Page 82

“I know.” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “We know who did this.”

My mind was numb, my body exhausted. We’d driven straight through the evening and arrived at a pile of embers that had burned through the night. I hadn’t slept, and Warren hadn’t left my side.

Eddie’s head hung in defeat.

Warren kicked over a board and stomped out a hot spot. “This isn’t your fault, Eddie.”

“Should we call the sheriff?” Eddie asked.

“No,” Warren and I said in unison.

He met my gaze, a thousand different emotions cascading through his green eyes. One clear message shone through: resolve. He was ready for war.

“Was anyone hurt?” I broke his gaze, terrified of what might lie ahead.

“No,” Eddie said.

Not this time, at least.

I walked to the driveway, where the wooden sign Gramps had whittled for years hung charred and broken from the chains of the overhead post. My hands trembled—in rage, in disbelief. I ran my fingers over the black edges of the four-foot-long sign. One of the ends, thinned by the flames, broke off and fell at my feet.

I grabbed the rest of it and tore the whole thing down, the rough edges scratching and cutting into my palms. It hit the ground with a resounding thud.

The Birkstroms had built a legacy here, and in a matter of weeks in my hands, it had turned to ashes.

Three vehicles pulled into the driveway. My truck, Warren’s truck, and Cheryl’s car driven by an employee of hers. We’d borrowed her truck and trailer to get home while Mason remained in Redmond to get the tires fixed.

I strode alongside Warren to talk with Cheryl. Smoke hung in the hot, humid air, and it smelled as if a lightning storm was on the way.

“Are you all right?” Warren asked quietly before we reached the new arrivals.

“Where does it go from here?” I came to a stop, out of earshot of everyone. The horses snorted and ate contentedly in their paddocks behind us, but Phantom paced nervously with all the strange commotion. “Someone is going to get hurt.”

“We’ll make sure it’s them and not us,” he said. “We’ll fight back.”

“This isn’t Germany, Warren.” My breath caught in my throat.

“What’s the alternative?” He rubbed his face, exhaustion creeping in on his angered and determined expression. “Hand over the farm?”

The weight of it all pressed down on my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

His expression softened, and he motioned to Eddie and the rest who were already cleaning up debris. “We’re not scared of a little fire. These guys have faced far worse.”

“They’re supposed to be safe here.” My voice rose and my heart raced. “No one should have to die because I’m sentimental about a farm and stupid sunrise.”

Terror gripped me and stole the air from my lungs. My skin felt cold, clammy, and my fingers trembled. Darkness closed in around me, and I felt myself swaying on my feet. Something steadied me, but voices and conversations grew muffled and distant.

How could I have let this happen?

“Eva?”

Killers. Robbers. Con artists.

The headlines flashed. The words I’d seen Mama and Daddy fawn over.

I’d done all I could to preserve life and make up for the death and destruction my parents had brought upon the world. I’d failed. Would I have blood on my hands, just like them?

“Eva!”