Page 6 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

FOUR

ADALENE

“Dale, listen to me. The barn is on fire, I’m still out in the far field, but I’m trying to get there.” Gus’s voice wavers on the line, true emotion bleeding through, sending a wave of panic to crash over me. His words alone are terrifying, but the emotion he’s trying and failing to contain?

Ice cold fingers of terror wrap like a fist around my erratic heart, the blood in my veins feeling more like shards of chipped ice with each labored beat.

They have to be okay.

I drop the half full cup of tea in my hand, the glass shattering as it collides with the counter top, but I barely register the noise.

A roaring builds in my ears, and I’m racing for the front door, my heart pounding so loudly I can barely hear as Gus continues, “Dale, you need to get the fire department here, and then yourself. Stetson. She’s back at the house, and I think…

”. He pauses, as if unsure of how much to tell me.

I fold myself into the driver's seat, peeking over my shoulder as a moment of clarity slices through my panic, and I check the front door to make sure it’s closed. I’d be even more devastated if Tut got out during all of this.

Seeing it closed, I slam the car door shut, and huff loudly, “Gus for the love of god, what?” I’m a torrent of panic and frustration, filled with the sensation of watching a tragedy happen from behind a glass window that I simply cannot break.

Helpless and weak.

His silence is weighted. What could be so bad that the man I know would likely kill for my best friend can’t speak it out loud?

“I found a body. Her dad’s body in the far pasture. I think…just get here and—” His words tumble out, each one urging my foot to lay heavier and heavier on the gas pedal. My scrambled brain silences, calm settling over me. Or shock, if I’m being super honest with myself.

But I have to get there. I have to help. These are my friends, my people, my family. In a world where I’ve chosen very little for myself, I refuse to lose those who’ve become the most important to me.

“I’m coming, Gus. Get her safe and I’ll back you up however you need me to.

” I pause, trying to piece together the puzzle in my head.

If Gibson is dead, buried in the field— clearly someone’s secret —the possibilities are limited.

Especially because the person I expected to ultimately take him out is on the other end of the line, fighting off panic of his own. “It could be Craig.”

I say the words, but we both know they’re just that—words spoken in order to ignore the truth a little longer.

“It wasn’t.” His voice is nearly silent, but I hear what he’s unwilling to say all the same: Stetson killed her father.

Good for her.

Gibson was the most evil kind of human, and he deserved a thousand deaths, each one more painful than the last. He deserves to be dead and gone, not even a headstone to mark his miserable existence on this earth.

When all this is over, I’ll hug Stetson and tell her just how proud I am of her. The master of her own fate.

The line clicks off; Gus hanging up without another word, and I push on the gas, the small engine in my car roaring in protest. Everything’s happening so fast—a body, a fire, and a secret all fighting for the number one stressor in my mind.

They chase each other, swirling into a muddy, bloody mess in my brain.

Everything will be fine.

Everyone will be fine.

I think about all of the horrible things I know Stetson went through at the hands of that vicious man.

And all of the vile things I undoubtedly don’t know about.

A sob breaks from my throat, tears sitting precariously on my lashes, but I hold them back.

She’s so strong despite everything she’s endured.

I can be strong for her now. She deserves that much.

I’ll keep her secret, even if they lock me in a cell with her. Because she deserves people who won’t give up on her, no matter the darkness she carries.

Maybe I should be repulsed by the knowledge that Stetson killed someone. But I’m not. I’m only proud—and angry I wasn’t around sooner to help her heal from it. What a heavy burden that must have been to carry. What a terrifying experience to have to endure and live with day in and day out.

How isolating it must have been.

It’s no wonder she has such a hard time accepting help. She’s done everything on her own, and become damn good at it.

I know she has Gus, and something tells me he's been helping her far longer than I even know about. They’re two halves to the same dark, cracked piece, and I’m so grateful she has him. Even if she does get in her own damn way when it comes to their relationship.

If only I had someone to lean on, someone to trust with my every dark and dirty secret. What would that feel like to expose my most private thoughts to another person, and trust they would love even those broken pieces?

What would it feel like to allow myself space to feel dark and serious, instead of filling myself with synthetic sunshine?

I reach for my phone with shaky fingers, needing to talk to someone before I run myself off the road. I’m spiraling, my head spinning with toxic emotions.

I dial, not even looking at the phone and it rings only once before his husky voice spills through the line, filling me with a calm I bask in greedily. I needed this, him . Even if tomorrow I’ll refuse to admit it.

“Dale, is everything okay?”

Even if it makes no sense, I know I can trust him.

“Mateo, I’m sorry, I know it’s late. But—” I pause sucking in a breath.

How much of this can I really tell him? Will he keep my secrets, the secrets of those I love, without wanting something in return?

What price would I pay for their safety?

I know the answer without having to even think more of it— anything — “Stetson’s in trouble.

Gus called and said the barn is burning and I’m going there now, and I think she killed her father.

