by Janet Dailey
“You can’t blame yourself, Tori.” Lauren laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “It was Beau’s decision to take his old job back.”
“But don’t you see? If I hadn’t given Natalie that advice, maybe she would’ve talked Beau out of leaving.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Tori,” Sky said. “Beau and Natalie are grown-ups. We can’t make their decisions for them.”
“Speaking of decisions,” Tori said, changing the subject. “I apologize for the bad timing, Lauren, but I need to ask you this. There’s a family interested in buying the Axelrod house. I told them they were second in line. Do you want me to hold it for you?”
Lauren hesitated, but only for an instant. “No, that wouldn’t be fair. Not with—”
The rest of her response was cut off by the jangle of Will’s cell phone. He’d turned it off for the graveside service, but he must’ve switched it on again. Heads swiveled toward the sound as Will grabbed the phone out of his pocket.
“What is it, Jasper?” He stepped into a quiet corner of the room, his fingers tightening on the phone. “What? . . . How close? . . . Hang on. We’re on our way.”
He turned back toward the people in the room. “Fire on the Rimrock, this side of the east boundary.” Will’s voice and manner were amazingly calm. “Jasper’s called nine-one-one, but it might take the firefighters some time to get here. In the meantime, our first concern is to get everybody safe.”
“You can count on me to help, Will,” one of the ranchers said.
“No, Sam, you’ve got your own property to protect,” Will said. “If the wind changes, the fire could go anywhere. Randall—” He glanced toward the Prescott Ranch manager. “This place is the closest to ours. It could go next. You’ll want to get your buildings hosed down and your stock out of the way.”
“Can I make it back to town?” Tori, in her black court suit and stiletto pumps, was already headed for the door.
“If the fire’s jumped the main road, you could be driving right into it,” Will said. “You’ll be better off coming with us to the Rimrock.”
She looked stricken. “Erin—”
“She’ll be all right. Call her before she hears about it. Tell her not to worry.”
“I’ll come with you folks.” Reverend Sykes was in his sixties but still fit and active. “Since Tori was the one who gave me a lift, I can’t get back either. Might as well make myself useful.”
Beau was already outside. They could hear his vehicle starting up. Sky stood with Lauren, knowing he had to leave, too. “Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“You can’t stay here,” he said. “If the fire comes this way, this old wooden house will go up like a torch. Go with Clawson to the syndicate headquarters. There’ll be plenty of water there and people who can evacuate you if it comes to that. I’ll have my hands full with the horses. I can’t be worrying about you, too. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“I will.” She took his hand and squeezed it hard. “And you stay safe, too. Now go.”
I love you, Lauren. Sky felt the words, but this wasn’t the time or the place to speak them. All he could do was tear himself away from her and race outside to his truck.
The reverend piled in beside him. Through the row of tall Lombardy poplars that formed a wind break around the house, they could see columns of smoke rising against the hot, blue sky.
“Looks like a big one,” Reverend Sykes said. “Too big.”
“Any fire’s too big.” Sky stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine made a clicking sound and died. Sky swore and tried again. This time the engine coughed, turned over, and started. Sky revved the motor to give it plenty of gas and charge the battery. The truck shot across the yard toward the road.
“Sounds like maybe a low battery or a bad solenoid,” the reverend said.
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to replace both. But who’s got time these days?” Sky used one hand to drive and the other to call the cowhand he’d left in charge of the horses. “Start loading them up and trucking them out,” he told the man who answered. “Mares and foals first. Like we talked about.”
“Got it. Trailers are hitched up and coming around now,” the man answered.
“Thanks, I’m on my way.” Sky ended the call. When he’d gone over the evacuation plan with the hands, he’d never imagined how soon that plan would have to be carried out.
Reverend Sykes gazed at the smoke through the open window. “Don’t see any sign of air support yet,” he said. “I heard tell there’s a big blaze down south of here. Maybe that’s where the planes and choppers are.”
