Texas Proud (Vincente 2) (29 page)

The sky was a smoke-colored gray, and there was
a definite nip to the air as Rachel stepped off the
porch and walked toward the barn. She'd swallowed her pride about selling to the Yankees.
She'd sell her stock to the Devil himself if it would
help pay her cowhands.

Her mind raced ahead of her as she calculated
how many head of horses she could sell and still
have enough to run the ranch efficiently. Good
cutting horses were always easy to sell, but not to
the army-they had no need for horses with that
particular endowment. Her neighbors were in the
same trouble as she-they certainly couldn't buy
her horses; in fact they had stock of their own to
sell.

It was hopeless. If she sold every horse and her
entire herd of cattle, she still wouldn't have
enough money to pay her taxes. Tomorrow was
the deadline. Her spirit raged. How could she
walk away from the Broken Spur, as many of her
neighbors had been forced to do with their
ranches? But she would need money to pay her
hands, feed everyone through the winter, purchase more cattle in the spring. Nothing could
save the Broken Spur. She ached inside as she pictured loading up a wagon with her belongings and
leaving the Broken Spur for the last time.

How would she be able to bear it?

As she entered the barn, she lit a lantern and
walked past each stall until she came to Faro's.
She reached out her hand and laid it on the mare's
shiny black coat. She would get a good price for
Faro. The banker had been wanting to buy her for
his wife; his offer had been a generous one.

Rachel laid her face against Faro's. "How can I
sell you? You're..." What was Faro, and why
couldn't she part with her? She had been more
than just a horse. She represented a time in Rachel's life when everything had been beautiful.

The door suddenly slammed shut and the lantern went out, casting the barn into darkness. Rachel made her way to the front of the barn,
thinking the wind had blown the door shut and
put out the lantern as well. Pushing against the
door, she was astonished to find it stuck. Zeb took pride in his work, and he had certainly done himself proud when he made the barn door so sturdy.
No matter how hard she pushed against it, it
wouldn't budge.

It appeared to be locked from the outside. But
that wasn't possible.

She called out to Zeb, before she remembered
that he and all the cowhands had left early that
morning, driving the herd to town to be sold at
the stockyard.

No one could hear her if she yelled.

She laughed aloud, wondering how she had gotten into this predicament. She wasn't really concerned, but she wondered how long it would take
Winna Mae to come searching for her.

Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark by
now, and she reached for the lantern to relight it.
A noise from the loft caught her attention; she assumed it was one of the cats that lived in the barn
to keep the mice away.

She still wasn't concerned, merely wondered
how she'd ever explain how she came to be locked
in her own barn. She finally lit the lantern and
placed it back on the hook. Most of the barn was
cast in shadows, with only a tiny circle of light cast
by the lantern.

Again she heard a sound above her, and she
made her way toward the ladder that led to her
hayloft. She heard the door in the loft slam shut,
and the sound of the pulley grinding as if someone
was riding it downward. The horses were getting restless, whinnying, while some of the more spirited animals kicked against their stalls.

"It's all right," she called out, thinking her voice
would calm them. But why was her pulse racing,
and why did she feel that someone had been in
the barn with her? She smelled the smoke before
she saw the flames, and her heart slammed
against her chest.

Someone had locked her in the barn and set it
on fire! The loft would be her only escape because
there was no lock on the upper door. She had to
make it out in time to save the horses!

She ran toward the steps that led upward, but
a streak of fire seemed to dive at her from above,
the dry hay only serving to feed the blaze until it
was an inferno. In no time, the loft was a blinding
wall of flame.

With her hand in front of her face to protect it,
Rachel climbed the first step, but the heat from
the flames drove her backward. Now the horses
were fear maddened and they thrashed and kicked
against their stalls, trying to get free.

Without thinking, she ran to the stalls, fumbling
until she unlatched each half door, then throwing
them open. Her lungs were filling with smoke, and
she stumbled toward the front of the barn. That
would be her only route of escape, because the loft
was now totally enveloped in flames.

