Colorado Fire - Colorado Heart 2

by Sara York

  "Shut the fuck up," Craig hissed.

  "Fucking hell. It hurts. I broke my fucking arm."

  "Shut up," Craig yelled. He swung back his leg and let it fly, striking Marshal in the ribs.

  The pain wasn't as bad as in his arm, but the burn was sharp. Marshal was at an extreme disadvantage. His right arm was broken and bound to his left one, making him move both when he really only wanted to move one. Nausea welled inside. He growled and reached for Craig's foot when he swung again. His broken arm slowed him down and he missed Craig's foot, but somehow the foot struck him in his injured arm, taking away Marshal's breath and his sanity. He screamed and wailed, his whole body drawing in, leaving him in a ball on his side.

  Craig kicked him again, this time hitting his head. He needed to stop the assault, but there wasn't much he could do. Craig would beat the shit out of him, and he'd probably die up here if the asshole didn't stop soon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Grant heard the noise and rushed forward. The darkness wasn't his friend and he almost ran into a low hanging tree branch. At the last minute he ducked but it didn't stop him from falling to his knees. Billy rushed ahead, cresting the rise and disappearing from his view. Grant scrambled to stand but the dirt gave way. The sound of gunfire knocked him on his ass. Everyone paused then they surged forward. Grant raced up the rest of the way, his blood pumping hard. James and Tucker were right behind him.

  His flashlight illuminated the path and he wondered if he was creating a target, but he needed to find out what happened. Then the ground leveled off and he saw Billy in the dirt. Marshal was beside him. Grant searched the area for Craig coming up with nothing. They were still at risk. Even though he hadn't found Craig, the bastard could be hiding in the trees, waiting to pick them off one by one.

  "Fuck!" Grant yelled then dropped to the ground. "Billy, where were you hit?"

  "Left leg. I'm fine—just in pain." His words were halting, stuttered almost.

  Grant turned to Marshal and touched his face. "Marshal, how bad is it?"

  Marshal didn't respond. Grant smoothed his hand over Marshal's face to his neck, searching for a pulse. It was there but a little weak.

  "Tucker, call Duff," Grant yelled out.

  "Already on with him. Duff and the rest are coming up. They're bringing their medpacks and a sked to carry Marshal down. Find out how much Billy is bleeding."

  Grant turned back to Billy but James was already working on him.

  "How bad?" Grant asked.

  Mike raced into the clearing, his rifle over his shoulder. Grant turned back to Billy, looking at James for answers.

  "This is going to hurt," James said.

  Grant swung his flashlight to shine on Billy's leg. It didn't look like Billy had lost that much blood. James rolled up Billy's pant leg, revealing that the bullet had only grazed the side and wasn't a direct hit. They could patch him up quickly and he could get down the mountain with help from someone.

  "Billy, you're going to live but you'll have one hell of a scar," James said.

  "Figured," Billy quipped.

  Grant turned back to Marshal, not liking his status. "Marshal doesn't look good."

  Mike came over and looked down at him. "He doesn't, but we'll figure it out. He just needs to see the doctor. He'll be fine."

  Grant heard the words from Mike, but he didn't know if he believed him. Losing faith sucked, but Marshal really didn't look very good. This was his best bud and though they hadn't been close recently, not like they'd been before he got with Craig, he didn't want Marshal to die.

  Tucker came over, placing his hand on Grant's shoulder. "They're in the field below and running up. They'll be here soon. He can hold on. He's probably bleeding internally, we don't know. It looks like Craig beat him up. We'll have to transport him to the hospital."

  "This isn't good." Grant glanced back at Billy then to Marshal. Two guys injured on their own property, or at least close to their own property, and Craig was still out there. They wouldn’t be safe until he was dead. But how the fuck do you kill a ghost like Craig? He should have shot to kill in England. It would have been hard, but he could have found some way to set it up. He thought about that day when he'd seen Craig in Leeds, the situation had been impossible. His stupidity had caused this. Had he let Duff plan an operation instead of just going after his ex, this wouldn't be happening. Guilt filled Grant, twisting through his stomach.

