A Rancher's Vow. Patricia Rosemoor
murmured, “There, that’s better,” as if holding the flowers had been her problem.
“Mmm.”
She wasn’t about to let him know that he was the cause of her discomfort. But now his breath was tickling her ear. A tiny thrill traveled all the way down to her toes. She tightened her hold on the bouquet, and the fingers of her other hand pressed into the garter.
The significance of the wedding tokens didn’t escape her.
Despite her being a rational, sensible, self-reliant woman, she wished—only for a moment—that old traditions had some basis in fact. That a bridal bouquet and a garter really were good-luck charms that could turn her youthful fantasies into adult reality.
Then Reed turned his head to gaze into her eyes, and his face slowly inched closer, and a little smile played across his lips, and crazily—only for a moment—she thought he was about to kiss her.
Pulse jagging, reality returning in a rush, Alcina ended that moment fast.
She stopped dead on the dance floor and pushed at Reed’s chest until he released her. Staring at him, hardly able to catch her breath, she felt too foolish for words.
“Something wrong?” he asked, that knowing smile still flirting with his mouth.
“Something, yes…”
Like her heart pounding as fast as a freight train…
…and her knees softening to Jell-O…
…and her brain turning to mush.
“But don’t worry about it, okay?” she gasped.
With that, Alcina rushed off the dance floor and cut through the noisy revelers.
“Alcina, wait a minute,” Reed called.
Not stopping, she nevertheless glanced over her shoulder and saw him still standing on the dance floor, hands on his hips and staring after her as if she were a crazy person. So much for any attraction that had sparked between them, she thought. After this, added to their earlier fight, he’d be sure to keep his distance.
Chagrined, she fled toward the buildings and the refuge of her car that was parked on the other side. Not that she could go home, she realized—she’d promised Pru some quality time with her new husband.
She was thinking that she’d go for a long drive and was trying to visualize where, when a series of weird noises cut through her jumbled thoughts.
A muffled boom was followed by a high-pitched outcry…several horses, she realized…horrible noises tearing from their throats.
Equine screams that sent gooseflesh down her spine.
The music died abruptly and voices rose behind her as she ducked between buildings. Drawn to the disturbance on the other side, she gasped in shock and fear, and for a moment stopped, frozen at the sight.
The barn was ablaze and three horses milled about before it. The animals were trapped in the small corral adjacent to the burning building.
“Dear Lord!”
The blaze was growing, and as sparks shot into the dry brush surrounding the fence, the lines of fire spread so fast that Alcina could hardly take in the reality of what she was witnessing. Inside the corral, the screaming horses—three of them—stood out in dark silhouette against the orange glow. One of them reared, frantic hooves slashing at the pipe and wire fencing.
The gate!
Dropping the bouquet, Alcina ran for all she was worth as another explosion shot the flames higher and wider. If the horses weren’t freed fast, they would either burn to death or injure themselves, perhaps fatally, while trying to escape.
Unlatching the gate, she swung it open wide. Immediately one horse popped out as if greased and goosed.
Alcina whistled and shouted, “C’mon!” to the others. She stood back to give them a wide berth.
A second horse shot past her.
But a third continued to screech and dance in circles, seemingly too terrified to recognize the safety of the opening. And another whistle from Alcina didn’t seem to cut through his panic.
A roar of voices behind her told Alcina that help was on its way. Someone else who knew more about horses would have a better chance of rescuing the creature. A glance over her shoulder assured her that she was the only one close enough to help now before it was too late.
Heart pounding, she ducked through the opening. Someone cried, “Alcina, stop!” but she was too focused on the terrified horse to heed the warning.
“Easy,” she crooned. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’ll be all right.”
The horse snorted, threw up his head and rolled his eyes at her in distrust. He wasn’t going to come easily, that was for certain. Maybe if she got around behind him, she could drive him out.
As Alcina drew closer, the terrified horse acted cornered. Screaming, the bay reared, then bolted forward as if ready to drive right through her. Alcina tried her best to get out of his way, but she wasn’t fast enough.
Half a ton of panicked horse glanced off her shoulder. Alcina flew back, stars of pain and orange flames and flailing yellow silk filling her vision for the few seconds she was airborne. Then she landed hard, all the breath knocked out of her.
She couldn’t move.
The fire raged closer…its greedy heat licked her.
Stunned, she watched a spark land on the tip of her silk wrap.
Like a fuse, it ignited.
Chapter Three
“Alcina!” Reed cried again as the bay shot through the opening, scattering a handful of men who’d converged around the perimeter of the fire.
Fire…
Her shawl…
And Alcina wasn’t moving!
Fear squeezed his gut as Reed ducked into the corral even as she untangled herself from the material and rolled away from the new burst of flames. Mere seconds later, Reed was at her side, stomping on the burning silk. Voices rose behind him—Pa and Bart shouting orders to control the fire before it spread to the storage shed or bunkhouse.
Alcina was struggling to sit. Doused in the orange glow of the reflected flames, she appeared strangely calm.
“I’ve got you,” he muttered, swooping down and pulling her to her feet. “Can you walk?”
She choked out, “I think so,” but Reed realized she was having trouble breathing.
Cursing, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of what had grown into a nearly complete ring of flames.
Men and women in their Sunday best had pitched in to fight the fire. A bucket brigade formed from a nearby horse trough and a stream of water from the garden hose hit the flames. People scraped an area ahead of the fire bare so it had nothing to feed on, while others shoveled loose soil over burning grasses or used wet burlap feed sacks to beat back the smaller flames.
And Bart seemed to be everywhere at once. In charge. In control. As usual.
But Bart’s being in the saddle was after the fact. He hadn’t been able to stop that fire from starting. Certain that he’d heard something weird, Reed was wondering exactly what had happened, when he noticed one of the guests leaving alone.
Vernon Martell.
Reed guessed the newcomer didn’t want to get his fancy leather jacket or new boots messed up.
Alcina pushed at his chest. “Reed, you can let me down.”
“If I did, I would probably just have to pick you up again.” His temper flared. “All that