by Ava Winters
“Why won’t it open?” her mother cried out; her eyes were wide as she tugged on the door herself. “James! What’s going on?”
No one had any answers. Samantha felt the panic rise in her throat as she looked back and forth at her parents. Terror gripped her tight. She wanted that to be a joke, for someone to pop up from around the corner and laugh. That’s what she kept waiting for, yet it never came. As she turned from her father to her mother and back to her father, Samantha forced herself to swallow a scream.
There was a loud crash and they all jumped. Her father ran down the hall to see what had happened. He muttered under his breath, wiping his forehead again as he informed them, “It’s coming down. The fire’s spreading too quickly.”
Another crash. Her mother shouted and then clamped a hand over her mouth. The fear was clear across her face, reflecting what Samantha felt in her heart. “We have to do something,” her mother choked out.
Grabbing Samantha’s arms, her father tugged them into the back office. “We should have something to break the wall down. Or at least the back door. Stay put, all right? I’m going back to see what I can find.”
“No, James!”
But he left them behind. Her mother’s arms wrapped around Samatha’s body, and she copied, throwing her own arms around her mother. She smelled like flowers, even through the smoke. From the hallway, they could see light flickering. It grew hotter and hotter. The women shook, but Samantha couldn’t tell who was shaking the hardest. She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder for strength.
Their world was coming down all around them.
More clattering as the flames roared closer and closer. Just as it reached the hallway, her father stepped through. He shook his head angrily. “Something blocked the exit. Even when I managed to saw through it.” He held up a small knife they kept for opening packages. “There was something in the way.”
Samantha had jerked up when her mother gasped. “You mean, this wasn’t an accident?”
It wasn’t an accident.
That had been her mantra as they had moved to the storage room. Though closer to the fire, they had remembered a small window there. Her father had climbed onto a box and punched his elbow through to break the glass. She remembered a piece raining down on her below, flinching when it cut her cheek.
“Can you fit?” her mother had called to him.
He had wrapped both hands around either side and then shook his head. His broad shoulders hardly fit through some doors, let alone a small window like that one. It was there to provide natural light – it wasn’t made for grown men to climb through.
“Come up here,” he had called for his wife. Samantha had shrunk against the wall as she watched her mother climb onto the box. It was a high window, one she couldn’t touch from the ground. On the other side, she could see only darkness. Gasping for breath, Samantha couldn’t tell her tears apart from her sweat. But she could taste them.
Both of her parents tried to sort out the window situation. She had wrapped her arms around herself, backing up as she tried to comprehend how all of this had happened. Why this had happened to them.
The next thing she remembered was searing pain on her leg. Heat flooded her senses, and she had screamed. As she collapsed, her parents were by her side. As her mother wrapped Samantha up in her arms, her father had stomped out the flames that had caught on her skirt. She could smell the burned skin almost as much as she felt it.
“It hurts,” she’d moaned.
Her mother had kissed her forehead. “I know, dear,” she had said, “but you need to go up now. We need you to climb through that window.”
They had helped her to her feet. It hurt to put weight on her leg. Then, it hurt worse when the rest of her skirts brushed against her fresh injury. Breathing tight through her teeth, Samantha had grabbed her mother’s arm and shook her head at the sight of the window again.
“What about you?” she had asked her mother. “You’re supposed to get out first.”
“I don’t fit.” Her mother inhaled shakily. Brushing a hand against Samantha’s cheek, she tried to smile. It didn’t work. “You need to go while you still can.”
It wasn’t until she was halfway through the window, feet first, that she turned back to her parents. Her mother was there to reach up and kiss her on her forehead. Panic gripped Samantha’s soul as she realized she didn’t know how they were escaping. Her eyes darted past them at the flames that had entered the room. They covered the ceiling and were spreading. Closer and closer.
Sweat dripped down her nose. “What about you?” She grabbed her mother’s arm. The window frame dug into her waist, but she didn’t care. Bruises could wait. She didn’t want to let go of her mother.
Then, her father grabbed Samantha’s shoulder and forced her to look at him. “This wasn’t an accident,” he managed to say in a voice that was mostly calm. “Someone wanted this. So, when you get out, you’re going to run. Do you understand? Run to our house. Find the money under the boards, under our bed. And then go to Baker’s Creek. You should be safe there.”
“What?” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Who would–” But she didn’t need to finish the question. “It’s that man, isn’t? The one who owed you money? I heard his threats. Is it him? He’s out there?” She scrambled to look behind her, but the window was too small and she was still holding onto her parents for support.
