Texas Tall (The Tylers of Texas 3)

Seized by a sick panic, Ralph paused in the doorway. Whatever was happening here, he had to do the job for Stella. If he didn’t, she was liable to kill him.

“You can’t go now!” Vonda wailed. “You need to drive me to the hospital! I’m going to have this baby!”

Damn! Ralph felt the cold sweat beading under his flannel shirt. But first babies took a long time, didn’t they? He could still go and make it to the hospital, an hour away in Lubbock. He had to.

“This won’t take long,” he said. “Get ready. I’ll take you as soon as I get back.” As an afterthought he tossed her his cell phone. “If you need help before then, call nine-one-one.”

Before she could say anything else, he was out the door.

Should he take the truck? It would get him there and back faster. But no, a vehicle could be spotted too easily, and everybody knew that old rust bucket by sight. Passing the truck, he broke into a run, cutting up the road, across the open ground and behind the outbuildings to the rear of the barn. There, aching from a stitch in his side, he slumped with his hands on his knees, fighting the urge to retch.

So far, he’d seen nobody outside. All to the good. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get back to Vonda and drive her to the hospital.

He didn’t want to see the baby. He didn’t want to see anything that might have the power to hold him to this place. He would take Vonda to the emergency entrance, make sure she was in good hands, then report to Stella. Once he had the money, it would be Good-bye, Blanco Springs.

The long barn, which held the mares, their growing foals, and some of Sky’s trained colts, was unlocked at the near end. Ralph slipped inside, closed the door behind him, and walked the long line of stalls toward the far end. Horses snorted as he passed. Some raised their heads and looked at him with their luminous dark eyes. Most of them were familiar. Some he’d even ridden to work the cattle. Ralph didn’t love horses, but he liked some of these. Knowing what was about to happen, he kept his gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact with them.

A cart heaped with dry straw had been left at the barn’s far end. Steeling his resolve, Ralph took out his lighter, clicked it, and held the flame to the straw. The dry fuel caught with a startling whoosh, so close that Ralph could feel it singe his eyebrows. He jumped back as

the flames rose higher than his reach. The fire was burning faster and hotter than he’d expected. He had to get out of here.

The blazing cart was blocking the nearest door. The only way out was at the other end, where he’d come in. With the fire spreading to the roof supports, he raced between the stalls. He stumbled over a pitchfork and caught himself on his knees. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed on.

By now, the horses were going wild, screaming and rearing, lunging against the sides of their stalls. He wasn’t crazy about horses, but these were all about to die horrible deaths, and it would be his doing.

As he raced past the stalls, Ralph began a frenzied grabbing at the gate latches, jerking open the ones that yielded easily. Horses, he knew, tended to panic and balk in a fire and had to be dragged out of burning buildings. But if any of them had the sense to run out, he would leave the door open. Maybe a few smart animals would make it. Stella couldn’t be too mad about a few horses.

Besides, if he happened to get caught, he could always claim that he’d smelled smoke and had rushed into the barn to save the horses.

Just behind him a big bay mare burst out of a stall he’d unlatched. Shrieking in terror, she reared on her hindquarters, her hooves flailing the air.

Ralph glanced back just in time to see the massive, black, ironshod hooves coming down toward him. Then something slammed his head, and the world exploded into blackness.

CHAPTER 13

Tori closed her eyes and did her best to listen as Jasper’s mumbled grace droned on. This Thanksgiving dinner was a poignant celebration, a blessed pause in the frenetic pace of their lives, when worries and differences were put aside. Everyone around the table seemed resolved to make the most of the day. For now, at least, they were together; and even in the face of change, they were still very much a family.

The prayer ended, eyes opened. Hands reached out to pass around platters and bowls of carved turkey, dressing, hot rolls, potatoes, and gravy. That was when the dog, who had been napping on the porch, began a frantic barking.

Bernice, who was facing the window, was first to see the smoke. “Lord help us!” she cried. “The barn’s on fire!”

In a flash they were all on their feet, overturning chairs in their haste to get outside. “Somebody call nine-one-one!” Will shouted, racing for the front door with Beau behind him. Lauren already had her phone out and was making the call.

“Tesoro! He’s in his stall!” Squirming out of Tori’s clasp, Erin streaked headlong out the door, passing Beau on the front porch.

“Beau, get her! She mustn’t go out there!” Tori fought her way through the melee of chairs and shifting bodies. By the time she caught up with Beau in the yard, he’d grabbed Erin and was holding her while she struggled to get free and run to the barn. “Tesoro . . . ,” she sobbed. “I’ve got to save him!”

“I’ll get Tesoro, I promise,” Beau was saying. “Now calm down and stay here with your mother. That’s an order.”

After passing her off to Tori, Beau wheeled away and joined Will in the race across the yard. Holding her daughter tight, Tori glanced around for Sky. He was nowhere to be seen. But she knew where he must be. In his quiet way he would have slipped out the back at once and been first to reach the burning barn. By now, he’d be inside, fighting to rescue the horses he loved like his children. And, because she knew the man, she was sure he wouldn’t abandon any animal, not even for his own safety.

Lauren had come out onto the porch. One look at her pale face confirmed that she knew it, too.

The men who’d stayed for the holiday came pounding out of the bunkhouse to help. Shouting, Will directed them to hook up the hoses and start spraying inside the barn. After the damage from the past summer’s wildfire, the barn’s shingled roof had been replaced with steel panels. But it was the older, lower part of the barn that was burning now, flaming upward from the inside. If the temperature got hot enough, and the supports weak enough, the whole building would collapse.

Breathing through their neckerchiefs, men were dragging hoses, soaking feed sacks, filling buckets, rushing in and out of the barn. The scene brought back the memory of the wildfire that had nearly destroyed the ranch a season ago. That fire had been far bigger, sweeping through the tinder-dry scrub, consuming everything in its path. But then, at least, they’d had time to prepare and evacuate the stock. This blaze had started with no warning at all.

The garden-sized hoses were far too small, the water stream barely enough to wet down the stalls, let alone fight the fire. If the fire engine, with its big tank, didn’t get here soon, the barn would be lost, along with many of the precious animals.