Hideaway

by Hannah Alexander

  “Please, if I could just leave a number where your wife could contact me? I just want some idea about what was said during my sister’s visit here that day, maybe some idea about why she was driving, what time it might have been when she left here.” She jotted the number of the general store in Hideaway, handed him the slip of paper. “She can leave a message and I’ll call her back.”

  He took the slip of paper hastily, then stepped back inside and closed the door.

  Stung by his reaction, totally discouraged, Cheyenne returned to her car for the long drive home.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A loud thump from upstairs awakened Dane with a jolt. His first thought was that Blaze was sneaking out the upstairs window again. He was pushing the blankets back when he saw an eerie glow outside, and heard another thump.

  “Fire!” Someone screamed from upstairs. “There’s a fire!”

  Dane frantically pulled on his work jeans and shoes and ran from his room across the living room to the front bay window, where he saw flames lick the sky above the barn. Blaze came racing down the stairs, wearing only sweatpants and tennis shoes. He ran past Dane to the back door without stopping.

  “Animals!” he called over his shoulder. “We’ve got to get the animals out of—”

  “No, Blaze, get back here!”

  Cook tumbled out of his bedroom, pulling on his jeans and shoving on his shoes, nearly colliding with Dane in the back hallway.

  “Cook, call the volunteer fire department, and keep the boys in here if you can.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I’ve got to get Blaze before he does something stupid.”

  As he raced out the back door, he caught the stench of smoke and heard a scream piercing the air. The sound shot through his whole body.

  “Blaze!” Oh, God, no, please don’t let it be, he prayed as he ran downhill toward the fiery inferno. The scream grew louder, splitting the sky with agony as it plunged through the darkness.

  Blue’s familiar feline growl dragged at Cheyenne’s consciousness until the darkness of sleep retreated. She opened her eyes to a faint, eerie glow that seemed to fill the room.

  Dreaming. She was dreaming. She closed her eyes and tried to recapture the peace of a dreamless sleep.

  Blue’s sharp claws, barely unsheathed, scraped against her left arm and brought her sitting up in bed.

  “What is it, Blue?” she whispered, frowning at the strange, yellow-orange glow of light against the wall. She glanced toward the window as the warm memory of sleep vanished. “What’s going on?”

  The cat leaped to the floor and ran crying into the back room. Cheyenne leaned across the bed and peered out the window. She saw the flames across the lake and caught a whiff of smoke at the same moment.

  “A fire…the ranch!”

  She threw the blankets back and leaped from bed, grabbed her clothes and pulled them on. Was it the house? An outbuilding?

  She found her car keys and ran to the car to call for help, then grabbed her first aid kit from the trunk of the car and hauled it down to the dock. She leaped into the rowboat and untied the rope. Her movements were awkward, and she backed into a tree stump hidden beneath the water’s surface before she could get her bearings. She shoved away from the stump with a paddle, then pushed out into the center of the cove as she grew accustomed to the rhythm of paddling.

  Thank goodness Red and Bertie had loaned her this boat.

  When she reached the mouth of the cove, she could see the flames more clearly. The smoke nearly choked her. She pulled the neck of her T-shirt up around her nose and mouth and continued to paddle, staring with horror at the flames.

  It was then that she heard the scream.

  “Blaze!”

  The barn door stood open, engulfed by smoke and flames. The panicked cry of a calf reached Dane from the corral to his left, and then he heard the sweet sound of Blaze’s voice.

  “Get out! Go!” The gate swung open and Starface came trotting toward Dane, calling for her mother.

  “Blaze, get out here now!” Dane shouted.

  Blaze retreated back into the barn, toward the flames. There was a crash, and a loud, bright whoosh of fire. Dane ran into the corral. “Blaze, get out of there. Blaze!”

  The kid came bursting through the side door with a Holstein calf in his arms. “Get back, Dane! It’s okay, this is all the calves we put in last night, but I can’t find the white sow.”

  The scream. “I think I heard her go into the woods.”

