Working together to put out the fire, her heart rejoiced that she’d been right about Amy’s young man.
Suddenly, Amy was grabbing her arm, crying. “I can’t move the plank. It’s too big.”
“What in blue blazes are you doing back here?” Pearl had never been so scared in her entire life. There was a loud crack, and the entire wall erupted into a roaring mass of deadly flames. They jumped back out of the way.
“I tried to open the door, but there’s a big plank of wood lying against it.
A horse whinnied in terror. God, how could she have forgotten the animals? They had to get them out too. “What was I thinking, trying to save this damned barn? Go back out the window and get help dammit.”
Amy shook her head. “You need me here to calm the horses.”
The girl was right. “Samuel, you’ll have to go. You’re the only one strong enough to lift the plank.”
He grabbed Amy and kissed her hard. “I’m coming right back.”
Pearl and Amy abandoned the flames and led the two horses away from the fire, closer to the door. The fire hadn’t reached the roof or sides of the barn yet. The plow horse bucked in terror, but Pearl held on with all her might. “Amy your shawl!”
Amy knew what she wanted, bless her heart. She wrapped the fabric around the big horse’s eyes, instantly calming him. The other horse shifted from foot to foot, but Amy calmed it, too.
There was a moment of complete silence, and then all hell and the back half of the roof broke loose. Timbers and flames dropped to the floor where they’d been standing not five minutes earlier.
“Amy,” Pearl yelled. “Get the hell out of here!” Smoke was filling the ancient building, making it difficult to see and breathe.
“I’m not leaving you—”
“You sure as hell will,” she hollered, nodding toward the door. “Samuel’s right outside and will have the door open in a minute.”
They both heard the shouts at the same time. Amy clenched her teeth. “I’m staying.”
The door burst open. The smoke cleared for an instant and she saw the wild look in Davidson’s eyes. If she’d had any doubts about how he felt toward her, the fire cleansed them. He really loved her. Her eyes began to tear. She coughed as the smoke swirled around them once more.
“Let go, Pearl!”
Her mind started to haze over, and she couldn’t think clearly. It hurt to draw in a breath.
“Runyon, grab the black!”
Strong arms wrapped around her. Her mind cleared and she cried out, “Amy!” as she fought against Davidson’s hold on her.
He tightened his grip and shouted, “She’s with Samuel.”
Pearl stopped fighting and let him drag her outside.
She fell to her knees and tried to drag in a breath. The fit of coughing made her chest hurt and her throat burn. When she could finally draw in a breath of clean air, she looked around her. Daisy stood waiting, a cup of water in her hands. She shoved it at Pearl. “Drink it.”
Samuel had Amy in his arms and Mary was handing them water. Looking over her shoulder, Pearl watched as her barn burned brightly, lighting up the night sky.
“Where are the horses?”
Daisy answered, “Mr. Smythe and Mr. Runyon tied them over by the back of the house with the cow.”
“What about the chickens?” Lord, how would they eat without the egg money the flock would bring?
“Nellie and Mary opened the gate and shooed them into the garden.”
Pearl looked over at her garden and sighed. Well, they could replant. At least the chickens were safe. Looking around, she didn’t see either of the men.
“Where’s Davidson?”
Daisy shrugged. “He said something about buckets and the well.”
“Damnation!” Pearl struggled to stand and swayed, but dug deep for the grit to salvage what she could of her barn. “Daisy, go grab the bucket I keep by the cookstove. You all right?” she asked, moving to stand beside Amy and Samuel.
“Fine.” Samuel nodded toward the barn. “If Mr. Smythe and his friend hadn’t come outside when they did, I was going to crawl back in through the window.”
“Couldn’t you move the plank of wood either?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but it would have taken too long. It was wedged tight against the door and weighed a ton.”
Daisy came running back outside with two buckets.
“Where are you going?” Amy demanded as Pearl reached out for the buckets.
“To save my barn.”
“I’ll help—”
She put her hand on Amy’s arm and the girl fell silent. “You stay with the girls and see to the animals. Someone has to be in charge, and I’m trusting you to do it.”
“Do as she says, love.” Samuel grabbed one bucket and handed the other to Pearl.
For once, Amy didn’t argue.
They ran around to the back of the burning building. Dismay hit her at the same time as a wave of heat from the fire.
“Davidson!”
He’d just tossed the contents of another bucket on the out-of-control blaze and wiped his arm across his head. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She dipped her bucket in the horse trough. “Making biscuits.” Stupid man, what did he think she was doing?
She tossed her bucket on the fire and went back for more.
All of the air left her lungs as she was grabbed and plastered against a very familiar broad chest. “Go back to the house.”
“And leave my barn to burn?” Was he crazy? This was all she had. “What if a spark flies through the breeze and lands on the house?”
“Runyon and I can handle it.”
His friend appeared at his side and disagreed. “We can use all the help we can get.”
“But she could get hurt.”
Runyon nodded. “But if we don’t get the fire under control, it could spread to the house and she could lose everything.”
Davidson looked down into her eyes. “Not quite everything.”
As his lips brushed across hers, she heard someone yelling her name. She jerked back and saw riders heading toward the barn. “We’ve got help.”
