A Kiss in the Morning Mist Page 21

  “Hear what?” Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything except the sound of her breathing and her little moans of pleasure. He cocked his head and listened. The wind blew, not in gusts but steadily as it buffeted against the side of his room. Above the sound of the wind, he heard the horses. They were restless, whinnying and snorting, but sometimes they reacted to the wind that way. “Sounds like the wind has picked up. Maybe it’s that storm you told me was coming. It’s spooking the horses.”

  He turned his head the other way and heard quacking. The sound grew louder then softer then louder again, as if the duck ran from one side of the barnyard to the other, passing in front of his door as he did so. “Seems to have riled up Mallory, too.” He listened more intently and only heard the duck making a ruckus and the sound of the wind, becoming louder, but no barking from Happy, which wasn’t usual. If the duck was squawking like a broken hurdy-gurdy, then the dog should be at least whining.

  Something wasn’t right.

  He sat up and looked toward the open window, the one nearest the door. White cotton and lace curtains fluttered and flapped in the wind. He caught glimpses of moonlight, which illuminated the wisps of smoke curling along the ceiling, the acrid smell distinct. Beyond the cool glow of moonlight, a warmer, brighter light flickered and grew more intense with each passing moment. “Fire!”

  Theo wiggled free of his embrace and scrambled from the bed, fear making her voice higher and sharper than normal. “The children!”

  Eamon jumped from the bed at the same time, pulled his trousers from the back of the chair, and slipped them on. He rushed to the door and flung it open, his heart in his throat, afraid of what he might see. In an instant, a mix of emotions skittered through him. Relief that the house, full of sleeping children, family, and guests, remained safe—no smoke or fire issued from the structure, but the stable was a different matter. Flames of orange, red, and yellow consumed the bales of straw he had stacked under the awning in front of the building earlier in the day and licked at the walls. The stable door smoldered though it hadn’t yet burst into flame. Billows of white and black smoke rose upward as ashes floated on the wind currents created by the blaze. The whinnying and snorting of the horses grew louder as they panicked from the smell and the heat.

  He jumped from the porch, ran toward the burning structure, and started pulling and pushing the bales away from the wall as flames licked at his bare hands.

  Theo rushed past him, now dressed in her familiar split skirt and blouse, but her feet were bare. “The horses!” She ran to the door and struggled with the heavy beam that fitted into slots to keep the stable door closed, but couldn’t budge the stout slab of wood. “Help me!”

  His heart in his throat, his hands already burned from moving the bales, Eamon rushed to her side and shoved her out of the way. “Wake the others!” Intense heat stole his breath as the flames licked at the wood, but he managed to lift the smoldering beam, toss it aside, and open the door. Flames shot toward the awning, pushing him back from the heat.

  From a distance, over the roar of the blaze, he heard the bell by the back door ring.

  Theo sprinted past him again and ran straight into the thick, black smoke billowing from within the stable. “Theo! Stop!”

  He was too late. Either she didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him as she opened the stall gates in the darkness of the building. If she was as afraid as the horses were, she didn’t show it. Her voice remained calm and soothing as she called to them, and they rushed past her to the back of the stable where no fire threatened. He followed her as well, his eyes adjusting to the gloomy interior and the glow of firelight coming in from the front door, opening the gates for her guests’ mares and grabbing their halters to lead them toward her. There was no fire at this end of the stable, but that didn’t mean the whole building couldn’t explode in flames in a matter of moments.

  She pushed against the door leading to the corrals behind the building, but it didn’t budge. “Eamon! The door won’t open!” Panicked, the horses reared and screamed. Those that could, turned around and ran toward the fire at the other entrance.

  He brought the mares to her, then pushed against the door as well. “Damn! I don’t remember bolting this door.” He glanced back toward the opposite entrance. Engulfed in fire, the doorframe was a beacon in the darkness, but a potentially deadly one. They didn’t have much choice though. “There’s no time.”

