Page 490 of Conveniently Wed
“I’ll get right on it.” Thomas shot the words over his shoulder as he barreled toward the barn.
“I’m going on up the mountain.” Franklin scurried after him.
Lorinda awakened from another bad dream, a scream stuck in her throat. The dreams came far too often. But this one was different. It was filled with smoky air. She peered into the darkness, wondering how long it would be before dawn. She felt as if she’d been sleeping for hours. The smell of smoke gagged her, too strong to be a dream. She had banked the coals last night, and she’d need to add kindling and stir them up to get the stove going.
The air hung heavy and burned her lungs with every breath. She could hardly see the door through the denseness. This was not a dream.
Fear surged through her heart. Something was terribly wrong.
Reaching under her pillow, Lorinda grabbed the two small canvas bags of gold she’d hidden there. Mike had added the second one after their final time of lovemaking, and she always kept them near her. They were cold comfort and didn’t ease the loneliness, but they were the last things Mike ever gave her. She shrugged into the warm woolen robe she’d made Mike for Christmas last year and shoved the pokes into her pockets before tying the belt around her. Even though this robe was larger than her own, now it barely met over her expanding belly.
Usually the cabin was much colder when she awakened. She felt toasty warm with her flannel night dress and Mike’s extra union suit underneath. She crept toward the door and slowly eased it open far enough to see into the main room of the cabin.
Flames danced on the opposite side of the room from the cold black stove sitting on a slab of rock. The smoke didn’t come from the pot-belly.Flames?Her heart jumped into her throatand thrashed like a bird caught in a snare. She stared, fascinated at the macabre dance before her. The fire leapt, eating its way through the log wall and wooden floor. Wavering tongues of light took a bite from her curtains then raced up the fabric, consuming everything in their way.
Panic rose like a specter in her mind. The fear stole her breath away. She had to get out of here. Lorinda took a deep breath and held it. She quickly turned around and thrust her feet into the men’s boots beside her bed. Her breath swooshed out. She leaned over for a moment, light-headed. She’d never make it across the burning room if she couldn’t hold her breath any longer than that.
Her agitation reached the baby, and it squirmed and thumped inside her. She grabbed a handkerchief from the top drawer of the chest and held it tight over her nose before plunging into the mounting inferno. She pulled her garments close, trying to keep the flames from grabbing them as well.
Lorinda lumbered across the dwindling floor to the front door. The door stuck. Panic screamed inside her. The metal handle was almost too hot to hold. Using the hem of the robe, she grasped it again. She put her whole weight into wrenching the heavy door open and stumbled away from the intense heat melting an ever-widening circle in the dwindling snow. Tongues of fire burst after her, and she was barely able to stay out of their reach.
When the flames no longer scorched her, Lorinda stopped and took several deep breaths, trying to cleanse her lungs from the choking smoke, but the hacking coughs continued. She felt woozy, swaying a moment before straightening her spine. She walked around the log cabin, watching the fire that consumed everything she owned. Her hands clutched the hard pokes in her pockets.Everything, except the gold.
She reached the side where the fire had started. Tracks in the snow worried her. Not from an animal. Someone had come up to the cabin. The pungent scent of kerosene mixed with the acrid smoke. This fire was no accident. Footprints came from the woods to the west of the cabin and returned the same way. She listened for a hint of unusual movement through the trees but heard nothing. The arsonist was probably long gone.
Just the word arsonist shocked her. Brought such horrible images. Lorinda had too much to deal with right now. How would she ever survive?
Who could hate her enough to kill her? Or maybe the person didn’t know she was in the cabin. Helplessness joined the loneliness she’d experienced all winter. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she blinked, trying to see through the blur.
Weakness rushed over her, and Lorinda sidled over to the tree near Mike’s grave. She leaned back against it and tucked her chin close to her chest. Reaching behind, she clasped the bark-covered trunk, the rough places biting into the tender skin on her palms. She stayed on her feet...barely.
Oh, Mike, why didn’t you come home to me? I didn’t know how hard it would be to go through a winter without another person to lean on.
Finally, she realized the morning sun had been sending its warming rays over the peaks for some time. Just then, the baby gave a big kick. It felt to Lorinda as if he or she tried to turn a complete somersault. Not enough room in there for that. With one hand, she rubbed her bulging belly and cooed nonsense to soothe the infant. At the sound of her voice, the child in her womb settled down, relieving the physical pain it caused.
If only there was something to soothe her worries as well. What was she going to do now? Of course, she still had plenty of food in the dugout. Mike had bought enough for two people, and some of the time she hadn’t been very hungry. Maybe she’djust have to move in with the provisions. But what would she wear? And what if the arsonist had stolen the provisions? No, the footprints didn’t lead to the doorway in front of the stash.
Questions continued tumbling in her head as tears erupted down her cheeks.
Snow still covered most things as Franklin raced across his ranch land. When he reached the foot of the mountain, he slowed his stallion.
Now he could see the conflagration between some of the trees. The trail up to the cabin needed all his concentration. Franklin helped his horse pick its way through the difficult parts. On easier sections, he scanned the area above. No sign of the woman. His heart almost stopped beating at that thought. Surely she wasn’t still inside. If so...
Franklin didn’t want to finish that thought. Finally, he was close enough to catch a glimpse of the tree beside Sullivan’s grave. Mrs. Sullivan sat huddled against the trunk. Her golden hair covered her shoulders and streamed down her back, the curls in wild disarray.
The horse turned where the trail jagged, and the woman slid from view. Evidently, she awakened to the fire. The robe she wore looked to be her husband’s, since it almost swallowed her.
By the time he and his mount circled the last boulder and moved into the clearing with the burning cabin, Mrs. Sullivan had gotten up. She stood staring toward him with a faraway look in her eyes. Franklin wasn’t sure she knew he was there.
But he became very aware of her and the evidence of her condition. The woman was going to have a baby, and she’d spent the last several months alone on this mountain. Why hadn’t hefollowed his first instincts and forced her to come to the ranch house? He’d had a strong urging to. Probably, the Lord tried to tell him, and he hadn’t realized how important that nudge was. How could he ever make it up to her?
Franklin dismounted and walked toward the woman, leading his horse behind him. He didn’t want to approach her atop the animal. With the heat emanating from the fire, he unbuttoned his coat and let it hang open.
“Mrs....” He’d been clenching his teeth so hard, a lump had formed in his throat. He huffed to clear it. “Mrs. Sullivan, ma’am... I’ve come to help.”
Evidently she didn’t hear him because she never looked at him. Just continued to stare across the valley far below.
“Mrs. Sullivan.” This time he spoke louder and stepped closer. “Ma’am, I’m here to help you.”