“Well, until they come, I guess we’re on our own.” Sky swung onto the turnoff to the Rimrock, tires squealing in a cloud of dust.
“Are you scared, Sky, when you think of what could happen?”
“Scared?” Sky eased off on the gas as the house and barns came into sight. “Hell—excuse me, Reverend—if I let myself think about it, I’d be scared spitless. So I don’t think. I just do my job. Right now that’s all I can do.”
“Hurry, Lauren! Blast it, we’ve got to get out of here!” Randall Clawson’s wife and daughter, luckily, were out of town, but he was anxious to get away and get back to his duties. Lauren couldn’t blame him. The smoke was close enough to sting their eyes and nostrils. A single spark, carried on the high wind, could turn this house into an inferno, destroying everything in it and around it—the stately poplars, the garage with her grandfather’s priceless vintage auto collection, and the history of a family.
She’d encouraged Clawson to go on ahead and let her follow in the Corvette when she was ready. But the good man had insisted on staying until she was safely out of the house. If she wanted to take her little car then, she could follow him.
The funeral director and catering staff had packed up and taken the back road to the main highway, bound for Lubbock. Lauren had changed into her jeans and filled a valise with a change of clothes, some personal papers and jewelry, and a few toiletries. But she knew she could be seeing this house for the last time. She wanted something else—a memory to keep. As soon as she laid eyes on it, she knew what it had to be.
“Step on it! The fire won’t wait!” Clawson stood framed in the open front doorway, his car keys in his hand. Smoke was drifting into the house. Lauren could taste it, bitter and burning in her throat.
“One more thing and I’m coming.” She raced to the dining room and seized the framed photograph that showed her grandparents, her father, and Sky’s beautiful mother. More than all the expensive furnishings in the house, this picture was the one thing she wanted to save for her children. “Let’s go,” she said.
As they came out onto the front porch, Lauren could see the hellish glow of the fire through the trees. The shifting wind was blowing it straight toward the Rimrock. She imagined Sky, working feverishly to load the horses as the flames swept closer. So many horses—and they were like his children. She knew Sky wouldn’t leave until every last one was out of danger.
As she sprinted out to her car, her lips moved in silent prayer. Please . . . please keep him safe.
With nothing in its way, the wildfire stampeded across the tinder-dry grassland. Searing flames leaped higher than a man’s reach. Smoke billowed upward, darkening the sunlight. Swift-moving animals—rabbits, coyotes, and deer—plunged ahead of the burning grass in a desperate search for safety. Snakes, lizards, mice, and prairie dogs took refuge under the ground. Birds took to the air. Some animals would survive. Many would not.
On the Rimrock, the mares and foals and the first of Sky’s colts had been loaded into the two longest trailers and were on their way up to the fenced pastureland on the caprock. It would be rough going, the gravel road steep and narrow, the loaded trailers heavy, the horses frightened.
While they waited for the trucks to bring the empty trailers back down, Sky and his crew of a half-dozen men loaded the stallions into the smaller vans. The horses snorted and tossed their heads, smelling
the smoke and sensing the danger. Some panicked, bucking, screaming, even biting. Others refused to budge.
Alert for any sign of trouble, Sky moved among them on foot, pausing where he was needed to soothe a terrified animal, prevent an injury, or coax a stubborn horse up the ramp. Vaquero, the champion chestnut stud, wanted nothing to do with the one-horse trailer that would haul him to safety. Eyes rolling, ears laid back, he was snorting and dancing, becoming more agitated by the second. The two mounted cowboys holding the big stallion on double lead ropes were in danger of losing control.
“Easy, boy.” Sky stepped to his head, one hand clasping his halter, the other stroking his powerful neck. “I know you’re scared. We all are.” Leaning toward Vaquero’s ear, Sky murmured the horse song his Comanche grandfather had taught him. It was a song the stallion had heard many times before and recognized as a signal. Be calm like the water. Be steady like the earth. All will be well. All will be well. . . .
