Page 28 of Fireline

Smiling to himself, he turned to get the feed and caught sight of Nova’s windswept copper hair blowing in the breeze.

There was something different about her. A softness.

Arms folded, she stood in a beam of sunshine outside the threshold of the barn and wore a wide grin. “You always talk to animals?”

Booth traced the outline of his open mouth with his thumb and index finger. “Uh, yeah. It’s another surprise talent of mine.”

“Go figure. How’d you learn so much about horses?”

“Summer jobs.” He shrugged, wanting to delve into her past rather than his. “You gonna stand out there watching or pitch in and?—”

A huge white horse kicked his gate, demanding his food. Nova startled, bumping the door latch hard enough to bang the interior siding. Booth dropped the feed scoop, and Nova jumped about six inches off the ground.

“Whoops, sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to add to your already tattered nerves.”

“I’m a little…” Nova pressed her palm on her chest. “A little nervous around horses, is all.”

“Oh. Well…c’mon in. They’re hungry, but they won’t bite.”

Nova shook her head.

He lifted a shoulder. “I could use the help.”

A subtle grin broke through. Still, she hesitated and stayed beyond the patched door, eyes locked on the white horse.

He walked over and took her hand. “You might be scared but?—”

“I’m not scared.” She pulled her hand from his gasp. “It’s not…that.”

“Okay, how about this? You stay there, and I’ll take care of feeding. At least this way, people won’t make fun of me for talking to the animals.” He grinned.

“Yes. I’ll stay here.” She pointed to the ground.

“So, uh, what’s got you all spooked of these guys anyhow?”

Nova reached down and picked up a piece of hay. Wrapped it around her index finger.

“We were homesteaders, living in the mountains. My parents, they were everything. They created this haven for us. Dad was strong but also an artist. A true romantic. He didn’t just bring us flowers. He’d spend hours in his pottery shed creating the perfect vase, then fill it with wildflowers and present it to my mom.” Her eyes flashed bright with the memory.

“Mom, tough but tender. I swear that woman could do anything.” Nova gave a tiny shake of her head. “She taught me everything from the alphabet to what plants were safe and which were poisonous.

“When I was eight, a wildfire had been burning for days. The hotshots thought they had it under control. It blew up. Surrounded us. We were trapped.”

She paused. Bright red grooves appeared on her finger where she’d wound the hay tight before unraveling it.

He quenched the crazy urge to reach out to her.

“The animals were going crazy, the horses kicking and bucking, wanting out of their stalls. Dad put me on his horse, told me to hang on tight and not to stop until I crossed the river. He slapped her hindquarters, and we took off. That was the last time I saw my parents.”

“That must have been…” Booth struggled to find the right words.

“Terrifying,” she finished. “I rode that horse until exhaustion, but I made it across the river.” She let the hay fall to the ground. “I never saw them again.”

He swallowed hard. After that, he wasn’t sure how she could face raging wildfires but not the animals that’d saved her life. Trauma did strange things to people, and it wasn’t for Booth to judge how Nova carried hers with her every day. But matching what she’d gone through with the Nova he’d seen walking through fire to save lives made perfect sense.

“Know what’s the worst part?” She drew an arc in the dirt with the toe of her boot.

There was a worse part?

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