“Payday, my friend, you’re going to stay with the sheep. I know they’re a lot smaller than you, so be respectful.”
Jade smiled at this unexpected display of silliness. This was a side of himself that the grumpy rancher would never show if he knew she was there. Payday was restless, jogging beside Aidan, but the horse seemed to quiet as the tall cowboy continued to speak with him. Then they left the barn and disappeared out into the smoky evening.
Jade set the food bowl inside the tack room and went to get poor Elliott. Inside the tack room, the terrified cat cowered in the back of the carrier when Jade opened the little metal door. She took out his water bowl and set it on the floor. “Hey, buddy. Want to come out to eat and drink?” Elliott just stared at her, his big, green eyes unblinking.
“Jade,” Aidan called from outside the tack room door. “Ready to go up to the house?”
“Coming,” she called back. “Good luck, Elliott,” she told the cat. “I’ll try to come back and check on you. And I’ll get you out of here if the barn is in danger of catching fire. I promise.”
When she exited the tack room, Aidan was looking at her with an amused expression, crinkling unfamiliar lines around his eyes. “Did you have a good talk with Elliott?”
She couldn’t help but smile. Busted chatting with a cat. “It was lovely, thank you. Did you have a nice conversation with Payday?”
“You heard that?”
“Your secret is out. You’re sweet with your horse.”
He shook his head. “Just trying to calm him down, that’s all.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s all it was,” Jade teased. This would have almost been fun, except when they left the barn Jade could hear the fire more clearly. It was a rumbling roar that couldn’t be missed now.
Aidan turned to her with alarm in his eyes. “Is that sound what I think it is?”
“It’s the fire,” Jade said. “When it gets here it will be really, really loud.”
It only took a moment for Aidan’s expression to fall back into its usual calm appearance. “Not looking forward to that,” he said, and motioned toward the ATV. “Ladies first.”
Jade rolled her eyes. “So chivalrous.”
He must have enjoyed her sarcasm because he smiled for a brief instant. “You’ve got ash all over your hair,” he said. “You’re going gray.”
She automatically ran her fingers through her hair and realized how gritty it was. “Yuck.” She peered more closely at him. “It doesn’t show up as much on your blond, but yeah, you’re gray, as well.”
“Nothing like a deadly fire to cause premature aging.”
Jade stared at him in disbelief. “Did you just make an actual joke?”
He smiled then, and it softened his harsh features, turning him suddenly and shockingly handsome. He got on the ATV, sat down in front of her and started up the engine. “We better get going. We don’t have much time.”
CHAPTER SIX
THERE WERE THINGS in life too big to fathom. The night they’d told Aidan that Colby was dead, Aidan’s mind had gone blank. There were no synapses, nerves or levels of consciousness equipped to handle that information. Instead, he had just kept repeating it can’t be true, while a nameless social worker sat with him in a sterile office, holding his hands.
He felt a little like that now. The smoke was piling up on the horizon, as if the wildfire was preparing for an all-out assault on his land. His house, usually a pale yellow, had taken on the same brownish-gray hue as the rest of the world. Destruction was imminent, yet all he could do was peer through the haze feeling somewhat bewildered. It can’t be true. But it was.
He hadn’t wanted Jade here. Had loathed the idea of having to try to look after someone else, when he knew in all likelihood, he’d fail. But the truth was, her knowledge, combined with her ruthless concentration and determination, was the thing keeping them going. She pushed them into taking one step, and then another. Steps that would hopefully keep them, and his animals, alive. He watched as she climbed nimbly off the ATV, rubbed her hands on the pants of her navy blue uniform and calmly assessed the turn-of-the-century farmhouse he called home.
When she looked back at him, he saw compassion in her eyes. “We don’t know what’s going to happen to your house, Aidan. Why don’t you go inside and gather up anything you want to save and let’s bring it down to the barn?” Her tone conveyed understanding, while still being matter-of-fact. He wondered if firefighters and cops sat around the office, practicing how to talk like that. She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’m going to start hosing things down.”
