“Oh, yeah?”
“Good place.”
The only acknowledgment was a grunt.
Blue knew he’d get nothing more and swung into his saddle and rode away. He’d learned nothing, and that left him edgy. Could be the man was a loner, or he could be looking for someone and not wanting to reveal his intention.
It was dark by the time he returned to the church. The glow of a lamp came through the canvas of the shack. At least Clara and her daughters were close by where he could keep a watch on them and make sure they were safe.
He fell into a troubled sleep filled with dreams of a dark, forbidding stranger who chased Clara and the girls. Blue tried to catch them to rescue them, but every time he got within reach, a fire flared up blocking his way.
Smoke filled his senses.
He jerked awake, feeling sweat beaded on his brow. It was only a dream, he told himself.
But the smell of smoke lingered. He breathed deeply to clear his mind of the thought, but the smell only grew more real.
His heart slammed into his chest. It was real. He leaped to his feet, pulled on his trousers and boots and snagged his coat as he rushed outside.
He saw no flames. But the smell intensified. He turned his head back and forth, sniffing to pinpoint a direction. It seemed to come from the Mortons’ house, and he raced toward the yard.
He passed the shack and slowed his feet. Still no flames, which provided a flicker of relief. But the smell of smoke grew stronger. He squinted into the darkness and saw a faint glow. He hurried over to the ash pile and saw that the wind had fanned some of the embers into life.
He found a shovel nearby and smacked the coals till they were out. To be safe he pumped a bucket of water and dowsed the ash pile. Exhausted by the effort but even more by the fright rushing through his veins, he leaned over the shovel handle.
The Mortons’ door opened, and Claude stepped out, holding a lantern high. “Blue? Is that you? What’s going on?” Behind the man, Blue saw Bonnie hovering in the doorway.
“Coals were smoldering. The smell woke me up.”
Claude held the lantern up to look at the pile. “Looks like it’s out now.”
“Yeah.”
The door of the shack opened, and Clara slipped out, wrapped in her coat. Her blond hair hung loose in waves that caught the glow of Claude’s lamp.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Blue explained again.
Clara’s eyes widened. “What if—” She choked off the question.
Blue wanted to assure her they’d never been in danger. Not really. Claude had wisely put the ash pile a good distance from any building. But if the wind had grown stronger, if some stray leaves had fallen on the coals and then blown to the canvas roof of the shack...
He shuddered as the memory of flames filled his thoughts. He tried to stop the vision, the agony, but his throat tightened and a groan ripped from his gut. He tried to keep it from escaping but couldn’t.
Clara came to his side and pressed her hand to his arm.
He concentrated on her touch, finding escape from his fear.
“We’re all safe, thanks to you,” she murmured.
“Yes, Blue. Thanks for catching this.” Claude clamped a hand to Blue’s shoulder. “I’ll be more careful with the ashes in the future.”
For a moment, no one moved. Then Claude dropped his hand. “Seems everything is okay now. We should all return to our beds.” He held the lantern high to light the way for Clara.
She patted Blue’s arm, then hurried to the shack.
Blue waited until she closed the door. He handed Claude the shovel and trekked back to the church. He leaned against the door and waited for his ragged breathing to return to normal.
One thing was certain. Clara and the girls were not safe in that shack. Not only did the dark stranger pose a threat, but now Blue would never feel the shack provided any protection from fire.
He shuddered.
If anything happened to them... He bent over his knees as pain ground through him.
After a moment, he forced himself to straighten. His mind was made up. She couldn’t stay there.
Now all he had to do was convince Clara.
* * *
Clara huddled under her covers and tried to dismiss the fear that had gripped her when she’d heard the noise outside. Her first thought was that the man had come. She’d felt trapped in the shack. Her only defense was a broom, and she had clutched it and stood in the dark, poised to defend herself and the girls.