  He grabbed the halters of the closest mares, one in each hand, gave a sharp whistle, and ran toward the open doorway with the mares in tow. The other horses, those milling around Theo, followed him out into the barnyard where Quincy, Lou, and Wynn were already filling buckets from the water pump at the edge of Granny’s garden. He didn’t stop his progress and rounded the side of the building, looking back for a glimpse of Theo. She should be right behind him.

  She rode past him on Pumpkin’s bare back, her hands gripping his mane, whistling and calling to the mares. His heart jolted at the sight. He let go of the halters, confident she’d lead them to safety, then broke stride and backtracked.

  He skidded to a halt in front of the stable. The flames were higher, the old wood snapping and crackling as the blaze grew. Hart and the rest of the guests, summoned by the bell Theo had rung earlier, formed a line and passed buckets of water from hand to hand. Lou and Wynn manned the water pump in front of the garden and kept the supply coming. The younger children were gathered around Granny on the back porch, but the expressions on their faces, particularly Gabby’s, wrenched his heart. He could imagine her terror at reliving the nightmare that had left scars on her little body. He wanted to comfort her and let her know everything would be all right, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until every last spark, every last flame, was extinguished.

  Eamon took his place at the head of the line, grabbed the pail handed to him, and tossed water at the blaze.

  Wood sizzled and crackled, popped, and hissed. Smoke billowed.

  How many buckets of water he threw at the fire, he didn’t know. He’d lost count by the fifteenth one. His shoulders screamed from the repeated actions. Smoke made his eyes water and his throat burn until finally, exhausted and overwhelmed with emotion, he dropped the last empty bucket on the ground. The fire was out, leaving charred wooden planks and a scorched smell that stuck in his nose and filled his lungs. All of them working together had saved the stable. Only the front, the awning above, and a small portion of the left side had been burned, but that could be repaired. The horses were safe as were the children, which was all that mattered.

  “Is everyone all right?” he asked as his gaze swept over Theo’s guests, the children, Quincy, and the older boys.

  There was a chorus in the affirmative as they turned, almost as one, and headed for Marianne and the coffeepot she held in her hand. Eamon breathed a sigh of relief, grateful no one had been hurt, though he was certain they were all exhausted. They had done well. All of them. Quincy. Lou and Wynn. Hart and the other breeders. He lifted his gaze to the heavens and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving, then lowered his eyes and searched for Theo. He’d been so busy throwing water on the fire, he hadn’t seen her come back from the paddock.

  He spotted her in front of the stable. She stood next to Granny now, facing the building that had once been her pride, head down, shoulders slumped. The children were gathered around her, Gabby’s head buried against her skirts. There were small black spots on her white blouse, probably burns from the embers produced by the fire. She nodded at something Granny said, then lifted her head, and stood up straight, her back moving as she took a deep breath.

  He headed toward her. “Theo? Are you all right?”

  She turned and swiped at her dirty, tear-stained face, smearing the soot and sweat over her features instead of wiping it clean, then winced and hid her hands behind her back. “I’m fine.” Her husky voice seemed much hoarser than usual.

  He drew closer, and she retreated, right into Granny’s arms. He reached for her, gathering
her close, but she stiffened in his arms. “Don’t.”

  He understood, probably better than she might imagine. For a strong woman, this bit of kindness might be her undoing, and by the looks of her, she had already cried and didn’t want to continue in front of the children. They’d never seen her anything but brave and undaunted, if what Quincy had told him had been true.

  Releasing her from his embrace, he reached for her hands. She winced again and his stomach turned. More gently now, he turned her hands over and looked at her palms. They were red and raw, burned, he suspected, when she tried to lift the heavy beam that had bolted the door closed. The blisters were broken now and oozed blood. “Your hands!”

  “I’ll be fine.” She tried to pull away but gave a small cry instead. Again, Eamon released her, but she moved quickly, flipping his hands over to inspect them as he had inspected hers. “And look who’s talking? Your hands are just as bad as mine.”

  Gabby stepped between them and examined both their hands, her touch gentle. “Now you’ll have scars just like mine.”

  “Yes, Gabby, just like yours,” Theo said as she drew girl closer.

