A Rush of Wings (15 page)

Michael looked as though he meant to go on, but he glanced up. William's chest ached. The fire inside the young man needed to be directed outward. It was burning him alive.

“I want you to take a leave.”

Michael seemed surprised. He'd obviously prepared himself for the worst. He didn't have an answer ready, and William was glad. He wanted to be heard.

“I know the strain Noelle's disappearance is causing.”

Michael stiffened. “I don't blame her for my mistakes, William.”

“Whether you blame her or not is irrelevant. The results are not
healthy for the firm, nor for you.” William reached out and took the pen from Michael's hand and set it on the desk. “There's no letter of resignation for you to sign. I expect you to unwind, refocus, and come back. I'm not putting a timeline on this. Your position with the firm is secure. But I want you back altogether.” He dampened his lips. “Regardless of Noelle.”

Michael dropped his chin. He might have looked grateful for the clout William carried as senior partner, the weight he'd thrown to keep Michael from being dismissed. Instead, he looked devastated.

William softened his tone. “This happens. You're not the first supernova. Just see that your meltdown isn't complete.” He paused. “I've put a lot of energy into your development. Prove me right.”

Michael jerked his head up. “I don't deserve this.”

William smiled. “Just get through it.”

Michael seemed to consider that with a clearer head. He nodded. “A few days might be good.”

“I think longer. I want you one hundred percent.” William put force behind the words.

The muscles tightened at the joint of Michael's jaw. “May I ask you something, sir?”

William nodded.

“How many days did you take when Adelle died?”

William sat a long time, holding Michael's gaze. Then he swallowed and said, “Four.”

Michael stood. “I'll take four days.”

William watched him walk out, his heart surging with pride and worry—exactly what he would feel for his own son, what he'd felt for Noelle so many times. Four days would not be enough, but there was no way he'd tell Michael that.

———

The sun blazed on her shoulders as Noelle stood just outside the stable. The late August heat was sharp and dry. The breeze rasped across the brittle grass, chaff floating in gusts. She'd taken for granted the dazzling sunny days until rust-colored pine needles intermixed with green and everything had a drawn, crisp look.

With her paints, Noelle hoped to capture just that look. More and more she wanted an emotion in her landscapes. Not just the fertile beauty, but the need as well. Nature was fragile. Life was fragile.

Last night's dream had reinforced that thought. She was glass, a glass picture lying flat where anyone could step, and all around her, bright yellow light as through a window. But the light was not comforting. It revealed her, lying helpless, waiting to break.

Rick led the mare out, checked the cinch, and handed her the reins. He gazed up the meadow and frowned. “Don't go too far.” He'd been like that these last weeks, tense and curt.

“I just need something to appease Ms. Walker.”

“How's that going?” He tied her paint box behind the saddle.

“Fine. She wants all the paintings I can do.”

He held the stirrup for her to mount. “And she's dealing fairly with you?”

Noelle swung into the saddle. “She's compiling an exclusive collection of my work. She has great expectations.”

Under his breath Rick muttered, “I'll bet.”

Noelle started to argue, then stopped. It was nice for him to be concerned. Destiny had developed a sore tendon, so they hadn't trained him in days, and she missed their interaction. Destiny's progress was remarkable, though it now felt as though Rick's training was directed more at her.
“Try to think like a horse,”
he'd said the last time they were out. His was a gift, a true empathy toward the animal, and though she tried, she couldn't break through as he'd done.

Not that she wouldn't keep trying. It gave her a new focus. Not quite “anything you can do I can do better,” but certainly if Rick could accomplish it, she could too. He had been busy with the new influx of guests, basic equestrian instruction, and long days of horseback tours for non-staying guests as well. Those could be the most frustrating for him because such riders didn't have time at the ranch to understand the flow or Rick's style.

“You were kind to that boy this morning.”

“Peter? He just needed direction.”

Noelle tipped her head. “You're patient with ignorance.”