Aidan watched her as she walked over to the hose coiled at the side of the house. She seemed so calm, while he was standing here juggling existential questions. What to save? He had no idea. Nothing, maybe? What was there to save, really, in the wreckage of his past? He glanced around the yard, and his gaze strayed toward the back of the house. There was one thing he cared about.
He walked quickly around the back and grabbed the hose that was by the back door, pulling it over to the small garden he’d created there. It was full of every cheerful-looking flower he’d found at the nursery in Willits, a patch of rainbow in the summer-brown landscape of his ranch. Aidan turned the water on and began spraying down the small, rectangular patch of flowers.
It had been Colby’s sandbox. After his son’s death, he hadn’t been able to look at it every day. He’d gone out with a sledgehammer to knock the cute, corrugated-metal walls into pieces. But just before he’d struck it, he’d realized that this was his memorial. A place he could have on this big, wide ranch that would be all about his beloved son. He’d added soil and flowers, and no way was he going to let it burn now.
He contemplated the riot of color while he watered. Somehow he’d managed to keep flowers alive in this bed for a few seasons now. Almost longer than he’d managed to keep his son alive. He closed his eyes while guilt clogged his lungs, pinched his throat, clawed at his skin. He let it wreak its havoc, let it shred his very soul. He deserved this pain and worse.
When he finally opened his eyes, the flowers were flooded, sitting in muddy pools, their beautiful heads bowed under the weight of the water he’d poured over them. Aidan turned the hose on the mowed brown stubble that was his poor excuse for a lawn, and started wetting the ground that surrounded the flower bed.
“What are you doing?”
Aidan turned to see Jade jogging toward him.
“Aidan, stop. We don’t have time for flowers. We need that water to save your house!”
“Don’t tell me what to save.” It came out in a low growl from some painful pit deep inside him. Just moments ago, he’d been glad she was here to take charge. Now he wished she’d be quiet.
She grew still, and a wary look stole over her face. “The fire is really close. You need to get in the house and find your computer, keys, family photos, financial documents, especially insurance. Please tell me you have those things packed in a go bag?”
She was right, but this was Colby’s place. He hadn’t been able to save his son. He was going to save this garden. He moved quickly, but kept his focus on his task, spraying down the ground.
Jade walked right up to him and put a hand over his, on the hose. Her palm was warm, small and soothing. She looked up at him, and Aidan saw that the ash was falling thicker now, gray flecks spiraling in the air between them like dirty tears. “I’ll wet this down for you,” she told him. “I promise. Just go inside and gather your things. We’re almost out of time here.”
The panic in his chest calmed. He knew she’d keep her promise. He slid his hand out from under hers, reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of her touch. “Thanks, Jade.”
“Of course. And while you’re inside, Aidan? Grab any wool blankets you have. Or cotton. Something that will hold water.”
She said it casually, but he heard her meaning. They
might need those blankets to smother fire, to cover themselves, to try to stay alive if the fire passed over. He nodded. “Will do.”
When he pushed open the back door and stepped into the kitchen, it was oddly serene. The sound of the wind and the distant roar of the fire were muffled here. The clock on the wall ticked into the silence. He stood for a moment, wanting to pretend that all was well. That he could sit down, have a cup of coffee and read a book, just like he might on a regular day. But that wasn’t reality. All this, his kitchen, his books and coffee maker, would likely be gone by the end of the night.
They should have water. He went to the cupboard to the right of the sink, pulled out the four bottles he had there and filled them. Then he grabbed a canvas shopping bag hanging from the pantry doorknob and put them inside. Opening the pantry he grabbed granola bars, trail mix, the snacks he usually grabbed on a busy day, but now they’d likely be his and Jade’s meals for the next while. There were a couple of apples in a bowl on the counter, so he added those to the bag, as well.