  “Granny can fix it.” She smiled then, the front tooth she’d recently lost making her more adorable than before. “She can fix anything.”

  Eamon had to resist the urge to hug her. “Yes, she can.”

  • • •

  Aldrich paced, pausing now and then to stare at Tell. His stomach clenched as did his hands, and the notion to throttle the man in front of him flitted into his brain. “You tried to burn down her stable? With all that valuable horseflesh inside?” He scoffed, then slammed his hand on the desktop. “Damn it! I want those horses. Hell, I want the whole farm!”

  “Don’t forget, you want the woman, too.” Tell’s words came out a little slurred, and his bloodshot eyes blinked repeatedly, as if the man had trouble focusing. He probably did after pouring rotgut whiskey down his gullet for the past two days. He claimed it was the only way to ease the pain of the dog bites. He had two of them—one on his left foreman, now wrapped in a bandage. Red splotches of blood seeped through the white cotton, signifying the bite was deep. It would leave a scar. The other bite would leave a bigger scar, and Logan would be reminded of it every time he sat down.

  In Aldrich’s opinion, it served him right, and if he wasn’t so angry and frustrated, he would have found Logan’s predicament amusing. He could imagine the scenario as Logan described it—the duck distracting him while the dog snuck up behind him without a sound to sink his teeth into his arm as he lit the whiskey-soaked bales of straw piled up against the front of the stable. He could imagine Logan’s surprise and pictured him trying to shake the dog loose, all the while keeping his mouth shut so he wouldn’t wake anyone in the house. Better still, Aldrich could see Logan running away, the dog hot on his trail, catching up to him at least once to bite him on the ass and rip his trousers in the process.

  Yes, he could see it all, but it didn’t lessen his anger, nor did it get him what he wanted. Theo’s farm. Her mutt had succeeded in his mission, whereas Logan had failed, and the damage to Theo’s stable wasn’t nearly half as bad as it could have been, or so he’d heard. None of the horses had been hurt, and the structure could be repaired.

  He slowly counted to ten, trying to keep his temper. It wasn’t easy, not with a barely sober gunman slumping in the chair before him.

  Logan pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket, tapped it a couple times on the arm of the chair, and popped the end into his mouth as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He stood and dug the silver match safe from his trouser pocket, wincing as he did so, then lit the cigarette. Smoke curled to the ceiling as he limped over to the liquor cabinet.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  The man shrugged and took a long, slow drag on his cigarette. The tip burned bright red, and ashes dropped to the fine Persian carpet on the floor. As the smoke left his mouth, he said, “I didn’t intend to start a fire. It just kinda happened.”

  “Just kinda happened.” Aldrich repeated, letting heavy sarcasm creep into his voice. Logan didn’t seem to notice it and kept talking.

  “I snuck onto the farm a couple times, just to watch ’em, ya know? She’s got a sweet setup. Nice place, even with all them brats runnin’ around. You were right, she’s fuckin’ him. Can’t say I blame the man for takin’ what she’s offerin’. Wouldn’t mind takin’ some of that m’self.” He chuckled, then grew serious. “I don’t know why you’re so hot under the collar, Pearce. I saw an opportunity, and I couldn’t pass it up. All those bales of straw piled up against the front of the stable. It was just too good to be true.”

  Logan shrugged again, stuck the cigarette in his mouth, and reached for one of the bottles of whiskey cluttering the surface of the cabinet. “Didn’t take much to set those bales on fire, just my sippin’ whiskey. I thought it was a good idea. Woulda done more except for that damned dog! Never heard him sneaking up behind me. He never even barked. Not once. Followed me for a while, too, and tried to bite me again, but I hit him over the head with my gun. Wanted to shoot him, but didn’t want anyone to hear the gunfire.”

  Aldrich grabbed the bottle from his hand. “I don’t pay you to think, Logan! I pay you to do as you’re told!”

  He took the cigarette from his mouth and squinted. “I wouldn’t do that again, if I were you.”

  Aldrich lifted a brow and stared the man down, not the least bit afraid. As Logan had shown, he did best when he followed orders and didn’t think for himself. And though he might be intimidating to nearly everyone else, he wasn’t to those who knew him well. In truth, the man was a coward.

