by Janet Dailey
As a precaution Stella keyed the remote to unlock the doors and start the engine. No bomb. She climbed into the driver’s seat, locked the doors, and put the Buick in gear. Her feet, in their red cowgirl boots, were killing her. She couldn’t wait to get home, pull them off, and soak in a warm, sudsy bath.
Tomorrow the bar would be closed. Although she’d never been much of a cook, she usually fixed a little Thanksgiving dinner for herself and Nicky. This year, with her brother gone, it wouldn’t be worth the bother. But if things went as planned, she’d be celebrating in a different way.
Could she depend on Ralph to do what she was paying him for? Up to now, he’d done as he was told. But this job would take some guts. She wouldn’t put it past him to get cold feet, take the two-thousand-dollar payment she’d advanced him, and hit the road.
Either way, Ralph was a flunky who’d pretty much outlived his usefulness. He wasn’t smart enough to justify keeping around, which meant he’d have to go. It was only a question of when and how.
With Hoyt Axelrod dead and Marie in the wind, she’d lost the only people she could count on to kill in cold blood. Getting rid of Ralph was hardly worth the cost of a hit man, but since she’d always had a rule against offing folks herself, that might be her only option. The fact that he was Abner’s son-in-law called for extra caution. His death would not go unnoticed or uninvestigated.
But she was too tired to think about that now. Tomorrow, after she knew how Ralph’s little errand had gone down, she could make her plans.
Turning onto a side street, she headed for the apartment complex where she lived. She was getting weary of Blanco Springs and this whole business. Now that Nicky was gone, maybe it was time she pulled up stakes and headed for Mexico, where she had the connections, and enough money stashed away, to set herself up for the rest of her life.
She was liking that idea more and more. But first, she had to settle the score for her brother’s death. It would be easy enough to have Will Tyler killed. But she wanted him to suffer—to pay with his freedom, his resources, and all that he cherished. Only then would she feel satisfied. And only then would she feel free to leave.
The trial was a week away, but she was too impatient to wait. Payback for Nicky’s loss would begin tomorrow, while the family was at dinner.
She would stay home and listen. When she heard the blare of sirens, she would know Ralph had carried out her orders.
* * *
Thanksgiving Day dawned bleak and overcast, with dry flakes of snow blowing on the wind. Even on a holiday there were chores to be done—the cattle and horses had to be fed and watered, the fences checked, the horse barns shoveled out, and the stalls laid with clean straw. All the hands pitched in, including the Tyler brothers and Sky.
Ralph showed up on time and joined the others. Today the men who lived in the bunkhouse would enjoy a nice Thanksgiving dinner and a free afternoon. Ralph couldn’t help envying them. Vonda, who was too pregnant and tired to cook, would be heating a couple of frozen turkey dinners in the microwave. But what did it matter? Once he’d carried out Stella’s orders, nobody was going to have a good holiday, especially the Tylers.
As he worked, busting the ice off the water troughs and scattering hay in the pastures, dread clawed at his gut. It wasn’t too late. He could make some excuse, then walk to his truck and drive away. He had enough money stashed in a grocery bag under the seat to get him to some far part of the country, where he could rent an apartment and live frugally till he could find some kind of job.
Just go, he told himself.
But then he thought of the money and what Stella could do to him if he ran out on her. She had rumored connections with the kind of people who could find anybody, anywhere. If he wanted to live, he would have to do what she wanted.
By noon the work was done. The men were dismissed to go back to the bunkhouse or home to their families. Ralph had driven his truck the quarter mile from his bungalow to the ranch yard. Climbing into the cab, he lit a cigarette and watched Will, Beau, and Sky trail toward the house. Rich bastards, those Tylers. They deserve what they’re about to get.
Stella had told him to make his move while the Tylers and the ranch hands were at dinner. That wasn’t likely to happen for an hour or more. Meanwhile, he could hardly sit here and wait in plain sight. He had little choice except to go home, eat his microwaved Thanksgiving dinner with Vonda, then make an excuse to go back to the barn.
