Page 18 of Short-Straw Bride

“You’re too tired to lift the handle.” Travis cut her off with a wave of his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “I don’t have time to argue. My barn’s burning.” He sidestepped her and resumed his long-legged pace. This time she let him go.

Travis and his brothers fought the blaze as best they could. With ladders inside and out, they doused the loft simultaneously from the barn’s center as well as through the loft window, but it wasn’t long before the fire reached the roof.

When Neill arrived with another pail of water, Travis waved him off. “Go help Jim and Crock outside.” He shimmied down the ladder, his voice hoarse from the smoke, his face scalded like a cow’s hide after branding. “I’ll get the animals a safe distance away, then meet you there.”

Neill nodded and jumped to obey, but the determination in his eyes dimmed. Even at seventeen, the boy could recognize defeat when he saw it. And Travis figured that was exactly what the kid saw when he looked into his big brother’s face.

It killed him to lose twice in one night. The arsonists’ escape had been hard enough to swallow, but believing the barn had been spared had made it tolerable. Now everything was sticking in his craw.

He pulled the ladder down, kicked dirt over the few flames that had taken root on the top rungs, and carried it outside. As he tossed it over the corral fence, cool air bathed his stinging face. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and relish the coolness, but all he could afford to do was cough some smoke out of his lungs and turn back to the task at hand.

Which apparently included scolding a certain hardheaded woman for not heeding his instructions. Meredith glared at him from where she stood pumping water into the trough, not a hint of apology in her demeanor. Travis stormed past her and worked the knot on Jochebed’s lead line. “I thought I told you to go up to the house.”

The pump arm creaked as she gave it a series of vigorous yanks, then fell silent as water gushed into the trough. “As I recall,” she said, rubbing her palms into her skirt, “you never forbade me from working the pump. You simply expressed your doubts as to my ability to do so.”

Travis’s grip on the cow’s rope tightened. “Don’t play word games with me, Meredith. You knew what I meant.”

“Did I?” She reached for a stew pot and dipped it into the trough. “Seems to me that a man who claims protecting his brothers and his land always comes first wouldn’t be so quick to refuse able-bodied help just because that body happens to be female.” She set the full pot on the ground and crossed her arms over her chest.

Travis’s eyes followed the movement, noting the curves it accentuated. Yep. Definitely female. He wouldn’t be arguing that point.

Crockett rounded the barn at a jog, an empty washtub banging against his leg. Meredith unclasped her arms and immediately returned to the pump.

Travis made no move to stop her, deciding it wasn’t worth wasting more time or breath debating. Having her there did speed the process, and even though he still didn’t like her being so close to the fire, she was probably in no immediate danger.

At least Jochebed obeyed him without question. More than eager to get away from the burning barn, the milk cow lumbered along beside him to the back side of the corral, where Travis removed the fence rails from their notches and set her free.

Next he went after Samson, but the old mule was too busy throwing a fit to recognize what was good for him.

“Enough of that,” Travis reprimanded as he grabbed hold of the mule’s halter and forced the animal’s head down. Samson tried to jerk away, but Travis held firm, asserting his dominance until the animal calmed. “That’s it. Settle down, now.” Travis patted Samson’s neck and slowly unfastened the hitching strap. At the same moment, a thunderous pop! exploded from within the barn.

Samson’s eyes went wild, and with the sudden strength of his namesake, he wrenched free and tore across the corral. Travis gave chase in an effort to steer him toward the fence opening, but the old mule was either too blind to see the downed railings or too terror-stricken to comprehend their meaning. Instead, the fool beast raced straight into the barn.

Stunned, Travis stared at the entrance. What would possess him to run into the fire? Sure the cantankerous thing would run right back out, Travis braced his legs apart and prepared to make a grab for him. Only he never came. The old mule was probably standing in his stall—third one on the right, under the loft—too stubborn to leave.

“Stupid critter,” Travis muttered under his breath. He had half a mind to leave him in there. Of course, he never could stomach the thought of any living creature suffering. Not when it was in his power to do something about it.

Digging his handkerchief out of his coat pocket, Travis marched up to the entrance. Heat flared against his skin. Steeling himself, he turned his head and sucked in two deep breaths, then tied the red bandanna over his nose and mouth.

“No, Travis!” Meredith’s voice barely penetrated the roar of the fire. “Don’t!”

But he didn’t have a choice. The longer he waited, the more dangerous it would be. Ignoring her calls, he ran into the barn.

Travis lifted his arm to shield his face from the heat and his head from any debris that might fall as he made his way to Samson’s stall.

Not daring to get near the mule’s hooves, he entered the adjacent box and scaled the half wall near Samson’s head. “Easy, boy.” The mule shied, but Travis snatched the halter and yanked the animal’s head around while pushing on his shoulder. “Back,” he ordered. “Back.”

Samson pinned his ears down and bit at Travis’s arm. With a quick move of his elbow, Travis dodged the teeth and smacked the mule’s neck with the flat of his hand. “Quit!”

The mule blinked and retreated a step, but Travis dragged the mule’s head around until Samson faced the doorway leading to the corral. The fire raged directly overhead in the loft. Sweat and smoke stung his eyes and blurred his vision. Burning air scalded his throat, making it hard to breathe. If he didn’t get the animal out soon, he’d be forced to leave him behind.

Travis tugged the mule forward and Samson actually complied. He’d only taken a handful of steps, however, when the loft floorboards gave way. Fiery debris plummeted. Planks of wood struck across his shoulders, and lit hay showered upon his back. Spooked but unharmed by the downfall, Samson brayed and pulled against Travis’s hold, trying to retreat farther into the barn.

“No you don’t. We aren’t going through that again.” Travis shook off what he could from his back and swatted Samson’s neck a second time. The mule tossed his head, but obeyed. However, Travis had a new problem to contend with—a focused heat was radiating through the back of his coat, and he feared some of the flames from the debris had taken hold.

“Get up now, mule.” Travis walked backward, tugging on Samson’s halter with one hand while trying to undo his buttons with the other. He had to get that coat off.

The heat on his back grew painful, and panic made him clumsy. He arched away from the fabric clawing at him and was about to release Samson and tear the coat off with both hands when a gush of blessedly cool water hit him from behind.