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She still held his cold hand and found herself not wanting to let go. “Any thoughts on what to do?”
“I’ve got my weapon, of course, and will use it if necessary, but I honestly want to talk to the guy more than I want to shoot him.”
“So, how do you want to make that happen?”
“I’m thinking.”
A loud thud against the side of the barn jerked her heart into a gallop. “What was that?”
“No idea.”
Seconds passed, then another thump on the other side of the building echoed the first one. “Vince?”
His frown didn’t bode well. He raced to the window nearest the last thud and looked out. “Nothing.”
A third clunk hit the door behind them.
The horses, who had lost interest in their unexpected visitors, now came back to hang their heads over the doors of the stalls. One thumped his feet. Another whinnied.
“Something’s wrong,” she whispered. “They sense something.”
“Yeah, but what?”
She sniffed. “You smell that?”
“No, what?”
“Gas? And ... smoke! Look!” She pointed at the gray tendrils curling under the barn door, then threw off the blanket and ran to the nearest stall. “Get the horses out!”
“He’s smoking us out.” Vince opened the second stall and gripped the halter of the animal inside.
“What are we going to do? As soon as we step foot outside, he’ll pick us off.” Flames licked under the door at the end, and she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her heart ticked a little faster.
“He came prepared to burn something down?” Raina led the horse to the exit. “I’m finding that a little hard to believe.”
“Most likely he found the gas can in the back of my truck and improvised.”
“Fabulous.”
The first two horses raced out the other end, away from the smoking door. Raina gripped the halter of the third animal—Benji was carved into the side of it—and led him behind Vince. Benji tossed his head and whinnied, not liking the building smoke. He was antsy and wanted out. She did too, but not at the expense of getting shot. Then again, she didn’t want to die from smoke inhalation either. She sent him thundering out.
The silence enveloped her and she glanced out the window. “The rain slowed. It’s just a drizzle now.” Dumb observation maybe, but the words slipped out. The open door revealed dark clouds, a wet pasture, and trees in the distance. “As soon as we go, he’s going to shoot at us.”
“Not if he can’t see us,” Vince said. “I think he’s on the other side of the door waiting for us to come out that way. He deliberately left it open—no flames coming from that way—so we’re going out the other way.”
She gaped. Then coughed when the swirling smoke dipped into her lungs. “Through the flames?”
“Yep. We’ll send the last one out the same way,” he pointed, then he turned. “And we’re going that way.”
In the opposite direction.
At the burning door.
“We’re soaking wet,” he said. “Maybe that will work in our favor.”
“Maybe?” She squeaked the word and didn’t even care. But knew he was right. The smoke was building and the horse she held was trying to pull her to what he considered safety.
Vince nodded and slung her bag over his shoulder. “But before we do that, I’m going to soak that blanket with the water in the pails in the stall. You keep holding the horse.” Working fast, he soaked the blanket until it dripped, then handed it to her as he took the horse’s halter. “It’s going to be cold, but put it over your head.” She did so and he slapped the animal on the rump. The horse didn’t waste a second and galloped after his buddies. Vince ducked under the blanket with her, took her hand, and aimed them at the other exit.
