One Last Letter

by Pema Donyo

  While the fire seemed contained to only one side from the front, inside the barn was a different story. Smoke began to filter through his fabric. He coughed as he inspected the damage. Orange and yellow waves danced across his line of vision. Crackling flames licked every corner. Colors merged to create an even more confusing path in front of him.

  Some of the stalls had already burned down, and he could no longer make out the aisle inside the barn. There was only fire and dry ground. The only constant was the cloud of grey vapor covering every visible nook and cranny.

  “Evelyn!” he yelled, and then covered his mouth and nose again.

  No response.

  His coughing doubled as the persistent smoke still found a way through the material to settle in his lungs. He looked up. Several of the beams holding the barn together had caught ablaze. The rafters were not just on fire; they were drooping, the blaze eroding away the shaky beams that held them.

  He ran forward before a beam could cut off his path and start another blaze. Another beam fell where he had previously stood right as he jumped out of the way. He swore under his breath. The burning beam narrowly missed the entrance, if he was making out the shape of the wood against the smoke correctly. It would be a matter of only minutes until the blaze blocked the entryway as well.

  He leaped over the patches of blazing hay to avoid the remaining stalls covered in flames. Really, the whole place was nothing more than a roaring fireplace. His heart sank. If Evelyn had been unconscious in one of those stalls, there was no way she could survive.

  “Eve!” he roared. He barely heard his own voice over the sound of the flames, much less any other noise.

  The farther he went inside the barn, the harder it would be to get out. Still, there was no sign of her. He walked forward again, narrowing his eyes to focus against the smoke for any shape of life.

  He heard coughing again, but this time Jesse knew it wasn’t his. The coughing grew louder, and he stepped toward the source of the sound.

  A figure stumbled forward around a corner and into his path, supporting its weight on only one foot. A figure with long, dark hair.

  “Evelyn!”

  She looked up. Her brow furrowed. While she opened her mouth to respond, coughing came out instead. She clutched her hand over her mouth. Then she tripped over the end of a beam and fell forward, her knees slamming against the ground.

  Pushing through the cloud of smoke, Jesse darted forward, dodging another falling beam as he hurried toward the figure.

  Her body lay crumpled on the floor, completely unconscious and thus unaware of the blaze at the end of the beam coming closer to her. He lifted her up just as the end of the beam transformed to flames, morphing the previously harmless wood into a deadly obstacle.

  Her eyes fluttered open for only a second. He could barely make out her wheezing gasps through the sounds of the blaze.

  Her red cotton dress was torn from her fall, the hem now dragging on the ground. He ripped away the fire hazard and chucked the unnecessary fabric to the ground before picking Evelyn up, bridal style, and carrying her toward the rapidly deteriorating entrance.

  With his hands occupied, Jesse tried his best not to breathe the deadly air around him. But he couldn’t stop the desperate coughing from starting again as smoke burned the length of his throat. He felt like someone was setting him on fire from within his own body as he struggled to remain upright and grounded on a path to the door.

  The first beam that fell nearly covered the entire entrance of the barn, but he could see some of the flames at the end of the wall were reduced. The fire had removed the entrance door. Checking to see if his next step was straight into a burning wooden post, he narrowed his eyes against the vapor clouding his vision and stepped over the end of a beam. The path was clear. Swinging her in his arms, he ran.

  Bright light filled his vision, and his lungs gasped in the fresh air to flush out the smoke. Flames no longer danced in front of his eyes. He’d never been happier to see so much dry dirt in front of him.

  He set Evelyn’s limp body down until her feet touched the ground. Her head bobbed to the side, her eyes shut and face covered in soot. Her dress was even more damaged than he’d realized in the barn, and he couldn’t tell if the dress merely looked darker in some areas or if the stains were blood.

  “I think she’s hurt,” he rasped to the maid who met him. Even with the outside air rushing into his lungs, his throat felt covered in ash. “Be careful.”

