Terms of a Texas Marriage(29)

The issue of the land remained a black cloud over both their heads. It continued to drive a wedge between them and that had to end. If he had to choose between giving up the entire project and losing Shea, the project was history. He’d never thought a woman like Shea existed, let alone that he would find her. She had taken away all the suspicions and internal rage that had burned a hole in his soul for five long years, and opened his heart to the possibility of a future of happiness. She’d made him whole again. He was not about to lose her. Not over this land. Not over anything.

He glanced again at his watch. Ten minutes later than the last time he’d looked. Still half an hour out from Dallas-Fort Worth. He wanted to pace, needed some way to let off the tension churning in his gut. He’d never felt this uneasy, never sensed the need to hurry as he did now.

I never should have left without her. That thought kept churning in his mind. I never should have left her alone in that house.

Once the jet landed at the airport, a helicopter was waiting, ready to take him back to Calico Springs. This time he would make her listen to him. At the meeting he’d scheduled to take place in four days, he was calling a halt to the project. It was worth any financial loss if it meant having Shea in his life. He needed her. Scotty needed her. And he believed Shea needed them.



The sound seemed to come from far away. Shea ignored it, not wanting to leave the dark recesses of sleep that had finally given her temporary peace.

Almost every day since Alec and Scotty had left, she’d saddled a horse and had come out to the ruins of the old homestead. She’d reflected on her limited options but unlike the previous times in her life, she’d found no solution. There was no peace. In the end, everything came back to Alec and what she would do without him in her life.

The sound grew louder, now joined by a voice calling her name. Blinking open her eyes, she sat up.

Thunder rolled across the sky as lightning flashed, challenging the darkness. The wind roared around the old structure, bringing the smell of the pending rain.

“Shea!”

It was Hank. As she stood up, she saw the truck about a hundred yards away heading toward her at a high rate of speed. He came to a screeching halt in front of the foundation.

“There’s trouble,” he told her without preamble. “Get in.”

Recognizing the serious tone in his voice, she jumped into the vehicle without a word. He spun around on two wheels and they headed back over the rise.

“What?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“It’s the house,” Hank said. “It’s on fire.”

“What!” Shea couldn’t immediately grasp the meaning of what he said. “The house...my house?”

She saw him nod, his mouth set in a grim line.

“How?” Her mind was reeling.

“Don’t know,” he yelled over the sound of the racing engine. “My guess is lightning. But as old as the place is, it won’t take it long to burn down. That wood’s like dry kindling.”

Shea sat in stunned silence. Hank bypassed the trail and shot a straight line for the house, tearing through the wooded area a half mile away from it. They bounced over stumps and plunged through shallow ravines, sideswiping trees and boulders.

As soon as they topped the last rise, she could see the flames against the darkened sky. Fire equipment surrounded the house along with police and ambulance. Men were running in all directions, shouting to each other and scrambling to battle the flames shooting out the windows. A black wall of smoke engulfed the old composite roof; the large streams of water the firefighters were spraying onto its burning surface had little effect. Bright red, blue and white lights flashed and cast an eerie ambiance over the horrific scene unfolding around her.

She jumped from the truck before Hank came to a complete stop and ran toward the house. One of the firefighters caught her, bringing her to a stop.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll need to stay back.”

“It’s my house,” she screamed over the commotion.

“Ma’am, you can’t go inside.” His tone had changed to one of understanding, but he remained adamant in his refusal to let her near the house.

“But—”

“Please, ma’am, you must stay back. The walls could collapse at any time. Please.”

She turned away, unable to stop the flow of tears as they streamed down her face. She’d never felt so powerless in her life. The nightmare was coming true, playing out in full color right in front of her eyes. She stumbled to the far side of the three-story structure and watched helplessly as the flames continued to eat at the roof.

At least Alec and Scotty were gone and in no danger.

