by Sharon Sala
She slipped off the fence rail and went past him so quietly he didn’t even realize she was gone. Not until he reached out did he discover that there was nothing in his arms but empty darkness.
The clouds belched a long, low, faraway rumble. King looked up at the dark, moonless sky in surprise. Maybe it was finally going to rain. He knew the thunder was far away and moving in the wrong direction to help this dry, dusty land tonight. He also knew it would take more than rain to put his relationship with Jesse back together. He wanted to follow her into the house, finish what they’d started in the hayloft and fill the huge, aching hole she’d just punched in his heart. But now, because he’d been so blind, and made her tell more than she’d obviously intended, she’d resent anything he said or did. She was going to think it was pity, or assuaging the guilt he’d already admitted he felt because of the attempted kidnapping. They hurt her to get to him. Then he’d hurt her by being so damn blind. Jesse was right. The McCandless men had really let her down.
“Dear Lord,” King whispered to the starless sky, “help me find a way to make Jesse believe. I can’t let her go again. If I do, I’ll lose her for sure this time…and I think it would kill me.”
He bowed his head and turned, walking back into the house to shut out the night, and to shut himself in with loneliness and pain.
CHAPTER 10
The wind whipped over the rolling hills, flattening the dry grass and weeds to the ground. It whipped Jesse’s hair into her mouth and eyes with stinging gusts. She covered her mouth and nose to keep from inhaling the clouds of red dust that hurtled wildly through the air.
“Hurry!” Maggie urged, as she and Jesse grabbed at the last of the clothes on the clothesline.
Jesse nodded, waved Maggie into the house, and gathered the last of the clothes alone. The duststorm had come up so quickly. One minute the sky had been bright, the sunshine getting ready to do its worst; the next thing they realize, a low hanging pall of rusty sky was hurtling at them in gale force.
“My word!” Maggie gasped, as Jesse staggered into the door with her arms full of dusty clothes that would have to be re-washed. “This reminds me of the Dust Bowl days. Lord knows we don’t want that to happen again. We sure need a rain.”
“Here, Maggie,” Jesse urged. “Let me start the washing. You’ve already done this once. This time it’s my turn.”
“You just talked me into it, honey. Thanks a bunch. I believe I’ll go clean up while you start the wash. I feel like I just ate a bowl of sand.”
Jesse grinned. “I know what you mean. Oh!” she added, “as soon as I start a load to wash, I’m going to go check on Tariq. He was out in the coral earlier this morning. I may need to put him up if someone didn’t already think of it. King took most of the men with him to the stockyards. They’re hauling off the herd of cattle that was pastured by the big pond.”
“Okay, but be careful,” Maggie cautioned, then went through the utility room into the kitchen.
Jesse put on a long-sleeved shirt to use as a shield against the sharp, stinging sand, wrapped a scarf around her head, leaving only her eyes visible, and started toward the horse barn in her makeshift armor.
The wind blew in one long, continuous blast from the Oklahoma corridor, south toward Texas, carrying dust from as far away as the Dakotas, picking up momentum and density as it passed from state to state along the line of the storm front.
Jesse struggled to keep her feet on the ground as she lowered her head and pushed herself forward step by step. She heard King’s big white stallion neighing frantically as she neared the barns. The wild winds and swirling dust were driving the horse into a frenzy. There was no place he could go to get away from the storm.
Jesse dashed quickly through the barn and into the stall area leading into the corrals. She whistled sharply, but the wind blew the sound away from Tariq. He didn’t hear her approach. Jesse grabbed a rope, quickly made a noose, and walked out into the corral, letting the long loop drag in the swirling dust. She didn’t want to scare the horse anymore than he already was.
“Come here, boy,” she called again, and this time Tariq saw her. He answered her call with a frightened nicker, spun about before he oriented himself in the storm, and came toward her at a trot.
Jesse slipped the rope over his head and quickly led him out of the storm into the shelter of the barn.
“Here’s an empty stall, fella. I know you don’t like to be shut up, but something tells me you won’t fuss much today.”