  Blaze set the calf down well away from the fire and smacked her behind to drive her away. “Gordy made her own doorway out the other side of the barn. Come on, let’s get out of here before it does something crazy. Where’re the guys?”

  “In the house.”

  “We need to be fighting this fire!”

  “You need to get some clothes on for protection. If you cut yourself—”

  “Aw, Dane—”

  “Just do it!” He ran to the water hydrant at the side of the house. “Get into the house and put on a long-sleeved cotton shirt on before you come back outside. Send the other boys out here to me.”

  Blaze slammed back into the house while Dane connected the garden hose to the hydrant. He would put the boys to work soaking the house and outbuildings to prevent the fire from spreading.

  A siren reached him from across the water. It would take the Hideaway Volunteer Fire Department awhile to drive here.

  There came a crack of wood and a loud whoosh, then smoke and sparks flew toward heaven. Past the barn, Dane saw sparks flicker in the tops of two big oak trees.

  “Oh, Lord, please, don’t let this thing spread!”

  The other side of the lake looked miles away as Cheyenne pushed forward by the light of the moon—and the flames.

  The scream continued—not a human sound, but a guttural keening of pain. An animal. The lake was smooth and clear, without a ripple. It gave back an indistinct reflection of flames from the top of the hill at the ranch.

  Sirens echoed through the night, at first bouncing across the water in a shriek, then softening as the firemen drove out of town on the circuitous route to the nearest bridge.

  As Cheyenne left the moon’s glow and entered the shadow of the trees on the ranch side of the lake, ripples from somewhere ahead reached the tip of the rowboat. She looked up in time to see the silhouette of a canoe gliding along the edge of the shoreline. The lone passenger was silent.

  She didn’t call out as she allowed her boat to drift past the ranch dock.

  The animal scream continued to pierce the night, a heavy sound of agony, louder as Cheyenne drew closer to it.

  The rowboat grounded in mud and rocks beneath overhanging trees, and Cheyenne leaped forward awkwardly. Her shoes squished in mud as she stumbled out and flung the paddle into the bottom of the boat, then pulled the boat farther up to keep it from drifting away. She needed to leave room for others who would be coming to help.

  She grabbed her heavy first-aid kit and hugged it protectively in her arms as she pressed through overgrown brush, fighting the thorns. If only she’d remembered to bring a flashlight.

  The crackle of flames reached her as she stumbled blindly up the hill, and she followed the sound. Along with the acrid burn of smoke in her nostrils.

  The brush cleared, and Cheyenne breathlessly stepped out onto an open path that led to the crest of the hill, where the huge barn seemed to dance in the dark with the flames. She rushed along the path toward the house.

  Dane came running from the house, followed by five of his boys. “Stay away from the barn!” he told them. “Willy, you grab another garden hose from the garage and hook it to the hydrant at the pump house. Jason, you help him. The barn’s lost, guys. We’ve just got to keep the fire from spreading.”

  Cheyenne ran up to him. “Is anyone hurt?”

  “One animal, can you hear her? The boys are okay, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  “What can I do to hel
p?”

  “Find Blaze. He was here a moment ago, then he disappeared. I couldn’t find him in the house. Willy, don’t go back into the barn, it could collapse.”

  “I have to get my calf! I put him in the back stall last night with his mom, and—”

  “Blaze said he got all the animals out already, son. Get Tyler and James to help you. We’ve got the fire department on the way, but until then we’ve got to make sure nothing else ignites.”

  Cheyenne entered the house through the back door and found herself in a mudroom filled with boots and coats and a huge, industrial-size deep freeze. “Blaze, are you in here?” she called as she ran through the kitchen—which extended the width of the back of the house. She stepped through a broad entryway into the living room, where she set her kit, the size of a carry-on suitcase, on the coffee table and took the stairs that separated the dining area and living room at the far eastern wall.

  “Blaze! Are you here?” she called as she reached the top of the stairs.

  There was a clunk, then a scrape of wood against wood above her head. In the attic?

  “Blaze!”

