Smoke. I coughed and opened my eyes. Saw the French blue curtains in the guest room billowing against the red sky.
I sat up. I wasn’t in Baghdad or lost in a dream. I was at home. On the ranch. In South Dakota. The sky never looked red like that unless…
Something was on fire.
I raced to the window. The chicken coop was engulfed. Orange flames licked the black sky like angry demonic tongues.
Hope.
I dropped to all fours and crept down the quiet hallway toward Hope’s room. No flames crackled, no stifling heat, nothing but a bluish-gray haze filled the space. At her door, cool wood met my palm. The metal handle wasn’t hot, so I pushed inside.
The windows were closed; smoke hadn’t breached the room. My gaze zeroed in on the small white foot dangling off the edge of the bed. “Hope. Wake up.”
No response.
She was still sprawled on her stomach with the towel askew. “There’s a fire. Wake up.”
She didn’t move.
I shook her shoulder. My fingers connected with sticky wetness. I felt a bump on the back of her neck that hadn’t been there earlier.
Cold fear seized me. I pivoted into a fighting stance as my eyes scanned the room. No one jumped out at me. I picked up the receiver from the nightstand and punched in 911. The line was dead. Damn damn damn. And I’d left my cell phone on the coffee table in the living room.
On instinct I flung back the quilt and cradled Hope to my chest. Her weight didn’t register as I hustled from the room. Despite the muscles in my chest being strung rubber-band tight, I inhaled deeply, dashed down the steps and out the front door. Once my bare feet hit concrete, I headed for the gazebo.
Hope didn’t stir as I set her on the ground. I raced back inside the house, grabbed my cell phone, and dialed 911 as I sprinted back outside to keep vigil over my sister.
After dispatch rattled off their initial spiel, I said, “This is Mercy Gunderson. 43007 Gunderson Way. There’s an injured woman here who requires immediate medical attention. At least one structure on the property is on fire… No, ma’am… I’m outside… Yes, ma’am… Thank you.”
My cell rang not three seconds later. Jake. I flipped it open. “Mercy! You outta the house?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“By the gazebo. Where are you?”
“On my way.”
Two minutes later Jake came hauling ass around the corner. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. But… someone broke in and hurt Hope before they set the fire.”
“What? Hope is here?” He looked at the cell phone clutched in my hand. “Did you call it in?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Stay with her. I have to see if TJ put Queenie and Comet in the stables in the old barn. The north side of the small barn and the grass beside it are on fire, too.”
Shit. Three fires? “Anything else burning?”
“I don’t know. I’ll check and be back.”
Jake seemed startled when I grabbed his forearm. “The horses aren’t worth risking your life.”
“I know, but I ain’t about to let an animal burn to death if I can get ’em out.”
I phoned Sophie and asked her to come help. Hope would need coddling, and I’d be too busy putting out fires to tend her. I circled the outside of the house checking to see if anything had been damaged.
An ugly black stain darkened the white siding beneath the kitchen window, as if someone tried to torch the place but couldn’t get it to ignite, so they moved on to destroy the next thing. Or had they moved inside?
Why hadn’t I heard anything? What had happened to my finely honed powers of observation?
Right. I’d dulled them in the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
Frustration built. I couldn’t help my sister. I couldn’t stop the buildings from burning down. I couldn’t do anything but stand there helplessly as my life careened out of control.
Do something.
Like what? Get my apron wet in the well and help beat the flames back like the pioneer women had done?
An ambulance ripped up the driveway, ending my mental breakdown. Two pumper trucks; two sheriff’s cars, sirens wailing; six pickups and assorted SUVs followed. Not gawkers, volunteer firemen. Vehicles were abandoned, shouts exchanged as the fireproof suits went on.
I flagged down the ambulance crew. “She’s over here.”
The male EMT was Geneva’s brother, Rome. “Is it Sophie?”
“No. It’s Hope. I don’t know when, or how, but someone hit her in the neck and I know I shouldn’t have moved her in case it’s a head injury, but I couldn’t tell if the house was on fire, too, and I couldn’t just leave her-”
“You did fine, Mercy. We’ll take it from here.”
I put my lips to his ear. “She’s pregnant.”
“Good to know.” When I didn’t budge, Rome peered in my eyes. “Take a deep breath. Do I need to treat you for shock?”
Was it that obvious? “No.”
“Good. See if the firefighters need anything. I’ll find you as soon as I’m done with Hope. See? She’s already stirring.”
I squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
As I skirted the concrete birdbath, I heard boards collapsing and a whoosh of air. I saw a shower of red and orange sparks soaring into the dark sky. Guess I wouldn’t have to worry about painting the chicken coop.
A few firefighters were in the pasture attempting to keep the grass fire from spreading. One guy stood sentinel by the propane tank. Others were hosing down the flames licking up the side of the barn.
Damn. There was a gas tank on the far side of the other smaller barn. Jake and the ranch hands used it to fill ATVs, chainsaws, and yard equipment. Jake had been dealing with the horses; he probably hadn’t talked to the firemen.
I glanced at the wooden structure. Yellow flames shot into the air, then sparks fell to the ground like gigantic lemon drops. One tiny flare and the blast radius might be enough to ignite the dry grass on this side of the barn. Then the haystacks, the cars, the farm and fire equipment, and the house were in danger of catching fire.
Run.
Instead of running away, I sprinted across the yard, yelling for the chief. Pebbles tore my feet. A chunk of logging chain embedded in the dirt by the old hand water pump tripped me, and I took the brunt of the fall on my knees, rather than twist my ankle again.
I looked up.
Fire danced across the shake shingles. An ember broke free and landed directly on top of the rusted metal gas container. Followed by two more. And two more after that.
Too late.
My heart stopped. I didn’t stick around to watch it explode. I scrambled to my feet and ran like hell, screaming my fool head off.
The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. I heard whump whump whump BOOM. Bright light flashed behind me; a blast of heat followed. Something solid hit me, slamming my body into the earth.
I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move.
Shouts, footsteps, the whine of mechanical equipment drifted around me. Couldn’t anyone see I was dying?
An eternity passed before I realized the unnamed entity shielding me was warm and panting like a dog. The object shifted. Rough hands frantically pushed at my tangled hair. Warm, moist lips grazed my ear.
“Come on, Mercy. Talk to me. Yell at me. Do something.”
I opened my eyes and stared into Dawson’s soot-covered face, inches from mine.
“You okay?”
I sort of nodded.
“Ah hell, I knocked the wind out of you, didn’t I?”
I nodded again.
“I shouldn’t have hit you that hard. But I heard you yelling and saw how close you were to the tank and I just-”