Quinn (13 page)

Q
uinn froze.

The man at the base of the stairs was wearing a parka and boots, his head covered by a knit cap, his pale beard frosted with snow. Though not as tall as Quinn, he was powerfully built. His stance, feet planted wide apart, eyes focused and unblinking, gave the impression of a soldier in combat.

He was holding a rifle aimed directly at Quinn’s chest.

“Who are you?” Quinn asked.

“I’ll do the talking here. You’re trespassing, stranger. And the law says I have every right to shoot first and ask questions later and that’s just what I intend—”

“I’m Quinn Conway. And I’m here at the invitation of Cheyenne O’Brien.”

“Liar!” The man’s voice was a snarl of fury. “If you were a friend of Cheyenne’s, I’d certainly know about it.”

Quinn saw the man’s finger tighten on the trigger and
braced himself to prepare to hit the floor before the bullet found his heart.

“Austin.” Cheyenne, wearing a sleep shirt and boxer shorts, raced down the stairs and stepped in front of Quinn. “Put down that rifle.”

The man blinked and frowned but continued to take aim.

“Did you hear me? Put it down. Now. Before someone gets hurt.”

Reluctantly he lowered it to his side.

Cheyenne continued to stand in front of Quinn. “What are you doing here, Austin? You’re supposed to be with Wes and the wranglers up in the hills with the herd.”

“I was. But with Micah gone, you were alone.”

“And you rode through a blizzard just to keep me company?”

“That’s my job. We’re family now. I promised your dad I’d take care of you.” He crossed the room in quick strides and dropped an arm around her shoulder. His smile was warm enough to light up the room. “I’m all the family you have. I have a right to worry about you.”

“Oh, Austin.” Her tone was edged with weariness. “What am I going to do with you? There’s no need—”

“There is.” He drew her close and gave her head a quick shake like a big, friendly puppy. “Now, more than ever, I need to worry about you. I heard…” He paused, as though considering his words carefully.

Her head came up. “Heard what?”

He lowered his hand and stepped away. “I heard that Deke Vance was seen nearby. One of the wranglers spotted him, and I was worried that he might learn that you were here all alone.”

“He has a right to be in the area. His ranch is nearby and his cattle share pasture with ours.”

“Maybe so.” He looked past her to where Quinn stood watching and listening. “But now that I see you letting a stranger spend the night, it’s a good thing somebody’s watching out for you.”

“Quinn’s not exactly a stranger. His family owns the big ranch across the hills.” She suddenly remembered her manners. “I’m sorry. Austin Baylor, this is Quinn Conway.”

The two men nodded in silent acknowledgment.

“I never heard Buddy or Dad mention you, Conway.”

Cheyenne was quick to add, “The Conway family may not be close friends, but their ranch has been our neighbor across the hills for a lifetime. And if it weren’t for this good neighbor, I might not be here.”

Austin’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He saved me from a kick by that mustang out in the barn.”

“A kick?” He looked her up and down. “It doesn’t look like you’re any the worse for it.”

“A dislocated shoulder.” She touched a hand to the spot. “I thought I’d pass out from the pain, but I’m fine now, thanks to Quinn. And it could have been so much worse.”

She turned to Quinn, standing on the stair directly behind her, and placed a hand on his arm. “Sorry for that rude awakening.”

“No harm done.” He arched a brow. “Though it could have been deadly if you hadn’t come down when you did. Austin had already convinced himself that I was trespassing,
and no amount of explanation on my part was about to change his mind.”

“It’s lucky I could hear the sound of your voices through my closed door.”

Austin shot her a startled look. “You were in your room and he was…?”

“In Buddy’s room.” Cheyenne studied Austin more closely when she realized that he’d assumed something more intimate.

“Hey, man.” Austin’s smile brightened as he extended a hand toward Quinn. “I hope you understand. I’m just more than a little protective of Cheyenne after everything that has happened.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Quinn accepted his handshake.

“It’s late. I’ve had a long day. Now I’m going back to my room”—Cheyenne turned away—“to try to get some sleep.”

As she started up the stairs she paused and turned back to Austin, still standing in the same spot. “Are you going back up to the herd tonight, or are you planning on staying the night in the bunkhouse first?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “Guess there’s no reason for me to stay here, since you’ve got your own private bodyguard.” He sucked in a breath. “If you don’t need me, I’ll be heading back up to join the wranglers.”

“ ’Night.” Cheyenne continued up the stairs.

Quinn stayed where he was.

“No need to wait.” Austin’s smile widened. “I’ll let myself out.”

“Just thought I’d lock up when you leave.” Quinn leaned a hip against the stair rail.

“Don’t bother. Didn’t Cheyenne tell you? I’m family. I’ve got a key.” Austin shot him another smile before turning away and walking out the door.

Quinn listened to the turn of the lock before starting up the stairs to bed.

It was understandable for a wrangler to be concerned for the safety of his boss, especially a woman, and one who had been through so much in the past. Cheyenne was lucky to have someone watching her back.

Still, Quinn thought, it had been an interesting introduction to Austin Baylor.

Maybe he’d been spending too much time in the wild. He feared he was reading way too much into this encounter. If he were to describe in his journal what had just transpired, he would say that he’d had an encounter with a feral animal, laying claim to his territory while confronting an unknown predator.

Quinn’s dream was disjointed. He’d been tracking a wolf. A clever, devious wolf that had abandoned its pack and had become a rogue, breaking into locked barns to feast on helpless calves.

