Accidental Cowgirl (32 page)

As she came around the pasture end of the stable, Kyla was relieved to see that the flames had yet to reach it. Maybe she’d still have time to get in and find the trapped horse before the whole structure was engulfed. Her eyes were stinging as she muscled the sliding door open, but the sight before her made them widen in terror. The flames were thick at the other end of the barn, which was less than sixty feet from where she stood. With only five stalls on each side, this was the small stable. She stepped carefully in, looking up to assess whether the fire had made it to the roof above where she stood. In answer, a short flaming beam came crashing down right in the doorway, three feet from her toes.

She screeched as she jumped away from the beam, looking back toward the doorway. Then she heard the whinny again, and saw a brown head poke over a stall door, eyes wide with fright. “Moon Gypsy! Oh, no! Not Moon Gypsy!” Kyla felt tears spring out of her eyes as she glanced one last time at the open doorway, then toward the flames that were leaping closer to the horse’s stall. Then another head popped up in the stall just beyond Moon Gypsy’s. Oh, God. Kismet!

She had to get to them. Had to! She was
not
leaving these horses in here to die. Not if there was any chance in hell she could get to them.

The smoke thickened as she crouched and fumbled her way toward the stalls, and she realized she’d better hit her knees or she’d never reach them. She cursed her awkward cast as she dragged herself down the hallway. She counted stall doors as she went by—one, two, three—each one seeming farther away than the last. Kismet whinnied again, but it was wheezy and pained, and it propelled Kyla forward. Kismet wouldn’t know to get down out of the smoke, dammit. Her survival instincts just made her want to escape.

A huge crash made Kyla scream in terror. Oh, Lord. Two more beams had fallen from the roof and now blocked the doorway, fully engulfed in tall flames. There was no way out now. She was trapped!

Kyla reached Moon Gypsy’s stall and reached up to undo the latch with fumbling fingers. The horse’s hooves clattered on the stall door as she panicked. “Hold on, baby. Hold on. I’m going to get you out.” Kyla kept her voice calm and level, though she was terrified.

Finally the hasp gave way and Moon Gypsy flew through the door, almost trampling Kyla in her terror. Kyla screamed as she headed toward the pasture door, but the horse took a
mighty leap at the edge of the fire, and sailed over the flames and out the open door.

Kyla tightened her sweatshirt around her nose, trying to block at least some of the smoke from entering her lungs. She crept onward toward Kismet’s stall. If she got there in time, there was a chance Kismet could get out like Moon Gypsy had.

After what felt like eons, she finally reached the stall. She put most of her weight on her right leg, then clawed her way up the stall door to try to find the latch in the darkness. Her fingers landed on metal, but she knew the smoke was muddying her brain, because she couldn’t seem to remember which way to push the metal bars. Up? Down? Sideways? Kismet’s hooves slammed against the wood, knocking Kyla back onto her butt just as she finally had hold of the latch.

“I’m here, Kismet!” Kyla croaked, trying to keep her voice calm, but in the crackling darkness, it was no use. Kismet was terrified, Kyla was terrified, and if either of them got out of this barn alive, it was going to be a miracle. “It’s okay, Kismet,” Kyla rasped. “I’m here, girl.” She ducked down to take in another smoky breath, then tackled the latch again. Her eyes were screaming in pain, and the damn latch wouldn’t release.

Kismet slammed into the door again, and suddenly the latch exploded in Kyla’s hand. The door swung open and Kismet whinnied as she blew by Kyla, then stopped dead as a beam crashed ten feet in front of her. She bucked and turned around, heading toward the other end of the barn, but the flames stopped her there, too.

Kyla sunk back down to her knees, looking desperately to see if there was any other way out. The stalls had windows, but they each had metal bars strong enough to keep in a horse. No way was she going to muscle her way through them.

Kismet was wild, running from the flames on one side to those on the other. Her whinnies were getting quieter, scaring Kyla, but her hooves pounded back and forth on the cement floor between the stalls. Through the smoke Kyla could see the whites of her eyes, huge and frightened.

Then Kismet took a mighty leap over the beams closest to Kyla, and another one over the flames nearest the door, and she was out of the barn. Kyla looked from left to right, but there was no way she could do the same. Couldn’t have done it before the broken ankle, and most certainly couldn’t do it now.

