by Alta Hensley
Chapter Eighteen
Monet
Gazing out the window, something that had quickly become a habit, and seeing several rays of sunshine shining from a bank of fluffy clouds, I smiled. The purples, browns, silver, and grays of the hills and the green of the pastures was something I was falling in love with. I followed the lines of the newly whitewashed fence surrounding the garden Alana and I had worked so hard to create. I smiled, knowing the men had taken the time to do it without even being asked. Their little addition of an arched gate, the plantings of honeysuckle already beginning to grow up the slats, made me feel more connected to them than I already did. Looking out onto the farm the men had labored to rebuild filled me with such pride at their dedication to bring the land that had sustained generations of their family back to life. I cherished everything about this place, the silence, the peace and the sense of... home.
Turning away from the window, I went into the parlor to see if Alana wanted to come outside with me. When I found the room empty, I called her name. She didn’t answer, and I didn’t hear anyone moving about overhead. Maybe she was out with the chickens, or perhaps already in the garden. Returning to the kitchen, I smiled. The roast I’d just seared, browning each side to seal in its juices, was in a large roasting pan, waiting for me to add the vegetables before sliding it into the oven. Veggies I still needed to pick. I grabbed the basket, pulling on my gloves before heading out the door.
The sun was warm on my back. Walking down the narrow path between two rows, I inhaled deeply. Like they always did, the aromas of nature calmed me. I could smell the lavender I used to make soaps and bath salts. Smiling, I remembered the scent had filled the bathroom when Nolan had finally claimed me. I could hear bees buzzing among the chamomile flowers I’d been excited to discover grew wild in Ireland. The daisy-like flowers gave off the scent of apples and when they were dried, I’d make tea from the blossoms. There were so many different plants and infinite possibilities as to their usage. I continued walking down the path, my body brushing up against the rosemary bushes spilling over into the path, the aroma tinging the air. I made a mental note they needed pruning before they took over the area of the garden we had planted with herbs. I was glad to see the thyme, oregano, and basil were all flourishing. Alana loved tying sprigs of various herbs into little bundles to drop into the soups and stews we made. Once again, I looked around for her. It was unlike Alana to disappear for long without telling me where she was going. Perhaps she’d found a rabbit and was freeing it. Ever since we’d found one nibbling on the lettuce, she’d refused to let anyone even think of adding it to the stew pot. Instead, she’d carry the safe trap her brothers had built into the woods at the west edge of the land and release the frightened rabbit. I’d smiled when Rogan told her they’d just come back again and Alana had informed him she’d spoken to the bunnies and they’d promised to find their supper elsewhere. Well, I could hold off on choosing a few tomatoes as those could be gathered right before our evening meal.
I set my basket down on the ground, kneeling in the rich earth. Using my spade, I carefully loosened the soil around the feathery tops to expose a band of orange. Setting the tool aside, I pulled a few of the plants from the ground, always a bit amazed at how a seed so tiny could produce big, fat carrots. They would be delicious steamed with a bit of honey drizzled over the tops. Stepping between the plants, I moved down another aisle to the back of the garden.
Bending down, I brushed foliage aside and wrapped my hands around the base of a plant. It was far harder to pull out of the earth than the carrots had been. But finally, with a bit of huffing, I yanked it free, and shook it hard, watching clods of dirt drop off.
“Very nice,” I said, rubbing some more dirt from the potatoes. After they’d roasted with the meat, I’d remove them and turn them into the garlic mashed potatoes the men loved. I’d serve them with a blob of butter I’d churned myself sitting in the center, and topped with shredded cheese and bits of crispy bacon. I was pulling on a second plant when I paused. What was that? Straightening, I looked around, twirling to look behind me when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
“Alana, is that you?”
She didn’t answer. I was about to call out again, but caught myself at the last moment. Hadn’t I always rolled my eyes in horror movies when the actress knew something was wrong but kept yelling, communicating her location to the serial killer?
Serial killer? Great, Monet, way to freak yourself out. I chided myself, but couldn’t brush off the sense of unease that had rolled through me. I might not see anyone, but I knew something or someone had ducked around the corner of the house.