Suddenly the animal paused at the very top of a mountain and lifted its head, sniffing after new prey. Quinn, trailing behind, did the same and was startled to smell smoke.

A forest fire. It had to be close by. Already he could hear the crackle of flames.

He sat up, suddenly awake and alert.

Not a dream. The smoke was real. As was the unmistakable sound of a fire.

He raced down the hallway and threw open the door to Cheyenne’s room.

“Fire! Wake up.”

Without giving her time to get her bearings, he lifted her out of bed and set her on her feet.

She jerked awake, clutching his arm for balance.

“Grab some clothes. I’m going to check it out.”

He was gone in an instant, racing down the stairs. Halfway down, he stopped and ran back up.

Cheyenne had hurriedly dressed and was struggling into boots.

“Grab whatever you consider important and bring it to my room.”

Inside he hastily dressed before opening a window and tossing his gear down to the snow-covered porch roof below. At least, he thought with relief, there was something there to break their fall.

When Cheyenne came rushing in, he took the bag from her hands and tossed it out the window.

“I know an open window can fan the flames, but we’re going out over the roof, just in case.” He took her hand and helped her out into the cold. Then he followed behind, quickly closing the window to cut off the draft.

They inched their way across the snow-and-ice-laden flat porch roof until they came to the edge. Quinn tossed his gear, then dropped into the snow and lifted his arms.

“Come on. I’ll catch you.”

“No need.” Cheyenne followed suit, dropping down beside him. “Buddy and I used to go out this way when we didn’t want our parents to hear us leaving.”

From the ground they could see the dull red of flames licking along the wall of the utility room.

Growing up in the area, they both knew that there was
no one they could count on but themselves. The town of Paintbrush had a volunteer fire department, but it was made up of business owners and ranchers who could be ready at a minute’s notice to fight fires in town. Ranches that were miles from their nearest neighbor often had to rely on their own resources.

“Do you have a fire extinguisher?”

Cheyenne nodded. “One in the kitchen. Another at the top of the stairs. And a third in the barn.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and rolled it in snow to wet the fabric before tying it over his nose and mouth.

“Stay here.”

With that muttered command he disappeared into the darkness.

Minutes later Cheyenne could make out his silhouette through the window as he located the extinguisher and began spraying foam.

She raced to the barn and grabbed a second extinguisher. With a cloth tied over her lower face she joined him in the house.

By now Quinn had managed to kill the flames in the utility room and kitchen and was spraying foam along the stairway. Cheyenne stepped up beside him, spraying one side of the stairwell while he sprayed the other.

By the time they’d extinguished the last of the flames, they could see that the fire had managed to climb halfway up the stairs.

“A few minutes longer and it would have spread to those rugs along the hallway.” Quinn continued spraying foam up the stairs and along the upper floor, in order to assure that there weren’t any dangerous sparks left.

At his words Cheyenne dropped down on a charred step and stared around in wonder. If the fire had been allowed to reach the upper floor, she and Quinn would have been overcome with smoke and could have possibly died without a chance to escape.

As the enormity of their situation dawned, she felt a trembling begin in her legs, and then her arms, until she was forced to drop the extinguisher.

Quinn started down the stairs. “Okay. I think it’s safe to say we got the most of it. Of course, there could still be some hot spots here and there. I’ll keep—”

He saw Cheyenne, her face in her hands, her body slumped on the stair, and dropped down beside her, gathering her into his arms. “Hey. You all right?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “It’s just…”

“I know.” He could hear the anguish in her voice. And the fear.

“Oh, Quinn, when I think what almost—”

“Let’s get into the fresh air.” He helped her to her feet and kept his arm around her shoulders as he led her through the kitchen and out the utility room door.

Once in the snow they both breathed deeply, filling their lungs with frigid air. That had them both coughing until their lungs cleared.

He caught Cheyenne’s hand. “You’re not going back in there. Too much smoke.”

“Where will we go?”

“The barn.”

They crossed the distance in silence, pausing with each step to breathe deeply.

Quinn paused to slide the heavy door open. Inside,
Cheyenne stepped into an empty stall and dropped down into a nest of fresh straw.

Quinn snatched a saddle blanket from the side of the stall and draped it over her shoulders. “Stay here and rest.”

As he started to turn away she caught his hand. “Where are you going?”

“Just going to check on the house one more time, to make sure we got all the sparks.”

She started to scramble up. “I’m going with—”

With both hands on her shoulders he gently pressed her down. “I can handle it. You rest.”

She fumed as she watched him stride away. It was her house. Her responsibility. And though a part of her wanted to stay here and avoid seeing the extent of the damage, another part of her knew that she needed to step up to her responsibility, no matter how frightened she felt.

She caught up with Quinn as he walked through the charred remains of the utility room, which lay in smoldering ruins.

Seeing his look, she put her hands on her hips. “I need to see it for myself.”

As they peered through the smoke and gloom he muttered, “I’m no expert, but it looks as though the fire started here.” He pointed to the furnace, now bent and twisted, and the water heater, which had collapsed and was practically welded to the floor. “Either of these could have been the culprit.”

They made their way to the kitchen, opening windows as they did, to clear the air of smoke and dust. The electric stove was blackened and badly damaged. As was the microwave.

“It could have just as easily begun here with either of these appliances,” Cheyenne pointed out.

“You’re right. Still, my instincts are with the utility room, since the damage was greatest in there.”

She nodded her agreement as she followed him up the stairs.