  The maid, Irene, nodded. She carried her in the direction of the big house. His heart lurched as he watched her limp body being hurried toward the house and away from him. He wanted to carry her to her room; he needed to see if she would wake up.

  He started after the maid, but Fieldings grabbed him again. His familiar bark made Jesse clench his fists. “You can see her later! We need to stop this blaze!”

  Jesse scowled but turned away from Evelyn and back to helping the ranch hands. He joined the line in digging dirt trenches to fight the fire from spreading. Slowly but surely, the blaze began to die. The red and orange glow licked at the corners of the end of the barn. The ranch hands stood back and let the barn collapse.

  Afterward, the cowboys stood in silence in front of the smoldering ashes. Their victory at saving the livestock felt hollow—they were staring at months of work to rebuild. Mr. Lancaster gave commands to build a temporary corral for the dairy cows in the morning.

  He ordered Jesse and some of the other cowboys to fetch several of the horses that had managed to bolt from the barn. Jesse found two of the mustangs and trotted them back to the temporary coral where they would stay for the night. The entire time, his mind was occupied with Evelyn’s condition. Was she still unconscious?

  He kept his eyes fixed on the house through most of his chores. There was a lantern light in her window—surely that was a good sign. As soon as the men finished erecting a basic skeleton of the corral, Fieldings allowed all the ranch hands to retire for the night. While the other men sneaked away to the cookhouse for a second supper, Jesse headed back to the big house.

  The porch door creaked open as he stepped inside. He heard hushed voices from down the hall, where her room was. His heart thudded inside his chest, afraid of what the voices were saying about her fate. The image of her unconscious body, covered in ash, filled his mind. He stopped at her doorway, taking in the sight before him.

  A doctor dabbed Evelyn’s forehead with a wet cloth. Her eyes were shut, her pale cheeks matching the same shade of the white pillowcase behind her head. All the soot and dirt had been wiped off, but he couldn’t see her chest rise and fall from breathing. Mr. Lancaster was standing over his daughter and the doctor, shaking his head.

  “No!” Jesse yelled, rushing to her bed and kneeling down. The room started to spin. Surely she couldn’t be—

  He buried the thought, afraid to even put words to the dread.

  “What’s happening, doc?”

  Mr. Lancaster answered instead. “It could’ve been so much worse.”

  “What do you mean?” His insides clenched.

  His former boss’s voice was low and reassuring. “Some burns here and there, and a sprained ankle. But otherwise she’s going to be all right.”

  Jesse felt his shoulders slouch, the tenseness of his muscles slowly evaporating.

  The doctor nodded in agreement. He set the washcloth down into a basin filled with water on the nightstand. “The burns won’t fade, but there’s no internal or physical damage that can’t be fixed with some bed rest.” The white-haired man wagged his finger at Mr. Lancaster. “No strenuous activity for several weeks until the ankle heals. Preventive measures. Then she’ll be just fine.”

  Relief swelled inside his chest. He wanted to embrace the doctor. Heck, he would kiss the man, the wonderful man who told him that she was going to be just fine.

  He leaned closer to her. Upon closer inspection, her expression looked peaceful. Her thick and full lashes lay pressed upon her ski
n, contrasting with the cool pallor of her cheeks. Her mouth spread out in a serene line, as if in the middle of a wonderful dream. He felt like someone had just lifted a boulder off his chest.

  She was going to be all right.

  “You saved her life, Jesse.” Mr. Lancaster’s voice sounded far away, so far removed from the vision of her sleeping before him. “I cannot thank you enough.”

  He didn’t need thanks. He had all the gratitude he needed: Evelyn sleeping soundly in bed, safe and secure against the flames that had threatened to take her away from the world—from him.