Taking her hand, her mother kissed it and then her forehead. “You have to go now, Samantha. Be brave, my dear. Run. Run and don’t give up. No matter what happens, we’re always with you. But you have to save yourself. Get out while you still can. To the house, then Baker’s Creek. Please, Samantha, as long as you’re safe, all will be fine.”
“No, it won’t,” she’d started to point out, seeing the tears in her mother’s eyes. When Samantha turned to her father, however, he grabbed her shoulders and arm and pushed her away. She dropped out of the window, collapsing in a heap outside. Gasping, she scrambled up and tried to reach for the window again. But it was too high.
All she could see were her parents’ hands as they waved for her to go.
Sitting against the tree in the dark, now far away from the fire and what was left of her parents, Samantha wanted to scream again. She wanted to scream and cry and throw up. Most of all, she wanted to turn back and make sure her parents were all right. That they were safe and unharmed.
But that was a fanciful dream. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop any more tears from falling. Grabbing her small bag, she knew she had to keep moving.
She was going to find her way to safety. After that, she was going to find justice for her parents. The panic was fading, and the adrenaline rush had come to an end. Samantha’s mind was clearing up as she started to walk again.
Her parents had been murdered. And she had almost met the same fate. Because she hadn’t, she would do everything she could to figure out how to bring down the murderer.
Whoever might have started the fire, she knew who the man would have ordered it. The only one to have threatened her father with enough force that her mother had suggested they leave town for a short while.
Vance Corley, wherever he was, was going to pay for his crime – if it was the last thing Samantha did.
Chapter 4
Paula Reaves looked at her son hopefully, wondering what was going on inside his head. Jensen had always been a good boy, a good son. But she could see that his smile didn’t reach his eyes and it worried her heart.
This was a good thing, the arranged marriage. It had to be. She had prayed and received no further guidance. And her husband had done so much in building up the land around them. He had planted, raised, and grown the ranch, with its creatures and fields. Though she didn’t like to showcase their wealth, she knew they were far beyond comfortable compared to the nearby towns.
They were comfortable, and they were happy.
Jensen was twenty-four years old, an age where men should be married. She, herself, had be
en seventeen and her husband, Angus, hardly twenty. The two of them hadn’t known what they were doing, but it had felt right enough that they’d gone on ahead with it. And, after all of their hardships, after settling down in Green River on the Reaves’ large ranch, things were finally working out for them.
She wanted the same for her son. Jensen had always been a quiet boy, but a good one. A great one. He was generous and kind, strong and well-behaved. Someday, the ranch would be his, and she couldn’t be prouder of him.
But as she studied him, Paula couldn’t help but wonder if they’d done something wrong. Her eyes followed his hands as he reached for the butter. Miss Caroline Corley did the same. Abruptly, Jensen stopped and jerked away. The young lady took the butter and offered it to him, but he declined.
“What?” Jensen blinked when Mr. Vance Corley said his name.
Paula studied the man curiously as he chuckled. There was a spot of sauce on his chin that danced as he talked. “I was just saying that you’re looking mighty dark these days. Almost like a native. Why, Caroline, weren’t we just talking about hats? You’ll have to make sure he has plenty of them to wear outside, once you two are wed.”
Jensen’s face paled then as he shifted uneasily in his seat. When Caroline glanced at him, he only squirmed more. “I don’t mind being dark,” he mumbled. “I don’t think it’s a problem. That’s what it’s like to work on a ranch, isn’t it?”
Then, he glanced at Caroline. Paula did the same. The girl threw her hair over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t know. This is the first time I’ve been on a ranch.”
“Oh.” Jensen scratched his head and paused like he was thinking of something to say. Everyone waited. But then he picked up his fork and turned to his green beans.
Seeing Angus starting to frown, Paula shook her head at her husband. As the two fathers picked up the stilted conversation, she looked to her son. With his tall, wiry build with those strong shoulders, he reminded her of Angus when they had been young and thriving. She smiled softly as he glanced up at her.
She offered a short nod and nudged her head towards Caroline before rolling her shoulder to the back door, where they had a porch. Not wanting to say anything aloud, Paula hoped that her son caught the hint. Perhaps the two of them would do better alone, without the supervising gaze of their parents.
It took another try before Jensen completely understood. He rose so quickly, it looked as though he had been waiting all that time for an opportunity to stand up. “Miss Corley.” Jensen cleared his throat. “Shall we?”
“Shall we what?” Caroline furrowed her brow in confusion.