  "We should go look for him," Grant said.

  "Too dangerous," Tucker countered. "I did a sweep and didn't see him. We'd be walking into a trap. He's already taken out two of our guys."

  "Fuck," Grant cursed. Time slid by slowly and he wondered how much longer the guys were going to take. Craig had pissed him off and he wanted blood, but Tucker was right, they'd be screwed if they went searching for him in the dark.

  He was about ready to give up and start carrying Marshal down the hill on his own when he heard Zander and Duff.

  "Hey, we're coming up," Zander hollered.

  Grant glanced at Marshal and frowned. Zander would be devastated when he realized how bad Marshal was hurt. The man was always professional with a clear head, but seeing the love of his life mangled and broken would be difficult.

  He looked around, judging the area where they were standing. It was small, but big enough to lay the sked down and load Marshal into it. They'd all have to work together to get Marshal down safely along with Billy.

  Zander appeared first then Duff. They were coming up fast, the sked behind them. He heard something off to the side and for a brief second he thought about ignoring the noise. He focused and turned, horror washed over him as a wall of fire erupted to the right then circled around behind them.

  "Fire," Grant called out.

  The guys at Wild Bluff worked closely as a team, sometimes their thoughts were in line, allowing them to finish each other's sentences. When the fire flashed, they all moved as one, like a wave in the ocean they jerked back. Desperation set in and they moved quickly.

  James and Tucker knelt with Duff and Mike to load Marshal into the sked, securing the straps quickly. Zander had glanced down at Marshal before turning to Billy, assessing his injuries. Grant watched as Zander straightened his back and pulled Billy up, helping him stand.

  Marshal was strapped in, his head protected and Billy was already climbing slowly down the first slope with Zander's aid. They tied a rope to the sked and Grant along with Mike's help, lowered him down the first slope. Tucker, James and Duff were below to steady the stretcher and make sure it didn't flip, forcing Marshal's face into the dirt.

  The heat of the fire on his back was almost unbearable. Grant glanced over his shoulder, seeing the fire racing closer, moving faster than they were. His heart skipped a beat and sweat broke out on his forehead. They'd need to move faster to beat the fire. If Marshal and Billy weren't injured, they'd work on cutting the blaze off before it spread. They didn't have the resources to do that and get Billy and Marshal down the mountain so they ignored the fire, focusing on their teammates.

  Billy and Zander had made great time and they'd stopped near a tree as Zander checked Billy's injury.

  "What are you doing?" Grant yelled.

  "He's loosing too much blood. I need to stop it." Zander pulled out some gauze and Grant paused to help him. He cut the gauze giving it to Zander to tape it down. The wind picked up and the fire moved, bearing down on them. The flames popped and hissed angrily. The underbrush was dry, adding fuel to the fire. They weren't moving fast enough to escape the flames with the wind blowing so strongly.

  "We've got to hurry," James called out.

  "We'll make it," Tucker said though he didn't sound very convincing.

  Grant helped Zander get Billy up then moved to the sked, taking Duff's place. They kept moving, carrying Marshal faster than they normally would. He was being bumped around, but the fire was approaching fast. They needed a miracle. Lower and lower they raced, but the fire didn't let up. The wind was whipping
at their back, heating the air around them. At one point, they had to turn, changing directions. Craig had tried to hem them in, but they broke free.

  Carrying Marshal was difficult and though they were moving fast, it was slow compared to how a single person would move. The darkness made them even slower. If they escaped the mountain, it would be a miracle.

  They were lucky in one aspect. Had it been in the summer, it would have been much more dangerous, but the cold night air kept the temperature low. The guys were getting tired and they were only halfway down. He kept pushing everyone harder, encouraging the men to move quickly. The air of defeat dissolved as each one of the guys started encouraging others. The wind changed and the fire slowed, creating a gap between them and the flames.

