Lonestar Angel

by Colleen Coble

  Rita had self-confidence at least. Eden chuckled. “He’d have all the girls after him.”

  She smiled and put the cover on the dish, then went to find Clay. They had to be at the community center in half an hour. He wasn’t at the barn or at the ranch house. Rick told her Clay had asked about a handsaw and suggested she check the shed at the back edge of the property.

  The building was on the west side of the back pasture, a dot in the distance from the backyard. Eden followed a crushed-stone path through knee-high scrub and sage to the building. Painted red like the barn, it appeared to be a fairly new addition to the property, about thirty feet square. The door was shut tight but the padlock hung loose. She opened the door and peered inside. It contained tools, a yard tractor, and various gardening items.

  “Clay?” she called. The scent of oil and dust made her sneeze. She advanced into the building. “Are you in here?” There was no answer.

  The gardening tools hanging on the wall reminded her of when she was a kid. Her foster mother had loved azaleas. There was a small plot of flowers at the edge of their house that held four plants, and her mother deadheaded them and mulched them all summer long. Eden touched a pruning shear, then turned to go.

  Strange. She thought she’d left the door open. She twisted the handle and pushed, but it didn’t move. Maybe she had to turn the knob the other way. She tried that, but the door still refused to budge. She yanked on it and tried everything she could before she admitted that she seemed to be locked in. Maybe there was another way out. She saw another door at the back and went to try it. It refused to open as well.

  And what was that smell? She sniffed the air and the hair stood on the back of her neck. It was cologne, the same smell that had been in Clay’s truck after it was taken. “Who’s there?” she asked, hating the way her voice shook. “Show yourself.”

  Was that a scratching sound? Her skin crawled. She had to get out of here. Whirling, she ran to the window on the front of the building. She flipped the latch and tried to raise the sash. It seemed stuck. Maybe she needed to be taller to get better leverage. Grabbing a nearby bucket, she upended it and stepped on its bottom. She shoved the top of the window with all her might but it still wouldn’t open. From her vantage point, she realized someone had locked the padlock on the door.

  She hopped from the bucket and ran with it to the back window. The back door was padlocked too. She tried to lift the window there and managed to get it up a crack before it stuck again. She smelled gasoline, and the odor began to intensify. The shadows grew deeper too. Was someone hiding behind the tool bench or the yard tractor?

  She shrank back against the wall. Would Clay miss her and come searching for her? Maybe Rick would tell him she was out here looking for him. She heard something else. A faint whoosh. Then another smell, acrid and noxious, began to overpower the gas. Smoke? Surely not. She sniffed the air again. It was stronger now. No mistaking it. Something was on fire.

  A green hose was coiled on the wall. She rushed for it and grabbed it off the hook. Where was the faucet? She frantically looked around the space but saw no spigot. Maybe the hose was simply stored here. The smell was stronger now, and a haze hung in the air. She coughed at the burning in her lungs. There, on the workbench. A crowbar. She grabbed it and ran for the partially open window. With the hook of the crowbar on the bottom edge of the sill, she pried as hard as she could. It went up a bit but still not far enough to squeeze through.

  The smoke swirled around her, obscuring her vision even more. The windows were small panes. Standing back a bit, she swung the crowbar at the window. The end of it smashed through the middle pane. The grids were part of the window, not removable. But maybe she could knock them out. She swung the heavy metal bar again and the thin wood popped out. Encouraged, she began to batter the window as hard and fast as she could. Her vision swam and she coughed.

  She wasn’t going to make it.

  23

  CLAY WIPED HIS DAMP BROW. HE’D JUST FINISHED CLEANING OUT SOME STALLS. SOME ICED tea would be in order after he returned the saw. He found Buzz in the barn. “Thanks for the saw. Where’s it go?”

  The old cowboy glanced up from messing with a horse’s hoof. “It belongs in the shed out yonder. I just had it up here to work on a fence.”

  “If you tell me where it goes, I’ll put it back.”