“Shit!” I jumped two feet in the air when it was split with a scream. It took me a second to properly identify the god-awful racket. It hadn’t been a scream, but a squawk. Make that a bunch of squawks. I’d grown accustomed to the chickens clucking, their occasional squawk, but this was different. This sounded as if they were panicked. I remembered Derrick saying they’d seen some tracks around the barn. Could it have been a fox I saw, the animal trying to get a free meal? Were there even foxes in Ireland? Still, even if they were common, it would be unusual for one to be out in the day, around people. Yet, I hadn’t seen anyone in a while. The men could be anywhere. Out mending a fence, moving the small herd of cattle to a different pasture, checking on any one of a hundred things. But even if Alana had gone to the woods, she should have returned by now.
“All right!” I said, abandoning my gardening when the chickens didn’t stop and were actually joined by the sound of other animals… animals that sounded scared. I ran back down the path, grabbing up the hoe on the way out the gate. I didn’t have any illusion that I’d actually be able to kill any wild animal, but I figured I could yell and wave the hoe to perhaps scare it off.
I was already yelling when I turned the corner of the house, waving my weapon of choice, only to come to an abrupt stop. “Oh my God!” I said, dropping the hoe. The barn had black smoke billowing out from it. My heart plummeted as I tried to figure out what to do next.
“Fire!” My scream was louder than the animals’ cries, the terror in my voice unmistakable. “Cal, Rogan! The barn’s on fire! Nolan, Derrick!”
There was no sign of the brothers anywhere. No one came running, and I remembered them at breakfast stating they needed to go into town to meet a delivery they’d been expecting.
Oh dear God… where was Alana? “Alana! Alana!” What if she was in the barn?
Quicker than I thought possible for my legs to move, I ran toward the burning building, stopping to fling open the gate to the chicken coop. I couldn’t take the time to go into the hen house, but at least they’d have a path to escape and from the flurry of feathers flying about, they weren’t wasting time.
The barn was next, the closed door not able to silence the sounds of frantic animals inside. They were at least alive… for now. “Alana! Are you in there?”
I yanked open the door of the barn with all my strength. The smoke, and the fumes hit me with a force that obstructed my vision. I immediately started coughing, wheezing as I tried to draw in oxygen that was tainted with poison. “Alana!” I screamed again, ignoring the burning in my lungs as I made my way inside. I could see the fire engulfing the hay, flames licking up the wood of the back wall, moving toward the ceiling overhead. It was like some hungry beast, devouring everything in its path… the animals wouldn’t stand a chance shut up inside their stalls. Smoke clouded my vision and made it close to impossible to breathe, and I wasn’t even all the way inside.
“Alana! Alana, are you in here?” Oh, please no. Please don’t be in here, I prayed.
Each beat of my heart pounded against my chest. Fear nearly paralyzed me as I scanned the inferno. Running to the stalls, I began to unlatch the wooden doors, allowing the animals to make their escape. Cocoa was backed against the far wall of her stall, her eyes rolling in fear.
“Go,” I yelled, pulling on her halter. “Please!” I cr
ied when she refused to budge. There was no way I could pull her out. She weighed ten times what I did. Running back, I grabbed a rake used to muck out the stall. I stood to the side, lifted it over my head and brought it down across her rump with all my force. I had to scramble back as she lunged forward, bellowing in fear and outrage. I’d apologize later, but for now, I was just glad to see her running past me and down the aisle toward the open barn door.
I continued on to each stall, trying not to breathe in the toxic air. Each gulp of the smoke threatened to consume my consciousness. A series of loud pops had me looking up, terrified I’d see a beam falling down on me. Though I saw flames licking along the ceiling, nothing came crashing down, but I knew the beams wouldn’t last long. Another pop sounded, and my head started to spin, my chest heaved, and my legs began to tremble, my arms to shake as my body grew weak from lack of oxygen.