In spite of the intense heat, Rachel felt a chilling
sensation like a snake winding itself around her
heart and squeezing. The smoke rolled toward her
like a dark, ominous beast, stinging her eyes and stealing her breath. A great wall of fire lunged forward, devouring everything in its path.

With wild terror she banged on the door, crying
as loud as she could, knowing the thickness of the
door muffled her cries, and Winna Mae was too
far to hear her anyway.

The heat was so intense that she couldn't
breathe, and smoke made it impossible to see. She
dropped to her knees, breathing the air from the
crack at the bottom of the door. Coughing, she
couldn't catch her breath as three barn cats circled her legs, mewing, pushing, circling in fear.
This time, whoever had been trying to kill her
would probably succeed, she thought, her arms
falling limply at her sides and blackness engulfing
her.

Winna Mae wondered what could be keeping Rachel. The noon meal was laid out on the kitchen
table and the stew was ready to serve. She walked
to the front porch-something was making her
feel uneasy.

That was when Winna Mae saw flames crackling from the roof of the barn, climbing, swirling
serpentine toward the sky. "Rachel!" she cried
loudly. "Where are you?"

No answer.

Winna Mae realized that Rachel would undoubtedly rush heedlessly into the barn to save the
stock and would need her help. She ran across the
porch, down the walk and toward the barn. She was out of breath by the time she reached the barn
door. She paused for only a moment, wondering
why the wooden bar lay across the double doors,
locking them into place. She could hear the shrill,
unnerving sound of terrified horses and shoved
the bar aside, swinging the doors open.

The sudden rush of air drew the flames like a
magnet toward Winna Mae. She saw Rachel lying
so still that she feared she might be dead. Grabbing both of Rachel's arms, she dragged her outside. Three barn cats scampered ahead of the five
terrified horses stampeding into the open air.

Winna Mae bent over Rachel, feeling for a pulse
at her throat. She bent low and felt her warm
breath on her cheek. Relief washed over her when
she felt the strong beat of Rachel's heart. She
turned her on her side and rushed to the well, wet
her apron and rushed back to Rachel.

Winna Mae washed the soot from Rachel's face
and shook her gently. "Rachel, Rachel. Open your
eyes."

Nothing.

"Rachel," she said forcefully, lightly slapping
her on each cheek. "Wake up!"

Rachel's eyelashes fluttered, and she took in a
gulp of air, and then another, bringing color back
to her face. She wanted to tell Winna Mae she was
all right, but the words clung to her dry lips and
she could not utter a sound.

"Rachel, breathe deeply," Winna Mae instructed
her. "That's right. Now more."

Rachel coughed and gasped. Her parched lungs
were hungry for pure air. After a fit of coughing,
she finally sat up with Winna Mae's help and drew
more precious, life-giving air into her lungs. They
both watched silently as the barn exploded outward, then collapsed into ashes and flames.

Rachel turned to Winna Mae and had to try several times before she could find her voice. Even
then it was little more than a throaty whisper.
"The horses?"

"I don't know. I hope they all got out."

"Faro?"

"I don't know. Hush now. Don't try to talk."

Rachel shook her head and tried to rise, but fell
back. Her mouth felt so dry. She attempted to
swallow, and by the third try she was successful.
"Someone... tried... to-"

"I know," Winna Mae said incredulously.
"Someone locked you in the barn and set fire to
it." She took Rachel's trembling hand. "Do you
think you can walk with my help?"

Rachel nodded. But when she stood on shaky
legs, she sagged toward Winna Mae and leaned
heavily against her. Walking slowly, they finally
made it to the porch. Rachel turned to look back
at the barn, which was only smoking embers. Her
gaze searched frantically for Faro, but she didn't
see her.

Winna Mae assisted her into the house and
seated her at the kitchen table while she poured
milk into a tin mug.

"You... saved my-"

"Hush. Don't talk just now," the housekeeper
told her, adding a liberal amount of honey to
soothe Rachel's throat. "Drink this." She extended
the mug to Rachel. "Later we will talk. Tomorrow,
perhaps."