  “Just inside the door to your left are hooks with other tools. Any of those hooks will do.” Buzz went back to his chore.

  “Be back shortly. The kids will be ready for their rides.” Clay stepped outside the barn and squinted at the midday sun that glared down from a cloudless sky. Starting for the outbuilding, he saw a smudge against the sky. Almost simultaneously, he smelled something. Smoke? He stared and realized flames were licking at the roof of the building.

  “Fire!” he shouted. “Buzz, Rick, the building is on fire!” He saw Buzz exit the barn and run toward him. The cowboy repeated the shout of “Fire!” and Clay put on a burst of speed and ran toward the building. Rick spurted out his door and raced toward him as well.

  Clay reached the structure. It was padlocked. Buzz and Rick were only moments behind him.

  Rick caught at his arm. “Did you see Eden? She was coming back here to look for you.”

  The men’s gazes locked, and the fear in Rick’s face kicked Clay in the gut. “I never came back here. Buzz had the saw.” He yanked at the lock. “You have the key?” She couldn’t be in there with it locked.

  More help spilled toward them. Allie, Rita, Della, Zeke, the other hands. Most carried buckets of water. Rick dug his keys from his pocket and selected a small silver one. He thrust it in the keyhole and twisted. The lock fell open.

  Allie reached him. “Where’s Eden?” Clay asked her.

  Her brows rose. “She was cooking, then came out here to find you. It’s time for us to be leaving for the dinner.”

  Clay’s pulse kicked. Then he heard a sound. A choked cry. He yanked the lock from the latch and pulled open the door. Black smoke roiled out. “Eden!” he yelled. He started to run inside, but Rick grabbed his arm.

  “It’s not safe!” Rick shouted.

  Clay jerked out of Rick’s grasp and plunged into the building. The smoke was like a living creature. Writhing and hot, it sucked all the oxygen from the air. Soot coated his tongue and throat, insinuated itself into his lungs and ears. The roar of the fire was so loud his own voice screaming Eden’s name sounded muffled.

  He stumbled over something and fell. Down here on the floor he could breathe a little better, so he crawled forward. “Eden!” he shouted.

  His hand touched something yielding and inert. Cloth covering a leg. Eden? He touched a back, an arm, hair. It was her. But which way was out? In the blackness, he couldn’t tell. His ears were ringing, and he began to pray for guidance. The fire flared off to his left. The roof screamed and groaned like someone in pain. The ringing in his ears grew louder, then a roof beam crashed down a few feet away. The fire flared higher, and he saw sunlight through the clouds of smoke.

  Move, move! He couldn’t stay here paralyzed. He needed to go where his toes were pointed. The answer should have been clear immediately. That was the way he’d come. Sliding backward, he dragged Eden’s body with him. All he could do was pray he kept going in a straight line back toward the door. He laid his cheek on the hot concrete to rest a moment and try to draw in a bit of oxygen. He thought he heard shouts. Maybe they were close to being out of this nightmare.

  Gathering his strength, he began to slide back again. His left foot hit resistance. The wall? “Rick,” he croaked. His voice sounded weak and too soft. Rick would never hear him. He licked blistered lips and tried again. “Rick.”

  A hand grabbed his ankle and yanked. He had just enough strength to hang on to Eden’s leg as someone hauled them from the inferno. Moments later he was lying on the hard ground, staring up into an impossibly bright and blue sky. His vision was blurry, but he recognized Rick bending over him.


  “Eden,” Clay croaked.

  “She’s out of the building. Allie is taking care of her.”

  Rick cupped water in his hand and trickled some over Clay’s face. He’d never felt anything so wonderful. He opened his mouth and let a bit of the blessed moisture touch his parched tongue. “Does Eden have water?”

  “Allie’s giving her some.”

  Clay rolled onto his stomach and got to his hands and knees. “Where is she? Is she going to be okay?” He didn’t wait for Rick to answer him but crawled forward a few feet to find his wife. She was lying on her back, but her eyes were open. Her face was wet too. The water Allie had given her had left rivulets in the soot marking her skin.