He shrugged. “Ignorance can be cured. It's willfulness that's hard. He's a good kid.”

“I don't know that his mare thought so.”

Rick rested his hand on Aldebaran's rump. “Well, that's why I help them improve. Saves the horses discomfort. I don't think I'll let him take off on his own, though.”

She didn't expect he would. Very few of the guests were given the
privilege of taking the horses alone. She was grateful for that right, and now she knew and appreciated Aldebaran's value. The other mares and geldings were so docile as to serve well in a trail line but not much fun to direct on her own. The stallions he didn't rent out, and Orion was Rick's workhorse.

He mounted him now, gave her a brief touch of his hat, then turned Orion's head and clicked his tongue. Where was he going? She could have asked to ride with him but didn't. Except when they worked Destiny, Rick gave no indication he craved her company. So she watched him go, then started off herself. She wanted to paint something small, not grand and sweeping.

The ground crunched beneath the horse's hooves. She spit the fine chaff that caught in her lips from a gust of wind and searched the landscape for a small vignette to paint quickly. She was determined to paint every day if she couldn't train Destiny. She noticed a dip filled with rose brambles and columbine. It was unremarkable except for the dry, crumbly cut in the bank above, where hung a shaggy veil of hair-like roots, desperate for moisture. She liked the contrast between that and the shaded columbine and roses, almost a subclimate beneath the parched pine trunks. That would do.

Because of the wind, Noelle held the paper clipped to the easel board in her lap and sat cross-legged on the ground, where she was somewhat sheltered by a boulder and three large pines. The sun was high overhead, shrinking the shadows to nearly nothing. She studied the scene: pale pink petaled flowers, deeper rosebuds with curled emerald sepals. She listened to the drone of the bees and the rustle of birds in the tops of the pines.

Noelle caught her breath as a fat-chested mountain chickadee flitted to the springy patch of dusty roots, its black-and-white feathers pristine against the dull brown veil. Even though the bird took wing a moment later, she would include it. She sketched quickly, then used the paints.

The scene proved a good study, and Noelle appraised her effort. This one might have a place in the exclusive collection. And that would make it worth more. She laid the painting across her knees, looked up through the narrowing boughs above her to the sea blue sky, and felt deeply satisfied.

Mr. Vogel, her old art instructor, would be disappointed to have her thinking so prosaically.
“Beauty for the sake of beauty.”
How many
times had he said so? Well, that was fine until you needed to eat and pay the rent—which she managed now with the sales of her work, the rest of her cash dwindling. She packed up her supplies and returned to the house.

Orion was in the yard, still saddled, but she didn't see Rick. She unsaddled Aldebaran and put her into the corral beside the barn. Then she went into the house and placed the painting in tissue to take to the gallery tomorrow. Her room was stifling; at least the gusting wind outside moved the air. She went back out and settled into the porch swing.

Marta's humming came through the upstairs window like a cat's constant purr. A honeybee buzzed the asters at the steps. She looked up the long meadow to the base of the mountain, then up the wooded slope and over to the next crag. Something caught her eye, something different, something . . .

Leaning forward, she stared, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Rick?” she called. He must be close, with Orion standing ready that way.

“In here.”

She hurried to the barn and found him rummaging through a toolbox. “Rick, I think I see smoke.”

He spun. “Where?”

“High on the next mountain over from your crag.”

He strode out, his expression grim. “It's high, but the wind could drive it down.” He took out a cell phone she hadn't realized he owned, placed the emergency call, then tucked the phone back into his vest. “I've got to get the stallions.”

She pushed the hair out of her face. “Can I help?”

He glanced at Aldebaran in the corral, but she was no longer saddled. “I can manage.” He mounted Orion and galloped off.

As Noelle watched, the puff of white on the mountainside spread up into the flawless blue sky, the orange glow beneath leaving no doubt to its source. She imagined the dry, rust-colored needles bursting into flame. It was far from the pasture, farther still from the ranch—not on Rick's land, but with a shift in the wind it could be.

