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. “Can you trust me in this?”
She softened a bit under his hands. “You promise me Lars is well?” Katrine sniffed, and he could feel her clutching at his arms even through the sleeves of his coat that hung down well below her hands. “That you need this story, and only for a short while?” She looked frail, as if she’d sway any moment.
A trickle of panic skittered down Clint’s spine. He knew how to protect, but precious little about how to comfort. Lije was good with people, Clint’s other brother, Gideon, was good with animals, but Clint had neither of those gifts. He was the sheriff here, and despite his fondness for many of the folk in Brave Rock, that meant he kept a certain distance. By personal choice and by profession. All that neighborly comfort business? That was his pastor brother’s corner.
Still, as much as Katrine needed Godly comfort, he couldn’t let her into Lije’s house until he’d gotten her to agree to his plan. That meant that for now, he’d have to venture into those emotional waters and try to tell Katrine what she needed to hear. Looking into those impossibly blue eyes, it wasn’t hard to find a soft spot from which to pull the words. Tall as she was, she felt tiny and frail under his hands, and the urge to keep her safe needed little encouragement. Those eyes could drive any man to feats of heroism, especially when framed with wet lashes and looking up from within the confines of his own coat. “I promise Lars is safe. And will be.” He meant every word, gruff and hoarse as they came from his sooty throat.
She blinked back more tears, and something unknotted inside Clint. He couldn’t leave all the comforting to Lije; after all, he’d placed Katrine in this spot and it was up to him to help her endure it. The compulsion to tighten his grasp on her shoulders became irresistible. He wanted to hold her up, to lend her some of his strength despite how out of his depth this all felt. “Give me a little while,” he said, amazed at the unfamiliar tone of his voice. “Give me some time, and all will be well.”
He saw the light come on in Lije’s window. Hang it, he didn’t have time. The lawman side of him knew what had to happen now, kind or not. If he didn’t get an agreement from her right this minute, all would be lost. “But this piece cannot wait. Say yes.” He forced the command back into his voice, hating the flinch he felt in her shoulders. “Now, Katrine. You must say yes to this now.”
Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if the weight of her agreement pressed down on her spirit. Of course it did—he’d pressed it there himself—but he couldn’t think about that now.
“Yes.” It was a whisper. A frail whisper with an edge of fear he felt right down to his gut. Still, it was an agreement, and that’s what he needed right now. “I understand,” she went on, nodding, her voice gaining a tiny sliver of strength. “We will do this. For Lars.”
“Clint?” Lije’s voice came from the door as he pushed it open. “I saw flames. What is...” His expression changed as the light from the window illuminated Clint’s and Katrine’s soot-smeared faces. “Land sakes! Are either of you hurt? Where’s Lars?”
Katrine looked back to Clint with wide, panicked eyes. For the delightful storyteller Katrine was, this tale seemed beyond her right now. Could she really do as he asked? He looked at her hard, his stare saying “Lars needs you to do this,” but she blinked and wobbled a bit as if she’d just had the breath knocked out of her. He spared her any further answer by turning toward his brother and slowly shaking his head.
Clint watched as the realization spread over his brother’s face. Losing Lars