wood splintered. The ceiling in the corner disintegrated, and the animal reared, squealing with terror. Liz squeezed her eyes against the thick smoke, tears pouring down her cheeks. Voices shouted from outside, urging her to run. Another explosion, and the ceiling directly overhead started to groan. Liz frantically pulled on the rope, but the terrified animal wouldn't budge.
Suddenly, a blast of icy-cold water hit her, and the tension in the lead-rope relaxed. Spinning around to look, she saw that the horse had also been drenched, and the shock of the water had momentarily distracted him. She started to run, the horse right behind her. As she leapt through the door, another loud explosion sent debris slamming into her back.
The dazed horse followed Liz down the hill. When she reached the gate, Kurt stepped forward to help her.
His voice was tight. "I think we got 'em all. I count nine. Is that right?"
She nodded numbly. Adrenaline crashed through her system, her breath came in ragged snatches, and hot tears burned her cheeks. Without a word, Kurt reached out, and pulled her to him. Two hearts thundered against each other, separated only by heaving rib cages. In the safety of his arms, the terror of the ordeal began to fade.
A moment later, the horse at the end of the lead-rope nickered, and Liz smiled foolishly. Kurt wiped the tears from her face, a tender look passing over his features, and Liz's pulse jumped at the tiny glimpse of the real man inside "Kurt DeVallio - Tough Guy."
As she reached for the gate, a flash of red caught her eye. A long gash angled across the animal's shoulder, the edges of the wound filled with splinters of wood. Blood ran steadily down his foreleg.
"He must have been hit by flying wood in that last blast. I need to clean him up and take a look. See if the firetruck has a first-aid kit."
While she waited, Liz inspected the injury, a superficial laceration that wouldn't require stitching. She pressed her fingers firmly over the area that bled the hardest. Within minutes, the rivulets slowed, then stopped. Kurt returned, lugging a large, red box. He dropped it on the ground, exhaling sharply. A moment later, she brandished a bottle of sterile water.
"You'll need to hold him. He won't like this."
Kurt stepped up to the horse's head and murmured something as he grasped the halter. The animal's body relaxed, and Liz started cleansing the wound, a part of her brain focused on Kurt's magic.
Thirty minutes later, the injured horse was inside the pasture, quietly grazing with his herd mates, the nightmare forgotten. Liz dropped onto the grass, her knees finally too weak to hold her up any longer. Kurt eased down beside her, and slipped his arm around her shoulders.
In somber silence, they watched the old barn burn to the ground.
12
By the time Liz and Kurt trudged up the hill, the firemen had rolled up the hoses, and were peeling off their heavy suits. The sodden, smoldering ruins permeated the air with an acrid odor. Liz walked toward the spot where Marilyn sat on the ground, her back against the house.
Squatting down, Liz lightly touched her arm. "Marilyn, let's go inside."
The old woman slowly turned her head, following the sound of Liz's voice and trying to focus vacant eyes. Her lips moved, but no words came out. She tried again, her voice but a whisper.
"It's gone."
Liz felt deep sympathy for the poor soul who'd just lost so much, but seconds later, a positive attitude tempered Liz's pity. It could have been worse - at least we saved the horses.
When Marilyn was inside and settled into her chair, Liz moved into the kitchen to make some tea, staring with distaste at the sink piled with dirty dishes filled with scummy water and moldy bits of food. As she poked through cupboards looking for a kettle, Marilyn's rocky condition worried her. She might be in mild shock, or need to be hospitalized. I'll have to watch her closely for a while. Reaching into a small cupboard to retrieve
Suddenly, a blast of icy-cold water hit her, and the tension in the lead-rope relaxed. Spinning around to look, she saw that the horse had also been drenched, and the shock of the water had momentarily distracted him. She started to run, the horse right behind her. As she leapt through the door, another loud explosion sent debris slamming into her back.
The dazed horse followed Liz down the hill. When she reached the gate, Kurt stepped forward to help her.
His voice was tight. "I think we got 'em all. I count nine. Is that right?"
She nodded numbly. Adrenaline crashed through her system, her breath came in ragged snatches, and hot tears burned her cheeks. Without a word, Kurt reached out, and pulled her to him. Two hearts thundered against each other, separated only by heaving rib cages. In the safety of his arms, the terror of the ordeal began to fade.
A moment later, the horse at the end of the lead-rope nickered, and Liz smiled foolishly. Kurt wiped the tears from her face, a tender look passing over his features, and Liz's pulse jumped at the tiny glimpse of the real man inside "Kurt DeVallio - Tough Guy."
As she reached for the gate, a flash of red caught her eye. A long gash angled across the animal's shoulder, the edges of the wound filled with splinters of wood. Blood ran steadily down his foreleg.
"He must have been hit by flying wood in that last blast. I need to clean him up and take a look. See if the firetruck has a first-aid kit."
While she waited, Liz inspected the injury, a superficial laceration that wouldn't require stitching. She pressed her fingers firmly over the area that bled the hardest. Within minutes, the rivulets slowed, then stopped. Kurt returned, lugging a large, red box. He dropped it on the ground, exhaling sharply. A moment later, she brandished a bottle of sterile water.
"You'll need to hold him. He won't like this."
Kurt stepped up to the horse's head and murmured something as he grasped the halter. The animal's body relaxed, and Liz started cleansing the wound, a part of her brain focused on Kurt's magic.
Thirty minutes later, the injured horse was inside the pasture, quietly grazing with his herd mates, the nightmare forgotten. Liz dropped onto the grass, her knees finally too weak to hold her up any longer. Kurt eased down beside her, and slipped his arm around her shoulders.
In somber silence, they watched the old barn burn to the ground.
12
By the time Liz and Kurt trudged up the hill, the firemen had rolled up the hoses, and were peeling off their heavy suits. The sodden, smoldering ruins permeated the air with an acrid odor. Liz walked toward the spot where Marilyn sat on the ground, her back against the house.
Squatting down, Liz lightly touched her arm. "Marilyn, let's go inside."
The old woman slowly turned her head, following the sound of Liz's voice and trying to focus vacant eyes. Her lips moved, but no words came out. She tried again, her voice but a whisper.
"It's gone."
Liz felt deep sympathy for the poor soul who'd just lost so much, but seconds later, a positive attitude tempered Liz's pity. It could have been worse - at least we saved the horses.
When Marilyn was inside and settled into her chair, Liz moved into the kitchen to make some tea, staring with distaste at the sink piled with dirty dishes filled with scummy water and moldy bits of food. As she poked through cupboards looking for a kettle, Marilyn's rocky condition worried her. She might be in mild shock, or need to be hospitalized. I'll have to watch her closely for a while. Reaching into a small cupboard to retrieve
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