Page 24 of A Forgotten Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #5)

He knew their neighbors. The Landerses and the Wilsons. Even though it was the middle of the night, they would come.

But would they get here in time?

Nick’s shoulder flared with pain as he reached up to the shelf where they kept an extra lantern. His fingers fumbled with the box of matches. Tucking the matches into his pocket, he moved over to the corner and grabbed the can of kerosene.

Please, God, let this work .

He hesitated only a moment with one hand on the door’s latch. Had he given Clare enough time to get ready?

He knew she wouldn’t let him down. Could imagine her and Eli ducked low, waving the broomstick and dress out the front door, on the opposite side of the house.

The distraction would likely only buy him a few seconds.

He had to make it count.

He whistled as loud as he could, hoped the sound carried through the wall. And pushed the door open, darted through it, his feet crunching through the snow as his legs pumped.

Gunshots rang out from the woods in front of the house.

An answering shot came from an upstairs window. David?

The wound in his shoulder pulsed. He strained to hear over the heartbeats in his ears.

Another shot rang out from around the side of the house. This one zinged just overhead and slapped into the wall of the bunkhouse as Nick approached at a full run.

Only a few more feet…

A man’s shout.

Nick couldn’t take the time to look over his shoulder, see where the danger was coming from.

Another bullet whizzed past his ear. Too close.

With his last bit of energy, he forced a final burst of speed into his legs, ducking behind the corner of the bunkhouse as bullets slapped into the building. It was dark here. He’d be harder to see.

He put his back to the wall, hot pain swelling through his shoulder. Letting the can drop to the ground, he gripped his arm. His head whirled as he fought to catch his breath. Elsie had told him what the doc had said about pushing too hard. Pain pierced behind his right eye.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. Memories of Elsie pressed in. The way she’d believed in him when she’d said Your family needs you. That’s your role. The emotion in her eyes just before she’d kissed him.

The night had gone quiet, the men no longer firing. His harsh breaths were the only sound.

Were the men moving on the house? Surely Clare and David would be firing on them if that was the case.

He couldn’t stop moving. He had to finish this.

Determination pushing him, he bent low and crawled to the opposite corner of the building.

This side of the bunkhouse had been dried out by the sun. The snow had even melted in blotches around the foundation. It was the best chance to start the fire.

The pungent oil of the kerosene assaulted his nostrils as he drenched the dried timbers at the base of the bunkhouse.

He pulled out a match, his fingers trembling. Once lit, he wouldn’t have a lot of time to get away from the inferno.

A man’s voice shouted from somewhere nearby. Nick was out of time.

He struck the match and flicked it into the puddle of kerosene. The tiny flame burst into a much larger one, illuminating the darkness with an orange glow.

Illuminating Nick.

A bullet thunked into the ground not far from Nick’s boot. A second one slapped into the wall just past his side.

With fire crackling between him and the building, he made to run for the woods—but a spray of bullets blocked his path.

He zigzagged and ran around the side of the bunkhouse, conscious of the fact that there could be another man waiting there to take him out.

Behind him, the fire crackled hotter. He could feel the heat radiating off it now.

Before he reached the corner, more shots echoed from in front of him.

He was surrounded.

The bunkhouse door was just in front of him—his only escape.

He knocked into it with the full force of his body, almost falling inside as a bullet blasted into the wood just above his head. He kicked the door shut behind him.

Inside, he scanned the room for any way to escape. Smoke swirled in the long room lined with bunks. The blaze lighting up the sky outside hadn’t caught inside yet.

The glass from the window opposite him shattered and he ducked. Bullet? Or had heat from the fire caused it to break?

It was warm inside. Too warm. He started sweating underneath his coat. Rubbed the back of one hand across his forehead, almost knocking his hat off.

He coughed once, squinting against the flickering, shadowy light coming in through the window. The smoky air burned his throat.

If he’d hoped for some magic answer to appear, he was sorely disappointed. How could he get away from the bunkhouse when it was surrounded, when the men outside wanted him dead and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot?

He briefly considered whether he could lift one of the straw tick mattresses, use it as a shield?—

Another bullet cracked through the wall, leaving a round hole behind, though luckily it was wide of Nick.

If the bullets were tearing through wood, the straw tick wouldn’t offer enough protection. Nor was he certain he could lift and hold it—not with his bum shoulder.

A flame burst through one corner where the ceiling met the wall, quickly spreading across the ceiling like water running down a hill.

The roof must be ablaze outside. Smoke had spread across the entire room and was dropping fast, blocking Nick’s sight and causing another coughing fit, this one so bad that he had to bend over and grip his knees for support as his body shook.

If only he’d made it to the woods.

Now he was trapped. No way out.

Elsie’s words from earlier hit him. Take a breath and think.

When he tried to breathe, it turned into a cough. The way his body convulsed made new pain radiate through his shoulder.

He crossed the room to the window, staying as low as he could. From a spot beside the window, he tried to peer through the flames and darkness. Drew his revolver and aimed it out the window, just in case.

Heat from the wall seared his skin, driving him a few steps back from the window.

He heard her voice in his head. You’re one of the most intelligent men I know. You can figure this out.

Tears dripped down his cheeks as he fought against the smoke. Raising his forearm to shield his face from the smoke didn’t help.

Come on, Nick. Think.

Flames climbed the wall to his left.

At least one good thing had come of this. He’d created an inferno that would be visible for miles.

Please, God, let help come. Fast.

He had to go back outside. Maybe the shooters would miss. At least if he ran to the woods, he’d have a chance. Staying inside meant burning alive.

The haze of smoke was so low now that he holstered his gun and crawled on his hands and knees.

A loud splintering sounded overhead, and he had only a split second to react. He rolled away just as part of the roof collapsed—blocking the door.

He wasn’t going to make it.

He pressed his face into the floor, seeking one clean breath so he could think . Another coughing fit grabbed hold of him, and black spots danced before his eyes.

He didn’t want to die like this.

He loved Elsie. Had never stopped loving her. Even when he hadn’t been able to remember the previous day, his heart had remembered her.

The thought landed in his mind with perfect clarity, causing a ripple like a pebble dropped in a still lake.

He loved her.

And he wasn’t going to get to tell her.

No.

He refused to have things end like this.

He rolled onto his back as he hacked and wheezed, looking for any other way?—

The window.

The window on the north side of the building was untouched. Nick scrambled to his knees, lunged across the room. He hooked his hand onto the windowsill and wrenched his body up.

Flames licked the wall, moving closer.

He shoved open the window, heat from the glass scorching his bare palms.

With one great heave, he threw his body out the window, rolled away from the building, from the fire. Snow tingled against his face and hands even as he braced for a bullet, tried to find strength in his shaky legs to stand up. To run.

But the bullet never came.

Several shots rang out near the house.

No!

He pushed to his forearms, but another coughing fit kept him from getting up.

The house. He had to get to the house.

Just as he caught his breath and tried to catch a glimpse of the house past the burning bunkhouse, a horse thundered up only feet away, blocking his view.

“Little brother, who said you could have all the fun?”

Isaac.

“You’re late,” Nick croaked before he let himself go limp, face down in the snow.