  After a moment, Logan turned away and chose a different bottle. Aldrich took that bottle, too. “I suggest you sober up and figure out a way to get rid of MacDermott without damaging my property. And I suggest you do it now.” He put both bottles back on the cabinet but continued to glare at the gunman. “Call him out.”

  “Call him out?” Logan repeated, rather stupidly.

  Aldrich nodded, liking the idea more and more as it settled in his mind. Who knew? If Logan and MacDermott killed each other, two of his problems would be solved. “You heard me. Challenge him. The sooner, the better.”

  “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind, Pearce? I ain’t gonna call him out.” Logan backed up a few steps and bumped into the chair, hitting himself where the dog had taken a chunk out of his behind. “Shit!” He sidestepped.

  “Why not? Are you afraid?”

  “Hell no, I ain’t afraid.”

  He lied. Aldrich could smell his fear, see it in the weariness of the man’s eyes and the paleness of his face.

  Logan scowled but eventually gave a quick nod and limped out of the study. Aldrich watched him go and smiled. He liked nothing more than getting the better of someone who thought he was meaner and tougher than himself.

  Chapter 14

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “This wasn’t your fault, Theo. There’s no reason to apologize.” Hart leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. He had been the first to arrive for the breeding season and the last to leave. Her other guests had made arrangements to go home while the stable still smoldered, since the season was over due to the circumstances. Hart had stayed another day.

  He climbed into the seat of the wagon he’d rented from the livery in town, his luggage piled into the back, tickets in his pocket for the late morning train. Their lead lines tied around one of the vehicle’s wooden slats, Gloriana and Phoebe waited patiently for their trip to Hart’s farm. “I can stay, Theo. I can help you rebuild. I . . . ” He gazed into her eyes. “I would be honored if you’d marry me.”

  “Thank you, Hart, but I can’t.” She laid her bandaged hand on his hand. “I love you dearly, but you deserve passion and . . . and so much more. Thank you for asking though.”

  “Very well,” he said, his voice filled with disappointment before he found his usual joie de vivre. “I’ll be back next year. I
f you need me in the meantime, you know where I’ll be.”

  Theo nodded, unable to speak over the lump in her throat as he flicked the reins. Moving the wagon forward, then around the corner of the house, he disappeared from view. She wiped the tears from her eyes, the wetness absorbed by the bandages, and took a deep breath, then turned to see Eamon come out of the stable. He didn’t see her, intent on cleaning up the mess left by both the fire and the water used to put it out. He was nearly finished repairing what he could with the help of Lou, Wynn, and Quincy. They’d knocked down the worst of the charred boards and covered the gaping holes with pieces of canvas.

  He’d only taken a few swipes at the straw when he stopped and leaned the rake against the fire-scorched wall. Bandaged hands on his hips, gaze focused on the ground, he didn’t move, just studied the nearly bare patch of earth at his feet. After a moment, he unwrapped the bandage from his right hand and stuffed the strips of white cotton into his trouser pocket, then squatted on his haunches. He moved some straw out of his way with his finger and picked something up. He twisted and turned the object, even bringing it up to his nose to sniff at it.

  Curious, Theo headed in his direction. The smell of smoke still hung in the air even though the fire had been out for two days now. Indeed, the acrid odor seemed to be everywhere . . . on her clothes, in her hair . . . in her very soul, but life on the farm went on, as it must. “What are you looking for?”

  Eamon glanced up at her and squinted against the early morning sun, despite the brim of his hat shadowing his face. “How and why the fire started.” He held out his hand. In the middle of his palm, saturated and falling apart, but still recognizable, was a half-smoked cigarette. “I think this was the cause or, at the very least, part of it, but it doesn’t belong to any one of us. Quincy and I smoke pipes, and one of your guests smoked a cigar. No one here smokes cigarettes.”

  Her heartbeat picked up its pace, and her stomach clenched as the unthinkable came to her. “Did someone set fire to my stable on purpose?”