Chasing Clovers (29 page)

Uneasiness settled over him as he tried to catch his breath. Something was wrong, he could sense it. He thought of his children, Ben and Emily, praying that they were okay and that the fire was not burning the house down. Every step his horse took jarred John
's sore back and tense muscles. He needed to get home. Fast. He needed to hold his kids, see Livy, and make sure everyone was all right.

As Midnight crested the hill,
he saw the house. Leaning to one side, the whole structure blazed, swallowed up in massive, angry flames. Black smoke rose and curled from the roof waving him home. His heart lurched, and he kicked Midnight's side. "Yaw, yaw."

When he got closer he could hear the frantic shouts of his men as they tried to put the fire out. Midnight reared up, pawing the air with his front hooves when a ferocious sound came from the house, and the second floor caved in.

"
No," he whispered.

The ruddy air smelled of charred wood and stung his nostrils. Jumping off of his horse, he ran toward the house, searching through blurred eyes for Ben and Emily. Coming up to one of his hands, he yelled, "Where are the children?"

"
I don't know, Boss," he said, running to join the other men who were dumping buckets of water onto the grass, to protect the other buildings.

This can
't be happening! Where were his children?
Running from man to man, he asked for his children, but none of them knew where they were.

They have to be okay. They have to be
.

H
e did a full circle. Chaos was everywhere, as men yelled over the sounds of the roaring fire, trying desperately to save the barns and the livestock.

"
John," Clive shouted from behind him.

He sprinted toward his friend, his voice shaking, "Where are Ben and Emily?"

"
They're safe, John. They're over here with Livy."

He
embraced his friend in a hard, rough hug. "Thanks."

"
C'mon." Turning, Clive ran toward the bunkhouse.

Relieved that his kids were all right, John raced after him. Livy sat holding Ben and Emily wrapped tightly in a blanket.
His daughter was coughing and struggled for breath, when he fell to his knees in front of them. He took Emily from Livy's arms and held her close, kissing her head.

"
Thank God," he rasped. Reaching over, he pulled Ben into his embrace as well―not wanting to ever let go of them again.

"
John," Shorty stood beside him.

He
twisted on his knees, without putting his children down.

"
Emily's still quite sick."

He glanced down at his daughter, and could hear her wheezing when she took a breath. "Isn't there anything you can do for her?" he asked.

"
I'm afraid not. She's inhaled a lot of smoke. Her lungs could be permanently damaged."

"
Will she..?"

"
I think she'll pull through, but we have to keep her coughing. She needs to get rid of all the soot in her lungs."

"
Ben, how's Ben?"

"
He'll be fine. He's coughed up most of it."

Emily began another coughing fit
, and he pulled his daughter closer to his chest. Grey spittle smeared her tiny lips. He wiped her mouth with his sleeve. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "I love you, Emily." Then giving his son a squeeze, he kissed the top of his head. His hair smelled of smoke and was littered with ashes. "I love you too, Ben. You two are all I have. What would I do if I lost you?"

Livy's eyes misted as she watched John cling to his children.
You don't belong here.
Feeling as if she were intruding, she watched as the men dropped their buckets and stood staring in disbelief. The fire had eaten away the structure until nothing was left. The beautiful two story home was gone. Leveled to a pile of smoldering wood, and charred memories.

She took a deep breath and glanced over at John cradling his children.
This wasn't her home. John had told to leave. He wanted her sent somewhere else,
put on the next stage to where ever.
His harsh words would forever be branded in her mind. Her heart ached at having to leave Ben and Emily, at not being able to say goodbye.

Dawn was approaching, and
she knew that the children would be all right now that John had arrived. Not wanting another confrontation with him. Livy winced from the pain in her leg, as she got up and limped away. Not knowing which hurt more, her crushed soul, or her injured knee. With each step, she hoped John would call out her name and stop her from leaving. But the only sound she heard were the men as they began cleaning up some of the mess from the fire. With her shoulders slumped, and her head down, she limped on.

When she
made it to the barn, she had to lean into the over-sized door to open it. She groaned, and her hand darted to her aching knee. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from yelling out again, and pressed into the door once more. The musty smell of hay and horses welcomed her, and instead of covering her nose like she once did, she took a deep breath and sealed the scent in the back of her mind. She wanted to be able to call upon these memories whenever she grew lonesome for John, the children, and the ranch.

Limping over to one of the corrals,
she spotted the same mare she'd fallen from. She was already saddled and left in her stall when the commotion drew her intended rider away. Opening the stall door, she ran her hand along the chestnut brown mane. "There girl, remember me?"

The horse shuffled her feet, and snuffed loudly.

"
Think you can get me to town?"

The mare must
've sensed Livy's need to leave, for she stood still while Livy figured out how to mount her. She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but her face was wet with tears and her nose was running. She picked up an empty crate and placed the wooden box beside the horse, stepped up, said a silent prayer that she'd not fall, and hoisted one leg up. Her knee rubbed the side of the mare. The pain unbearable, that she almost fell.

She clicked
her tongue, and the horse trotted through the open gate and out the barn door. She pulled on the reins and stopped. She took one last look at the ranch. John's back was to her, and she couldn't control the sorrow that ripped through her. The love she felt for the Taylors would never go away. They had been her salvation, and she'd forever be grateful for them. She took a shaky breath, touched her hand to her lips and blew a kiss toward John and the children then kicked the mare's sides and trotted off toward the rising sun.