The air was getting worse, and I knew I didn’t have much time left. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I reached the last stall that held Kieran, the horse I’d ridden with Rogan to the hot springs that day. His nostrils were flaring, and he was prancing, his hooves kicking up dirt and hay. “Easy boy,” I said, knowing one kick could send me flying. “It’s okay. I’m here to help you.” Sliding the bolt back on the door, I prayed I’d not have to go inside. Kieran was smarter and far quicker than Cocoa, running out the moment I had the stall door open. Desperate to make my own escape, and fairly certain Alana was not inside, I began to backtrack, following the horse’s flight route. I ducked at the sound of another sharp pop, and then screamed when a cinder landed on my arm, the heat instantly burning my skin. Slapping at it and the others flying through the air, I began to run, trying to stay ahead of the flames I could swear were reaching for me, perhaps angry I’d denied them their taste of flesh. I could only hope Alana was not trapped anywhere inside and I had somehow missed her.
Hearing a groan, I twirled around. “Alana?” She didn’t answer, the sound repeating a moment before a beam crashed to the ground. Behind me, a column of fire rose up as the hay stored in the loft ignited, bursting to rain fiery pieces of dry grass on me. Another beam fell, and I screamed again, turning back, the haze was now so thick I could barely see. Tears streamed down my face from my stinging eyes. My lungs demanded air I couldn’t give. The realization I was surrounded by an inferno besieged me and, for the first time, I realized I could actually die. I had to get out and now! I pulled up my skirt, holding it over my mouth and nose with one hand, the other blindly waving in front of me as if I could part the black curtain of smoke. I no longer reacted to the pops, cracks, and roar of the blaze, or perhaps I simply couldn’t hear them above the whimpers and fervent pleas to God to help me that I was issuing nonstop. Finally, I could make out the shape of the door, smoke billowing out as if it, too, wanted to escape. Another beam broke free to land across a stall, breaking the door from its hinges, the wood igniting under the intense heat. It was jump it or be roasted alive… I didn’t even hesitate. I ran and leaped, clearing the beam only to stumble and fall. Sobbing, I scrambled to my feet, staggering out the door, not stopping until I fell again. Exhausted, I rolled and looked behind me. Orange flames were shooting from the window of the hayloft. The rope of the pulley was starting to burn, the majority of the barn on fire.
I stood, bending to swipe at my legs to wipe off bits of hay, dirt, and soot, wincing as my fingertips ran across raw skin. The sound of another crack had my head whipping back around. That had not come from the barn. It wasn’t a beam splitting. It sounded more like a… Something whizzed by me, and I fell flat. Oh my God. That was a bullet! Someone… make that more than one person was shooting. I heard the sound of gunfire coming from all around me. It sounded like a war zone. I needed to warn everybody. I pushed to my feet only to scream as something barreled into me.
“I’ve got you.”
I couldn’t immediately respond as Nolan’s weight had knocked the breath out of me. We continued our roll until we were behind the water trough. I could feel the heat of the fire but was more concerned about the lead that continued to fly around.
“Wh… who… wh… what’s hap… happening?” I managed to get out, my throat raw from inhaling so much smoke.
Instead of answering, he pushed me down. “Stay here, I’ve got to get Alana.” When I realized he was heading for the barn, I raced after him, grabbing his arm.
“She’s not in there!” I said, ducking when a piece of the roof fell only feet from us.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes, I checked every stall. I-I don’t know where she is.”
He finally nodded, taking my arm with one hand and gesturing toward the house. That was when I realized he had a gun in his hand.
“What’s happening?” I asked again.
“There’s not time to explain,” he said. “I need to tell the others Alana isn’t in the barn. I need to get you to safety. Be ready to run. I’ll get you to the house.”
Before I could protest, he had my hand in his and had taken a few steps when he dropped my arm and lifted his gun, the barrel bucking as he pulled the trigger. My cry was echoed by the man who’d come around the corner of the chicken coop. Nolan didn’t have to tell me to drop. I hit the ground a moment after the stranger did. I didn’t stare at the dead man, but at a spout of water pouring out of the trough beside me… spewing from a round hole. A bullet hole.