Vaquero lowered his head. His ears pricked forward. With a last defiant snort and a swish of his tail, he trotted up the ramp into the trailer.
Sometime soon, Sky thought, he would teach that song to Erin.
With the stallions loaded and the trailers waiting for the trucks, Sky took a moment to catch his breath and glance around the yard. Tori’s station wagon was parked at the back corner of the house with Bernice, Jasper, and the dog inside. Dressed in baggy jeans, an old shirt, and work boots—most likely borrowed from Jasper—a rumpled Tori staggered into sight lugging a wire cage full of Bernice’s precious red laying hens. She was smudged head to toe with dirt and chicken manure. Sky could imagine her chasing down each one of those hens and herding them, or stuffing them, into the cages. Bernice would have wanted her to save them all.
After hefting the cage into the back of her vehicle next to another one like it, Tori closed the tailgate, piled into the driver’s seat, and headed off toward the road that climbed the escarpment.
From across the yard Will had paused to watch her load the car and drive away. The boss of the Rimrock seemed to be everywhere at once, coordinating things in the yard, directing the men hosing down the house and outbuildings, and using a walkie-talkie to communicate with Beau on the fire line and the men up on the caprock. The preparations he’d made ahead, which both Sky and Beau had viewed as his usual overmanaging, were paying off.
Now he stood with fiery smoke billowing behind him into a sky still empty of any help from the air.
Sky walked over to his side. Will was gazing after Tori’s wagon as it vanished up the road. “She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?” he said. “Chicken poop up to her eyebrows, and she wears it like a million dollars. Take my advice, Sky. If you ever find a woman like that, don’t be as stupid as I was. Hang on to her. Don’t ever let her go.”
Sky kept silent, thinking of Lauren, wanting to call her but forcing himself to wait. “What do you hear from Beau?” he asked.
“The fire hasn’t reached the break yet, but it’s moving fast. Beau’s crew’s working to beat back the new flare-ups with shovels, but they can only do so much. Best they can hope for is to hold it off till help gets here.” He glanced upward through the smoke. “If help gets here.”
“How much water have they got?”
“Tanker truck’s full. But that’s all, and it’s not much. They’ll be saving it in case the fire jumps the break.”
Will sounded as if he could be talking about the weather or a story he’d heard in town. But Sky wasn’t fooled. Behind his easy manner the man had to be heartsick. Even before the fire, the ranch had been in trouble. Now, even with insurance, he’d be forced to sell off the cattle and most likely the horses, too. Will had given his life to the Rimrock. Now, in a matter of minutes, everything he and his family had worked for over the years could go up in flames.
The two long horse vans were rolling into the yard. Sky sprinted back to help unhitch them and hook the small trailers to the trucks. While the stallions were being relayed up the road, the crew would be loading the rest of Sky’s colts-in-training. Those would be followed by the older horses, the paddock cows, and Pedro, the old donkey who kept the stallions company in their barn. Only when the last animal was safe would Sky feel free to look to his own needs and worries.
The wind had risen to an ungodly howl, driving the flames faster than any man could run. Glancing up, Sky could see the hellish glow spreading across the horizon as far as the Prescott ranch. Anytime now, Lauren’s old home could become a torch. There was no way she’d be there, of course. He had to believe she’d fled to safety. The thought of anything else would have driven him crazy.
A pale shape flashed by as Quicksilver, the finest of his pupils, thundered into the trailer. The cowboys were moving the horses fast now, shouting and waving their hats to herd them up the ramps as the smoke billowed overhead. Sky led gentle old Belle into the last empty spot. This would be the final run for the long trailers. The mounted cowhands would ride their horses up to the caprock. Then the remaining animals—the paddock cows and Pedro—would be loaded into the smaller trailers and carted to safety.