  He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  • • •

  The sound of a rooster crowing caused Evelyn’s eyelids to flutter open. As sunlight streamed through the window, the darkness of dreams melted away, and the sudden bright, blinding light filtering through her lids made her wince. The last thing she remembered was the barn being full of smoke and tripping over a fallen beam—and then Jesse had saved her. Or, at least, she thought so. She’d barely been able to see anything through that smoke.

  A shadow fell across her face, the shape of a man near her bed. There was a terrible pain from somewhere on her leg, but the pain was momentarily forgotten as her heart soared at the thought of who stood next to her.

  “Is that you?” Evelyn smiled at the profile. Jesse had come to see her. He’d saved her from the fire! Surely that was a sign that he cared for her. He was here to see her rest and get better; he was here to confess to the letters and his feelings for her.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Her heart ran cold. The voice wasn’t Jesse’s at all. As her eyes adjusted to the light and she discovered who the figure was, her heart sank.

  “John Cooper.” Her tone was flat. “What are you doing here?”

  His handsome features lit up when she said his name. John lifted off his hat and smiled down at Evelyn. She hated to admit it was a genuine smile, albeit a proud one. Unlike her other suitors, he actually cared about her, rather than simply her ranch.

  “I rode here as soon as I heard you were hurt. I’m glad to see you recovering.”

  She sighed. It was hard to dislike a suitor who was so earnest. “Thank you, but as you can see, I am perfectly well . . .” She tried to swing her legs over the side of her bed, but a sharp, searing pain caused her to gasp and remain still.

  John knelt down. With a soft push, he leaned her back against the pillows. “Mr. Lancaster told me you twisted your ankle. He says you need rest.”

  No use in attempting to escape, then. She pulled the upper half of her body against the headboard until she was sitting upright. Where was Jesse?

  “Do you know the extent of the damage to the ranch?” She grimaced. She only hoped the fire was contained to the barn. Another set of added expenses, another wave of more ranch hands needed.

  “It collapsed. Your father said there was nothing to be done.”

  She drew a quick intake of breath. Nothing to be done. “My father is resting, right?”

  “No, actually . . .” John gave her a sideways glance. It was odd to see such a proud man look bashful, and his next words were spoken in a hesitating way. “Your father and the other ranch hands are needed to do the chores while some of the others repair the barn. I volunteered to take care of you.”

  Just wonderful. She suppressed the groan rising in her chest. “I assure you, I will be fine. I can take care of myself.”

  “Your swollen ankle doesn’t seem to say so.” John pointed to her leg. He dragged forward an oak chair resting against the wall closest to her, the chair legs scraping against the oak floor. He sat down, and she literally couldn’t bring herself to scoot away.

  “I thought you might like some company.”

  “I think all I need to pass the time is a nice book, really. Could you please fetch me one of my books from the library across the hall?”

  After he had left the room, she glared at her treacherous ankle.

  John stayed the rest of the afternoon, reading his own novel alongside Evelyn. He’d pause in his reading occasionally to ask a question about her book. Thankfully, as soon as the sun began to set, he wished her good evening and finally left. She found him surprisingly honest, even if he was vain. He seemed genuine in a way that her previous suitors hadn’t.

  Still, there was only so much of him she could take. When the door closed behind him, she let out a sigh of relief. His persistence almost proved too much. She brightened up considerably, however, when her father visited later. She prodded him with endless questions about the state of the ranch until he gave her detailed answers to all of them.

  The sun was long down by the time her father left the room, opening the door wide enough for Evelyn to see Jesse standing next to the door. He stepped backward when her eyes met his, as if he’d been caught in the act of something terrible.

  Her father nodded abruptly at him, and then inclined his head toward her. “I’m all done here. You can go in.”

  Jesse took off his hat as he entered the room. He looked back at the door as her father closed it, waiting for him to leave. He spoke when the door finally closed halfway.

  “I was so worried about you, Eve.”

  The sound of her nickname soothed her more than laudanum ever could. “Father told me about how you saved me from the fire.” She pursed her lips. “Not that I approve of ignoring the state of the barn.”