Then something caught her attention. It looked like a face in the upstairs window. Scotty’s room. She brushed the tears from her eyes and looked again. Was Alec here? Had they come back? Was Scotty trapped inside? Between the darkness and the smoke billowing out of the window, she couldn’t be sure. Sheer terror gripped her heart. She anxiously searched around her for any sign of Alec.

“Scotty!” Firefighters were pulling more hoses from the trucks, yelling instructions to each other while the anxious ranch hands and their families looked on. Then in the distance, on the very edge of the illumination from the flashing lights on the emergency vehicles, she spotted a white car. It looked like the sedan Alec had been driving while he was here. He’d come back! Frantically, she took one more look around her but couldn’t spot Alec in all the chaos. Time was running out. She ran to the closest firefighter, tugged on his jacket to get his attention and pointed to the upstairs window. “There is a child up there.”

She had to yell to be heard over the roar of the fire and the commotion on the ground. The man looked in the direction she indicated. A dark cloud of smoke still plumed out the open window.

“I don’t see anyone, ma’am,” he said, still looking. “We checked the house before the fire got to this stage. There was no one inside.”

“But he’s there!” She pointed to the window.

The man turned and hurried back to one of the fire trucks, yelling instructions to the others. She didn’t have time to wait. Scotty didn’t have time to wait. Without another thought Shea took off at a dead run toward the kitchen door. If she hurried, there was a chance she could reach Scotty in time.

Taking a deep breath, she bounded up the outside steps and pushed her way inside. The wall of heat was overwhelming. A thick blanket of smoke filled the room, whirling around her as the fresh air followed her into the kitchen. She quickly wet some towels, held them against her face, and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. The closer she got to the second floor, the more intense the heat became, surrounding her like a giant furnace.

As she reached the top of the stairwell, she heard a loud crackling sound and a cloud of dark gray smoke billowed down from the roof. She coughed violently as she urged herself forward. Just a few steps more.

“Scotty!” No reply. Crouching low to the floor, she crawled down the hall. The towels seemed of little help as the smoke burned her throat and lungs. The loud roaring from the inferno brought renewed terror. Am I already too late? The smoke burned her eyes, further restricting her sight. Feeling her way along the wall, she finally reached his room.

She hesitated in the doorway only a fraction of a second before plunging into the smoke and ash, not stopping until she reached the window where she’d seen the small face. Suddenly, the smoke swirled away from the open window. She gasped for a breath of air. It was then she saw it. The owl. It hadn’t been Scotty she’d seen in the window. It was his stuffed owl. At that instant, a loud crash from another part of the house rocked the floor under her feet.

Turning, she began the arduous journey back down the hall. Approaching the doorway to her old room, she knew a moment of anguish for all the cherished things that would soon be lost forever. The linens, hand-embroidered by her mother, the wedding gown, pictures of her father and the family Bible. The only things left of the Hardin family were in that cedar chest. It sat not more than four feet from where she stood. She couldn’t see it because of the smoke, but she knew it was there.

Acting purely on impulse, she lunged for the big chest. Grabbing the handle, she began pulling it from the room.

The smoke was thicker than it had been only a few moments ago and every breath was a horrific struggle. At the top of the stairs, she gave a hard push and the chest began to slide down, bumping over each step. It was almost to the bottom landing when the corner caught in the stair railing, halting its progress.

Climbing over the chest, she tried tugging from the lower side. Suddenly, the railing gave way and the chest lurched forward. The motion threw her off balance and she fell, tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs, the heavy trunk crashing down on top of her.

As she teetered on the edge of consciousness, she pushed at the trunk, but it had become lodged between the newel post and the wall, effectively pinning her underneath.

Her ears were ringing. With each cough, her lungs filled with more minuscule particles of ash. She pushed frantically at the chest, trying to dislodge it enough so she could scoot out from underneath.

The roar of the fire, which now surrounded her, was almost deafening. It was so hot. For a moment, she gave up her attempts to push the chest away and covered her face with her one free arm, desperately trying to breathe. Unable to move, all she could do was look toward the ceiling as the nightmare continued to unfold.