Kentucky Heat

by Fern Michaels

  “We can skirt around the storm, that’s not the problem. It’s landing somewhere close that is going to be the problem. We’re going to do our best, sweet baby. This is some homecoming for Nealy. She needs us, honey. We have to try, Ruby.”

  “Okay, honey.”

  “I don’t know about you, Riley, but I’m ready to hit the sack,” Cole Tanner said. “Let’s get the ten o’clock news highlights and head off for bed.” He switched channels. “Oh, oh, what have we here? Riley, I think you better come over here and look at what’s on the screen. God Almighty!”

  Both men stood staring at the sixty-one-inch television screen, their eyes wide. “Jesus!” Riley said.

  “Get your gear together. Bring your cell phone.”

  Riley pulled on his boots. “The weather conditions aren’t the best, cousin.”

  “They plain old sucked when we hit those Swiss Alps, but we did it anyway. Move, move!”

  “I’m moving! I’m moving!”

  Hatch was brushing his teeth when a sound like someone kicking in his front door reached his ears. He ran to the door and opened it. The toothbrush still in his mouth, a towel wrapped around his middle, his hair wet and on end. His eyes popped wide at Nick’s wild appearance.

  “We have to go to Kentucky,” Nick yelled as he looked for the remote to turn on the television.

  Hatch swallowed the foamy paste in his mouth as he watched Nick fiddle with the buttons. “Why? What the hell happened?”

  “That’s what already happened. Listen to the commentator. That killer storm is headed straight for Lexington. Blue Diamond Farms is in the path of the storm.”

  Live video cam shots of massive destruction in Alabama appeared on the screen. “Damage is estimated in the billions. Stay tuned for further live coverage.”

  “My God,” Hatch said, his face draining of all color. “Give me five minutes to get dressed. I talked to your mother around four o’clock and all she said was they were bracing for a storm. When was the last time you tried calling?”

  “Around six-thirty or so, but I couldn’t get through. I was watching the evening news. The lines are down,” Nick shouted so that Hatch could hear him in the bedroom. “You can fly us there, can’t you, Hatch?”

  “I can try.” Hatch bent over to tie the laces of his sneakers. He felt light-headed, dizzy, and suddenly sick to his stomach. Please, God, don’t let anything go wrong. I can’t lose her. She’s my life. Please, please, don’t take her the way You took Sela and my son. When he straightened up he got a sudden head rush. He held on to the edge of the chair, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Okay, kid, let’s go.”

  In Las Vegas, Sage Thornton took his eyes off the closed-circuit television to risk a glance at the incoming bulletin on the television set on his desk. He blinked once, then twice. “Birch! Come look at this!”

  “Oh, my God! How soon can you be ready to leave?”

  “I’m ready right now. Call Mom and Marcus and everyone else. Put the word out on the street. I’ll tie things down here and meet you in the garage.”

  “I swear to God, sometimes I think this family is cursed,” Birch muttered as he picked up the phone. He closed his eyes, remembering the day Sunrise Mountain burned. His shoulders straightened when he remembered how Metaxas Parish had shown up, along with every able-bodied man from the Strip, to rebuild his mother’s beloved mountain. As he spoke into the phone he heard the television announcer’s high-pitched words: lightning strikes. His insides started to shrivel when he thought of the horses that could be killed or injured if fires broke out.

  Ten minutes later he was riding the elevator to the basement level, where his twin brother Sage waited for him, the engine of his Range Rover racing.

  “They were talking about lightning strikes, Sage. All I could think of was the day Mom’s mountain burned. All those magnificent horses.”

  Sage nodded grimly as he peeled up the ramp and out to the access road that would take him to the main road and the private airfield where he kept the company’s corporate jet.

  Nealy stood outside Flyby’s stall, rubbing the big horse’s head. Emmie stood next to Shufly doing the same thing. They spoke soothingly as they watched the weather through the opening at the end of the breezeway.

  “What kind of storm is this, Mom? There’s no rain. Just wind and thunder. We never had a storm like this that I can remember.”