  Then Grant saw something that frightened him even more than Craig did. A fire truck was headed up the road toward them. How the hell had a fire truck even gotten on their property? The truck cut across the field, approaching the tree line. Grant wondered how far they'd make it. They raced lower down the mountain, coming closer to the fence. The wind gusted and once again the fire was upon them, pushing them hard.

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw Billy and Zander hobbling down together. They both looked tired, Billy's face a mask of pain. Zander caught Grant's gaze and his eyes narrowed. They were doing all they could, but it might not actually be enough. Grant was glad Zander had taken the initiative to help Billy instead of focusing on Marshal.

  The heat was intense from the growing fire. This was the first time their ranch had been threatened like this. He didn't like it. The valley usually had enough rain, keeping the wildfires away, but Craig had to have used an accelerant. Up at the top, it had smelled different. Like maybe Craig had poured some gasoline on the trees and brush to get the thing going.

  Grant saw that the fire truck was closer. He guessed that the firemen had cut the fence. The trees were too close together where Grant and his men were walking for the truck to make it all the way up. He thought about trying to keep their existence from the firemen, but the fire was getting too close, racing down the hill with the help of the wind. They were caught in a desperate situation with few alternatives.

  "Hey," Grant called out when he saw one of the firemen between the trees.

  The fireman glanced up then started moving in their direction. They probably looked like an odd group carrying a sked down the mountain and one guy limping. He didn't want to have to answer questions, but there wasn't a way around getting their help.

  His guys raced toward the fire truck, Zander and Billy following close behind. Two firemen moved closer, their faces almost impossible to see behind the masks. One guy took off his helmet and mask, his gaze intense.

  "What happened?"

  "He's broken a few bones and needs assistance. We need to get him down the mountain quick," Grant answered.

  "Him?" The firefighter gestured to Billy.

  "He needs medical assistance too."

  The firefighter's eyes narrowed. "We've got another unit on the way. This fire is bad. Anything you want to tell me?"

  Grant sighed and though he thought about hiding the source of the fire, they would know eventually. "There was an accelerant used."

  "Fuck. Hopefully the winds will change. Now get out of here. Head to your trucks and get him to the house. We'll send our next unit there."

  "Sure." Grant didn't like having the other men on the ranch. They always secured the sensitive material, but they had guns out. Already, these firemen knew too much. Two guys were injured and there would be questions. Duff would have to intervene, stopping any investigation.

  Chapter Seventeen

  James bristled as they moved past the firemen. He wondered how much trouble they were going to have with strangers on the ranch. They stowed the stretcher Marshal was on in the bed of the truck, and he crawled in beside him. Tucker, Mike, and Duff jumped into the other trucks, driving them back to the ranch. Grant hopped into the front seat of the truck they'd placed Marshal in. That left Zander to help him with Marshal. Zander's eyes were wide, his hands shaking.

  "Hey, he'll be fine," James soothed.

  Zander glanced up at him then back to Marshal. James was worried too and wasn't sure Marshal would be fine since he hadn't regained consciousness.

  The ride back to the house was slow as Grant tried to avoid potholes though he did hit a few. James appreciated the consideration, but he was worried about Marshal. They shouldn't let the firemen into the house. They tried to keep everything hidden, but they were decked out with riot gear and guns. The firemen would have to be stupid not to notice.

  Mike still had his rifle out. It sucked that he hadn't gotten a clear shot. Craig could come down to the ranch to terrorize them. He'd need to pull Tucker aside and ask him to go up to the barn to watch for Craig.

  They stopped outside the entry to the kitchen, the guys running over to grab Marshal. Mike helped Billy inside, settling him on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets. The sked was placed on the floor in the middle of the kitchen. Mike and Tucker looked at each other for a few seconds before nodding.

  "I'll fix Billy up," Duff said.

  "Good. Marshal needs to be transported. I'm not sure how much I can do." Mike touched Marshal's neck, his gaze settled on the floor. "His pulse is good."

  James knelt beside Marshal and touched his arm. "His eyelids are moving a bit."

  Mike's gaze shifted to Marshal's face. "It could mean nothing."