Wetting a cloth, Winna Mae wiped more soot
from Rachel's face and was relieved to find that
her skin wasn't burned. Then she saw the redness
on Rachel's hands and doused them in a pan of
water. There were burn blisters on both palms and
on her upper right arm. Winna Mae deftly covered
them with ointment and then wrapped them in
white gauze.

"Winna Mae, who would want me dead?" Rachel asked worriedly. "Who would"

"I don't know," Winna Mae interrupted her
again, her tone uneven. "But it's time we found
out."

After Rachel had drunk the milk-and-honey
concoction Winna Mae mixed for her, she found
her throat didn't hurt quite so much. But Winna
Mae insisted she go to bed, and Rachel agreed,
after making Winna Mae promise that she would
find out if Faro had gotten out of the barn safely.

Although Rachel didn't think she would be able
to rest, she was so exhausted, her eyelids fluttered
shut and she fell into a deep sleep.

She did not know that Winna Mae stood over
her with a troubled frown. Someone was definitely trying to kill Rachel, but who? Winna Mae tried to think who would hate Rachel enough to
lock her in the barn and then set fire to it.

Winna Mae reached out and laid her hand
against Rachel's cheek. "Sleep easy. I will watch
over you."

That night the much-longed-for rain came. Lightning dove across the sky on jagged wings like a
fire-breathing dragon. Intermittent wind gusts
bowed the trees, and rain capered across the land,
settling the dust and washing down the gullies toward the Brazos River, filling the river to its
banks. The storm tore across the land, downing
trees and cutting a path through the tall, dry grass.

Rachel awoke to the patter of rain against her
window. She thought she must be dreaming.
Could it really be raining?

Lightning pulsed, streaked, illuminated the
land, but the rain had come too late to help the
ranchers who had lost their spreads, and it had
come too late to help Rachel.

She heard movement and turned her head to
see Winna Mae sitting beside her bed, a rifle
across her lap.

"You should get some sleep," Rachel said.
"Don't worry about me. The men will be home day
after tomorrow."

"I'll go to bed directly." Winna Mae had no intention of leaving Rachel tonight, but she knew
Rachel wouldn't sleep if she thought she was staying up on her account. "Faro's fine."

Relief resounded in her voice. "You found her?"

"No, she found me. She came to the back door
stomping and noisily demanding attention. I led
her to the corral and gave her hay and water, then
latched the gate."

Rachel let out a grateful sigh and closed her
eyes. "It's raining."

"Yes, it is."

Rachel slept peacefully while jagged streaks of
lightning played tag with boisterous thunder that
made the ground tremble. The long-awaited rain
pelted against the cracked and scarred land,
which thirstily soaked up the deluge, and began
to heal.

Rachel walked toward what remained of her barn,
which was now just a hideous dark thing that
smelled sickeningly of wet ashes. She reached up
and touched her throat; it was still dry and hurt
like the devil. Even the rain that had come in the
night, ending the drought, brought her no joy.
With a heavy heart she entered the corral where
Faro waited for her.

After examining the mare closely, Rachel was
satisfied that she'd escaped injury. She patted her
horse's sleek neck, and gave her a carrot.

Her saddle and all the tack had burned in the
barn, so she formed a makeshift bridle out of
leather rope and slipped it over Faro's head; then,
clutching her rifle, she bounded onto the mare's
back.

"Let's go round up the other horses," she said,
leaning close to Faro's head. She shivered when
she thought of how close she'd come to losing this
creature that was so dear to her.

Winna Mae called out to her, but Rachel was
too far away to hear. The housekeeper shook her
head. "That Rachel," she mumbled to herself.
"Someone tried to kill her yesterday, and today
she thinks only of the horses."

She entered the house and placed the coffeepot
on the back of the stove. The men wouldn't be
home until tomorrow. Until then, she wanted to
be sure that Rachel was safe. But how could she
protect her if she went riding about the countryside as if she didn't have a care in the world?

Rachel held her rifle across her lap, her eyes
sweeping the terrain ahead of her. Someone
wanted her dead, and she didn't know who it was.
But she wasn't going to hide in the house like a
witless coward.