Paula held back a smile as Jensen hesitated. “Well, I thought we could take a walk. We could go outside. How… how do you feel about that?”
The young lady glanced around as she slowly set her napkin down. “Oh. I suppose so.”
“Shall I join? Perhaps you two need a chaperone.” Irene Corley chuckled.
But Paula reached a polite hand across the table before the woman could do anything. “I don’t think that will be a problem. We trust our children, don’t we? Just keep in plain sight, you two. Now run along.”
Irene hesitated, but a glance at her husband settled her down. Only then did Paula relax in her seat, smiling hopefully as she watched the young couple make their way politely around the table and out the back door. As they disappeared, the men started to recall their own days of courting. She hardly paid attention, praying only that her boy was happy.
It had always been his nature, after all. She could remember his bright energy as a young boy in the mornings, always scampering about. When Mitchell was younger, Jensen wanted to take the boy everywhere he went. They had become fast friends from the beginning, ready for an adventure at all times. While Mitchell had grown into a bit more reckless child than they had expected, Jensen was always there as a helping hand.
He was a good son and a good brother. Paula wanted him to be a good husband, too. A good one, and a happy one. When he repeatedly turned away opportunities with the ladies in the nearby towns, she had started to lose hope for him. If there was no one he desired, after all, then he might never know the joy that a marriage and his own children could provide him. And Paula wanted that for her son.
Perhaps this wasn’t the most anticipatory way to prepare for a wedding. But Caroline was a lovely young lady and her parents were well-mannered. Nobody was perfect.
Still, she couldn’t help her gaze as it wandered from window to window to door. She wondered how the walk was going. If Jensen and Caroline were talking. For his parents’ sakes, she knew Jensen would try. And Caroline seemed kind enough. But would they connect?
When supper came to an end, Paula could hardly stand it any longer. Picking up her plate along with Angus’, she hurried off to the sink that was set below a window. For a moment, she couldn’t find the couple outside. And then, there they were, making their way back slowly on the trail towards the house.
Jensen and Caroline couldn’t have gone far if they were already coming back. Paula had suggested the porch but had hoped they might wander off. She didn’t really mind if they disappeared out of eyesight; Jensen would never be anything but a gentleman. Even now, he wasn’t touching the young lady.
Paula’s heartbeat slowed down. They weren’t even looking at each other. After making sure that she was alone in the kitchen, she leaned over and cracked the window open. Not to eavesdrop, she assured herself, but just to make sure things were going along well between the two of them. She wanted make sure they were comfortable with one another.
“You’re from Chicago?” Jensen asked in the silence. It didn’t sound like either of them had been talking for some time.
Paula dipped her hands into the water, feeling for the soap, as she listened.
Caroline’s voice carried through the window in a whisper. “Yes, back east. I miss it very much.”
“I’m sure,” Jensen offered politely. There was another pause. “What was it like?”
The young lady burst into conversation, as though she’d been waiting for someone to ask her that very question. “It was wonderful. There was so much, back in the city. There were people everywhere, and delicious food, and busy streets. I could go to the opera or the theatre. We had stores for books and all sorts of goods. No need for a general store, because each store was special in its own right. Much bigger than little old Green River.”
It took Jensen a minute to find a response. Paula didn’t blame him, she wasn’t sure what he could say to that. Just as she was wishing he would ask the young lady about what she liked in the west, he spoke up.
“It’s little, sure, in the way of a bustling crowd,” Jensen agreed carefully. Paula knew that tone. It was the same one from when he was learning to read and learning to speak his own opinion. He wanted to be kind and polite, but was still hesitant in testing the waters. In that way, her two sons were opposites. Mitchell was willing to say whatever he wanted. Jensen tended to be more hesitant and cautionary in his words and deeds.
She listened as her son offered insights to how well the ranch was thriving. Just listening him talk, growing stronger without interruption, made her chest swell with pride. She had been blessed with quite the family.
“Why,” Jensen continued in a more cheerful tone than he had started with, “this year’s herd is probably the healthiest it’s been in years. Not a single sick calf, and that’s rare.”
Paula couldn’t help but look up hopefully to see Caroline’s reaction. Her men had spent many late nights out with the cattle making sure of that. Taking care of the cows being birthed, making sure all the grass was safe, tearing out the dangerous weeds – all of it had worn them down at one point or another. Anyone would be proud of that dedication.
To her dismay, all Caroline did was shrug. Her hands swung down at her sides as she sighed loudly enough for Paula to hear. “Cows are filthy. Does this smell ever go away?”
