Page 175 of We Drank the Dawn

“Oh. That’s weird. Do guests sometimes have them?”

I shook my head. “Never. On certain nights, there will be a fire pit for guests to roast marshmallows and stuff, but that’s after dinner. It’s what? Close to ten o’clock probably?”

“Huh. That’s weird.” Her hands came back to my shoulders, ready to put it out of her mind. But as I leaned down to kiss her, I smelled it again. This time, I didn’t even have to open the curtain.

I pulled back. “Sarah, something is on fire.”

She hesitated. “Do you want to go check?”

“Yeah. I think I need to make sure everything is okay.”

“Alright.” The disappointment in her voice was unmistakable, but I didn’t stop to comfort her or make promises about resuming in a few minutes. The smell distracted my brain, sending tiny surges of adrenaline into my blood stream. Red flags whipped around in my gut, and I had to find out why.

I’d wished I’d slowed down long enough to take off my jeans before washing Sarah, because they hung heavy on my hips, resisting my legs. Stepping out of the shower, the smell overcame me. I dropped to my hands and knees, looking for the shoes I’d tossed. “Sarah!” I yelled, suddenly frantic.

She stepped out.

“Do you see anything? Smoke? Flames?” I found a shoe.

“It’s so dark…uhm…oh, wait! Oh no!”

“What?!” Yanking it onto my wet foot, I found the other.

“There’s smoke! It’s coming from the other side of the big house.”

“Like from the barnyard?”

“Yes! The barnyard.”

“Dammit.” I knew that should not be. “Put on your clothes and go get Bea.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find the fire.” With that, I turned and took off, up the gravel driveway, thankful I’d had the chance to travel the path a hundred times before. By the time I had passed the cabins, Sarah’s footsteps crunched up the driveway behind me. And by the time I turned the corner of the big house, Sarah was banging and calling, “Bea! Bea! There’s a fire!”

In the barnyard, I slowed, gathering my bearings.

Smoke hung heavy in the air and the licking of flames popped and crackled. Heat radiated from my right side, the fire big enough to feel from a distance. A horse whinnied and banged against their stall.

The barn.

The barn was on fire.

Digging my heels in, I sprinted toward the bunkhouse, hoping no one had parked in an unusual spot. Bursting through the door, I yelled. “Get up! The barn’s on fire.” I smacked my hand on the light switch.

Groans of protest filled the space.

Harlan moaned. “What’s goin’ on?”

“The barn is on fire. Hurry!”

Men started moving, ripping back blankets, putting feet on the floor.

Surprised I hadn’t heard Cooper, I moved to his bunk to shake him.

But his bed was still made—empty.

A flash of panic shot through me. “Where is Cooper?”