Texas Heat by Bárbara McCauley Page B

the distance, coming from the direction of the ranch.
    A thick black curling cloud of smoke.

Six
    D rought, wolves and fire were the stuff ranchers’ nightmares were made of. Jake watched the black cloud of smoke grow bigger as they approached the ranch.
    Don’t let it be the barn, God. Please not the barn.
    The animals would be trapped in there without anyone to help them out. The horses...Emma’s calf.... He glanced down at the wide-eyed child beside him. Savannah, her own face pale, her eyes staring rigidly ahead, held her niece in the comfort of one arm. No one had spoken a word since they’d jumped into the truck.
    Jake felt as if a steel band was closing around his chest. He white-knuckled the steering wheel and floored the accelerator. Each mile was a trip to hell and back, but finally he turned off the road, the truck fishtailing and sending a cloud of dust and rocks spinning from the back tires. As they swung sideways, Savannah held on tightly to the armrest with one arm and Emma with the other.
    It wasn’t the barn. He could tell that, even though they were still two miles away. Because there was so much smoke, he thought for a moment it might be the house, but as they grew nearer, he realized, with a second sigh of relief, that it wasn’t.
    What the hell was it?
    As they neared the house, his question was answered. “It’s the storage shed,” he said, pointing to a small structure several hundred yards behind the house that was engulfed in flames. “I keep spare tires in there. That’s why there’s so much smoke.”
    Jake brought the truck to a screeching halt in front of the house and jumped out. The fire crackled and roared, swallowing the shed.
    â€œGet the animals out of the barn,” he yelled over his shoulder to Savannah as he ran toward the side of the house. “If the wind shifts and carries any sparks, the roof might catch.”
    Her heart pounding, Savannah watched Jake grab a high-pressure hose from the side of the house. He twisted the handle and a huge stream of water shot out from the wide nozzle.
    Under strict orders not to move, Emma stayed in the truck while Savannah released the horses and Emma’s calf into the corral. She was back at her niece’s side within minutes, and they sat together in the cab and watched Jake fight the fire. Fortunately the shed was small and winds were light. The smoke turned gray, then almost white as the water doused the flames. Ashes fell like gray snowflakes and the stench of smoke and burned rubber singed the already hot air.
    When nothing more than a steamy mist rose from the torched wooden structure, Jake signaled for Savannah to shut down the hose. Fists clenched at his sides, Jake approached the blackened, steaming shed and stared at it.
    It could have been worse, he told himself, but nevertheless, frustration had him kicking the front door. The door collapsed, falling inward. Part of the roof followed suit.
    Damn!
    Arms folded, Savannah stood next to Jake. “Was there anything valuable in there?”
    When you’re hanging on to a cliff by your fingernails, even the tiniest pebble makes a difference. He shook his head slowly. “Spare tires for the equipment, some tools and engine parts. Nothing that can’t be replaced.”
    If he had the money. Which he didn’t. Hell, he hadn’t even been able to keep the insurance policy current.
    The sound of embers crackling and wood settling drifted from inside the shed. “How did it start?” she asked.
    Jake’s frown deepened. “That’s a good question. I haven’t been out here for a while. It’s wired for electricity, though. I suppose it’s possible there was a short.”
    He didn’t sound as if he believed that for a minute, Savannah thought, but she also thought it best not to question him on it. At least, not now. “I’ve got to get back to Emma. She wants to make sure Betsy’s