Starting up the truck, he drove home. He found Vonda lying on the couch with the TV blaring and the two dinners sitting on the counter, still frozen. He opened one, shoved it in the microwave, and set the timer.
“Want me to cook yours, too?” he asked her.
“Not now. I don’t feel real hot. I’ve got a bellyache.”
“Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head and closed her eyes. Ralph turned down the volume on the TV and waited for his dinner to heat. When it was ready, he ate it, standing up, off the counter. So much for Thanksgiving, he thought.
Tossing the plastic tray in the trash, he glanced at the clock on the stove. It was early yet, but he was getting anxious. He’d planned to go back to the barn on foot, less chance of being seen. Add a few more minutes to circle around the back way and, with luck, the timing should be about right.
“Where are you going?” Vonda demanded as he slipped on his denim jacket again.
“Just something I promised to check on. I won’t be long.” He started for the door.
Straining, she managed to sit up. “Do you have to go now? I feel—oh!” Her face froze in shock as wetness spread down the legs of her sweatpants. “Oh, Ralphie, I think my water just broke!”
Seized by a sick panic, Ralph paused in the doorway. Whatever was happening here, he had to do the job for Stella. If he didn’t, she was liable to kill him.
“You can’t go now!” Vonda wailed. “You need to drive me to the hospital! I’m going to have this baby!”
Damn! Ralph felt the cold sweat beading under his flannel shirt. But first babies took a long time, didn’t they? He could still go and make it to the hospital, an hour away in Lubbock. He had to.
“This won’t take long,” he said. “Get ready. I’ll take you as soon as I get back.” As an afterthought he tossed her his cell phone. “If you need help before then, call nine-one-one.”
Before she could say anything else, he was out the door.
Should he take the truck? It would get him there and back faster. But no, a vehicle could be spotted too easily, and everybody knew that old rust bucket by sight. Passing the truck, he broke into a run, cutting up the road, across the open ground and behind the outbuildings to the rear of the barn. There, aching from a stitch in his side, he slumped with his hands on his knees, fighting the urge to retch.
So far, he’d seen nobody outside. All to the good. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get back to Vonda and drive her to the hospital.
He didn’t want to see the baby. He didn’t want to see anything that might have the power to hold him to this place. He would take Vonda to the emergency entrance, make sure she was in good hands, then report to Stella. Once he had the money, it would be Good-bye, Blanco Springs.
The long barn, which held the mares, their growing foals, and some of Sky’s trained colts, was unlocked at the near end. Ralph slipped inside, closed the door behind him, and walked the long line of stalls toward the far end. Horses snorted as he passed. Some raised their heads and looked at him with their luminous dark eyes. Most of them were familiar. Some he’d even ridden to work the cattle. Ralph didn’t love horses, but he liked some of these. Knowing what was about to happen, he kept his gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact with them.
A cart heaped with dry straw had been left at the barn’s far end. Steeling his resolve, Ralph took out his lighter, clicked it, and held the flame to the straw. The dry fuel caught with a startling whoosh, so close that Ralph could feel it singe his eyebrows. He jumped back as
the flames rose higher than his reach. The fire was burning faster and hotter than he’d expected. He had to get out of here.
The blazing cart was blocking the nearest door. The only way out was at the other end, where he’d come in. With the fire spreading to the roof supports, he raced between the stalls. He stumbled over a pitchfork and caught himself on his knees. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed on.
By now, the horses were going wild, screaming and rearing, lunging against the sides of their stalls. He wasn’t crazy about horses, but these were all about to die horrible deaths, and it would be his doing.
As he raced past the stalls, Ralph began a frenzied grabbing at the gate latches, jerking open the ones that yielded easily. Horses, he knew, tended to panic and balk in a fire and had to be dragged out of burning buildings. But if any of them had the sense to run out, he would leave the door open. Maybe a few smart animals would make it. Stella couldn’t be too mad about a few horses.
Besides, if he happened to get caught, he could always claim that he’d smelled smoke and had rushed into the barn to save the horses.