Davidson nodded. “Be careful.”
She smiled and kissed him hard on his stubborn mouth. “You, too.”
“We saw the fire and knew it was your place.” Flaherty’s look was grim.
“Can you spare so many hands?” Pearl eyed the group of men and didn’t know if she’d have enough buckets.
He nodded. “Flynn, get the bucket brigade going.”
She drew in a shaky breath. Lord, it still hurt to breathe.
“Reilly, have you got the shovels?”
The big Irishman moved to stand beside her. “Are ye hurt, lass?”
She felt tears prick the backs of her dry-as-dust eyes. They burned, but she ignored the pain. “Right as rain.”
Davidson, put his arm around her. “Go and sit down, Pearl. We’ve hands enough to battle the blaze.”
She shook her head, “It’s my—”
Runyon stepped in between them. “The men are going to need coffee. Black and strong—gallons of it.”
“But I want to help.”
Davidson brushed the hair from her eyes. “I know you do, love, but Runyon’s right.” He kissed her brow. “Once you make us some coffee, you can come back and help with the bucket brigade.”
“Promise?”
His gaze was bright with emotion. “Promise.”
Two hours later, more help had arrived from town, and the blaze was nearly out.
Pearl’s head ached and her arms felt like lead, but she’d kept her word. Gallons of coffee had been brewed and consumed. She’d set Daisy to baking batches of scones and biscuits, while Nellie fried up bacon and eggs.
Most of the men ate in shifts, but there were four stubborn-as-mules men who didn’t stop any longer than it took to down a cup of coffee. She was ready to do battle with the worst of the lot.
“David
son.” Lord the man was nearly as stubborn about not taking a break as she was determined that he would.
He tossed another bucket on the smoking embers and looked up at her. His eyes narrowed. “I thought I told you to rest.”
“I did before,” she lied. “Now I’m not. Mr. Runyon?”
Runyon set his bucket down and wiped the sweat from his face with the tail of his shirt.
“I’ve another pot of coffee going, and Daisy sent these outside for you.”
Before either man could argue with her, she shoved a plate piled high with biscuits and scones toward them. “Where’s John?”
“Reilly?” Smythe called out.
The big Irishman and Flaherty both stopped and gratefully accepted the plate she handed them.
“How do you think it started?” Flaherty asked.
She looked up at the black-haired Irishman and shook her head. “Don’t you want to know who I think started it?”
His jaw clenched and from the corner of her eye, she saw Reilly stiffen. “Do you know who did this?”
She nodded. “I think I do.”
“Who’d want to kill ye, lass?”
Flaherty looked horrified. “Who said anything about killing Pearl?”
Reilly’s gaze locked with hers. “She didn’t tell ye about the plank jammed against the barn doors?”
Flaherty shook his head. “It must have slipped her mind.”
“Must have,” Davidson said as he walked over toward them. “I have my own ideas about that, and they include your town’s precious committee.”
Flaherty threw Reilly a look that could have re-started the fire. “They’re behind this then?”
Pearl shook her head. “You don’t know that for sure. Besides, Samuel was in the barn with us.”
Davidson’s gaze met hers and held. “My guess is they didn’t know he was inside.”
Pearl felt the blood rush from her head to her feet. “Dear God.” She reached out blindly for something solid to hold on to. A warm, firm arm wrapped around her, steadying her. “I can’t believe he would have killed his own son to get back at me.”
Davidson’s grip on her tightened. “You’re going to have to tell me what that bastard did to you.”
She shook her head. Reilly walked over to where Pearl stood. “Yer a smart man,” he ground out. “I’m guessin’ ye can figure it out without distressin’ Pearl.”
Davidson eased his grip so he could pull her around and into his embrace. She leaned her head against his heart. “Did he hurt you?”
She tensed, then buried her face against his chest. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
Pearl lifted her head and looked up into his solemn gaze. “The past can’t hurt you if you don’t let it.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Smythe watched Pearl walk toward the house. Her words still tumbled through his tired brain as Flaherty’s ranch hands stood with him, taking turns watching what was left of the smoking embers.
Runyon swiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his arm. “I need to tell you why I’m here.”
Smythe stiffened, then met his friend’s intense gaze. “I thought you already had.”
Runyon shook his head. “I’ve news that won’t improve, no matter how long I put it off.”
Smythe stared at the smoldering embers. “Better get it said.”
Runyon looked around them.
Smythe shook his head. “No one’s paying any attention to us. What’s so important that you left the city you love and traveled the wide open spaces you hate?”
His friend’s gaze glittered with pain.
Smythe’s gut clenched in fear. “Is it my mother?”
“She’s fine, but there’s a reason she’s been avoiding you.”
“Avoiding, hell! She refused to see me or speak to me,” Smythe corrected him.
“For your own safety.”
Smythe stiffened. Fisting his hands, he said, “Go on.”
“Michael wasn’t dead when you brought him home.”
Smythe’s head spun with questions. “No, you’re wrong. I couldn’t rouse him!”
“He’d been knocked unconscious.”
“But his head wound…all that blood.” Tremors wracked his aching body as he remembered.
