One black wing became visible.
“Tom,” she said under her breath.
He didn’t move, but she knew he was listening.
“You funnin’ me, Colonel? After all the work I gone to, why would I let the lady go?”
“Move left,” Tom intoned. “Now look, Verg. Miss Hampton’s been in the saddle all day. She’s so tuckered she can hardly control her horse.”
He poked his stirrup into her mare’s side. “Whoa there, Nancy.”
Meggy sidestepped her horse to the left, watched with satisfaction as Vergil Price’s gaze followed her, then flicked back and forth between the two of them. Good. He was distracted.
“On second thought, mebbe you’re right, Tom.” Price dragged his shirtsleeve over his eyes and coughed. “Dang smoke’s gettin’ so thick a body can hardly breathe. Mebbe Miss Meggy’d like to come on over here and keep me company?”
“Sure she would, Verg. Keep the smoke from blowing in her face. Go,” he whispered to her.
“That is very chivalrous of you, Mr. Price.” Meggy kept talking as the horse moved under her. “What with all the debris in the air, it is most frightfully difficult to take a breath. Perhaps you would have some advice to offer?”
She stepped the mare past Price’s thin figure, then turned to face Tom. The merest shadow of a smile played about his mouth.
She chattered on. “It is much better facing this direction, Mr. Price. Though why that should be I cannot imagine, since the flames are now shooting high above the tops of those trees. Why, just look at that!”
At that instant, the raven flapped its wings and croaked. “Wake-up-wake-up. Colonel-wake-up.”
Price’s gun arm jerked. Tom spurred his horse straight toward him.
The shot went wild. Price swore, re-aimed the revolver just as Tom pulled up less than a yard away.
“Oughta finish you off for that,” Price growled. “Might as well do it now as later, seein’ as how I’m gonna need your horse to get down this mountain. Me an’ Miss Meggy, that is.”
“No!” Meggy snapped. “I am not moving a single step.”
Price’s thin, graying eyebrows rose. “Have to kill you both, I reckon. Never shot no lady before, but there’s allus a first time. Never set no timber on fire before, neither.”
Meggy caught her breath.
“You sure you got two bullets left?” Tom’s cool tone gave her a moment to rally her wits.
“Yup. Loaded it myself not three hours ago. You dismount now, Miss Meggy, and give over your horse.”
Meggy grabbed her carpetbag and slid off the mare.
Tom grinned. “Better get at it, then, Verg. Air’s so scratchy there’s not much pleasure to inhaling.” He urged his horse a step closer, forcing Price to angle his gun arm upward.
“My heart’s right here, under my pocket flap.” He tossed Meggy a quick look as he touched his left forefinger to the flannel.
Price goggled at him. “You invitin’ me to shoot you?”
“Why not?” Tom drawled. “You got Miss Hampton’s horse, and pretty soon you’ll have mine, too. Not much to live for now, is there?” He looked steadily at a point just beyond Meggy’s shoulder. “Go on, Verg, while you’ve got the chance.”
Meggy heard the hammer click.
Price closed his mouth. “Now it comes down to it, Tom, I’m kinda sorry.” He squinted one eye and sighted down the barrel. Then his eyes went wide as a cold steel shaft nudged the back of his neck. “What the—”
“Please, Mr. Price, do lower your weapon. And quickly, as my hand is not used to such a weighty instrument and I fear my trembling may dislodge the trig—”
Price tossed the revolver onto the ground in front of him. Just as Meggy bent to pick it up, the wiry logger lunged for her mare, clambered awkwardly into the saddle and jabbed his boot heels into the horse’s flanks. Stunned, Meggy heard the animal crash through the underbrush.
Tom leaned down and closed his good hand around her elbow. “Fire’s heading straight for us. We’ve got one horse and one chance. Let’s—”
The thunderous snap of an exploding jack pine obliterated his final words.
The sky glowed red through the haze of smoke and cinders. Meggy tightened her arms about Tom’s waist, trying not to jostle his injured shoulder. His right arm hung useless at his side; his left hand gripped the reins, guiding the skittish horse along a trail that was now barely discernible in the thickening air. She knew for certain they were traveling downhill, but beyond that she had no idea where they were. She could no longer see the river, nor could she hear the murmur of the water over the noise of the fire.