Just behind him a big bay mare burst out of a stall he’d unlatched. Shrieking in terror, she reared on her hindquarters, her hooves flailing the air.
Ralph glanced back just in time to see the massive, black, ironshod hooves coming down toward him. Then something slammed his head, and the world exploded into blackness.
CHAPTER 13
Tori closed her eyes and did her best to listen as Jasper’s mumbled grace droned on. This Thanksgiving dinner was a poignant celebration, a blessed pause in the frenetic pace of their lives, when worries and differences were put aside. Everyone around the table seemed resolved to make the most of the day. For now, at least, they were together; and even in the face of change, they were still very much a family.
The prayer ended, eyes opened. Hands reached out to pass around platters and bowls of carved turkey, dressing, hot rolls, potatoes, and gravy. That was when the dog, who had been napping on the porch, began a frantic barking.
Bernice, who was facing the window, was first to see the smoke. “Lord help us!” she cried. “The barn’s on fire!”
In a flash they were all on their feet, overturning chairs in their haste to get outside. “Somebody call nine-one-one!” Will shouted, racing for the front door with Beau behind him. Lauren already had her phone out and was making the call.
“Tesoro! He’s in his stall!” Squirming out of Tori’s clasp, Erin streaked headlong out the door, passing Beau on the front porch.
“Beau, get her! She mustn’t go out there!” Tori fought her way through the melee of chairs and shifting bodies. By the time she caught up with Beau in the yard, he’d grabbed Erin and was holding her while she struggled to get free and run to the barn. “Tesoro . . . ,” she sobbed. “I’ve got to save him!”
“I’ll get Tesoro, I promise,” Beau was saying. “Now calm down and stay here with your mother. That’s an order.”
After passing her off to Tori, Beau wheeled away and joined Will in the race across the yard. Holding her daughter tight, Tori glanced around for Sky. He was nowhere to be seen. But she knew where he must be. In his quiet way he would have slipped out the back at once and been first to reach the burning barn. By now, he’d be inside, fighting to rescue the horses he loved like his children. And, because she knew the man, she was sure he wouldn’t abandon any animal, not even for his own safety.
Lauren had come out onto the porch. One look at her pale face confirmed that she knew it, too.
The men who’d stayed for the holiday came pounding out of the bunkhouse to help. Shouting, Will directed them to hook up the hoses and start spraying inside the barn. After the damage from the past summer’s wildfire, the barn’s shingled roof had been replaced with steel panels. But it was the older, lower part of the barn that was burning now, flaming upward from the inside. If the temperature got hot enough, and the supports weak enough, the whole building would collapse.
Breathing through their neckerchiefs, men were dragging hoses, soaking feed sacks, filling buckets, rushing in and out of the barn. The scene brought back the memory of the wildfire that had nearly destroyed the ranch a season ago. That fire had been far bigger, sweeping through the tinder-dry scrub, consuming everything in its path. But then, at least, they’d had time to prepare and evacuate the stock. This blaze had started with no warning at all.
The garden-sized hoses were far too small, the water stream barely enough to wet down the stalls, let alone fight the fire. If the fire engine, with its big tank, didn’t get here soon, the barn would be lost, along with many of the precious animals.
The first few horses had emerged. Faces covered with wet feed sacks, they were coughing and struggling against the men who gripped their halters. Tori recognized Belle, the aging bay mare, among them, and Lauren’s powerful black gelding, Storm Cloud. But there was no flash of Tesoro’s golden coat. She clasped her daughter tighter. “Remember, Beau promised to save him,” she whispered, adding her own silent prayer.
Beau was still outside. He soaked his clothes at the pump, masked his face with a neckerchief, and charged into the billowing smoke, carrying a bucket.
Natalie, who had been on a call that morning, had driven here in the big white SUV she used for her veterinary work. Burdened only a little by her bulging belly, she rushed to her vehicle. Lauren stood at the top of the porch steps, wide-eyed with fear but clearly anxious to help. “Come on!” Natalie shouted to her. “I’ll need extra hands!”