“While you were soaking your grief in a bottle of brandy, he came to long enough to tell your mother about the threat.”
Smythe closed his eyes. Michael what have you done? “What threat? Why didn’t she call me?”
“You couldn’t even stand, let alone speak.”
He nodded for Runyon to continue.
“Michael received a threat on your life. So he took your horse riding that day.”
Smythe didn’t have to hear the rest to know his brother had given his life to protect him. “Why didn’t my mother tell me later?”
“Again, the threat. She was protecting the only son she had left.”
“But I could have done something.” Anything. Smythe’s stomach roiled as warring emotions clashed inside of him. He looked at his friend and knew there was more. “Tell me the rest.”
“She knows who’s behind the threat and only recently decided to confide in you, through me.”
“Give me his name.” A slow and agonizing death would be too kind for whoever was behind his brother’s death and the threats to his family.
“Your mother didn’t want me to tell you. She swore me to secrecy.” Runyon hesitated. Looking back at the barn, he nodded. “But you need to know. He’s followed you here, and it’s no longer just you who is not safe.”
Smythe swore. “I’ll kill the bastard. It’s Stanton, isn’t it?”
Runyon nodded.
Smythe slammed his fist against the corral post. “I’ve got to leave. I’ve got to stop him.”
“I received another wire today from Boston.” Runyon paused for a moment, then told him the rest. “Lincoln was hired by Stanton, but since you’re still alive, Stanton’s on his way to finish the job.”
“Pearl.” A knife wound to the gut couldn’t possibly hurt worse or bleed more than the realization she could be killed if she got in between his cousin and his greed.
“She cannot know about this.” Smythe could picture her hefting her damned rifle to protect him against his own damned family.
“But she’s—”
“Your word, Runyon.”
His friend looked skyward, then closed his eyes. “God help me, you have it.”
“I’ll leave tonight.”
“Are you sure that’s the answer?”
Smythe’s stomach churned and his head began to pound. “No.”
“Will you at least tell her why you’re leaving?”
Smythe looked at the embers and the half of the barn that still stood. They’d saved the front half of the barn, but lost the entire back where the hay, oats, and chicken feed were stored.
“No.”
“How do you know she’ll be safe?”
“All I have to do is ask the marshal. He’ll post a guard where she won’t see him.”
Runyon stared at him, but didn’t say anything more.
“The corral is sound,” Flaherty said, walking over to where they stood, running his hands over his face while he walked.
In the growing light, Smythe noticed the streaks of soot the other man’s fingers left behind. He probably had just as much sweat and soot smeared on his own face. “The animals will be getting hungry soon.”
Flaherty nodded. “I’ve sent some men home. They’ll be back with supplies to tide you over until Pearl can get back on her feet.”
Smythe nodded. “Do you always help your neighbors, or just Pearl?”
The rancher stared at him. “The people of Emerson have always been good to me. Ian McMaster saved my life and that of the men who work the ranch with me.”
“I’d like to meet him.”
Flaherty shrugged. “He would have liked to meet you, too
, but he’s dead.”
“He was a good friend.” Smythe sensed it was the truth.
Reilly walked over and said, “The best.”
Smythe looked at the tall, dark-haired man standing by the corral, soothing his horse. “A man can’t have too many friends.”
Runyon gave his horse one last pat and turned around and walked over toward where they stood. “How’s Pearl?”
“Amy finally convinced her to sit down in the rocking chair for a little while.”
Reilly smiled. “Last I saw, she was asleep.”
Runyon nodded. “She fought for her way of life last night.” He paused, then said, “As hard as any man I know.”
Runyon glanced at Smythe, before asking Flaherty and his men, “What’s wrong with the townspeople that they don’t like her?”
Reilly bristled. “Don’t be includin’ us in with that lot.”
Flaherty nodded. “It’s a long story, and one I’m sure she won’t appreciate me telling out of turn.”
“The lass has a good heart, but not one of those sour-faced, pinch-souled ladies in town can see beyond the ends of their noses.” Reilly shook his head. “Never will.”
Smythe speculated, “She’s got a handful of lady friends and her girls. What does she need with the rest of them?”
“Acceptance,” Pearl whispered, coming to stand beside him. He jolted as she touched his aching shoulder. “Is it bleeding again?”
He shook his head. “It just aches like a sonofabitch.” Smythe couldn’t help but smile at the sight she made. Her dark hair curled around her shoulders and spilled down in back in wild abandon. Her braid had long since come undone, and she had smudges of soot across her injured cheek.
Not wanting to smear more soot on her, but unable to keep from touching her, he slid the tip of his finger along the slender curve of her jaw, stopping at the cleft in her chin.
“How do you feel?” He hoped her lungs didn’t burn as he suspected they might.
Her sweet lips curved up into a smile that told him more than words ever could. She was strong, and she was his.
Not caring who watched, he pulled her back into his arms and let his lips gently mold to hers. He wanted to share more than a kiss; he needed to reaffirm the fact that they’d survived the night and another attempt on her life. But the rest would have to wait for now.
The Irish Westerns Boxed Set Page 67