He left the bag by the front door, since that was closer to where they’d parked the ATV. He opened the hall closet and pulled out his two heaviest jackets, one for him and one for Jade. It was hard to imagine needing them when fire was bearing down on them, but they might come in handy later on. If there is a later on.
Jade would be happy about one thing. He had a go bag in here. A backpack filled with copies of all his most important documents. He ran with it into the small room off the living room that he used as an office and added his laptop, the cord, his phone and a charger. What else did he need? He reached into the desk drawer and found a file at the bottom labeled Colby. It had his son’s birth certificate, his medical records, his death certificate. If Aidan didn’t have those, who would know that his sweet little boy had ever even lived?
Aidan’s stomach twisted in a grief too strong for tears and, for a moment, he almost doubled over with the pain. No. If it was just him here, he could fall to his knees with the weight of it. He could curl up on the floor and let the fire take him. But Jade was here because she’d tried to save him. Chip was down in the barn, mad as heck to be locked in the horse stall. Odin and Thor were out there, and the sheep and Payday. Colby had been the most loving boy, and he’d never want Aidan to turn his back on anyone or anything.
Aidan pushed his shoulders straight and zipped up the backpack. He went to his bedroom and pulled a duffel bag from the closet. He threw in jeans, his other pair of boots, socks, underwear, sweaters. He pulled his sleeping bag off the top shelf. In the bathroom, he grabbed his toothbrush, toothpaste, razor and the first aid kit he kept in the lower drawer of the cabinet under the sink. He found a couple old wool blankets in the linen cupboard. It was almost like he was heading out on a camping trip, except he’d most likely be camping on his own land, unless the house survived.
He stacked his possessions by the front door and went to face the thing he’d been dreading most. Pushing open the door just down the hall from his bedroom, he stepped inside Colby’s old room. It was pretty much as it had been the night his boy had died. The twin bed with the cute cowboy quilt. Letters spelling Colby’s name in white on the pale blue wall. A mobile of horses dancing near the ceiling. Colby’s teddy bear, named LaLa as the little boy was learning to speak, was tucked in to the bed. Aidan picked up the bear, hugged it tight and closed his eyes.
There was still part of Colby in this room. His beautiful son had lain here at night, breathed this air, played with the toys now stacked neatly in the bookshelf. Colby had held this bear tight every night for months and months. Sometimes Aidan came in and stood just like this, trying to absorb whatever part of his son was still left, even if just a few molecules or memories. How could he walk away now, when there was a good chance it would burn? And yet, part of him wanted it all gone, up in flames. A Viking funeral fit for his brave boy who’d fought so hard.
“Aidan?”
Jade’s voice in the hall startled him out of his thoughts.
She appeared in the doorway. “I loaded your stuff in the ATV, but we... Oh.” Jade stepped into the room. Her eyes widened, as she took in the walls, the bed, the toys. “What—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His words came out in a snarl.
She took a step back into the hallway and held up both her hands, palms out, as if to calm him. “Okay. I respect that.” She studied him, and the bear, for a long moment. “Aidan, as a first responder, I have to ask you, are there any other people on this ranch? We need to keep absolutely everyone safe.”
He gaped at her, trying to catch her meaning. And then he realized. Seeing this room, she was wondering if he was some kind of terrible parent, or kidnapper, or something equally horrible. Shock woke him from his stupor of grief. “Of course not!” But, through his defenses, he realized that she had to ask. Lord knows what sick situations she might have seen in her work. His outrage cooled a little.
She was still watching him warily. “This is a child’s room.”
“It was a child’s room.”
He could see understanding dawn and spread pallor over her skin. “All right,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was getting worried about you. And wondering if you have an extra bandanna I can use to cover my face. The ash is getting so thick out there.”
“Top drawer of the dresser in the master bedroom.” He wasn’t ready to walk out of this room with her. “I just need a minute.”