Rick returned with Destiny and the stallions in tow. Noelle helped him corral them. The horses nickered and shied as Rick confined them, back-stepping uncertainly. All the animals were agitated, smelling smoke and sensing danger.

Rick led Orion over to where Noelle stood. “I was afraid of this.”

“Is it bad?”

He slapped the dust from his thighs. “After two dry years, the trees are basically tinder.”

“But we've had rain.”

“Not enough to raise the sap content in the trunks.”

“Can Juniper Falls fight it? I didn't see a fire station.”

“It's a volunteer outfit. But smokejumpers and others'll come to fight it together.” He turned to remount Orion.

“Where are you going?”

He looked up the mountain. “To check it out. We need to know what we're up against.”

“But Rick, you can't—”

“I can at least get close and scout the terrain and conditions. Fire will follow the easiest path in the direction it's blown.”

A truck with six forest service workers pulled into the yard. A volunteer fire vehicle came directly behind. Noelle backed off as they got out and spoke with Rick. Of course, his ranch would be the most accessible place to mount an attack, from what she'd seen on her jaunts. Above and surrounding the meadows of the ranch were mostly forested slopes, crags, and gullies. The base of the burning peak had a meadow of its own, but getting there would be difficult.

Rick nodded and rejoined Noelle and Marta, who had come out from the house. “They've put Juniper Falls on standby to evacuate. If the word comes, you'll want to pack up your things and be ready to leave within an hour's time.”

Noelle's mind staggered. Leave? For where? And how? She had no transportation and nowhere to run. She couldn't do it again. She couldn't. Rick put a hand on her shoulder, no doubt reading her concern as he did his animals'.

“It's just a first alert. That fire needs to cover a lot of territory for that, and if we catch it now . . .” His gaze returned to the graying column of smoke.

“Will you leave?”

He shook his head.

A wash of relief. “Then I'm not either. They can't make me, can they?”

“No, but I can.”

She looked up into his face. Would he? For her safety, she was sure. How could he know she was only safe there at the ranch? Well,
she'd find a way to stay. Unless the fire burned down the meadow and headed directly for the house, she was not going anywhere.

“Marta, alert the guests—the Andersalls first, with all those kids. They should pack up right now, just in case.” He turned to Noelle. “If you get the word to move, you and Marta can take her car and head for town. They'll direct you from there.”

Noelle had no intention of going to town or anywhere else in Marta's Ford compact, but now was not the time to argue with Rick. “What about the horses?”

“Once I scout out the fire, I'll worry about that.”

Noelle nodded. As though he could do everything by himself. “Should we soak down the house or something?”

Rick looked at the house, then up the valley. “We'll play that by ear. I've got to go.” He mounted and brought Orion around.

It was true Orion would get up into the area more easily than any motorized vehicle on the ground. How long did it take to organize something like this? The two trucks followed Rick to the uppermost edge of his meadow; then she lost sight of him in the trees but whispered, “Be careful.”

The thought of the flames devouring the brittle grasses and parched bracken, growing and bursting with destructive power, frightened her. The thought of Rick riding into the midst of it frightened her more. But the thought of leaving was the worst fear of all. She just wouldn't do it.

Marta drew a single breath. “We need to pray.”

Noelle snapped, “You think prayer can stop a forest fire?”

Marta's sharp eyes darted from the mountain to her. “God created both the forest and the fire.”

Then why allow one to destroy the other?
Noelle watched the fire grow and spread with terrifying speed. Marta headed for the cabins to warn the guests to prepare for evacuation. Noelle refused to believe they would have to leave. If God was such good friends with Rick and Marta, surely . . .

But what was she thinking? This was nature, not some superstitious hocus-pocus. The training and knowledge of the teams amassing at the top of the meadow would stop the fire, not whispered words to a mythological God.