The Lawman's Oklahoma Sweetheart. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ a stunned moment Katrine wondered why she could suddenly see, why the room glowed orange. Then, pressing the blissfully cool cloth over her nose and mouth, she peered up just in time to see a flaming chunk of the roof fall with a hollow whoosh and settle on Lars’s bed.

      Had they found Lars first? Was he already dead? Katrine’s heart froze at the thought that her brother, who’d saved her from how many dangers since they’d come to America, might no longer be alive to save her now. No, he must be alive, she declared silently. He must live and make a future for himself in this new town, maybe a family... Her thoughts were coming in tangles now and her eyes stung so badly. Where was Lars? He’d know what to do. He’d built this cabin for the two of them; he’d know how to keep it from being their tomb. Think, Katrine, try to think.

      The beams overhead gave a dreadful groan and Katrine backed away from the noise, grabbing the jar of water as she did. She stuffed the dishcloth into the water again, but its paltry contents didn’t help much against the smoke and heat now filling the room. Why, why hadn’t she fought harder with Lars to make windows? He said they would only let in the cold, but the drafty corner did that already.

      The drafty corner. The pair of loose logs on the corner of the house. Oh, how she’d cursed those cracks, how they seemed to welcome the flies and dust into the room. Lars had not yet fixed them; they still wiggled when a boot kicked them hard enough. Katrine crouched down and crawled over to the corner, not caring how the split-log floor snagged on her nightshift or scraped against her knees. Behind her, gold light burst out into the room, and Katrine turned to see Lars’s coverlet consumed in flames. It gave her just enough light to find the logs and shift around to start kicking.

      Her shifting knocked over a chair, but she merely pushed it aside and continued to slam her bare feet against the loose wood. It shifted, but not enough. “Flytte!” she yelled, commanding the logs to give way in her native Danish as she kicked them again. Behind her the fire’s crackle and growl seemed to come closer. Katrine moved up and began kicking with both feet, not caring about the growing pain on her heels—what would that matter in a few minutes as she lay gasping? The air seemed to race away from her, stealing the breath she needed to keep kicking. She could feel her efforts growing weaker, feel how the smoke robbed her strength.

      Keep kicking. Her leg wobbled as she forced it against the log, and somewhere through the thickness of her mind she heard a voice. She thought she heard crumbling, imagined the log was pulling itself from the cabin, coming to life to save hers.

      “Katrine!”

      She couldn’t actually say whether the voice was real or imagined. Everything was spinning into a black hole in her mind, like water draining through the bottom of a barrel.

      The rush of night air hit her face like a slap, clear and startling. She heard a man’s growl of effort as another log shuddered loose and fell onto the floor beside her. Air. “Here! Through here!” the voice called. Without thinking, Katrine turned and reached through the ragged opening, clinging to the hands that grabbed her outstretched fingers.

      The change in air was astounding. Yellow sparks swirled against a dark violet sky as she felt herself pulled from the menacing heat. Katrine sucked down a huge draught of air, only to curl over in a cough that seemed to tear her throat into pieces. Before she could catch her breath, the hands dragged her across the cool prairie grass as the most dreadful, most unearthly sound filled her ears. A wind-filled echo, an evil rush of air such as she’d never heard before. Katrine looked up to see her home, her cabin, sprout flames from every corner and tumble in on itself, spouting in a volcano of smoke and sparks.

      The fire burned hot and bright in all directions, throwing sharp light and flickering long shadows into the night. She coughed again, tasting coal and acid, and felt a hand on her back. Turning to look, she saw the face of Clint Thornton. She was safe in the grip of the town sheriff, thank goodness.

      Fear widened his dark brown eyes, sweat glistened on his cheek even as it plastered the front of his dark hair against his forehead. “Are you all right, Katrine? Are you hurt?” His voice was tight and dark with worry.

      Was she? She wasn’t sure she even knew. Too parched to speak, Katrine managed a weak nod, giving over to the shivers that suddenly took her. She hugged herself and drew up her knees, appalled to remember she was in nothing more than a summer nightshift.

      Sheriff Thornton kneeled in front of her, shucking off his coat to wrap it around her shoulders. He took each of her hands and arms in turn, checking them for cuts and bruises. His touch was quick and reassuring. Her feet throbbed and felt as if they were covered in scratches, but she could move them. She started to say, “I’m fine,” but the words only became another cough. When he went to stand up, Katrine grabbed his hand, stopping him until he looked at her.

      “Thank you,” she managed in a thin whisper that hurt with each word. She squeezed his arm again. Sheriff Thornton was Lars’s good friend. Surely he would know about her brother. “Lars? Is Lars alive?”

      “Yes...and no.”

      Katrine felt her fear surge back up. “Whatever do you mean?”

      “Lars is safe, but only if no one knows.”

      She blinked up at him, confused.

      His dark brows furrowed. “I have a plan, Katrine, but you may not like what it is.”

      Chapter Two

      Katrine began to come undone by the time Clint managed to get her to his brother Elijah’s house. She looked up at him one more time as he brought her down off his saddle.

      “You’re sure there is no other way?” He hated that she was near to tears again.

      It felt cruel to ask something so big of her just now, but there simply wasn’t another way to keep her and Lars safe. Not that he could see. “Yes, I’m sure. This will work, and it will get me in with the Black Four so I can put them away for good. I’ll convince them you were gone tonight—say you had an argument with Lars or some such thing—and that they got Lars in the fire.”

      “Why would they believe you?”

      “Folks are always ready to believe what they want to hear.” Life had taught him that, over and over. Even here in Brave Rock, people were too ready to believe the broken fences and other “accidents” that had happened in the past month weren’t anything more than hard times.

      This time he would make blind assumptions like that work in his favor. “They already think I’m on their side since I told them I’d cover their tracks. I’ve needed this chance—I can put it to good use—and it might not come again. The best way to bring the Black Four down is from the inside.” He caught her elbow and felt her shiver even under his coat. “I know it’s hard, but Lars would agree, I’m sure of it,” he pressed, even though this was far beyond the plan he and Lars had crafted mere hours before.

      “I don’t like lying. Not about this.” She shook her head more firmly. “How can I tell everyone he is dead?”

      Clint stared hard into those big blue eyes now rimmed in red and soot. He did hate putting such a load on her like this. After what she’d just been through, it didn’t seem fair. He’d seen enough of her spirit to know she was strong enough to handle it, even if she couldn’t quite see it now. “You like to tell stories, you’re good at it. This is a story to save Lars. To save yourself. Can you be brave, Katrine?” He dared to use her first name as he took both her shoulders. СКАЧАТЬ