Lauren sprinted down the steps and piled into the passenger seat. In the next instant they were roaring toward the barn, flying over the bumpy ground. It would be Natalie’s job to treat any horses injured in the fire—or to put them down if they couldn’t be saved.
Smoke was pouring out of the barn in thick, murky clouds. Even at a safe distance, Tori could smell it, even taste it when she licked her parched lips. She could feel the searing heat and see tongues of fire licking under the metal roof. The blaze appeared to be burning upward from the rear of the barn. That might give the horses near the front a better chance to get out, but how could anybody, man or beast, survive in that inferno? It would be tragic enough losing horses to the fire. But human lives . . . no, that was unthinkable.
More horses, driven from behind, exploded out of the barn to scatter and mill in the yard. One of the men had opened the paddock gate and was trying to drive them inside, but the horses were too fear-crazed to be herded. They would have to be rounded up later.
“There’s Beau!” Erin shouted, waving as a figure emerged from the smoke with a grip on two struggling animals. “He’s got Tesoro—and Lupita!”
Tears of relief welled in Tori’s eyes, but she could see that something was wrong. The mare looked all right, but Tesoro was favoring one side, his head hanging low. Even from here, she could tell the colt was in pain.
And something else was wrong, Tori realized. Her last sight of Will had been when the men were hooking up the hoses. She could see Beau, leading Tesoro over to Natalie’s SUV, but she couldn’t see Will’s red-plaid shirt anywhere. Fear crawled up her throat. Was he inside the blazing barn?
“Tesoro’s hurt!” Erin fought to pull away, but Tori kept a firm grip on her daughter.
“It’s all right. See, Natalie and Lauren have got him now. They’ll take care of him. Having you there would just be one more worry.” She glanced back toward the house. “Jasper and Bernice are on the porch with the dog. Stay there and watch with them. I’ll go find out what’s happening.” She released her daughter with a gentle shove toward the porch. “Go!”
Tori forced herself to wait until Erin had reached the steps. Then, giving in to her fear, she spun away and raced headlong for the barn. Smoke swirled around her, the acrid scent filling her nostrils and lungs, burning her eyes. Men were manning the hoses and leading more horses to safety. She could see Beau in the doorway of the barn, shouting directions. But there was no sign of Will.
; She hadn’t seen Sky, either. Would she find them both safe on the far side of the barn, maybe hidden from sight by the heavy smoke? Or could they be inside, maybe trapped, maybe even dead? With a prayer on her lips, she ran on. There was little she could do to help. She only knew that if Will was in danger, she had to be there.
* * *
Will had gone searching for Sky. Deep in the barn he found him. He was standing in a half-charred stall, soothing a fear-maddened chestnut mare with burns on her back—one of the last three horses left in the barn.
To Will, Sky looked like a man who’d just stepped out of hell—there was a wet bandanna plastered to his face; hair and clothes singed; his ungloved hands blistered by the sparks that exploded from the burning beams overhead. The eyes that turned and glanced at Will were bloodred from the smoke. He looked like a soldier in combat, ready to drop from exhaustion.
By now, the hose crew had wet down the stalls and the straw inside, making it a little safer to get the horses out. However, the fire had taken an upward path, and there wasn’t enough water pressure to reach the wooden rafters and beams that supported the barn’s metal roof. They were on fire now; and when they burned through, the whole structure would collapse. Will cursed his lack of foresight. After the summer fire it had been his cost-driven decision to replace only the roof and not the old structure of the barn beneath. Now he was paying the price.
Reaching Sky, Will grabbed his arm. “For God’s sake, man, let’s get out of here!”
Sky shook his head. “After the horses.”
Will was aware of what Sky had been doing. He’d taken his stand in the most dangerous part of the barn, calming terrified animals, covering their faces with wet sacking, urging them out of their stalls and forward, to where other hands could lead them to safety. But the roof couldn’t hold up much longer, and neither could Sky.
