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“Going out again?” The disbelief heavy in her voice, Heaven didn’t even look away from the “Real Housewives of Somewhere.”
“Yup.” Sam buttoned her sheepskin coat up to her chin. Heaven was right. A month had passed. It was mid-October and the nights had gone past cool and headed straight on over to cold. She should not be saddling up Stitch in this weather, and most certainly should not be heading out for the open range. The foxes would be digging deeper in their holes, safe from winter winds howling down from Canada. If she were smart, she’d do the same.
But the night was pulling on her. She stepped to the window and looked north. Something wasn’t right. It hadn’t rained in months—the ground was so dry she’d spent more than a few afternoons digging a firebreak around the house and barn. But that wasn’t enough to quiet her mind. The wind roared through the dry grasses with an urgency she couldn’t ignore. She didn’t know why, but deep in her soul, she knew she needed to be out there.
“Take the boot warmers.” Andy handed her the little heat packs. “Don’t freeze to death.”
Sam smiled at the don’t. Things had mostly returned to normal. Heaven talked too much, Andy had hot dates with Celine, and Granny played bingo every Saturday. Lindy had sent a few short letters, mostly talking about how awful jail was and how she was going to do better, she promised. It was heartening that she was even sending letters. Sure, the spelling was terrible, but it was a good sign that Lindy really was trying. She said she wanted to come back to the ranch when she got out—February, maybe.
Most of the hard work of ranching was done for the season, and instead they’d switched over to checking the ponds for ice in the morning and keeping the herd well-fed. They watched more movies, slept later, and did more baking.
Sure, Andy didn’t come into the office to talk business after the day’s work was done. Celine hadn’t been out to visit in some time, and Heaven hadn’t offered to paint Sam’s toenails or fix her hair once. No one mentioned the incident with the Gundersons, even in passing. But it was almost normal. It had just taken a little time, that’s all.
Bundled up, Sam headed for the kitchen. Like always, Granny had a thermos of coffee waiting for her. But instead of the normal “be safe, girl,” Sam usually got, Granny stood in front of the door, hands jammed on her hips.
“Girl,” she began, and Sam knew she was in for a lecture. “You need to quit this. He’s gone. Riding the range ain’t helping a single soul.”
He. Him. Zack. From the place deep inside where she’d tried to lock him away, all of her sorrow threatened to break free again. “That’s not why I’m going,” she said, willing to live with the bold-faced lie.
Granny stamped her foot. “He ain’t coming back. That’s what you told him you wanted, and that’s what you got.”
Fuming, Sam knew that was the truth. Wherever he was, Zack was just respecting her wishes. She was plenty mad with herself for what happened. But an unexpected new feeling bubbled up past the familiar guilt. She was mad at him, she was shocked to realize. He’d just walked away. Wasn’t she worth fighting for? Maybe he hadn’t loved her as much as she’d loved him.
Maybe, a sick little voice in the back of her mind whispered, maybe he’d never really loved her at all. Maybe he’d used her for her welcoming bed and hot meals while he did his fox study. Maybe he’d found another woman to sweet-talk. Maybe he didn’t even miss her.
Aching pain sliced at her middle. What she’d give to know if he missed her—if he thought of her all the time, like she thought of him. If he still loved her, if he’d forgive her. Which answer didn’t seem to matter much. It wasn’t the answer that was slowly killing her. It was the question.
“I have to go,” Sam said, tucking the thermos under her arm. She gave Granny a quick kiss on the cheek. “I won’t be out long.”
“You go looking for trouble, girl, you’re gonna find it!” Granny called out as Sam pulled the door closed behind her.
Sam rode the line. She did it daily now, but usually when the sun was struggling toward its highest peak. Tonight the wind pushed at her back, howling over her ears until the cold made them throb. Something was off. She scanned the land on the Gundersons’ side, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still her uneasiness grew. What was wrong?
Stitch began to paw at the ground. “What?” she asked the horse. Then a dark shape slipping through the grass caught her eye. Her heart about shot out of her chest before she recognized the figure. “Katydid?”
At her name, the wolf trotted forward and sat next to Stitch. Had Katydid followed her, or had the wind brought her out here, too?
No way around it. Something wasn’t right at all.
In answer to the silent question, Katydid cocked her ear, sniffed the wind, and turned on her heel. Sam urged Stitch to a gentle trot to keep up with Katydid’s loping strides. Not quite Lassie, she thought, but close.