  “Those winds, according to Dover, are close to fifty miles an hour. Small hurricanes usually have winds like that but with rain. I simply don’t understand. Just hours ago it felt like it was going to snow and now this.”

  It was twelve minutes past midnight when mother and daughter saw the first lightning strike. It hit the main barn with such force the ground trembled under their feet. The second strike hit minutes later—the mare barn. The third and fourth strikes followed minutes apart. A tongue of flame licked up from the eaves and quickly set the roof on fire.

  Nealy ran through the barn, Emmie on her heels, as they struggled against the driving winds. Holding on to one another they fell repeatedly as they fought their way to the main barn. Crawling forward, Emmie hanging on to her ankle, Nealy reached the barn, where they scrabbled to their feet to get inside and lead the horses to safety. “Call the fire department,” someone could be heard shouting. An answering response was that the phone lines were down and Blue Diamond Farms was the last and farthest farm from the firehouse. Off in the black night, hundreds of fires could be seen lighting up the dark sky.

  “Get those horses out now!” Nealy screamed as she banged into one of the stalls to lead a frightened horse out to the breezeway. “We have to get them away from the barns. They’re frightened, and that makes them dangerous. Be careful.”

  “Keep filming! Keep filming! Get everything. Shoot as much as you can. Jesus, this is just like Atlanta burning!” Mitch Cunningham shouted. “Get those horses on film!”

  “I told you to get out of my way!” Nealy shouted. “Move those damn cameras and help us! Don’t just stand there! Do something!”

  “Yes, ma’am! Keep filming but stand back. What can I do, Ms. Clay?”

  “Find some goddamn water,” Nealy shot back.

  “Mom, there’s no water to fight the fires,” Emmie cried as she, too, led a horse to safety outside the barn.

  “We can rebuild barns. We can’t breathe life into a dead horse. Move, people! Move!” Nealy shouted as she did her best to drag a balking horse into the swirling wind. “Just get them outside. We’ll be able to round them up later.”

  They worked steadily, hour after hour, as the barns burned around them. Exhausted, soot-blackened, Nealy raced from barn to barn, always keeping her eyes on the main house and the stallion barn where Flyby and Shufly were safe inside their stalls.

  She saw them coming, men carrying ropes and gear, but she couldn’t tell who they were. Nor did she care. Help was help. She looked up, saw the lightning bolt rip downward, and knew immediately that it was going to hit the stallion barn. She ran then, wings on her feet just as the front end of the barn crashed downward. Someday when this was all over, she was going to try and figure out how the barn literally split in two. She heard her beloved horses, heard their agonized and frightened cries, or were they her own? Her arms up to shield her face, she ran inside, through the flames, calling out to the horses. She reached Flyby first, opened the stall door, reached for his halter, and struggled to pull him toward Shufly’s stall. More frightened than his daddy, Shufly balked at being led from the barn. It was then that Nealy realized her clothing was on fire, and her hair was burning. Flames shot upward as she shouted to the horse to follow her. Shufly reared back, pawed at the ground and at the wooden slats, but he did move, racing past her and out into the night. She tried to beat at the smoldering shirt covering her arms and knew it was melting into her flesh. She had to get Flyby outside. Her hands were black and raw with blisters. All she could see were flames around her. There was no way out but through the raging fire.
“Down, boy, down. I have to get on your back. Do it, Flyby, do it for me.” The horse lowered his head as he bent his front legs for her to slide on his back. “Now RUN!” she screamed, with her last ounce of strength.

  “Are you getting this? Don’t stop! Tragic as this is, it’s the stuff movies are made of,” Mitch Cunningham shouted at the top of his lungs. “Oh, God, oh, God! It’s Ms. Clay. Keep filming. Get everything.” He waved to his film crew to indicate they were to keep working. “I have to help out here. You know what to do.”

  She was aware of swarms of people, strong, cold winds, and a familiar voice. “Nealy! Oh, Jesus God!” Riley Coleman said, his voice catching in his throat. “Cole! Over here! It’s Nealy!”

  “Is Flyby okay? Did he get burned?” A moan of pain escaped her lips.