But he deserved it, if anything, I’m certain it was self-defense and he got mercy compared to what he deserved.

You can’t, I don’t know if I should have told you, but Mateo, I don’t know what to do.

I need to help them. Will you help me, help them? Mateo?—”,

“Dale!” His voice slices through my anxious rambling, cutting off my train of thought, and I focus on the road racing in front of me.

When was the last time I took a breath? “I’m headed there now, but it’ll be thirty minutes at the least. Call the police as soon as we get off the phone, and I will too, alerting them of the severity. ”

I cut him off, panic clawing at my throat. “No! You can’t tell them about Stetson’s dad.”

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll take that secret to the grave. But I’ll tell them to get there as quickly as possible.” I sag, relief thick in my veins. “And Dale, don’t do anything stupid. You can’t run into a burning building, or fight off someone with a gun no matter how much you love her.”

I don’t respond, because even if what he’s saying is rational, I’ll do what I must to save her. I love her, down to my core the way you would a sister—maybe even more than that because she’s the family I chose for myself—and I won’t lose her.

“Dale, did you hear me?” His voice is harsh, laced with a blade meant to elicit fear, making me do what he says. But I’ve never been afraid of him, even when I should be.

“Thank you, Mateo. I never have deserved your friendship, but I’m grateful all the same.”

I turn onto her driveway, the flames of the barn licking the darkness of the sky above it.

Red and orange claws tear ribbons across the inky black of the night, and as I come to a screeching halt, I hang up, dialing the police in the same motion.

Panic runs through me like a thick sludge, clogging every nerve ending until I feel numb.

They have to be okay.

They have to make it out okay.

“Nine one one, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

I stand staring at the flames, my fingers wrapped tightly around the phone. “A fire, Spurrin’ L Ranch on Kennedy, hurry.” The flames roar, and I barely hear their response over the line as wood cracks, the sparks spiraling to the ground.

It’s then that I notice the work truck parked to the left of the barn doors, the engine still running, door hanging open. As if he jumped from it, and raced inside.

Oh god.

I drop the phone, springing into action and bolting towards the flames.

“Gus? Stetson?” I shout their names, the sound ripped from me and swallowed by the thunderous fire. “Stetson?”

Heat pours around me like lapping waves of the ocean, each blast hotter and hotter, threatening to pull me into its hellish grip. The hairs around my face begin to curl, beads of sweat coating my head as I take another step closer to the flames.

If it’s this hot out here, how hot is it inside? How could anyone survive this?

I strain to hear anything above the roar of the flames and my pounding heart. I open my mouth to yell into the flames again, but am cut off by a sound. A faint shout from within. “Hello?”

“Gus! Over here! Gus!” I scream louder.

“In here.” The words float towards me, weaker but closer, and my body vibrates with the need to run in after him. But Mateo’s voice filters through my consciousness, making me freeze, my hands fisting painfully at my sides.

Seconds or minutes or hours pass even, as I wait, the roar of the fire louder than the pounding of blood in my ears,

“Gus!” The smoke curls up the sides of the building, and my eyes burn. “Gus!”

Gus bursts from the flames, his face black and glistening, Stetson’s limp body in his arms. I don’t hear the sirens rushing toward us as I run for him. He stumbles forward another few steps, tears streaking through the soot on his face, and my heart shatters.

I reach out to help him, and notice the blisters littering his skin. I look down at Stetson in his arms, her face peppered in similar blisters, bits of her hair burned and lips cracked and bleeding.

“Help her,” he cries and then crumples, his body giving out. Paramedics rush past me, gently pushing me behind their bodies, but I scramble back toward him.

“Oh my god, Gus. You’re okay, you got her out. Gus, you have to let her go so they can help her, so they can help you.” He continues to cling to her even as I say the words. He’s lost to the fear, and I can’t even tell if he can see me.

“Help her!” he screams, his voice bleeding with panic. I feel my heart tearing from my chest—even though this is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen, it may be the most beautiful too. How can so much darkness bring out so much light, so much pain bring out so much love?

“Hey, relax buddy, you’re out, she’s out.” Two paramedics kneel before Gus, gently pulling a still limp Stetson from his burnt arms. He grips tighter to her, so I push closer to him, hoping to help comfort some of the anguish on his face.

“Gus, it’s Dale. You’re out. You got Stetson out. You have to let go of her so they can help her. Please, let me help her.”

“Help her, Dale,” he begs.

I nod, and the paramedics quickly but kindly, peel her from his seared arms. He sags, as if completely spent. Another paramedic reaches for him, pulling him up, and he thrashes against them. “Stetson, help Stetson.”

I don’t have a chance to help him anymore. They rush him away, and I race towards an unconscious Stetson who lies, strapped onto the stretcher. If Gus comes out of this alive, and Stetson doesn’t, he’ll never forgive me.

Not that I would forgive myself either.

“Miss, are you coming?”

I nod, and scramble into the ambulance. I pull her frail hand into my lap, and for the first time in years, I bow my head and pray.