  “Eden,” he whispered.

  She turned her head and saw him. “You look like you’ve been playing in mud,” she said. Her voice was hoarse.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Alive.” Her hand crept toward him. “You nearly died.”

  “So did you.” Inexplicably, he wanted to laugh.

  Her hand crept into his. “You nearly died with me.”

  “I wouldn’t have wanted to live if you’d died.” The words were out before he could stop them. And he’d never said anything he meant more.

  Clay’s words had seared her heart. Could he possibly feel that way? Eden sipped the sweet tea Allie had pressed against her lips in the cool shade of the front porch. Clay was beside her. Her skin felt tight and hot. One spot on her leg was blistered, but not a large enough area to require hospitalization. The doctor had come and gone, leaving aloe cream to help with the burned areas.

  Gracie Wayne had come over to take charge of the children and ease their fears while the adults tried to figure out what happened. Firefighters were pouring through the smoking ruins now.

  Allie refilled the glass of tea. “Keep drinking,” she ordered. “The doctor says we have to keep you both hydrated.”

  The warmth of Clay’s arm against hers was almost painful against her reddened skin, but Eden didn’t want to move away.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the smoke. “Do you remember?”

  Eden was going to have to tell them about the locks and the cologne she smelled. Her sense of safety vanished. “Someone locked me in and set the fire.”

  His arm tightened painfully around her. “How do you know?”

  “I left the padlock dangling when I went in. When I tried to leave, it was locked. I saw it through the window.”

  “It was locked when I got there,” Rick concurred.

  Allie shuddered. “Then what happened?”

  “I smelled gasoline, then I heard a whoosh. The fire igniting, I suppose. Shortly after that the smoke came. I grabbed a crowbar and tried to bust out the window, but I couldn’t get it done before the smoke got so bad that I couldn’t breathe. I dropped to the floor so I could get air. That was the last thing I remember until you were giving me water.”

  Rick was frowning as he stared at her. “I don’t think this has anything to do with Clay. You seem to be the only target. First he tried to scare you away, but you didn’t go, so he’s upped the stakes.”

  Her chest felt tight, and not just from smoke inhalation. Someone out there hated her so much that he wanted to burn her alive. “But why? I gave him back the pendant.”

  “Maybe I need to give your father a call,” Clay said.

  There was something deeper going on. Eden took another sip of tea, even though it was sweeter than she liked. “What if it’s not him?”

  “What if it is?” Clay countered, scowling.

  “We need to investigate all possibilities. Check your background,” Rick said. “What were you doing before you got here?”

  “I’ve told you—working as a nurse,” she said.

  “Let’s back up and take another look,” Clay said. “How did you meet Kent?”

  With their eyes on her, she hated to talk about Kent. “At church. You’re on the wrong track there. Kent is a good guy. A friend at church introduced us.”

  “Was she interested in him?” Allie asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Eden thought back to the church-wide dinner that Kent had come to. Had Molly been interested in him? What exactly had she said? Something about him being the prize sought by all the unattached women. “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “How about hobbies or other activities?” Rick asked.

  What could she say? That she collected shoes and purses like some women sought out fresh produce? That she was a professional window shopper? She shook her head.

  “What about Daniel?” Clay asked, his voice quiet.

  She’d been hoping Clay wouldn’t bring him up. Shifting away from him, she straightened and shook her head. “I don’t believe he’d try to hurt me.”

  “You just told me he hated you,” Clay said, pulling his arm away.

  “Not enough to kill me. I don’t believe it.”

  “Who’s Daniel?” Allie asked.

  “My best friend. Well, he was. We grew up in the same foster home. He’s like a brother.”

  “He wanted to be more to her, but she never saw it,” Clay said, his voice hard.

  Could Daniel want to harm her? She thought of his light blue eyes, his genial smile and slim build. “He’s not the type. He might be mad at me right now, but he’d never do anything to hurt me. I’m sure of it.”