Tariq flicked his little ears back and forth, calming at the sound of Jesse’s voice and the relief of being away from the stinging dust and wind. He tossed his head as she slipped the rope from his neck, then nudged her arm as she began to rub him down, brushing most of the red dirt from the horse’s snowy coat.
She gave him a final pat, walked out of the stall, and shut the half door behind her. The lariat rope lay in a tangle on the barn floor and she picked it up, deftly working it into a proper nest of loops, and hung it on a peg by the stall door. She dusted her hands against her pant legs, and surprised herself when she realized all that she’d just accomplished had been done with no pain or weakness to her hands. She pulled the scarf away from her face and looked down in surprise.
“They don’t hurt,” Jesse whispered to herself. “My God! They don’t hurt at all. Now,” she muttered, pulling the scarf back around her face before making a dash for the house, “if only the rest of my life would heal as quickly.”
Jesse was heartsick at the growing gap between herself and King. For the last three days he’d purposely absented himself from her presence. When he couldn’t avoid her, there was a look of pain and guilt so imbedded in his eyes that Jesse didn’t know how to put things right.
She didn’t know whether she’d embarrassed him by her declaration, or whether all he felt was guilt at not being able to reciprocate her feelings.
This is what she’d most feared would happen if King realized she loved him. Now he was probably lost to her for good…even as a friend.
Her heart twisted in pain. She stifled the urge to cry and headed for the house.
“Wow!” Jesse gasped, as she blew through the door. “That wind is furious.” She shrugged out of her scarf and jacket, tried unsuccessfully to smooth her dark tangles into some semblance of order, and staggered into King’s outstretched arms. The wind outside was not as furious as King.
“What do you think you were doing?” he asked slowly, his dark eyes flashing, his mouth grim with anger.
“Putting up your horse,” Jesse answered, trying to pull away from King’s angry grasp before he could finish his urge to shake her.
“Jesse, am I ever going to be able to trust you not to get into trouble when I’m gone? You could have been hurt,” he muttered, raking her slight figure with a frantic sweep of his eyes.
“You’re what’s hurting me,” Jesse muttered, and watched in dismay as King’s face blanched. She wished she could take back her angry taunt. But it was too late. The damage was done.
King looked blankly down at the fierce grip he had on her arms, and instantly set her free. He turned away, hunched his shoulders and leaned his head against the pane of glass in the kitchen door.
“I’m sorry,” he said, clinching his hands into fists of frustration. “I’m sorry, so sorry, Jesse Rose. All I seem to be able to do is hurt you.”
He felt a dark, ugly rage building; he felt himself becoming as out of control as the wind outside, and angrily drew back his fist, unconsciously aiming for the window.
Jesse acted on instinct. She caught his fist just before it connected with the glass in the door and hung on to his arm with all her might.
“No!” she cried out. “No, King. Stop it! Stop it now!”
King took a harsh, deep breath and blinked. He looked down at the dust streaks on Jesse’s face, the distress filling her wide, blue eyes, and the grip she had on his arm. What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t lost control of his emotions lik
e this since he was a teenager.
The look on his face was so lost Jesse couldn’t help herself. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist as she laid her head against his chest. His heartbeat was ricocheting against her eardrum, but the longer Jesse held him, the steadier it became. Finally, Jesse felt his arms slip around her shoulders as King relaxed and buried his face in her hair.
“I need you to forgive me, Jesse Rose,” he whispered. “I need back in your life…anyway you’ll have me. Please…”
Jesse’s heart jumped. He finished his plea so softly she had to hold her breath to listen.
“Give me a chance, Jesse. I can’t make it without you. I don’t even want to try.”
Jesse started to answer him, the joy in her heart spreading swiftly to her lips, when Maggie’s sharp call of concern brought them both crashing down to reality.
“King, come quick!” Maggie called from the living room where she’d gone to watch television before starting the noon meal.
King and Jesse entered simultaneously, and each saw her concern. There were no words to describe the coming horror.