John said a silent prayer of thanks that his children hadn't been killed in the fire. Ben was curled up beside him, and Emily nestled on his lap, both fast asleep. Emily hadn't woken for over an hour, and he was relieved. His little girl had been up coughing all night and into the morning. She needed her rest in order to get better. He scanned the yard, looking again for Livy. She disappeared sometime last night, and he hadn't seen her since. She was probably in the bunkhouse, too afraid to be around him. Humph. Who could blame her? He had taken a strip off of her the other day. He rubbed his chest, heavy with guilt at the things he'd said, the words he'd used. He was ashamed of his behavior, and the whole thing left an awful taste in his mouth.

Clive rounded the corner of the bunkhouse and came toward him. "How are the kids?" he asked, rubbing his face.

"
Ben's feelin' better. Em's finally settled down. She hasn't coughed in over an hour and she seems to be breathin' easier."

"
Good to hear." Clive's hand gently touched the sleeping boy.

"
Have you seen Livy around?" John asked. He looked out at the yard, hoping to see her familiar shape.

"
Shorty told me she left sometime last night," he said.

Livy was gone? His chest burned.
I needed to talk to her.
He glanced down at Ben and Emily still asleep beside him, and he knew he couldn't leave them. "I need a favor Clive. Could you go find her? Tell her I need to talk to her?"

Clive smiled.
"Thought you'd never ask. I'll head out right now." Tipping his hat to John, he left to saddle his horse.

He
leaned against the wall of the bunkhouse, his back stiff from holding the same position for the last several hours. He'd decided not to take the kids inside. They needed fresh air and he would sit here until they felt better. He asked Ezekiel for more blankets.

He
thought again of Livy. He needed to see her, needed to hold her. But most importantly he needed to tell her he was sorry. The musty scent of smoke still hung in the air and, blowing out a heavy breath, John couldn't look at where his house once stood. He couldn't afford to get caught up in trying to figure out how it happened, or why it happened, until Ben and Emily were okay and he had talked to Livy.

The sun, set high in the sky, warmed him. He closed his eyes and let the bright rays drape over him. Most of the men, tired after a night of battling the fire, were asleep inside the bunkhouse, but he knew a few were still up tending to the animals. What would he have done without them? They were what kept his ranch going, prospering. If it wasn't for them, he'd be dead by now, worked to the bone. He needed them, and he hadn't treated them very well these last few weeks.

He ran his hand through his hair. Those men saved his family, kept the fire from spreading to the tack house and other buildings. If they
'd have burned down, he'd have nothing left. He didn't know if he could start all over again, or if he'd want to. The life he led was hard, gettin' up early and comin' in late. He sacrificed too much time working on the ranch when he should be with his children.

If Ben and Emily had perished in the fire
―the thought alone making him sick to his stomach―he would have died inside. They were his life, his everything. Without them here, nothing would matter anymore.

Shaking his head and trying to swallow past the lump in his throat,
he glanced down at his sleeping angels. The two had kept him alive after Becky had died, made him get out of bed in the morning, forced him to smile and laugh again when he thought he never would. John's mind wandered to Livy and what she must've gone through when her daughter died. The pain she must've felt, the anguish and torment―the guilt.

He flexed his jaw. He still couldn
't believe the things he'd said to her. He showed no remorse, no feeling for how she'd felt, how she'd suffered, and could never imagine the hell she lived through without her child. He should've understood, or at least asked what happened. He should've listened to her explanations about Boyd. Instead, he acted like a fool, letting his temper get the best of him.

He
let out a weary sigh. He dearly hoped she'd come back with Clive so he could apologize and make things right.

"
John." Ezekiel stood in the door of the bunk house. "I have some warm soup broth for the young'uns, when they wake."

Sitting up straight, he
said, "Thanks, Ezekiel. I'll let you know when they're up."

Ezekiel crouched down beside him, and stared out across the yard at the smoking house.
"I've been wonderin' how it started."

Refusing to look over at the pile of rubble that used to be his home, he shrugged. "Don't know. I need to talk to some of the men. See if they saw anythin'."

"
Can't right figure it out. All was calm here last night." Ezekiel said, before he disappeared inside the barn.

He
didn't say anymore. He had no idea how the fire started. He hadn't really thought about it. He'd been too wrapped up in making sure Ben and Emily were okay. While he was out in the field, all he could think of was how Livy had deceived him, how she'd put his family in danger. But as darkness fell, his feelings changed to remorse. He didn't know if she should stay, or even if she'd want to, but he had to talk with her, listen to her. He needed to find out who she really was, and had decided to do so before he'd seen the fire.

When he
rode into the ranch, he was scared, and worried that something had happened to Ben and Emily. When he'd found them sitting with Livy, he'd been so thankful they were alive that he'd ignored her, yanking them from her and smothering them with hugs. He could see now how his actions must've looked to her, how she would've felt. He knew that he'd cared for her―hell, he'd told her so―but did he love her?

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and pictured her in his mind. A smile s
pread across his face, and he dozed off.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Livy rode for hours before stopping to rest. Her pulse quickened when she spotted a rider coming over the hill and heading toward her. Fearful it may be Boyd, she searched the ground for a stick to use as a weapon. Cursing her luck―all she could find was a twig-like branch―she limped behind her horse and waited. Her grip tightened on the branch, and her heart hammered inside her chest as the rider came closer. She heaved a sigh of relief when she recognized Clive on top of the bay horse.