I realized Nolan’s hand was clamped around his right biceps. Evidently, the water trough had not been the only casualty.
“Oh my God, you’ve been shot,” I said, unnecessarily as we both could see the blood oozing from between his fingers. I didn’t hesitate, but ripped my blouse off, ignoring the buttons popping. Wadding it up, I forced his hand from the wound, pressing the makeshift bandage into place. “I’m sorry,” I said at his grunt of pain. “We’ve got to stop the bleeding.”
“Can you shoot?” he asked.
“I-I…” I didn’t want to touch the gun. I hated violence. Hell, I covered my eyes when watching action films on TV. But this wasn’t television; this was reality. This wasn’t the time to be squeamish. This was life and death. “Point and pull the trigger, right?”
How he managed a grin, I’d never know, but he did. “Yeah, that’s the gist of it. My hand’s no good. I can’t use the gun. Take it and get to the house. Hide in the basement.”
“I could go into town for help,” I offered, the thought of hiding in the dark, the fear of not knowing where my family was, not knowing what was happening all threatening to overcome me.
“They took out the tires on the trucks,” Nolan said. “We saw the flames from the field and came running, but…”
“Where are the others? Cal, Rogan, Derrick?”
“We spread out. We needed to find you and Alana as quickly as we could…”
He paused and I took over. “Here, hold this,” I said, applying more pressure to his arm. Once his hand replaced mine, I used my teeth to tear off a strip from the bottom of my skirt. “Who is it? What do they want?”
“Dallas Callaghan and some of his goons,” Nolan said, wincing a bit as I tied the piece of fabric around the bandage as tightly as I could. “And as for what he wants? He wants every O’Shea dead.”
I looked up from my work to see he was serious. Fury like I’d never known filled me. Nolan’s face was pale, his body trembling, probably going into shock from the loss of blood. I bent forward to brush his hair off his forehead. “Well, fuck that.” I kissed his cheek, but his good hand cradled the back of my head, pulling me in for a proper kiss. It was quick, but it was one that had my heart filling as his hand dropped away. Plucking the gun from his right hand, I made sure to keep it pointed away and my finger off the trigger… at least for now.
He gave me a wobbly smile and nodded. “Be careful, Monet. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’ll be back. You just rest,” I said.
I didn’t know much about their past, didn’t know exactly who this Dallas ma
n was or why he was here, but I did know he was threatening my family and I just wasn’t going to put up with that shit.
Chapter Nineteen
Monet
I ran from the trough to the chicken coop, trying to avoid looking at the man sprawled on the ground. I’d have to run across several yards of open ground before reaching the house. Reminding myself not to run into the clothesline, I leaned against the chicken wire, my lungs already aching from the shorter distance I’d run, but only rested for a moment. I didn’t know where the others were, what sort of shape they were in, but I knew Nolan needed help. Dashing across the yard, I zigzagged, trying to make myself a more difficult target, but thankfully, the move proved unnecessary. No one shot at me. Pressing against the wall of the house, I realized I hadn’t heard any shots for several minutes. Were all Callahan’s men dead? Were we all safe? As much as I wanted to believe that, I also hadn’t heard any of the brothers or Alana calling.
Though I doubted Alana could have slept through the shootout, I knew I needed to check the house. I peeked around the corner, and not seeing anyone, I eased my way around it, keeping my back to the wall. I gave a relieved sob as I finally slipped in the back door. Only a short time ago, I’d come out of this same door with nothing more serious on my mind than what vegetables I could pick for supper.
A few minutes later, I knew nobody was in the house with me. I’d searched every room. I’d looked through my window, flinching at the sight of another body lying by the large tree in the side yard, but breathing easier when I realized the man had blond hair. He wasn’t one of my men. I’d looked out Cal’s window that overlooked the front of the house, seeing nothing but a few chickens pecking the ground. Other windows provided the sight of yet another dead man, this one easily identifiable as a bad guy as he was wearing suit pants and shiny black loafers and not work-worn boots and jeans.