Easily visible through the floor to ceiling picture window was a massive wall of smoke billowing alone in the aftermath of the subsiding dust storm. A prairie fire! And it looked as if it were heading with great speed toward the ranch adjoining the McCandless property. If they didn’t get the fire under control soon, the Double M would be right in its path.
“Call county fire,” King ordered. “I’ll take most of the men with me. Turner and Charlie will stay here. They’ll need to be ready if we don’t get the fire stopped in time.”
He cast a regretful glance back at Jesse, saw the worry and fear on her face, and couldn’t resist. He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the look of pleased surprise on Maggie’s face, and kissed her soundly.
“I’m not through with you, girl. I’ve got to go…and for Pete’s sake…and mine,” he added, “be careful.”
Jesse’s spirits soared along with a bright red flush on her cheeks at the look of surprise and satisfaction on Maggie’s face.
“Well now,” she chuckled. “I guess grass fires aren’t all that’s out of control around here. Come on, honey. Let’s call the fire department quickly before the whole world goes up in smoke.”
Time passed slowly. Jesse watched from the verandah as the county fire trucks went flying down the road in front of the ranch in a cloud of dust, followed by the volunteer fire-fighters in their personal vehicles. From time to time, Maggie would step outside and stand beside Jesse’s stiff little figure, waiting sentinel on the porch steps.
“He’s going to be just fine, girl,” Maggie said, and slipped a comforting arm around Jesse’s shoulders. “He’s been doing this all of his life. Every year it’s the same thing. You know that. Some fool is bound to throw a cigarette from a passing car, or decide to burn trash, even on a day like this. Then all the good men, like King, take time out to help each other. They fight fire. They fight until the fire runs out of something to burn, or they put it out, whichever comes first.”
“I know,” Jesse said. “But this time it’s different.”
“No, honey,” Maggie offered. “This time you and King are what’s different. When did all this happen?”
“For me,” Jesse answered, “when I was sixteen, maybe seventeen. One day I looked at him, and he’d changed, or my perception of him had. Whatever. I waited and I waited for him to notice me. I wanted him to see me as an adult, but he didn’t.”
The break in her voice made Maggie feel guilty. She’d never suspected. Then something else occurred to her.
“Is that why you left us so suddenly?”
Jesse nodded.
“Well, it’s obvious King finally noticed something,” Maggie teased. “I haven’t seen a kiss like that since…since…well, at least since my soap opera yesterday afternoon.”
Jesse turned around and burst out laughing at Maggie’s words.
The ringing telephone called Maggie indoors and it wasn’t long before she stuck her head back outside long enough to reply.
“I have to go to the Winslow place. The fire started on their property and Sue burned her hands trying to put it out. Her baby’s not quite two and her husband is gone. I told her I’d help out and spend the night until her husband gets home tomorrow.”
“Of course,” Jesse agreed, knowing how helpless she’d been when unable to use her hands. And she’d had no one but herself to worry about. “Need a ride?” she added.
“No. One of the neighbors volunteered to come get me. You’ll be all right, won’t you?” Maggie asked, suddenly realizing the predicament in which she’d be leaving Jesse. They hadn’t been leaving her alone. Maggie started to go back in and change her plans when she remembered. “Turner and Charlie are still here, aren’t they? And King and the other men should be home before dark.”
“I’ll be fine,” Jesse urged. “Go pack your nightie. I’ll watch for your ride.”
All too soon Maggie was gone. Jesse watched as the pickup truck disappeared down the driveway in a cloud of blowing dust. She looked behind her at the big, empty house, and back at the ever present clouds of smoke on the horizon. She couldn’t control the shiver of fear that swept over her. Please God, let King be safe.
Turner and Charlie waved at her as they came around the driveway from the machine sheds, pulling a wide plow behind one of the tractors. Jesse knew they were going to make a firebreak by cutting through the thick prairie grass with the steel plowshares, turning the fire fodder under, and the clods of dry, Oklahoma soil up to the sky.