  “He’s okay, Nealy. Just scared. We’ll take care of him. We have to get you to a hospital.” He watched, his eyes wide with disbelief when the stallion dipped downward so Nealy could be lifted off his back. Satisfied that her beloved horse was safe, Nealy allowed herself to be taken off the horse’s back. Her head rolled to the side as she lost consciousness.

  “Mom! Mom!” Emmie screamed over and over. She fell to the ground to stare at her unconscious mother, afraid to touch her. She looked up at Riley and Cole. “We have to do something. What? I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please tell me what to do.”

  “Where’s the nearest hospital? What’s the name of it?” Riley asked, flipping open his cell phone.

  “Twenty miles away. Kentucky General.”

  “Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. Hang on, please. We’re going to get you to a hospital. Please don’t die, Mom. I won’t know what to do without you. Please, Mom.”

  The cell phone snapped shut. “All their ambulances are out on calls. We have to take her there ourselves. Which vehicle is best? Tell us where it is so we can make a bed in the back. Give us directions. We’ll take care of your mom.”

  “Who are you?” Emmie asked, staring up at the soot-blackened face, the voice familiar yet unfamiliar.

  “Does it matter?”

  “No. No, it doesn’t matter.” Emmie sobbed.

  The family arrived, one by one, and then the others came from far and wide—friends of the family, business associates—to help with the animals and fires.

  Everywhere, as far as the eye could see, fires dotted the sky. The air was thick with black, choking smoke. The animals, frightened out of their wits, hugged the fencing in the pasture as they herded together, the grooms and workers doing their best to calm them.

  “All we can do is let the barns burn to the ground. Where the hell is the fucking rain?” Metaxas roared. As if in answer to his plea, the skies opened up as the wind kicked up several notches.

  “Where’s Mom?” Nick yelled to be heard over the crackling flames and howling wind.

  Metaxas whirled around to focus on Hatch, who was standing next to Nick. “They took her to the hospital. Emmie and Ruby went with her. I . . . what . . .”

  “What?” Hatch thundered.

  “She . . . she . . . was badly burned. Riley Coleman and his cousin drove them in to the hospital. There were no available ambulances. That’s all I know. She was unconscious, Nick. Go ahead; the two of you go to the hospital. The horses are out, and all we can do is wait and hope this rain douses the fires. If not, they have to burn themselves out. Take a look around,” Metaxas said, pointing to all the blazing fires that could be seen off in the distance. “What are you standing here for? Go! We’re doing everything that can be done on this end.”

  Nick wiped a sooty hand over his face. “Metaxas, how bad was Mom burned?”

  Metaxas choked on his words. “Real bad, son.” He swiped at the tears running down his cheeks.

  Hatch stood rooted to the ground. He made no move to follow Nick.

  Metaxas shoved him backward. “You stupid, goddamn Indian! Go! Didn’t you hear me? There’s nothing you can do here. Nealy needs you.”

  Metaxas sat down on the ground outside the pasture fencing to stare at the devastation in front of him. His gaze swept up and around at all the fires lighting the sky. Behind him he could hear the restless animals. He thought of Nealy and how badly burned she was. He wanted to pray, but he couldn’t remember the words he’d learned as a child. His head dropped to his hands. He cried. Great, shoulder-racking sobs that tore at his body. When the words finally came to him, he prayed because there wasn’t anything else he could do.

  Riley roared up to the front of the emergency entrance to Kentucky General Hospital. He hopped out, the engine still running, to run through the open doors leading to the emergency room, shouting all the way. “I have a burn victim out here. I need help!” He watched, his eyes filling with tears as Nealy was lifted onto a gurney. He saw Cole wipe at his eyes as his arm reached out to pull Emmie close to him. Ruby stood in a trance, her body black from head to toe. Her sobs tore at his heart.

  A nurse in a crisp white uniform approached him. “I need to gather some information from you, sir. Will you come with me please?” Cole nodded, his hold on Emmie secure. Ruby trailed alongside, her face a mask of misery.

  “I can’t tell you much other than her name is Nealy Clay. I don’t know anything about her insurance or anything like that. Look, if you need money, I can leave you a check or a deposit. Whatever you want. Her daughter is outside, but she’s in no shape to talk about something like this.”

