Jasper Mountain (32 page)

What a switch, thinking of the inside of the mountain with fondness. The mines were hell; he’d thought so since the first time he dropped down the shaft. Now he realized man made them that way. He figured the mountain didn’t like miners tunneling through it any more than the men who did Victor Creely’s dirty work.

At the thought of the mine president, Jack increased his stride, wanting to get down to the clinic. With every step, anger built. Never mind about all the dead and missing miners thanks to Victor’s love of money over everything else. He’d attacked Milena. Jack had a pretty good idea of what Victor wanted from her. He felt pure disgust for a man who thought he had the right to take anything from any woman he desired.

He wondered if he’d be able to control himself or if he’d burst into the clinic and finish the job Milena began. Victor would be an easy target. Probably the only time in his life the mine president would be in such a position.

Nope, Mouse would see it all. What kind of example would he be?

The drum of the stamping mill pounded reality right back into his head. He’d have to show up for work in the morning. If Victor had been on his feet, it would all be over for him, he’d missed so much work.

He saw his house ahead and decided, since it was late, he’d go home instead of the clinic. Mouse was most likely asleep, along with Taryn and Ambrose. The best plan was to catch a couple hours of sleep and go down to the clinic before his shift. He took in a deep breath of cold night air, wondering how he’d become a caretaker to so many. “A dog, a deaf kid, and a bunch of dirty miners. No wonder I’m feeling so damned needed.”

From the other side of the door, Duke barked out his welcome. Jack
thunked
up onto his porch, relieved to be home, if only for a few hours.

Except he wished he held Milena’s hand, wished he was bringing her home. Why the woman stirred so much in him, he didn’t know.

Well, sure he did. With all her claims to knowledge of the future, her discussions with the dead, her heavy silences, those dark eyes looking right into a man’s soul and turning it inside out. And she was so damned beautiful. All in all, a pretty terrifying combination.

He reached out to open his door when he heard someone running, behind him. He turned. As though he’d wished her into existence, she emerged from the dark. Milena stopped, out of breath. Her hair curled and tangled, wilder than her eyes, which were sharp with distress.

“Milena?”

She tried to speak, and Jack came to her side. She grabbed onto him.

“Milena?” he asked again. A chill brushed over him.

“Something,” she managed. She doubled over and gasped. “Danger,” she whispered. “Death.”

“Milena, calm down. I’m not the only one who’s had a rough couple of days. You’ve been through a lot. You must be imagining things.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. No. Something—” she cried out, pointing past his shoulder. “No!”

Jack followed her gaze, down the mountain, past the town. A small flicker. Flames.

“What the—” Jack asked.

Fire bells screamed up Jasper Mountain.

Smoke billowed up the road. The smell of burning wood and brush flung Jack back into the past. Fire. Hell.

He shook his head and concentrated on the Boarding House. “This ain’t the ranch,” he murmured and urged Willow to run faster. Red flickered through the night, and air thickened with smoke stung his nostrils.

He knew the smell. The smell of death.

Jack thundered past the fire department, two men on horses pulling the water wagon, and two more men jogging next to the contraption. He passed several others on the road who were running down to help. Or to watch.

Jack dismounted and threw his reins to one of the bystanders.

Flames completely engulfed the Boarding House. The main windows on either side of the door blazed with fire and smoke. The door flapped on one hinge, the doorway a large, open howl of surprise, the house astounded it was burning.

“Is everybody out?” Jack yelled. People ran, and screams pierced through smoke. A window popped, showering hot glass out several feet.

Lead in the stained-glass transom melted, dropping beveled glass on the porch. The glass shattered with a cry of artistry dying, a delicate sound glimmering through the roar of destruction.

No more beautiful rainbows skimming over a marble floor.

Jack ran around the perimeter of the house, trying to see if there was any easy way to get inside, but it was too late for heroics. Fire engulfed the entire structure. Sweat ran down his neck and back. He circled to the front, desperately searching for a way to help while the firemen arrived and began pumping water, fighting the roaring inferno with a pathetic stream of spit.

Nearby Suzanne clutched a tree, holding it to keep upright, her face white with shock. A stunned and frightened girl replaced the usually perfect and poised woman.

“Suzanne! Suzanne!” Jack called out. She didn’t hear him. He ran to her and grabbed her arms, gently shaking her. “Suzanne! Is everyone out?”

“What?” Her gaze circled.

“Suzanne! Look at me. Look at me.”

“Jack?”

“Where is Isabella?”

She stood and gaped, mouth working. Nothing came out.

“Listen to me,” he commanded. “I need you to gather up the ladies. Take a head count. Tell me if anyone is missing.” He shook her again, trying not to handle her too roughly.

Her eyes finally focused on him. ‘Jack?”

“Can you do that? Gather up the ladies and take a head count?”

She nodded. He steadied her, and she nodded again.

A few men shoveled around the house, intent on digging a trench to contain the fire. Jack thought of the trenches dug around the ranch buildings. They hadn’t done a thing to help. The fire had hopped over them.