How long had Roscoe said it would take the fire department to get here? Five minutes?
Fifteen? Her brain was foggy. She couldn’t remember. Would it matter, even? Was it going to be too late, no matter what?

She edged backward into Kismet’s stall, then remembered the hose that hung right outside it. She pulled herself back across the hay and twisted the faucet, expecting nothing. But miraculously, the water was still working. She had no delusions the little hose could do anything to put out the fire, but maybe, just maybe, if she hosed down the stall and herself, at least she’d have a chance to last a few minutes longer.

Another beam crashed, and Kyla worked the hose with her fingers to make a sprayer, then did her best to spray water on the stall walls as she kicked as much hay out of the stall as possible. Once the walls were wet, she turned the hose on herself, starting with the top of her head and working downward. The cold water was a welcome relief, as the air was getting hotter and hotter around her. She heard another beam come crashing down, and winced as it landed right outside the stall door, bursting the hay into flames. She aimed the hose toward the flames, but they just fizzled and popped and kept right on growing.

Kyla felt herself weakening as she lay down on what was left of the wet hay next to the window. She could hear a thumping outside the stable, but her foggy brain couldn’t process what it might be.

Smoke filled her lungs as she pushed her body as close to the window as possible, and she had a fleeting memory of discussing with Jess and Hayley whether it would be worse to be struck by lightning or to be mauled by a bear. Fire had never entered their minds.

And fire was, by far, the most spectacularly awful way to die.

Decker smelled the smoke before he saw it, but as he nudged Chance over a rise a mile from the ranch, he spotted the column of smoke rising from the stable.
His
stable. His hands jerked the reins and the horse whinnied in protest.

Knowing he was a good mile out, he kicked Chance to a gallop and practically flew down the valley. While Chance’s hooves hit the earth with staccato thuds, Decker kept his eyes drilled on the smoking stable. Where the hell was everyone? Where were the horses? Had any of them been left in the barn when he’d gone out for his ride?

Then he remembered. Oh, God. Kismet was in there. And Moon Gypsy. He’d left Kismet in to keep the pregnant horse company, and now the stable was on fire. He kicked Chance again, urging him to go faster, but the poor horse was already galloping like a demon. As he got closer, he didn’t see the two horses anywhere, and his stomach clutched as he realized they must be trapped inside.

When he reached the barnyard, he jumped off from Chance and sent him running for the pasture. Flames shot out of all the windows he could see, and the roof looked like it was going to cave in any moment. Roscoe was spraying the walls with the outdoor hose, face blackened with smoke. “Roscoe!” Decker grabbed his arm, scaring the old man. Through the smoke, Decker could see intense fear in his eyes. “Any horses left in there?!”

“Kyla’s in there, Decker! Kyla’s in there!”

“What?!” Decker couldn’t have heard him right.

“I said Kyla’s in there! She went in after the horses! They’re out, but I can’t get to her!”

Decker looked up at the flames licking the roof. He already knew both ends of the stable were completely engulfed. There was no way for her to get out, if she was still alive in there. The smoke was too thick to breathe, even out here.

He froze, memories of Emily coursing through his mind. Memories of another disaster. Memories of another girl he’d loved with all his heart.

Then he sprang into action. No damn way was he going to let it happen again. Not if there was any way in hell he could do something about it. He already had one death on his
conscience. In his head, he knew he’d done everything he could to get to Emily, but in his heart, he’d always felt so damn guilty that he didn’t ride faster, swim faster, get to her soon enough to save her.

Not this time. He’d die himself before he’d let Kyla die in this fire.

“Roscoe, hose me down.” Decker took off his hat and faced Roscoe.

Roscoe turned the hose on him, soaking him thoroughly. “I don’t know where she is in there, Decker. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop her. She wouldn’t stop.”

“I’m sure you did your best, buddy. We’ve got to break in from the wall. You got an ax in the truck?”

Roscoe nodded and Decker took off in a dead sprint. He ripped the ax out of the truck bed and flew back toward Roscoe, counting the stall windows. Kyla would have been trying to get to Kismet and Moon Gypsy. She might be nowhere near their stalls by now, but it was his best guess. He pulled off his shirt and tied it around his head as he got closer, the heat scorching his skin. The flames were incredible, devouring the barn at a speed he could hardly believe.