Once the animals were gone, Sky would join Beau’s crew on the fire line, doing what he could. If the blaze jumped the firebreak—and it would unless help came—the men would have to be evacuated, too. After that there’d be nothing left except to watch the ranch burn.
Beau’s cell phone rang. He thrust his shovel blade into the ground and slipped off one grimy glove to fish the phone out of his pocket. The caller was Natalie.
“Beau, are you all right?” He could barely hear her voice over the roar of wind and fire. Flying sparks had burned holes in his clothes and peppered his skin. His eyes stung so bad from the smoke, he could barely stand to keep them open. The other men were the same.
“Hang on. I’ll find a quieter spot.” He walked a dozen paces back from the fire line and turned up the volume on his phone. The last time they’d spoken was right after he’d left the Prescott place. Conditions here had turned nightmarish, but he didn’t want to upset her. “I’m fine,” he said. “But I can’t talk long.”
“I understand.” And Beau knew she did.
“We’re trying to hold the line till the fire crews arrive,” he said. “But don’t worry, we’re not taking any chances. If things get too bad, we’ll pull back.” They were already too bad, but he wasn’t going to tell Natalie that.
“I talked with Tori,” she said. “Now I can’t get through to her phone. When you see her, tell her I’ve got Erin here with me.”
“Does Erin know her foal’s all right?”
“She does. We’ve been watching the news, but it’s all about the big fire down south. Nothing about the one at your place.”
Beau muttered a curse. Where the devil was the press when you needed them? “Gotta go,” he said.
“Be careful, Beau.”
“I will. I love you, Natalie.”
“Don’t . . .” Her voice broke. “Hearing you say that just scares me.”
Shouts were coming from down the line. Beau ended the call, dropped the phone in his pocket, and ran in that direction. Fifty yards down he saw what he’d dreaded most. A shower of sparks, blown by the wind, had crossed the firebreak and ignited the dried grass stubble on the near side. The men were shoveling dirt on the fire. It had worked with smaller flare-ups, but this time it wasn’t enough. The fresh blaze roared to life, racing over the ground in a widening pool of flame.
“It’s moving too fast!” Beau shouted. “Go! Get out of here now!”
Hearing his order, the men grabbed their tools and fled back toward the ranch yard. Beau watched them go. He’d done the right thing, he told himself. The fire had become too dangerous. He couldn’t risk losing even one of their lives.
He pressed the talk button on the two-way radio. “We’re done here, Will,” he said. “Fire’s jumped the break. I’m sending the crew in. I’ll be along shortly. Over and out.”
Beau knew he didn’t have much tim
e. But there was one chance left, and he had to take it. The tanker truck stood a hundred yards back, ready to be brought in if needed. The tank was meant for small blazes and didn’t hold much more water than a horse trough, but if he moved fast, there might be enough to douse the fire on this side of the break.
He dove in the truck and drove it as close to the fire as he dared, jumped out, and unwound the hose. While he had two legs to stand on, no fire was going to burn the ranch his family had worked so hard to build—the ranch that meant so much to the people who lived and worked on this land, his land and his children’s land.
With the pressure on full force, the hose was hard to handle alone, but he directed the stream at the fire and held it steady. He should have known better than to try. Within ten minutes the tank was empty, the fire still spreading. And now the flames were racing toward the tanker truck. With no time to get to the vehicle and move it, Beau could only back away and watch as the truck began to blaze.
Only then, as the gas tank went up in a whoosh of flame, did he realize the trouble he was in. By now the fire had jumped the break in other spots and was roaring toward him. For a short distance he might be able to outrun it. But he couldn’t run forever and he had nowhere to escape.
Natalie’s face flashed through his mind. He had to get away, had to be there for her and their child. Beau’s legs sprang into action. In high school he’d been all-state in track, but that had been decades ago, and now his lungs were burning from the smoke. The fire was already gaining on him. With each stride, he felt his legs getting weaker. This was the race of his life, and he was losing.