She followed the wolf for close to four miles before Katydid sat down and waited. Odd and odder. Unsheathing the rifle, Sam dismounted and crouched next to the wolf. When she did, she heard it.
Humming. Familiar humming.
Shocked, Sam turned to where Katydid had been, but the wolf was gone, trotting over the next hill before she was out of sight. “Hey, girl,” she heard a strong, masculine voice say. “What’s up? I got a treat for you.”
He was here. She looked around. They were probably three miles upstream from where she’d first found him. She’d checked that first campsite a few times, but had turned up no trace of him. What was he doing all the way up here?
Her heart thumping, she put the safety on the rifle and started walking. Her feet felt like lead and her stomach was at war with itself. A great big part of her was happy that he hadn’t left her, that he wasn’t shacking up with someone else, that he could still finish his thesis. So happy, in fact, that she was on the unexpected verge of crying.
But another part of her was mad all over again. He’d been here for how long? Squatting on her land? And—she sniffed the air—burning campfires in the middle of a near-drought, damn it all. And he can’t come looking for her? Unlike the no-men rule, the no-campfire rule was unbreakable. At least it was to people who understood the dangers.
She slung the rifle over her shoulder and marched into his camp. Zack had a bunch of papers spread out with rocks holding them down. An LED lantern cast a sickly blue glow over the whole site, making it look like a space alien camp. Katydid, the traitor, was getting her tummy rubbed. Zack’s back was to her. He hadn’t heard her. Too busy talking to that wolf.
“I’m certain I told you not to light fires on my range,” she began with no other introduction.
With a jolt, he pivoted on his heels. He had a full beard now, and he was wearing his duster coat over a hooded sweatshirt. His eyes danced over her face, and he smiled. The good smile. The one that made her innards go all soft and gooey. But then he glanced at the rifle over her shoulder, and the smile faltered. “You did.”
He stood, and Katydid rolled to her haunches and sat at his feet. How long had that wolf known Zack was here? Traitor, Sam thought. “And I’m just as sure I told you to get off my land.”
“You did,” he agreed again.
“And yet here we are.” In the silence that followed, she looked around the camp again. He’d backed his tent up against some brush to cut the wind and had an impressive pile of firewood going. No laundry this time, but a couple of coolers were stacked against the other side of the tent. Clearly, he’d been planning on staying. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes closed as he took a deep breath. He looked like she’d slapped him. “Finishing my thesis.”
He hadn’t come for her. Just the foxes. Had he found the momma fox with her kits? Had he been sneaking around out here, avoiding her on the nights she went looking for them? “Oh? How’s it going?” Shoot. Her voice sounded funny.
He opened his eyes, as she saw a month of sleepless nights, lonely days, and a whole lot of worry. The anguish cut her to the core. “You look good.”
The question hung out there. It didn’t matter what the answer was, she tried to tell herself, just so long as she got one. “So do you.” He wore a beard well. A little Grizzly Adams, but in a decidedly sexy way.
He smiled again, and her brain fired in several different directions at once. She missed him so much. She’d been so worried about him. She was so sorry about everything. But damn it, here he was again, blatantly disregarding the rules. The last thing on her mind was the first thing out of her mouth.
“It’s a simple rule, Zack. No fires on the range. Why is that so hard for you to grasp?” The words hung in the air like poisoned darts. And she’d shot them right at him.
“A man gets tired of cold canned ravioli after a while,” he snapped back. Any trace of pain vanished from his eyes, replaced by something meaner.
“‘A while’? How long have you been here?”
“Two weeks. I managed to stay away for two weeks.” He took a step toward her, the menace in his face growing. “Are you gonna shoot me for breaking all your precious rules?”
He didn’t seem happy to see her, not one bit. “I tell you not to light campfires, and you do. I tell you not to let Royal drag you down to his level, and you do. I tell you to leave, and you don’t. You don’t listen to me, Zack. I can’t trust you to do what I tell you to.” Something about that didn’t ring true to her own ears.
“You tell a lot of people what to do.” Behind that beard, she was pretty sure he was snarling at her. “Is that all I was to you? One more person to boss around?”
The coldness of the statement knocked her back a step. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Everything you do says it for you. You’re right. You don’t trust me. I doubt you ever did. I doubt you could ever trust anyone.” In one swift movement, he kicked the campfire.
No, not the campfire. She saw now what she’d missed in the distorted LED light. He’d fashioned a dome-shaped screen that fit over the fire, trapping the sparks and ash inside. “I thought you loved me,” he said as the screen clattered off to one side. “I thought we were in this thing together. But I was wrong about us. About you. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life bowing and scraping to random rules because you’re always right and I’m always wrong.” He grabbed a bucket of water and doused the flames.
