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Beau spotted Sky connecting the end of a long hose to an outside faucet. The narrow stream of water wouldn’t be enough to do much good against the fire, but at least it could be used to wet down everything around it.
Jasper had arrived with gunnysacks piled on the back of his ATV. Beau pulled the sacks to the ground and, as the water came on, began drenching them with the hose. Knowing the drill, the cowhands grabbed the wet sacks and beat the flames around the edge of the blaze to stop them from spreading along the ground. When the sacks were gone, Beau turned the hose on the fire.
“Might as well just have everybody piss on it,” Jasper said from behind him.
“I know.” Beau gave the old man a tired grin. “All we can do is try to corral it here.”
“I’d bet my life some bastard lit it,” Jasper said. “Dog started barking about twenty minutes ago. I went outside but couldn’t see anybody. Figured it was a coyote or something. Reckon I was wrong.”
“I’d bet with you,” Beau agreed. “All they had to do was light a match, toss it in there, and run like hell. What I’d like to know is why.”
By the time the tanker truck arrived from town, there was nothing left of the shed except blackened sections of corrugated roof and charred, misshapen lumps of equipment. Most of the hands had gone back to the bunkhouse to wash up and rest. Beau, Will, Sky, and Jasper stood together watching the volunteer firemen douse the glowing ruins until every last spark was out. It was almost morning. The night was fading to pale gray above the eastern plain.
Will spat on the smoking ground. His eyes were bloodshot, his face and clothes blackened. “At least the damned place was insured,” he said.
“And nothing else caught fire,” Beau added, aware that he looked as bad as his brother. “When I catch the SOB who started this, there won’t be anything left of him to turn over to the law.”
“Well, no sense going back to bed,” Will said. “Come on, let’s get some coffee and start the day.”
They were nearing the house when Bernice burst onto the porch and raced toward them, her flannel robe flapping around her legs. “Erin’s gone!” she gasped, out of breath. “She told me she was going back to bed, but she’s nowhere in the house.”
“Take it easy, Bernice,” Beau said. “As worried as she was about her foal, she probably went to the barn. The rest of you go on ahead. I’ll get her.”
Beau loped across the yard to the barn.
Inside, the barn was still dark. The mares were snorting and stamping in their stalls, probably upset by the smell of smoke. Deciding not to turn on the light and startle them further, Beau made his way toward the stall where Lupita and her foal spent the night. Partway there, his boot touched something soft and solid. He glanced down. His heart slammed.
Erin lay facedown in the straw, her white nightgown barely visible in the darkness. When Beau dropped to his knees and touched her hair, his hand came away wet with blood.
The truck’s fuel gauge was dropping fast. Lute cursed as he negotiated the bumpy, rutted road. Was he using more gas than usual because of the trailer, or did he have a leak somewhere? Why the hell hadn’t he thought to grab a can of gas out of that shed before he lit the fire?
The fire had been the perfect diversion. With all hands fighting the blaze, hooking up the horse trailer without being seen had been easy. But as he led the mare and foal out of the stall and started for the rear door, the Tyler girl had walked in.
Lute hadn’t wanted to hurt the kid. He’d expected her to scream and run away. Instead, she’d grabbed a pitchfork and come at him. Somehow he had managed to pull the pistol out of his belt and club her along the side of the head. Leaving her where she fell, he had loaded the mare and colt, closed up the trailer, and gotten the hell out of Dodge.
The dark was fading into morning. He had hoped to be on the highway by now, but between the rough, winding road and the heavy trailer, he had been lucky to make thirty-five miles an hour. Worse, this godforsaken cow path showed no sign of hooking up with anything.
But maybe his luck was about to change. As light from the rising sun fingered across the land, he made out the shape of something in the distance, right near the sloping hill. It looked like it could be an old barn with a silo next to it. And close by . . . yes, that had to be a house. Gunning the engine, Lute headed for it. His luck was holding. Everything was going to be all right.
Beau breathed a prayer of thanks when Erin moaned and opened her blue eyes.
The first word out of her mouth was “Tesoro!”
“Don’t try to talk, sweetheart.” Will’s voice betrayed his emotion. “You’ve been unconscious. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No!” She struggled to sit up as her fathe
r held her back. “Tesoro and Lupita—they’ve been stolen! We’ve got to get them back!”
“She’s right.” Sky had appeared in the doorway. “The mare and foal are gone. I found tire tracks outside the barn, and one of our trailers is missing.”
“It was Lute!” Erin fought against Will’s restraining grip. “I saw him before he hit me. He was leading them to the trailer. I tried to stop him, but—” She fell back on the pillow with a groan, a hand reaching up to the bandage Bernice had applied to the cut on her head.
Will turned toward Sky and Beau. “Well, I guess we know who started the fire,” he said, “and I guess we know why.”
Beau was already moving toward the doorway where Sky waited. “We’ll find him.”
“Go,” Will said. “I’ll call Tori, then take Erin to the hospital, in case we’re dealing with a concussion.”
