Ring of Fire (29 page)

“I know.”

Sally unclipped the lead rein and Jayden turned his horse like a pro and loped away.

“Sally, Mary,” Eric said, “move those fireworks away from the structure. Empty the buckets and get water from the creek. Wet down the door and the walls surrounding it. When I find the kid, I need to get him out. But be careful; don't take any unnecessary risks.”

Leaving them to it, Eric ran toward the structure. The ceiling was burning, and a couple of the walls toward the back, but the door was clear. If the kid had run in, why hadn't he come out? Had he tripped over something and knocked himself out? Or, God forbid, attempted to put out the fire, but set himself on fire instead?

As Eric dashed through the door, he had a déjà vu moment of stepping through another doorway, moving cautiously in Danny Peller's boot prints. No, he refused to let the flashback get its claws into him. As smoke scratched his throat, he called Lark's song into his mind to ground himself. “I won't lose another one.”

“Arty, where are you?” His voice rang out loudly over the crackle of flames.

There was no response.

The building was a mess of broken boards, old newspapers, and scraps of old furniture, much of it burning now. It was hard to see, and the smoke made his eyes water. “Arty, call out!” he yelled as he moved deeper into the room. Fire darted along the open-holed ceiling and blazing bits of wood fell around him. One landed on his sleeve and he shook it off. Thank God for his jacket and riding helmet, though he wished he'd worn gloves as well.

Outside, he heard Sally and Mary calling to each other. He sure as hell hoped there was nothing explosive inside this shack. He was putting their lives in danger, as well as his own. If something happened to them, or to Jayden—

No, he couldn't think that way. Wouldn't second-guess his decisions.

Through the smoke, he caught a glimpse of a still figure. Moving closer, he saw that the boy lay on his back, a beam of wood across his chest pinning him down. When Arty had run inside, he must have banged against something in the unstable structure, and the beam had fallen on him. He'd been knocked to the ground, rendered unconscious, and trapped. Fortunately, the boy hadn't made it to the source of the blaze, and the flames hadn't reached him yet.

Eric bent to lift the beam. It was damned heavy, maybe too heavy for one man. He could call Sally to help, but fire was licking across the floor, spreading from a pile of burning trash. Kneeling, he hooked both arms under the beam and breathed deeply, trying to ignore the smoke that clogged his throat and lungs wanting to steal his breath and make him cough. He concentrated all his energy. Mind over matter; a test of his mettle. This time, his body was fit, not injured. He could do this.

Sweat pouring down his face, body trembling, with every ounce of strength he possessed he raised the beam inch by inch until finally he could wrench it aside and off the boy's body. No time now to think about spinal injuries. He looped one shaking arm behind Arty's neck to offer as much stability as possible, and hooked the other one under the boy's knees. Then, as a burning wall crashed down behind him, he ran toward the open door, avoiding piles of burning debris.

Sally and Mary had done their job keeping the door free of flames, and he emerged, gasping, into blessedly fresh air. He continued to run away from the building, calling to the women between coughs, “Get away now. It might explode.” Fortunately, there was no breeze, nor any trees close by, but all the same he added, “Keep an eye on the fire, though. Let me know if it jumps to a tree or anywhere else.”

When he was well clear of the building, he lowered the boy gently to the ground, made sure he was breathing, and then surrendered to a coughing fit. Mary came to join him, and a moment later so did Sally, carrying her backpack. From it, she took a bottle of water and passed it to Eric. He raised it and drank thirstily, the chill water soothing his parched throat.

Corrie came over to them, holding Mike's hand and tugging the stressed-out Celebration along behind them.

Tears ran down the boy's face. “Is Arty okay? I never meant to hurt him. We were just playing.”

Mary put her arms around him, offering comfort as Eric pulled off his helmet and said, “I hope he'll be okay, Mike.”

In the distance, he heard a siren. Had Jayden made the call? God, he hoped Jayden was all right. He was a capable rider, but he was just a boy—and one with physical disabilities. Had Eric been wrong to send him off alone? “Sally,” he said, “take Celebration and go find Jayden.” He wanted to do it himself, but he had paramedic training and he had to focus on the unconscious boy lying on the stubbly ground.