Sheer panic stabbed at her gut—the kind of panic that came with realizing she’d been in the wrong, because he was right. “I didn’t say that!”
In that sick blue light, he glared at her. “You want me gone. I thought...” Something flickered across his face, but it disappeared before Sam could figure out what it was. “Fine. I’m leaving. I’ll never trouble you again.”
“You thought what?” That—that was the question, the one that kept her up at night, the one that ate at her mind during the day. The one question she needed answered more than anything else in this world. She set the rifle down and took a hesitant step toward him. “What?”
He stood up ramrod straight and slammed his eyes shut. “Does it matter?”
She reached out with shaky hands and touched his new beard. “More than anything,” she heard herself whisper as the facial hair tickled her palm. To feel him again, even a new part of him, made the emptiness inside ease back. How she had missed him.
He caught her hand and pressed it to his face. But that was all. He didn’t wrap his arms around her, he didn’t give her another one of those perfect smiles. “Why should it?”
“I’m not good at this being in love thing,” she said, her voice so soft she almost couldn’t hear it herself. “I don’t know how to treat someone I’m in love with.”
“Sam.” Signing deeply, he pulled her hand away from his face and shook his head in resignation. “I can’t...”
No. It was an answer, all right—but the wrong one. All wrong.
Suddenly, in the middle of her heart attack, a reddish ball of flame arced into the night sky, followed by another—and another.
“What the hell?” Zack pulled Sam into his arms. “What is that?”
Katydid let out a howl, the likes of which Sam had never heard before as she shot off into the dark. Sam watched in horror as a fourth and fifth ball cut through the darkness. “Road flares—fire. Fire!”
No sooner had she got the words out than the world erupted into a wall of flame about half a mile from where they stood. The dry prairie grass was tinder that caught in a heartbeat.
This wasn’t just any prairie fire. No, this would eat up everything in its path without remorse and without hesitation. This fire was going to burn them alive. “Zack!”
“Don’t panic, babe.” His voice was calm, but he gripped her even tighter. “Where’s your horse?”
Stitch. With trembling lips, Sam tried to whistle. No good—Stitch would never be able to hear her over the growing roar of flames that got closer with every second. But to her surprise, Stitch came running over the hill anyway, with Katydid barking at his heels.
Zack stripped the saddle off the horse. “If we can get to my truck, I’ve got a phone now. For emergencies.”
This was one hell of an emergency. “Where?” Her heart was pounding so hard she was having trouble staying on her feet. This wasn’t some all-in-her-head fear. Oh, no. She’d seen the charred bodies of cattle that hadn’t gotten out of harm’s way. The warming air, the reddish glow—they all spelled an agonizing death. And in the face of that explicit certainty, she couldn’t even move.
Zack grabbed her and hefted her onto Stitch’s bare back. “I’m going to get you out of here, Sam. Trust me.”
She managed to nod. Using a tree stump, Zack climbed up behind her. “West,” he said, his voice strong and sure in her ear. It drowned out the sound of grass burning. “On the road seven miles west.”
One of his hands grabbed a handful of mane, the other the reins. Stitch tossed his head at the extra weight, but Katydid snapped at his heels.
“Go home! Katydid, go home!” Zack called over his shoulder. With a sharp bark, the wolf disappeared. “Hold on, babe.”
“Your research.” She looked back over her shoulder at all the papers. Already, the red light of the fire was overpowering the lamplight.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, kicking the horse faster and faster. “You’re the only thing that matters.”
All she wanted to do was be here in his arms, listening to him whisper what, by rights, should be sweet everythings in her ear. But she couldn’t. As they left his camp behind, Sam’s eyes were drawn to the wall of red heat that seemed to follow them at a breakneck pace.
The three bodies—hers, Zack’s, and Stitch’s—fell into a hurried rhythm. Her back pressed against Zack’s chest, her thighs pushed against his to urge the horse on. The wind blew in their faces, but she didn’t mind—it pushed against the fire with everything it had.
Even so, the blaze moved with malicious speed. Stitch’s sides were heaving with the effort. Unexpectedly, a line of flames broke south and cut them off. Zack hauled Stitch’s head to the left, which nearly threw both of them to the ground.
“Come on!” Zack shouted to the horse. They ran south for a minute, but when they hit a small culvert, Zack turned them west again. They had to get to the truck.
