Chapter 14 - Fire Across the North Range
Fire moved faster than fear.
Within twenty minutes, the northern horizon turned orange.
Everett shouted orders before reaching the ranch.
“Move the cattle south!”
Silas rode toward the herd.
“Ben! Isaac! Start firebreaks near the west fence!”
Nathaniel grabbed shovels.
Clara headed toward the house.
Everett caught her arm.
“Where are you going?”
“Water.”
“You stay here.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“Not today.”
His eyes flashed.
Then he recognized the futility of the argument.
“Stay near the house.”
“I’ll stay where I’m useful.”
She ran.
Smoke arrived first.
Thick.
Bitter.
It covered the sun until afternoon became dusk.
Clara tied a wet cloth over her mouth.
Marta and several neighboring women formed a bucket line from the deep well.
Men soaked the barn roof.
Others plowed strips of bare earth.
Cattle thundered south.
The sound shook the ground.
Everett rode through smoke directing them.
Clara saw him disappear.
Reappear.
Disappear again.
Every time he vanished, her heart seized.
She hated that.
She hated how much one man’s outline mattered.
Then Tom Mercer shouted.
“Colt!”
Ruby’s young colt had broken through a side gate.
The frightened animal ran toward the north pasture.
Toward smoke.
Clara moved instinctively.
“Clara!” Marta shouted.
She grabbed a rope and ran.
The colt was young enough to panic, old enough to outrun her.
Clara followed along the fence.
Smoke burned her eyes.
“Easy!”
The colt veered.
She managed to block its path near a shallow ditch.
For one second it stopped.
Clara approached slowly.
“Easy.”
A wall of orange appeared beyond the trees.
Too close.
The colt bolted.
Clara caught the trailing halter rope.
The force nearly pulled her down.
She held.
“Come on!”
The animal fought.
Then a rider emerged through smoke.
Everett.
“What are you doing?”
“Being useful!”
He swore, dismounted, and took the rope.
Together they led the colt south.
Halfway back, a burning branch fell.
Ranger spooked.
Everett shoved Clara aside.
The branch struck the ground between them.
Sparks exploded.
“Everett!”
“I’m fine.”
His sleeve had caught.
Clara beat the flame with her wet cloth.
He winced.
A small burn.
Nothing worse.
“Move!”
They ran.
The main fire reached the first break near sunset.
For thirty terrifying minutes, Clara thought it would jump.
Men beat flames.
Women carried water.
Smoke turned everyone into shadows.
Then the wind shifted.
West.
Away from the house.
A cheer rose.
Nobody celebrated long.
The fire still burned north, but the ranch buildings were safe.
By midnight, rain began.
Not much.
Enough.
The last flames died beneath mud and smoke.
Everyone stood blackened with ash.
Exhausted.
Alive.
Everett walked among the men.
“Count.”
Cattle losses were surprisingly low.
Nine missing.
Two injured.
Fencing destroyed.
Grass burned.
But the house stood.
Barn stood.
People stood.
Clara sank onto the porch steps.
Her dress was ruined.
Hair half-fallen.
Hands blistered.
Everett approached.
His face was black with soot.
“You.”
Clara looked up.
“What?”
“Never do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Run toward fire.”
“The colt—”
“I do not care about the colt.”
From the barn came an offended whinny.
Clara almost laughed.
Everett did not.
“You could have died.”
“So could you.”
“That’s different.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
He opened his mouth.
Stopped.
Clara stood.
“Exactly.”
Everett paced once.
His emotions were too large for stillness.
“I saw the fire behind you.”
Clara’s anger softened.
“I’m here.”
“I know.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you shouting?”
“Because I was afraid!”
Silence fell.
Several nearby workers suddenly became extremely busy elsewhere.
Everett didn’t care.
“I was afraid,” he repeated.
Clara’s breath caught.
He stepped closer.
“I have buried one woman I loved.”
Everything inside Clara stopped.
Everett realized what he had said.
Neither moved.
The rain tapped against the porch roof.
Clara whispered, “Everett…”
He looked terrified.
Not of fire.
Of the sentence.
“I didn’t mean to say it like that.”
“How did you mean to say it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You either meant it or you didn’t.”
“I meant it.”
There.
No fever.
No darkness.
No dying stranger.
Everett Caldwell stood beneath rain and smoke and said it again.
“I love you.”
Clara felt every defense she had built rise at once.
Not because she did not want those words.
Because she wanted them too badly.
“You’re exhausted.”
“I was exhausted yesterday.”
“You nearly lost your ranch.”
“I haven’t lost it.”
“You thought I was in danger.”
“Yes.”
“People say things when they’re afraid.”
“Clara.”
She stepped backward.
“Eleanor’s letter.”
His face changed.
“What about it?”
“She gave you permission to love again.”
“That has nothing—”
“Maybe you’re trying to obey her.”
Anger appeared.
“You think I’m confusing you with my dead wife?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Clara’s voice broke.
“I think you don’t know whether you love me or love what I brought back.”
Everett stared.
“What does that mean?”
“The house changed.”
“Yes.”
“You laugh now.”
“Because of you.”
“You opened her room.”
“Because of you.”
“You reconciled with Nathaniel.”
“Because you pushed me.”
“Exactly.”
She wiped rain from her face.
“Maybe you don’t love Clara Whitmore.”
His jaw tightened.
“Don’t tell me what I feel.”
“Maybe you love not being lonely.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was lonely before you and I never wanted anyone else.”
The answer hit her hard.
Still she shook her head.
“I need time.”
Everett looked wounded.
But he nodded.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
That was worse.
Behind them, Silas approached.
His expression was grim.
“Boss.”
Everett turned sharply.
“What?”
Silas held a piece of metal.
“Found this near where the eastern fire started.”
A small kerosene tin cap.
Everett’s face hardened.
“Three ignition points,” Silas said. “Wind all aimed south.”
Clara looked toward the blackened range.
“The fire was set.”
Silas nodded.
Everett’s tenderness vanished beneath rage.
“Rusk.”
“We can’t prove it.”
“Not yet.”
The following morning, Sheriff Bell inspected the sites.
He found boot prints.
Horse tracks.
Nothing conclusive.
Then Isaac Reed discovered something beside a burned fence post.
A silver cufflink.
Engraved with initials.
G.R.
Everyone stared.
Too obvious.
Clara felt suspicion instead of triumph.
“Would Rusk personally set his own fire?”
Everett looked at her.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying someone may want us to believe he did.”
Nathaniel examined the cufflink.
“This could be planted.”
“By whom?”
Nobody answered.
Then Henry Rusk rode into the yard.
His face was pale.
“I know who started the fire.”
Everett stepped forward.
“Who?”
Henry looked toward Clara.
“My father paid someone.”
“Who?”
The boy swallowed.
“Someone on this ranch.”
May you like
And suddenly every person who had fought beside them the previous night became a possible traitor.
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