  “The Nealy Diamond Clay from Blue Diamond Farms?” the nurse asked in awe.

  Riley nodded. “There’s nothing left of the farm now, though,” he muttered.

  “Wait right here, sir.”

  Riley leaned back and closed his eyes. He wanted to pound his feet on the floor and shake his fists. It seemed like light-years ago when Nealy Clay had walked into his kitchen and told them she’d paid off the loans on Sunbridge. He thought about her daily from that day on. She’d become his savior. Something he didn’t take lightly. She’d literally given him back his and his family’s lives. And she’d asked nothing in return except to be left in peace.

  The charge nurse ran down the hall to the administrative offices shouting, “Mr. Olmstead, we just admitted Nealy Diamond Clay. You might want to take over here. Miz Clay is burned over half her body.”

  The pudgy man was off his swivel chair in a heartbeat, his glasses jiggling on his nose as he made his way to the emergency room while the charge nurse returned to the admitting desk and Riley Coleman.

  “Miz Clay is in good hands, sir. I suggest you and your party return to the farm and clean up. You might be carrying some infectious germs,” she said primly. “We do everything humanly possible to safeguard our patients. For now, we’ll waive the paperwork until Miz Clay’s daughter can do it. Don’t look at me like that, young man. We have an excellent burn center here at Kentucky General. Everything possible is being done for Miz Clay. I can assure you of that.”

  Riley looked down at his torn and blackened jeans, at his right boot whose toe seemed to be missing. He knew he was black from head to toe, as black as Cole and Emmie looked. He nodded wearily as he started down the long hall that led to the outside emergency door, where Cole, Emmie, and Ruby waited.

  “What did they say? How’s Mom?” Nick demanded as he hopped out of the car that squealed to a stop next to Emmie’s 4-by-4.

  “I don’t know anything. They took her into the room and left me standing there. The nurse said they have an excellent burn unit.” He jerked his head backward, and said, “That nurse said we had to go home and clean up because we might be carrying germs.”

  Hatch staggered around the front of the car. “Didn’t they tell you anything?”

  Riley felt the urge to cry all over again. “No. They just rushed her into the room. I think, and this is just my opinion, it’s going to be a while before we hear anything. I hate saying this, but she was burned pretty bad. Her shirt . . . her shirt . . . the sleeves, they were burned into the skin on her arms. She was unconscious when w
e brought her in. I wish I had something better to tell you, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Her hair was fried right off her head.” Emmie sobbed. “All her beautiful hair was gone.”

  “Did she say anything before she lost consciousness?” Hatch’s voice pleaded with Riley to tell him something he wanted to hear.

  Riley nodded. “She wanted to know if Flyby was safe. That horse carried her out. I can’t even begin to imagine how she got on his back. He ran through the flames with her on his back. Shufly made it out on his own.”

  Hatch looked down at his filthy clothes. “I’m not going anywhere. If I have to, I’ll sit out here all night.”

  “Me, too,” Emmie said.

  “That goes for me, too,” Nick said.

  “I’ll go back with you,” Ruby said. “They might need my help.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Cole said. “We’ll go back to the farm and bring clean clothes and you can wash up in the rest rooms. We’ll send someone with your things and we’ll stay and help at the farm. Is that okay with all of you?” The little group nodded in agreement.

  “The farm’s gone,” Nick muttered, his eyes on the hospital windows. “On the way here we could see the other farms. None of them fared any better than we did. The whole thing was . . . unholy. It was like the Devil himself unleashed all his fury in one wild swoop. I am never, ever, going to understand what happened tonight. Never!”

  Hatch sat down on an iron bench near the entrance and dropped his head into his hands.

  “I hate leaving them here like this,” Cole said, getting into the driver’s seat of the 4-by-4.

  “I do, too, but there isn’t a thing either one of us can do. We’ll be more help back at the farm, or what’s left of it.”

  “It was like a holocaust,” Cole whispered. “I never saw anything like that in my whole life. You at least rode out a tornado, and there was that time your grandfather pitched a fit in the garden, but no way does either one of those things compare to what happened tonight. The sun will be up soon.”