The fire bore down on them. Prairie dogs and other critters were trying to outrun certain death, but Sam knew they wouldn’t make it. She looked back around Zack’s shoulder and saw nothing but red. She said a prayer for the little creatures. But when she looked in front of the horse, she saw the same angry red. The air around them was getting hotter by the second. Hell, she thought. Hell was going to swallow them whole.
“Zack!” They were headed straight for the inferno. She didn’t want to see or feel any more of this. She shut her eyes and prayed for the sticky blackness to come quick.
“Hold on,” Zack said, draping as much of his body over hers as he could.
Then they were flying. The hot breath of the fire made her skin crack. Stitch screamed as the smell of burned fur filled her nose. This was it—the end—and all she could think was she hadn’t told Zack how sorry she was. She was going to die with that weight on her soul.
They landed so heavily that Sam’s balance deserted her, and she nearly went ass-over-ears. But Zack grabbed her and hauled her back up. “Yeah!” he shouted as Stitch found his footing and took off again. “We made it!”
Sam opened one eye. The world still had a reddish glow, but the light was behind them, cloaked in heavy black smoke. Sparks still glowed in Stitch’s mane, and the smell was nauseating. But ahead was sweet darkness.
Ten minutes later, they were at the truck. “Go!” Sam said, sliding into the passenger seat.
“Stitch—we can’t leave him!”
In less than a second, all the love she had for this man came bursting back through the thin veneer of work she’d buried it under. He’d risk death to make sure her horse was safe. She looked at him. He was black with soot from head to toe, his beard charred on one side, and his duster coat was smoking in a few places.
He’d put himself in danger to keep her safe. She’d been awful to him, and he was still there when she needed him the most. “He’ll be okay,” she reassured him. “The fire is behind him. He’ll find his way home. Now go.”
He didn’t argue. The crappy truck shuddered as Zack put the pedal to the metal while Sam dialed. She called home first. “Hello?” Andy answered—probably thinking Sam was Celine.
“Andy, there’s a massive prairie fire headed for you guys. Get the house watered down and the horses loaded in the trailer, just in case.”
She heard Andy swallow. “How long do we have?”
“Fifteen—thirty minutes. I don’t know. It’s moving fast. I’ll be there with Zack as soon as I can. Light the control fires, but leave the driveway clear. We’ll be there in—” She turned to Zack. In all the confusion, she wasn’t sure where they were.
“Ten,” Zack said.
“Ten minutes.”
“Zack?”
“I’ll explain later.” Without another word, she hung up and dialed the Hatchettes. Even though she wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with Dale Hatchette, he had a pumper truck, and prairie fires had a nasty habit of disregarding property lines. She got a gruff promise that he’d be there in five.
Then, heart pounding, she called the Gundersons.
“Hello?”
“Duke Gunderson, someone on your side of the fence just shot five flares onto my land and started a fire!”
Zack jumped next to her. Yeah, that had probably been a little loud, but she didn’t care.
Duke said nothing for a moment. “When? Where?”
Sam gave him the location as best she could. “Where the hell is Royal?”
“He left hours ago! Are you okay? Is Heaven okay?”
“We won’t be if we don’t get this fire under control! It’s—” Her throat closed up. She swallowed, trying to get the lump to move. “It’s huge. Biggest fire I’ve ever seen. It could jump my break.”
“I didn’t do this.”
“I know. But I need help, Duke.”
“You’ve got it.”
She hung up and stared at the phone. She believed Duke—he wouldn’t willfully endanger everyone’s lives and put all those cattle at risk. But Royal would. She didn’t care what Granny said—next time she saw that man, she’d put holes in a lot more than his truck.
“It’s okay.” Zack took a hard left, and ahead she saw the lights of the house. “You’re okay, Sam. We made it.”
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. Tears ran down her cheeks, turning the soot into a gray mud that landed on her jeans with a plop. “I’m so sorry I lost my mind and fired you and dumped you and didn’t even let you finish your thesis. I’m sorry I didn’t listen and didn’t give you one last chance. You’re right. I have too many stupid rules and—”
“Sam, listen to me,” he said, cutting her off. “You can apologize to me later if you want—and I’ll apologize, too—but right now, we’ve got to focus on saving the ranch, okay?”
She sniffed, wiping the tears away on her sleeve. The acidic smell of smoke still burned her nose. “Okay. But I want you to know that, just in case.”
“There’s not going to be a just in case.”
She didn’t know if he really believed that or if he was just trying to keep her from losing her mind all over again, but she took comfort in his words.