“Okay. I’m going to keep hosing down the house. You should leave as soon as possible to drive your belongings down to the barn.” Her eyes shifted to the bear. “We’re going to try to save this house, but there are no guarantees. Bring anything important with you.” She disappeared out the doorway.
Aidan heard the creak of his bedroom door and the bump of her opening and closing the dresser. He listened as she went down the hall, out the front door and closed it with a thud behind her.
Only then did he go to the bed and kneel down, putting his hand on Colby’s pillow. He smoothed the flannel pillowcase, as he used to smooth his son’s hair back from his eyes. Clutching LaLa tight, Aidan allowed a few tears to fall, felt them sliding down his cheeks like the rain they desperately needed right now. “I love you so much, son,” he whispered to the silence.
With LaLa in his arms, he walked out of his house and shut the door behind him. When he looked up, he saw a distant orange glow between the trees to the north and the black sky above.
“It’s go time, Aidan.” Jade was standing in his front yard, arms raised, water from the hose aimed at his roof. She’d tied his blue bandanna around her mouth and nose. “Take that stuff to the barn and come right back. I’m going to need you.”
She’d changed her plans. Aidan figured that orange glow had something to do with it. “Is there still time to hose down the barn?”
Jade shook her head. “I’m going to try to buy us some time up on this end of the property, so hopefully we can do that later on.” She pointed to the ATV and the trailer she’d heaped with his belongings. “Drive back up here in my truck. The keys are inside. And throw all the shovels, pickaxes, extra hose, backpack pumps, anything you can think of that might be useful in there, too.”
He nodded absently, still caught in the emotion he’d felt in Colby’s room. Thankfully, Jade didn’t say anything more. Just took the hose and started dragging it across the yard and up the driveway, toward the entrance to his property. She clearly had a plan, and he’d best follow it.
He squeezed one hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm, using new pain to replace the old. He needed to clear his head if he was going to help Jade save his ranch. Forcing his leaden limbs to get moving, Aidan ran for the ATV. He tucked LaLa into his duffel of clothes, and climbed aboard. As he turned the vehicle around, he glanced at the sky again. It seemed to be glaring right back at him with venomous orange eye
s. “You’ve taken a lot from me,” he yelled, as if the fire were disease, loss, grief and guilt sucked into one roiling, choking mass. “You’re not going to take my animals. And you won’t hurt Jade. I won’t let you.”
Then he gunned the engine and headed for the barn.
* * *
JADE HAULED THE hose as far up the driveway as it would go, and then ran back to collect the hose they’d used to water the flowers. She coiled it quickly and ran back up the driveway. What she’d seen just now wouldn’t leave her mind. Aidan standing in that little boy’s room, clutching a teddy bear. Aidan in his front yard, looking lost, still holding that bear. She didn’t know the story but, still, it broke her heart. “It was a child’s room.” His voice had shattered when he said it.
All the more reason to save the poor guy now. It seemed he’d already had too much tragedy in his life. Her job was to minimize the damage this fire would do. She needed to put aside all her ideas about what might have happened to Aidan and his family. That wasn’t her business. Saving this ranch, and the forlorn rancher who owned it, was.
She was screwing the two hoses together when Aidan drove up in her truck. He got out and knelt down next to her. “I can finish that.”
“I’ve got it.” Her voice came out sharper than maybe it should have. He looked startled but she didn’t explain. Couldn’t explain the protective instinct she felt for him now. She gave one last twist to knit the hose ends together and then stood. “You should put your bandanna back on,” she told him. “It won’t do much but it can help protect your lungs a little.”
She brushed past him, went to the truck and climbed up into the bed. Opening the tool case, she pulled out the drip torch, noting that the canister was full. Good. There were a few extra flares in the box, too, so she shoved them into her belt. Then she grabbed the shovel and pickax Aidan had brought, and handed them to him. He eyed the drip torch in her hand. “I’m not sure I want to know what you’re going to do with that.”
Rescuing the Rancher Page 8