Sally swung into the saddle, saying, “There's a basic first-aid kit in my pack, if you need it.”

“Thanks.” Eric took Arty's vitals. The boy's heart rate was normal and his breathing rapid, perhaps due to smoke inhalation. Blood streamed from the back of his head and, as Eric examined it gently, he found a goose egg and a scalp laceration. Could be minor; could be serious. The boy needed to get to the hospital. “Mary, check the first-aid kit. I need a bandage or clean cloth.”

A moment later, she handed him a large sterile dressing.

He folded it and gave it to Corrie. “Hold this against the wound. Don't press.”

The air held the scratchy scent of smoke, and Eric still coughed periodically as he unzipped the boy's fleece jacket and raised the sweater he wore underneath. Arty's pale rib cage was coloring with a large bruise and Eric hoped the clothing had protected him from broken ribs and internal injuries.

“Look!” Mary cried.

He glanced up and saw Sally on Celebration and Jayden on Pookie trotting around the bend by the creek. Thank God. Rather than bring the horses closer to the blazing fire, the riders halted some distance away.

Eric rose and hurried over. He took Pookie's reins and rested a hand on the boy's thigh. “You okay, Jayden?”

Mary had joined them, reaching up to touch Jayden's hand.

Jayden tossed the two of them a cocky grin. “'Course I am. How about you?”

God, he loved this kid. Eric was so damned proud of him, and so relieved he was all right. After Mary reassured her grandson that she was fine, Eric said, “Me, too. I got Arty out and he's injured. Don't know how badly.”

“I found service and called Mom.”

“Good boy.” Eric coughed smoke out of his lungs and glanced over at the whimpering Mike and the unconscious Arty. “I'm proud of you, Jayden. Seems to me you're the cool kid, the one who can do anything.”

Sally dismounted, gripped Celebration's reins firmly, and collected Pookie's reins from Eric. “Jayden and I will look after the horses. Go do what you need to, Eric and Mary.”

The siren had stopped. Hopefully, that meant a fire engine was close by.

Eric stepped over to Celebration, ran a hand down the trembling horse's neck, and said, “Steady, boy. That fire will be out in no time.” Then he hurried back to attend to the injured boy. He checked the cloth Corrie held, seeing that the bleeding had slowed. He refolded the cloth and gave it back to her. “Keep holding it there.” Again he checked the boy's vitals, finding to his relief that they weren't worsening.

Mary sat beside Mike, stroking the sobbing boy's back and murmuring to him. Eric remembered that steady, reassuring voice pulling him out of a flashback, and hoped Mary could work her calming magic on the boy as well.

The old building was still blazing, collapsing in on itself. Fortunately, sparks hadn't flown to ignite the trees by the creek.

In the distance, a fire truck appeared, rolling across the stubbly field toward them.

Was Lark on that truck? Despite everything that was going on, Eric's heart stood still for a moment as he looked forward to seeing her.

* * *

Lark was out of the truck before it braked. The three other firefighters would work to stop the fire from spreading and douse the flames. But she raced in the other direction, away from the fire and toward the people and horses.

She took in the scene in a quick glance. One boy injured, perhaps unconscious, but Corrie and Eric were with him, and Eric had paramedic training. Another boy crying in Mary's arms. No other obvious injuries. And yet her son was there, which kicked her adrenaline into higher gear than normal. Jayden, atop Pookie, looked fine. Sally stood beside him, holding his horse's reins and Celebration's. Lark ran to them and grabbed her son's hand. “Are you all right?”

“You bet, Mom. I mean, Chief.”

Her racing heart slowed a little.

“Arty's hurt,” her son said. “Eric rescued him from the fire, but I think he needs to go to the hospital.”

Rescued him from the fire? That boy had been in the fire, and Eric had gone in to save him? Her heart lurched again, then settled as she told herself that, whatever Eric had done, he was okay now. “Anyone else injured? What about the other boy?”

“He wasn't in the fire,” Jayden said. “He's just worried about his brother.”