  “What’s Daniel’s last name?” Rick had his pen and paper out again.

  Eden pressed her lips together, but Clay told him. She glared at Clay. “This is ridiculous. Daniel wouldn’t do such a thing. It takes a really twisted mind to try to torch a building with a person inside.”

  The problem was, she didn’t know anyone that sick.

  Clay showered after the children were in bed, but the water on his tight skin was still an agony. He dressed in loose cotton sweats and went to find Eden. She was on the porch swing. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she sat in a ball and looked out toward the remains of the shed.

  The swing creaked when he sat beside her. “You okay?”

  She put her feet back on the floor. “The burns still hurt a little. I’m sure yours do too.” When he nodded, she leaned back against his arm. “But we’re still alive. Thanks to you.”

  Had she even noticed his slip of the tongue when he’d pulled her out? She hadn’t said anything about it. He’d meant it, though. Life without her wouldn’t be worth living. They swung in companionable silence for several minutes.

  “I’m going to call your father,” he said, holding up the portable phone.

  She shook her head. “Not tonight. I can’t take any more.”

  “I have to, honey. I’ve been thinking about it for two days. Someone hates you very much to try to burn you alive.” His throat tightened and he couldn’t say more.

  She leaned her head back against his arm. “It is horrible to think about being hated that much.”

  “I tend to think it’s not your dad who’s behind this,” he said. “But I want to verify it.”

  He plucked the phone number from his pocket and punched it into the phone. It would be much more pleasant to sit here and smell the apples in her hair, but he couldn’t go through another day like this. Refused to go through it again. He’d nearly lost her.

  The phone rang on the other end for so long that he thought he would have to leave a message. Then a gruff voice said, “Santiago.”

  “Mr. Santiago, this is Eden’s husband, Clay Larson.”

  “I received my property back, if that is why you are calling.”

  “Glad to hear it, but I have something much more grave to discuss with you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Someone tried to kill Eden today. She was locked in a shed and it was set on fire.” He heard the guy gasp, then nothing for a moment. “Mr. Santiago? Are you there?”

  “I am here. I gave instructions . . .” He went quiet.

  Gave instructions to his henchman? So Hector Santiago was behind the attack
s, even though he claimed to know nothing about Brianna’s kidnapping. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give those instructions again. I fear you have a rogue employee.”

  “It may be more than that, Mr. Larson. I will do what I can, but the risks to Eden are grave.”

  Clay’s neck prickled. “What do you mean?”

  “I can say no more. You will have to guard her carefully.”

  “At least you care a little about your daughter,” Clay said.

  “I doubt she is my daughter, but I can’t have a rogue—”

  “Of course she’s your daughter!” Clay saw Eden’s eyes widen, and he wished she hadn’t heard that. Clay heard a click and stared at the phone. “He hung up on me.”

  She lifted her head. “He did that to me too. I think he likes the power. He says I’m not his daughter?”

  “He didn’t seem sure. It sounds like he told whoever was after you to lay off, but the guy disobeyed. I think your father isn’t sure he can call him off.”

  Her eyes went wide. “So he was behind it? But why?”

  If only he knew. It appeared this was far from over.

  24

  CLAY SCOOPED UP HAY WITH HIS PITCHFORK AND TOSSED SOME TO THE HORSE IN THE FIRST stall. The sweet scent of the grass blended with the earthy smell of the horse. He liked the combination for some reason. The barn was like a secret friend, living and breathing the odor and life of the horses and the cowboys. Living here on the ranch had changed him in some fundamental ways.

  He wanted something different in his relationship with Eden too. He’d thought revealing his heart to her would bring about that sea change. If anything, she’d been a little more aloof the last two days. He’d tried to tell himself it was because she was hurting from her burns, but he wasn’t sure that was the reason. Their talk the other night may have made her want to keep her distance.

  A shadow fell on the haystack, and he glanced up to see India in the doorway. “Want to help?” he asked her.