Red-hot sparks rained down on them. Where they landed in the dry forest duff, spurts of flame shot up into their path, and the nervous horse danced sideways.
“Whoa, boy. Easy now.” Tom’s voice rumbled against her cheek, which was pressed against the back of his smoke-scented flannel shirt. The raven’s cage swung against her knee, the bird hopping about in a frenzy, beating its wings against the slats.
On Tom’s orders, Meggy had dipped the discarded blanket in the river, then ripped it in two. Tom had covered his head and face with one half and had ordered her to do the same. Even so, only occasionally could she stand to suck in the acrid air. She tried holding her breath until the need to exhale was overpowering.
Her skirt was dotted with tiny holes where sparks had burned through the fabric.
“You all right?” Tom called over his shoulder.
“Y-yes. Hard to breathe.”
“Try to keep your head down. It’s going to get worse.”
“How much farther?”
He didn’t answer right away. “Don’t know for sure,” he said at last. “The fire is catching up to us. We’ll have to run for it.”
He kicked the horse into a canter. A copse of vine maples and huckleberry crackled into flame ahead of them, and the frightened animal stumbled off to one side. Tom yelled something.
Meggy shut her burning eyes against the heat and tried to bottle up the scream that clawed at her throat.
“Hold on.” Tom shouted the words as he kicked the balky horse into a gallop. Her chin glanced off his backbone with the unexpected jouncing. Dear Lord, his arm.
She knew it must be broken. Every motion must cause unbearable pain. She bit down hard on her tongue to keep her stomach from heaving.
A tree snapped to her left. She opened her eyes to see a shower of sparks erupt from a blazing bush, singeing the low branches near the trail. Gold-edged embers swirled so close she could see the wind fan the glowing tips into a new burst of flame. Her throat closed.
The fire was overtaking them. They weren’t going to make it.
Tom turned his head. “Meggy!”
She thought her heart would fly out of her chest. “Yes, Tom?” She had to shout over the whoosh and crackle of the flames.
“We’re going to have to gamble.”
“I know,” she shouted back. Her voice sounded as if it came from somewhere outside herself. A lady never raises her voice.
The thought was so incongruous in the situation that a little raspy laugh floated out of her mouth.
A lady never rucks up her skirt, either.
A lady never lies in a man’s arms, wishing daylight would never come. A lady never—
“Hang on! We’re going into the river.”
The horse sailed over a lichen-covered log and headed down a steep incline, its hooves scrabbling for purchase on the muddy bank. The birdcage flopped and banged against her knee while the raven inside squawked unintelligible syllables.
Then icy water rose over her shoes and soaked the torn hem of her dress. The next thing she knew the horse was swimming.
“See any logs coming downriver?” Tom yelled.
Meggy strained her eyes upstream, searching for a sign of floating timber. “None yet.”
“Good. Don’t want them on top of us.” He rolled to his left, slid out of the saddle and into the river. Meggy grabbed the birdcage, holding it up to keep it dry as the wheezing horse slowed its strokes. Tom reached for her burden, held it aloft with his good arm while she let herself slip off the horse’s rear end.
For a few moments, her gathered skirt and one remaining petticoat buoyed her up, then the sodden material collapsed around her. The next thing she knew, water was lapping under her jaw.
“Are we going to drown?”
“Might not. More than likely get scorched to death. The way the wind’s driving that fire, in a few more minutes it’ll jump the river.”
“We are going to die, then.”
For some unfathomable reason she felt perfectly calm. The words she uttered sounded so matter-of-fact, so absurd considering the fix they were in, Meggy wondered if she was losing her mind. People did sometimes, when faced with the unthinkable. Perhaps it is the Lord’s way of helping us to meet our end.
“Hold on to this,” Tom ordered. He thrust the cage into her arms and reached for the horse’s bridle.
“Whoa. Easy, boy.” He fumbled underwater, then dragged the saddle free. Relieved of the weight, the horse plunged toward the opposite shore.
“Thatta boy. Swim hard and then run like hell.” His gaze followed the animal until it clambered up onto the sandy bank a dozen yards away.
His arm came around her waist. Meggy looked into his dirt-streaked, weary face and knew the truth. The fire would sweep over their heads, would sear the air in their lungs, and they would die in each other’s arms.
The Lord is my shepherd….
It would be all right. They would be together.