Texas Tall (The Tylers of Texas 3)

The first few horses had emerged. Faces covered with wet feed sacks, they were coughing and struggling against the men who gripped their halters. Tori recognized Belle, the aging bay mare, among them, and Lauren’s powerful black gelding, Storm Cloud. But there was no flash of Tesoro’s golden coat. She clasped her daughter tighter. “Remember, Beau promised to save him,” she whispered, adding her own silent prayer.

Beau was still outside. He soaked his clothes at the pump, masked his face with a neckerchief, and charged into the billowing smoke, carrying a bucket.

Natalie, who had been on a call that morning, had driven here in the big white SUV she used for her veterinary work. Burdened only a little by her bulging belly, she rushed to her vehicle. Lauren stood at the top of the porch steps, wide-eyed with fear but clearly anxious to help. “Come on!” Natalie shouted to her. “I’ll need extra hands!”

Lauren sprinted down the steps and piled into the passenger seat. In the next instant they were roaring toward the barn, flying over the bumpy ground. It would be Natalie’s job to treat any horses injured in the fire—or to put them down if they couldn’t be saved.

Smoke was pouring out of the barn in thick, murky clouds. Even at a safe distance, Tori could smell it, even taste it when she licked her parched lips. She could feel the searing heat and see tongues of fire licking under the metal roof. The blaze appeared to be burning upward from the rear of the barn. That might give the horses near the front a better chance to get out, but how could anybody, man or beast, survive in that inferno? It would be tragic enough losing horses to the fire. But human lives . . . no, that was unthinkable.

More horses, driven from behind, exploded out of the barn to scatter and mill in the yard. One of the men had opened the paddock gate and was trying to drive them inside, but the horses were too fear-crazed to be herded. They would have to be rounded up later.

“There’s Beau!” Erin shouted, waving as a figure emerged from the smoke with a grip on two struggling animals. “He’s got Tesoro—and Lupita!”

Tears of relief welled in Tori’s eyes, but she could see that something was wrong. The mare looked all right, but Tesoro was favoring one side, his head hanging low. Even from here, she could tell the colt was in pain.

And something else was wrong, Tori realized. Her last sight of Will had been when the men were hooking up the hoses. She could see Beau, leading Tesoro over to Natalie’s SUV, but she couldn’t see Will’s red-plaid shirt anywhere. Fear crawled up her throat. Was he inside the blazing barn?

“Tesoro’s hurt!” Erin fought to pull away, but Tori kept a firm grip on her daughter.

“It’s all right. See, Natalie and Lauren have got him now. They’ll take care of him. Having you there would just be one more worry.” She glanced back toward the house. “Jasper and Bernice are on the porch with the dog. Stay there and watch with them. I’ll go find out what’s happening.” She released her daughter with a gentle shove toward the porch. “Go!”

Tori forced herself to wait until Erin had reached the steps. Then, giving in to her fear, she spun away and raced headlong for the barn. Smoke swirled around her, the acrid scent filling her nostrils and lungs, burning her eyes. Men were manning the hoses and leading more horses to safety. She could see Beau in the doorway of the barn, shouting directions. But there was no sign of Will.

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; She hadn’t seen Sky, either. Would she find them both safe on the far side of the barn, maybe hidden from sight by the heavy smoke? Or could they be inside, maybe trapped, maybe even dead? With a prayer on her lips, she ran on. There was little she could do to help. She only knew that if Will was in danger, she had to be there.

* * *

Will had gone searching for Sky. Deep in the barn he found him. He was standing in a half-charred stall, soothing a fear-maddened chestnut mare with burns on her back—one of the last three horses left in the barn.

To Will, Sky looked like a man who’d just stepped out of hell—there was a wet bandanna plastered to his face; hair and clothes singed; his ungloved hands blistered by the sparks that exploded from the burning beams overhead. The eyes that turned and glanced at Will were bloodred from the smoke. He looked like a soldier in combat, ready to drop from exhaustion.

By now, the hose crew had wet down the stalls and the straw inside, making it a little safer to get the horses out. However, the fire had taken an upward path, and there wasn’t enough water pressure to reach the wooden rafters and beams that supported the barn’s metal roof. They were on fire now; and when they burned through, the whole structure would collapse. Will cursed his lack of foresight. After the summer fire it had been his cost-driven decision to replace only the roof and not the old structure of the barn beneath. Now he was paying the price.

Reaching Sky, Will grabbed his arm. “For God’s sake, man, let’s get out of here!”

Sky shook his head. “After the horses.”

Will was aware of what Sky had been doing. He’d taken his stand in the most dangerous part of the barn, calming terrified animals, covering their faces with wet sacking, urging them out of their stalls and forward, to where other hands could lead them to safety. But the roof couldn’t hold up much longer, and neither could Sky.

“We need to get the hell out of here!” Will shouted, pointing to the blazing rafters. But he knew he was wasting his breath. Sky would not go until every animal was safe. The only thing Will could do was to help him.

He didn’t have Sky’s natural touch with horses, but he opened the nearest stall. Dodging frantic hooves, he grabbed the young gelding’s halter at the throatlatch and flung a dripping sack over the animal’s face. Yelling, swearing, and yanking on the halter, he dragged the horse out of its stall, turning it toward the far entrance. After more prodding and cursing, he finally got the animal to where one of the cowhands was waiting to seize its halter and hurry it outside.

Will’s lungs were already burning from the smoke. How much worse off must Sky be? With his unfailing gentleness, Sky urged the chestnut mare out of her stall and led her partway toward the far door, where one of the men waited to take her. Now only one horse remained, a big paint gelding, wild with terror. It was screaming and kicking, refusing to be led. Will glanced up at the blazing beams overhead. Tugging at Sky’s arm, he pointed upward. Sky shook his head. “You can go!”

Will’s gaze met Sky’s. “No way. I’m not leaving without you! Let’s get this horse out.”

With Sky calming the horse, they managed to work their way on either side of its head, fling the last of the wet sacks over its face, and lead it out of the stall. When Will peered down the long row of stalls, through the blur of smoke, no one was there to take the horse.

Suddenly he saw why. The roof panels were buckling in the heat. Any second now, they would come crashing down. With a shout he yanked the cover off the big paint’s eyes and gave its rump a resounding smack. The horse bolted toward the light at the far end of the barn and disappeared outside.

Will and Sky were now racing for their lives, pounding through choking smoke and searing heat. But they’d already delayed too long. With fragments of breaking, burning timbers raining on them, they heard the awful groan of warping, sliding metal. They were no more than twenty yards from safety, but it was too late to get out. They could only dive for any cover they could find.

As the roof panels sagged and came crashing down, the last sound to reach their ears was the faint wail of sirens.

* * *