How odd this was, getting a situation briefing from her ten-year-old son, and yet he'd done it pretty competently.

Lark glanced at the structure, collapsing under flames and the onslaught of water. Her team had the blaze contained, and another truck was on the way. She gave Jayden's hand a squeeze and then went over to Eric and Corrie, unable to prevent her gaze from lingering for a moment on Eric's face. Sweaty soot smudged his cheeks and forehead, his eyes were watery and bloodshot, and she wanted to grab him and hang on. Forever.

But he hadn't contacted her since Sunday night, which meant that he hadn't decided that the two of them had a “forever” in their future. But on the plus side, nor had he given her a final, absolute “no.”

As Lark knelt by the unconscious boy and felt for his pulse, Corrie moved aside. Eric said, “Arty's the only person who was hurt. I found him in the burning structure, unconscious. He hasn't regained consciousness. Probably inhaled a fair bit of smoke before I got him out.”

“I'll get oxygen.”

She sprinted for the fire truck and returned moments later to apply an oxygen mask. She offered a second one to Eric, but he waved it off. “What happened?” she asked him.

“Apparently it was a misfired Roman candle.” His voice was hoarse from inhaling smoke. “It went through a hole in the roof and started a fire. Arty ran in to try to put it out. Somehow, a wooden beam crashed down. He fell backward and hit his head, with the beam pinning him across the chest.”

He broke off to cough. “I hope he didn't suffer a spinal injury. I had to get him out of there, so I yanked off the beam and carried him. He has a scalp laceration and a hematoma. There's bruising on his chest and he may have broken ribs.”

“An ambulance is on the way,” she said as she gently examined the boy. “The twins' parents should be here soon, too. They weren't at home when we notified them, but we got them on a cell.” She glanced at Eric. Thank God he'd been there, or this red-haired boy would almost certainly have died. She loved this man. But how did he feel about her?

Refocusing on her job, she said, “How about you, Eric? Any burns?”

“No.”

“How bad's the smoke inhalation?”

As if on cue, a cough burst from his throat. “Nothing serious.”

“Uh-huh.” She'd let the paramedics make that determination. The ambulance was rolling toward them, along with Engine 3 and an SUV that she guessed was driven by Mr. and Mrs. Wendell. She hurried over to brief everyone.

The paramedics went to work efficiently, loading Arty into the ambulance and giving Eric a clean bill of health. The ambulance, with Mrs. Wendell accompanying her son, headed to the hospital. Mr. Wendell and Mike followed in the SUV. By now, the two teams of firefighters had reduced the fire to smoking, foul-smelling rubble.

Lark walked over to the group of riders. Eric had joined them and was talking to Jayden, but moved aside as she came up to them. Jayden was still atop Pookie, with Sally holding the reins and Mary stroking the horse's shoulder. Corrie held Celebration's reins and was murmuring to the horse.

Grasping Jayden's hand again, Lark said, “Are you folks okay to get back to Ryland Riding? Jayden, maybe you should come with me in Engine 4.”

“No, Mom. I want to take Pookie back.” There was something new in his eyes, a confidence and maturity she hadn't seen before.

Unsure, Lark glanced at Sally, who said, “The horses are disturbed by the fire and we're all upset by what happened, so we'll keep it slow and easy.”

“We'll be fine,” Mary said.

Lark turned to Eric, who gave a reassuring nod.

“Well, okay.” She hated to let her son out of her sight, but she trusted Eric, her mom, Sally, and Corrie to look after him. Maybe she even trusted Jayden to look after himself. And wasn't that an amazing thought.

“Chief,” Jayden said, “the fire's mostly ex-ting-uished.”

She loved that he used the big word, rather than just saying “out.” “Yes, it is.”

“You have to make sure there are no hot spots. You don't want any flare-ups.”

“You're right. Well, since I've been given my orders . . .” She shot another glance at Eric, catching him watching her with an unreadable expression. What was the damned man thinking? What did he feel for her? Was it only caring, or was it love?

With an effort, she shook tension from her shoulders. Her son was right; she had a job to do. And it wasn't only this fire; there was a whole town to look after on one of the most accident-prone days of the year.