  More shuffling, the squeak of footsteps on loose floorboards, then the small door opened to her right and Blaze stepped out, holding a rifle and a box of bullets.

  “Blaze, what—”

  “Dane’s old hunting rifle from the attic.” He rushed past her. “I’ve got to do some hunting.”

  What on earth was he talking about? Hunting? She followed him down the stairs and out the back door, but as he rushed across the lawn into the night, two figures stumbled around the far side of the barn. Dane braced blond-haired Jason, both of them coughing, streaked with soot. Cheyenne ran to them.

  “What happened? I thought you weren’t going back in the barn.”

  “Jason was after his calf, just born yesterday,” Dane said hoarsely. “I told you to stay away from the barn, but you didn’t listen. You could’ve gotten us both killed.”

  “Got him and his mama out.” Jason coughed again. “Blaze didn’t know he was in there.”

  “Both of you get into the house,” Cheyenne said. “I’ll check you over. You may need medical treatment, and all I have is my first-aid kit, which won’t do much if you’ve scorched your—”

  “Dane!” Cook ran up to them, holding a garden hose spurting water. “Anybody else in that barn?”

  “No.” Dane caught his breath and nudged Jason toward Cheyenne. “You go with her, and I don’t want you stepping foot outside the house again tonight.”

  “But, Dane—”

  “Go. Now! No more warnings.”

  Jason coughed again. “But Blaze went out, I saw him.”

  “Blaze is in trouble, too. Get to the house. Cheyenne, check him out, and if he needs to go to an ER, would you arrange it? Cook, you go with them and don’t let him out of your sight!”

  “I need to check you, too,” Cheyenne said. Should she tell him about Blaze?

  “Later.” Dane turned to shout at the other boys. “Wet down everything, starting with the house. Get the others to help you. The barn’s lost, but we may still save the rest.” He swung around and grabbed up the shovel he had thrown down earlier.

  “Dane, wait,” she said. When he turned back to her, she hesitated.

  “What is it, Cheyenne?”

  She trusted Blaze, and Dane had enough to worry about. “Never mind.”

  “Hey, Dane!” called a man coming uphill from the boat dock. “Show me how I can help.”

  Five more people came up behind him, and the sound of sirens reached them, growing louder as the fire trucks drew close. Two pickup trucks pulled into the drive and parked out of the way. Austin Barlow jumped out of his vehicle and reached in the back for a shovel and a water hose, which he looped over his shoulder.

  Cheyenne followed Jason and Cook into the house.

  “Where’d that Blaze get to?” Cook asked. “Wouldn’t put it past that kid to get himself hurt, and him with that bleeding problem.”

  “I’ll go look for him as soon as we get Jason checked out,” Cheyenne said as she reached for her kit on the coffee table.

  “Won’t do any good,” Cook said. “If you don’t know this place, you could get lost, and that wouldn’t be safe out there tonight.”

  “Okay. Have a seat on the sofa, Jason.”

  “Say, look at that medical kit you’ve got there,” Cook said as Cheyenne opened the case and reached for her stethoscope, a tongue depressor, and a light. “You a nurse or something?”

  She winked at Jason, whose golden-brown eyes had begun to widen with a touch of white-coat phobia she occasionally saw in the ER. “Something. Don’t worry, Jason, I’m just going to make sure you didn’t get too much of that smoke into your lungs.”

  “Doctor, then?” Cook asked, leaning closer.

  “Cook, would you bring me a wet towel? I’d like to clean off some of this soot and see what’s underneath.” And keep you out from underfoot as long as possible.

  “Sure thing.” Cook rushed to the kitchen.

  The sirens grew louder, lights flashing through the windows until the sound abruptly ended. Doors slammed, men shouted and Jason’s attention was distracted away from Cheyenne. She checked his throat and listened to his lungs.

  “You’re lucky, Jason. You could have done a lot of damage running into the barn like that.”

  “You mean I’m okay?”

  “You’ll be fine.” She touched his arm. “I need to treat that burn, and I wish I could give you a breathing treatment, but otherwise I think you’ll heal.” She reached into the kit for some cleaning pads and burn ointment.