  "We need to get him into the van and get him to the hospital," Duff said.

  "Yeah, I agree." Mike shook his head, his gaze settling on James. "Come with us."

  Tucker grabbed Mike's rifle and headed out. They were down two men, three if you counted Roger being out of the country. Tucker was busy setting up to take out Craig. The activity was crazy fast and he needed a break to think, but he didn't have any time.

  "Yeah, let me stow my gear." James removed his flack jacket and placed it on the table. He released the clip and checked the chamber. "What about your gun and gear, Duff?"

  "Could you take care of it?"

  "Sure." James took Duff's gun and released the clip. He checked the chamber before placing the gun on the counter top.

  "Grant, could you put away our gear while we get ready to transport Marshal to the hospital?" James asked.

  "Sure."

  James moved to the cabinet where they kept the ranch vehicle keys, finding the van keys quickly. He headed to the kitchen door, looking out and seeing another fire truck stopped beside the ranch trucks. One guy stepped out and raced toward the house, his helmet and gear in his hand. James checked to see if the guns were out of sight. Grant had picked up all of the weapons and was moving them to the control room where they'd be locked away in a closet. James guessed Grant didn't feel there was time to put them all up in the gun cabinet and he agreed. It would take time to stow them correctly and time wasn't on their side.

  "We've got company." James swung open the door, his gaze settling on a guy with thin lips and a square jaw. His brow jutted out and his broad forehead showed no wrinkles. His gray-blue eyes were intense as he searched James for answers.

  "You have injured? I'm a paramedic too. Show me where he is."

  James took a deep breath, not wanting to appear confrontational, but he was already on edge and this guy pushed all of his buttons. He wanted to tell the man to leave them alone, but they needed medical care for Marshal. That was more important than anything else. They might be trained medics, but this was beyond his experience and Zander was too close. Mike could probably do something, but having outside help was good.

  "Come in. He's over here on the floor."

  The fireman stepped inside, following close. "I'm Brody Medders."

  "James, and Marshal is over here."

  Tucker had cut Billy's pant's leg, exposing the gunshot wound. He glanced up and froze before turning back to Billy's leg. James cringed when he got a look at Billy's leg. He hoped Brody wasn't famili
ar with gunshot wounds.

  Brody glanced at Billy then to Marshal. "How long as he been out?"

  "More than an hour," James answered.

  "His pulse?"

  "Getting stronger."

  "I need to get a reading on his blood pressure."

  "We have equipment here." He slid the medic bag to the guy and smiled. "We're like boy scouts, prepared and all."

  "I see." The paramedic took Marshal's blood pressure reading then listened to his heart. "I don't like what I'm seeing. We need to transport him soon. He's okay for now, but he needs to be at the ER before morning."

  James nodded. "I agree. We have a van. I'll go pull it around and take him to the nearest hospital in Pueblo."

  "I'm riding with you," Brody said.

  "You don't have to." James countered.

  "I insist. Now, let's get him to the van."

  James opened the door, ready to step out when the wood splintered beside him. Bits of the frame hit his face and neck, pricking his skin. It stung, but because he'd pulled on his coat and a cap, the damage wasn't too bad. Brody jumped up and yelled. James saw him and spun toward Brody, reaching him in two strides. He pulled Brody to the floor, covering him with his body.

  "Stay down. We need to move Marshal to another room, but if we get up, we'll be hit. Help me get the sked into the den. We'll figure it out from there."

  "What the fuck?" Brody said.

  "Just do what he says," Grant barked.

  James saw fear in Brody's eyes. This was probably the first time the man had been under fire. For James, it was business as usual. Another shot exploded the glass above the kitchen sink.

  "He sees us. Give me two seconds." James jumped up and switched off the lights. He made his way back to Marshal and Brody, lifting the sked on his end. "Pick it up and move."

  "I have no idea where we're going," Brody said.

  "I'll lead, just carry."

  James felt Brody pick up the other end of the sked, hoisting it to about knee level. James moved with confidence through the den to the hall where there were no windows and they'd be protected.