As if to agree with Jack, a demon of flames leapt from the roof of the house and landed on a tree, igniting the branches.

“Andy!” Jack shouted to the nearest fireman, who immediately aimed his hose at the burning tree. The fire extinguished and Jack thanked the good Lord it had rained a few hours before. The damp brush might keep an inferno from racing up the mountain and destroying the town.

Ambrose arrived on the scene, sweating and out of breath.

“Ambrose,” Jack said, running to him. “You better set up a ways back. This smoke is getting fierce.”

“Injuries?”

“I’m not sure.”

Ambrose turned, but Jack grabbed his arm. “Mouse?” Jack asked. Guilt shot through the doctor’s expression and just when Jack thought he couldn’t feel any more panic, he did. “Doc?”

“Jack!” Suzanne ran up to him. “Isabella! Isabella must be in there! No one has seen her. Jack, she’s not here!”

Jack looked from the doctor to the house and realized he was a religious man, after all.

“Jesus, God, have mercy,” he whispered.

“Hellfire came all the way up the mountain to take its own!” a woman shrieked and tied her bonnet tighter around her sharp face. The flames reflected in her unforgiving eyes. She looked at Milena smugly. “I hope all them whores are inside!”

Since the woman spoke, Milena knew she wasn’t a restless spirit of Jasper. Many apparitions mixed about with the scores of people in shock, making it difficult to tell the dead from the living.

Milena backed away, aware she shouldn’t be here. Where else could she be? The proprietress and her ladies were in trouble. Terrible trouble.

Ambrose Kline knelt by a grove of trees, his form orange and flickering in the fire’s light. He’d spread blankets and treated one of the firemen whose arm blistered raw and shiny. Ladies sat or lay around him, some coughing. Some moaning. Someone was crying.

Milena went to Ambrose and dropped to her knees beside him. “I am here,” she said.

“I see,” he answered, his voice deep and controlled. “Here, can you do this?” the doctor asked, applying salve to the wound.

“Yes. And bandage?”

“Exactly. I knew you’d make a fine nurse.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Ambrose moved on to the next person, and Milena began her treatment, appreciative of the trust the doctor had in her.

A man emerged from the curtain of smoke, carrying a limp figure. He gently laid her down on the blanket.

“Cassy,” Ambrose said, and immediately went to her. The girl was pale and unconscious. “Cassy!” the doctor repeated.

Suddenly a scream ripped the air. No, not a scream. A wail. Of sorrow unimagined. Milena recognized the voice. Isabella ran to the burning house like a mad woman, small bits of ash snowing around her. Everyone watched in stunned silence, the roar of fire and rush of water a backdrop to destruction.

“Crazy whore,” the fireman beside Milena muttered. Then Jack Buchanan ran from the other side of the house.

Isabella almost reached the porch when Jack launched into the air and tackled her. They rolled in the dirt, and somehow she ended up on top of him, her fists thundering down on his chest. He held tight and rolled again so she was under him.

The house seemed to take in a deep breath. Wood creaked and crackled, and with a sigh, it gave up and collapsed to the ground. Smoke billowed out, covering everything and everyone. Milena and the firemen threw themselves to the ground. Ambrose covered the inert form of Cassandra. Fire rained everywhere. Screams ripped through the night as a dingy cloud ate up the ground and consumed them all.

Pieces of hot pelted down on him. The woman beneath him didn’t move.

“Jo,” he said. “Jo, please, hold on. I’ll get us out of this.” He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He just couldn’t. “Keep your face close to the ground,” Jack shouted into her ear. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

Wait.

The house had collapsed. Almost a year ago. With Jo inside. Yet there was a woman beneath him. He held her tighter.

“Jo?”

He fought to cling to logic. That’s right. He was in Jasper. This was the Boarding House. The woman underneath him was Isabella. Not Jo. He’d lost his sister forever.

“Keep your head, Buchanan,” he muttered to himself. He dragged in air, but heat seared his throat and it constricted in defense. Beneath him, Isabella’s chest heaved. She’d stopped struggling to get away. He wrapped his forearms around her head, a last feeble effort to protect her.

Jack thought he was on fire, but smoke billowed thick, and he didn’t dare roll off her. The house pelted them with shards. He gasped in stinging thickness, and his eyes felt like a thousand bees swarmed in them. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

It looked like hell had finally caught up with him. At least he’d die protecting someone.

He was lying on sand, the sun warm on his back.

Home. The ranch.

He was finally home.

“Jack!” Jo called from far away. A dinner bell clanged across the landscape. “Jack!” she called again, her voice sweet, beckoning him to come. Come home.

The sun grew bright, tears kept streaming down his face. He closed his eyes against beautiful gold light. Thank God, he was home. The ground beneath him moved, breathing. Alive. He stretched himself over it, sinking into it, becoming part of it.

Suddenly, a waterfall splashed over him. Cold, drenching, reviving.

Then someone tried to drag him.