The phone rang again, and Jesse dashed to answer. It was King.
“Jesse,” he asked in a rush, obviously out of breath. “Are you and Maggie okay?”
“Yes,” she answered, then added, “Maggie’s not here. Someone came to get her. Sue Winslow hurt herself and needed help with the baby.”
“Okay, honey,” he said, and then coughed.
Jesse knew he’d just turned his head away from the phone. His voice was so dry and husky she could barely understand him. She feared he’d inhaled a lot of heat and smoke.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. But I need you to give Turner a message.”
Jesse started to tell him Turner wasn’t there either, but something made her stop.
“You need to tell him to go get the two-year-olds. You remember, Jess? The ones the dogs chased? If this fire jumps Salt Creek, they’ll be in danger. Will you do that, honey?”
“Yes, I’ll tend to it, King,” she hedged, and knew he’d heard her hesitancy.
“Jesse, are you going to do what I asked you to do?” he growled.
“Turner’s not here, King. He and Charlie are plowing a fire break,” she said, her words spilling out in a rush. “I can take Tariq and go let the horses out before I can ever get Turner back to the ranch.”
“No!” he shouted into the phone. “No, dammit! No, Jesse! Promise me. Don’t you dare go after those horses!”
“King, if I don’t, they could be trapped. Then you’d lose everything,” Jesse argued.
“Jesse Rose,” he shouted, and she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “I said don’t go!”
But the line went dead in his ear and King threw the phone down in panic. Damn her to hell and back, she would go. He knew it. He ran past the stunned patrons of the corner quick-stop where he’d gone to use the phone, and jumped back into the borrowed Jeep. He would never get back to the Double M in time to stop her. And Jesse was wrong. He wouldn’t lose a thing unless something happened to her. Then he’d lose everything.
* * *
The big stallion was uneasy. He danced sideways when Jesse dismounted to open the wide, wooden gate that separated the meadow above the ranch from the grass land where the horses were pastured.
She could smell smoke in the air, and if she looked closely between the trees in the distance, she could see the first hints of grayish-brown
wisps gathering above the treetops.
The wind was blowing against her left cheek as she mounted Tariq and turned him full face into the wind. She didn’t think the fire had crossed the creek yet, and prayed the fire-fighters would be able to stop the blaze before it did. If they could, the Double M would be spared. But Jesse knew time was of the essence, and kicked Tariq in the flanks, urging him at a gallop toward the big pond and the herd of two-year-olds.
She rode Tariq hard, but his seat was easy as he ran. Jesse had no problems staying mounted. Nothing could have prepared her for the panic and terror that lay waiting just over the hill.
The closer she got, the sharper was the tang of acrid smoke filling the air. Jesse’s heartbeat accelerated. Smoke was blowing in long, stringy clouds, making her eyes water and her nose burn as she reluctantly inhaled the burning wind. Tariq tossed his head and Jesse knew he, too, was suffering from the effects of the fire. She leaned over in the saddle and urged him on, knowing the horse’s instincts were telling him he was going the wrong way.
“Come on, big fellow,” Jesse called in his ear. “We’re almost there.”
It was after they topped the last hill above the pond where Jesse had enjoyed her skinny dip that she saw the extent of danger she and Tariq faced if they tried to rescue the already trapped horses.
“Dear God!” Jesse moaned, her eyes frantically searching the landscape for signs of some fire-fighters or a county fire truck or two. But they were nowhere in sight; there was only a wall of swiftly moving or ange flame that was diminishing its distance from the trapped horses in wide, hungry swaths.
A strong, maverick gust of wind blew away the clouds of smoke that were slowly encompassing Jesse and her mount. And for just a moment, she saw hope.
Below and behind the pond dam lay a narrow corridor of, as yet, unburned pasture. Jesse knew if she could reach it in time and turn the trapped and milling herd in the proper direction, their instinct for survival would take them through. With no further thought, Jesse rode her horse into the thick, burning cloud.
