The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,42

dancing flames that lit up the night.

“What else can go wrong tonight?” Quin muttered as he glanced skyward. Hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He still hadn’t dealt with the frustration Preston had tossed at him and now he expected to face Boston’s angry accusations that he was responsible for the fire.

Adrianna was busy gathering leftover food when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She half turned to see Butler staring bleakly at her.

“We need to go. Now,” he said urgently.

“Why? I have to clean up the area.”

Butler clamped his hands on her shoulders, then turned her around to face northwest. She gasped in dismay when she saw the golden flames that sharply contrasted with the black clouds that had swallowed up the moon and stars.

“I don’t know whose place it is. Maybe ours or Fitzgerald’s just south, or the 4C to the east. But I’ll feel better when I know for sure,” Butler insisted.

Adrianna set aside the boxes, crates of food and supplies she had collected, then lifted her full skirts out of her way so she could dash off to summon Bea and Elda.

Like Butler, she wasn’t as familiar with the area and it was difficult to tell whose ranch was on fire. She didn’t know if the flames engulfed timberland, grassland or structures. Whatever the case, the sense of urgency streaked through her as she raced ahead of her employees to reach the carriage.

“What’s wrong?” Rosa called out behind her.

“Fire!” Adrianna threw over her shoulder as she grabbed the reins.

“Sweet mercy! In this fierce gale? That could be disastrous. Do you know where it is for sure?”

“That’s what we plan to find out!”

“Lucas and I will be right behind you,” Rosa promised as she lurched around to locate Lucas and Dog.

Heart pounding against her ribs, Adrianna pulled herself into the carriage, then helped Butler, Elda and Bea clamber to their seats. All three were gasping for breath when Adrianna slapped the horses on the rumps with the reins, demanding their fastest gaits.

“Slow down before you kill us all!” Elda yelped as she clamped one plump hand on her new hat and put a stranglehold on the metal armrest with the other.

“Want me to drive?” Butler asked as he grabbed hold of the seat to prevent being catapulted onto the street when Adrianna practically took the corner on two wheels.

“Just hold on for dear life,” she advised. “We need to find out whose place is on fire and what we can do to help.”

“I will be of no assistance whatsoever if I’m dead—” Bea’s voice dried up when Adrianna swerved to dodge a drunken cowboy who staggered from the boardwalk to the street.

Thunder rolled and everyone except Adrianna instinctively ducked. She was too intent on trying to follow the road in the darkness. She hadn’t lived in the area long enough to race off on a shortcut without plunging the carriage into a ravine or overturning it on a sharp curve.

“Lord! I think the fire is on our place!” Bea howled in dismay as they flew down the road with the wind and dust billowing around them.

Adrianna’s thudding heart plunged to her stomach as they passed the turnoff that led to 4C headquarters. She hadn’t wanted to wish ill on Cahill or her neighbors, Fitzgerald and Womack, but she couldn’t wish a fire on herself. Yet, there was no question now. Her home or barn—she couldn’t tell which—was in flames and her prize cattle might be in danger!

Blast it! She had hired workers to carefully pack her family heirloom furniture and transport it all the way from Boston to Texas. The pieces had only suffered a few scratches. Now they could be kindling in a fire. Not to mention the specially designed gowns that Rosa had labored over. And the financial ledgers could be ashes, she thought frantically. Good heavens, there could be nothing left to salvage!

“Will you look at that!” Butler yelped when he realized it was the house, not the barns or sheds, that was burning.

Adrianna raced over the hill to see flames leaping across the rafters of the new addition to her home. Silhouettes dashed hither and yon, splattering water to douse the fire. Without a care for her elegant gown, she drew the back hem between her legs to fashion makeshift breeches. Then she ripped a strip of fabric from her petticoats to serve as a belt. She had the dispirited feeling her improvised garment might be all she had left of