  “Wasn’t much burning out in the back stall.” Jason coughed. “Just smoke. I checked to see if the sow and her babies were in their pen, but they weren’t. Guess Blaze got them, too.”

  “Say, Cheyenne,” Cook said as he handed her a large bowl with a wet towel in it, “no kidding, are you a doctor?”

  She stifled a sigh. “I’m on leave from my job in the ER at Missouri Regional in Columbia. Are you going to look for Blaze?”

  “Nope, I need to keep an eye on this live wire,” he said, tapping Jason’s shoulder. “Tell you what, supervising these kids is like trying to walk on a layer of marbles. They’re always going six different directions at one time.”

  Cheyenne finished bandaging Jason’s arm and replaced her supplies, closed the kit and started to lift it down from the table.

  “Here, I’ll get that,” Cook said. “You don’t need to be hauling the heavy stuff when there’s a man can get it for you.”

  “You know, Cook, on second thought, why don’t we just leave the kit right here on the table?” Cheyenne glanced out the window again, to see another car pull into the drive. The firemen were focusing their attention on the barn and the trees surrounding it. The flames in the treetops had been extinguished.

  Cheyenne counted about twenty people milling around at the edge of the yard, shovels useless by their sides. For several moments they stood there, and then a sudden crash sent them rushing backward, while the roof of the barn collapsed, shooting sparks upward. One of the women screamed, a couple of men shouted.

  Someone behind Cheyenne sniffed loudly, and she turned to see Jason wiping his eyes. Cook stood beside him with an arm around his shoulder as they both stared outside at the conflagration.

  “I can’t believe it,” Cook murmured.

  “What’s going to happen now?” Jason asked, wiping at his face again.

  “What do you mean? We’ll build back,” Cook said. “Meanwhile, I have a feeling we’ll get some hungry, thirsty firefighters trooping through here in a bit.”

  Cheyenne followed Cook into the kitchen, knowing it was nervous energy that rushed him through the kitchen, opening cupboard doors and laying food and packets of drink mix on the counter. Willy came stomping through the back door. “Cheyenne! You in here?”

  She turned to meet him as he entered the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

>   “Dane wants to know if you found Blaze. The mayor’s out there trying to start another fight.”

  She followed Willy outside, where Austin and Dane stood in the shadows, voices lowered, words clipped, angry.

  “This is getting to be a habit lately,” Austin said. “Don’t tell me you can’t see it, too.”

  “If you came over here just to point fingers at my boys, you can drive right back to town,” Dane snapped.

  “There’s something bad wrong around here. You’ve got a kid with a history of arson, and you just keep closing your eyes to it—and your mind. What’ll it be next, Dane, the house? With you and some of those kids inside?”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions again,” Dane said. “Gavin Farmer was keeping his racing pigs in that barn. He wouldn’t have done it to any animal, but no kid is going to torch a barn and destroy his own project.”

  Austin yanked his hat off, stalked away, then swung back. “You’re going to mess around and get somebody else killed, and you won’t—”

  “Stop it.”

  Austin leaned closer. “You don’t have the common sense it takes—”

  Dane grabbed Austin by the shirt collar. “I said stop it, Austin!”

  Surprise froze them into silence. Cheyenne could almost feel the tension as she descended the porch steps toward them.

  Dane released Austin and stepped away. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

  Austin cleared his throat and glanced toward Cheyenne, then toward the small crowd of onlookers whose focus had switched from the work of the firemen to the show on the lawn.

  “I guess it’s me who should be sorry.” Austin dusted his hat against the leg of his jeans. “Guess I don’t know how to pick my moments, do—”

  The loud report of a rifle echoed through the air.

  “What was that?” Austin asked, shoving his hat back on his head.

  A tall human shadow came walking slowly toward them from the direction of the lake. As he drew closer to the light, Cheyenne could see it was Blaze, carrying the rifle.

  “Blaze?” Dane called.

  “It’s me.” He wiped quickly at his face. “Did you hear the screaming?”