  Jesse rolled his eyes, but his solemn features cracked into a smile. His fingers traced the brim of his hat as he spoke. “Next time I’ll be sure to leave you in the barn.”

  “Do that and I will come back from the grave and fire you on the spot, Jesse Greenwood.”

  “Sure would be an experience.” The hard planes of his face contrasted against the curved ease of his grin. “How’s life in bed?”

  She lifted up the two tomes on her covers, each one weighing nearly five pounds. “Years of formal education finally came to use. I can now bore myself all day with the collection in my father’s library.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  “A real rodeo, definitely.” She patted her bed. “Sit.”

  He started, as if he’d considered it for a second, but then his shoulders squared again, and he stood up straighter. “That’s fine. I can stand. That bed’s yours. You rest on it.”

  Evelyn nibbled her lower lip. “I am not going to break. You can sit down on the bed. I can handle that.”

  He finally obeyed, but he still looked uncomfortable. He perched so gingerly on the quilt that her bed hardly shifted with his added weight. It was as if he’d entered some sacred Native American religious grounds and was under surveillance by the federal marshal at the same time. She wanted to laugh at the sight of her cowboy, who could walk into a burning barn without a second thought, yet seemed so wary of sitting on a girl’s bed.

  “I still cannot believe you followed me into that burning barn.” She reached for his right hand and clasped it in both of hers. “Thank you.”

  “I would follow you anywhere if you were in trouble.” His eyes flickered down at his hand. He didn’t move either, just sat there with a spine ramrod straight.

  “What about a corral full of stampeding bulls?”

  His lips quirked upward in a smile. “Even there.”

  “Most people would not risk their life like that.” She squeezed his hand, but his remained motionless. She was desperate for a physical sign of his affection. If not for his replies, she wouldn’t have believed he cared about her at all.

  “I’m not most people.”

  Evelyn looked up into his round brown eyes. They’d always looked so warm to her; they were what first convinced her to get to know him better. His soft, kind eyes always expressed that he was more than some rough cowboy who helped out on her father’s ranch. He was different than the rest.

  “You are not like anyone else,” she whispered. She let go of his hand to place her own in her lap, lacing her fingers together.

&nbs
p; His gaze followed, as if he considered grabbing them. Instead, he stood up from her bed. She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. Whoever wrote to her was so expressive in the letters. Maybe she was hoping for too much from the silent cowboy. He moved toward the glass window, his hands clasped behind his back. Strength rippled from his forearms and his defined upper biceps through the thin material of his shirt, and she longed to run her hands across his body.

  She squeezed her hands in her lap instead. He probably thought she was a fool for appearing too eager.

  • • •

  Jesse felt like an idiot. When she’d let go of his hand, of course, he should have reached out. She’d practically given him permission when she grabbed his hand first.

  But what if she hadn’t? What if she were just being friendly by that gesture? Isn’t that what she’d asked him a month ago—Can’t we be friends?

  He wished someone taught him how to handle women the way he was taught to handle cattle. He and Evelyn started out as friends years ago, but that was before she’d rejected him. He wanted nothing more than for someone to instruct him on the right way to talk to a woman. Or convince a woman to give him a second chance.

  When he turned back around, she was staring down into her lap. Her hunched shoulders pushed her breasts against the top of her dress again. The soft flesh of her neck was exposed as well, and her dress had been pulled up above her ankles so she could inspect the swelling. He glanced down at her legs, the shapely arch of her calf tempting him without as much as a movement.

  He cleared his throat. He couldn’t think about satisfying the head beneath his waist if she was offering him friendship. “What books are you reading?”

  She picked up one of the volumes and thumbed through the yellowed pages. “Both are absolutely boring and make me wonder how soon my ankle will heal. I’m just lonely during the day, mostly. I miss the outdoors.” She set the book down, and then hope sparkled in her eyes. “You will visit me tomorrow, will you not?”