Decker started flailing the ax toward the stall next to Kismet, not wanting to risk hurting her. He braced his feet and hurtled the ax into the wood, over and over and over again, watching it splinter under the blows. Through the ungodly roar of the flames, he couldn’t hear anything but the blows of the ax, and he prayed with all his might that he would get to Kyla in time.

Finally he’d chopped enough to peer into the barn, but the air was so black with smoke inside that he couldn’t see anything at all. He swung the ax up, down, up, down, willing the wall to break under his blows. He gulped in breaths of the smoky air and could feel his muscles draining, but he forced himself to keep pushing, keep pounding, keep trying to make the hole bigger.

When the hole was big enough to squeeze through, Roscoe came running up from behind him. “Go in! Go in! I’ll keep chopping!”

Decker handed the old man the ax and pulled himself through the gaping hole, ducking into a crouch. “Kyla! Kyla! Where are you, honey? Answer me, baby!” He felt along the stall wall until he came to the doorway, then pulled himself around and into Kismet’s stall. What he saw there stopped his heart for what felt like a full twenty seconds.

In the smoky darkness, Kyla lay next to the window, her face ashen under the blackness of the smoke.

Oh, God. He was too late. Again.

A huge crash scared him back to movement, and he felt flames lick at his legs as he grabbed ahold of Kyla’s inert body and put her over his shoulder. Through the splintering crackle of the barn disintegrating, he could hear Roscoe chopping madly at the stable wall.

He adjusted Kyla’s limp body and backed out of the stall. He felt along the wall, keeping his right hand in contact with the rough boards, peering ahead of him to see the light of the broken wall. His breath was coming in short, painful gulps, and he could feel his head tingling as his strength ebbed.
Keep going, Decker. You’re almost there
. He shook his head in confusion as he heard Emily’s voice.
You can save her, Decker. You can do it. Three more steps, just three more
.

Decker powered one foot forward, then the next, and suddenly he could see the light pouring in from the wall. He lunged forward, carrying Kyla out into the murky sunlight, coughing the smoke from his lungs. Roscoe grabbed his arm and helped him walk to a grassy spot well clear of the stable. Just as he slid Kyla gently to the ground, he heard sirens.

The next sound he heard was the terrifying crash of the barn caving in.

* * *

“Kyla, baby, wake up. Come on, honey. Open those beautiful eyes.” Kyla fuzzily became aware of gentle hands on her face, Decker’s voice in her ears, but she couldn’t figure out why she was lying on the grass with her eyelids glued shut. Again.

The acrid sting of smoke hit her nostrils and she forced her eyes open wide. Decker was crouched next to her and red and blue strobes lit the smoky air behind him. Oh, God. The fire. The stable. The horses. Roscoe. She tried to speak, but her throat was raw and stinging.

“Shh. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. Don’t try to talk right now.” Decker’s low voice soothed her as his warm hand brushed her hair from her face. Then he turned toward the stable and motioned with his other arm. “Over here! Now! We need oxygen!”

A swarm of men in navy jumpsuits headed toward Decker and Kyla, toting huge medical
bags. In what felt like three seconds flat, someone had clamped a mask over Kyla’s nose and mouth, and a muted hiss hit her ears. She watched as Decker grabbed a blanket from one of the paramedics and covered her with it, tucking the edges around her.

“How long was she in there?” one of the paramedics asked.

“I don’t know.” Decker scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Jesus, I don’t know.”

Kyla felt a squeeze on her middle finger as someone clamped an oxygen sensor on her. Someone else had lifted the blanket by her feet and she felt scissors sliding up the outside of her thigh.

“Any burns?” Decker asked.

Kyla squinted and saw the paramedic shake his head. “I don’t know how in hell there aren’t any, but her skin’s all intact. She is one lucky lady.”

“Decker, let me take a look at your legs.” Kyla heard the paramedic order.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t go all hero on me.”

“Roscoe hosed me down before I went in. I was out in a minute flat.”

Kyla closed her eyes, too exhausted to keep them open. The oxygen hissed into the mask, dampening the sounds all around her. As if from inside a snow globe, she could hear the swish of the fire hoses, the crackling flames, the men shouting as they did their best to quell the burning pile of lumber that had been a stable a mere hour ago.