Something Borrowed

Chapter 49

Josh

"Merry Christmas, gents," Josh joked as he slumped onto an upturned bucket, immune to the cold as his still-pounding heart beat warmth out to his extremities.

All around him, the weary men sank to the ground, their grins blazing white in their soot-stained faces. Some found buckets to sit on, like Josh, or leaned against the rails of the corral. Most just slumped onto their asses in the snow. Behind Josh, the skeletal remains of stable three smoked and crackled. The north wall of stable four was scorched but sufficiently drenched with water to prevent it from catching. It had taken the better part of four hours to subdue the flames.

"Merry Christmas, boss," Paul said wryly, swiping at his wrinkled forehead with a sleeve, and the men echoed him cheerfully. Nothing brought men together better than a near catastrophe and hard physical labor. One of the men passed around a bucket of water and they all swigged it back. If they sat out here for too long, the chill would creep into their bones, but Josh was content to rest for a moment and catch his breath. As soon as he could get his legs under him he'd head back up to the house.

Once he was certain the fire was contained, he'd sent the runner back to his family with word to relax, enjoy the evening, and go to bed. No reason to stay up and wait, although he knew Amelia would be up. There were days when she accidentally fell asleep waiting for him, but she always tried. How many times had he found her snoring on the couch or propped against pillows in bed with her head crooked to the side and an open book in her lap?

The thought of her, warm and waiting in the bed, brought strength back into his legs. With a grunt, he pushed to his feet.

"Let's get the horses into four and five," he said, jerking his head at the two dozen displaced animals they'd rushed into the nearest corral. The animals were turned sullenly away from the wind, their heads lowered in obvious displeasure at being thrust out of their warm homes into the cold.

"Aw c'mon, boss," one of the men complained. "Let us have a minute."

"You can have a minute once we're done," he said firmly. "Sooner we wrap this up sooner you all can find your bunks and--"

"Boss," one of the men cut him off, and he turned a glare on the kid at the interruption. The frown froze on his face, locking his jaw tight as he followed the man's horrified expression up the hill toward the house.

Smoke.

Not the tight spirals from the chimneys. Not white wisps that smelled of pine and warmth.

The smoke was a dark cloud, blotting out the stars beyond. The hint of something acrid and evil touched his nose, and he was sprinting through the snow before the sight had fully registered in his mind. He grabbed the nearest saddled horse, heedless of its ownership, and vaulted up. He dug his heels into the animal's sides and they tore up the hill, kicking at snow that flew in dizzying waves in front of them, feathering out to the sides. He bent low over the horse's back, and when they reached the yard he flung himself from the saddle, both feet hitting the hard-packed snow at the same time.

He saw the smoke, billowing out from the second story windows, tendrils snaking out from the window of the kitchen. Even so, the front door wasn't open. Nobody waited for him on the front lawn. Dear God, they were all still inside...

The door was barred. He threw himself at it once, twice, three times. His shoulder screamed but the door hadn't budged. It was that damned bar his father had installed. Solid damned oak. Why the hell had they locked him out? 

Abandoning the door, he sprinted down the length of the porch to the window that looked in on the dining room. Balling his gloved hand into a fist, he drew back and sent it through the thick glass. The window shattered and smoke wound out, making him cough. Counting on the heavy leather of his glove and coat to shield him, he continued battering at the glass until there was a hole big enough to fit his body through. He knocked the shards away from the lower edge of the sill and clambered gracelessly through the opening.