Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"W HAT WOULD YOUR father have done if mine had tried to blackmail him that night at the McKenna Ranch?" Birdie asked as she turned off the county road and drove toward the house.

Brand knew that she didn't expect him to come up with the answer. Not that she gave him a chance to even speculate.

Earlier, she'd gotten out of bed, put her clothes on and told him the plan. He would have been happy to spend the rest of the day in bed with her, but apparently that wasn't what she had in mind. "If he didn't want the truth about his affair and your parentage to come out, he would have killed him."

"That's one thought," he'd said, climbing out of the bed to get dressed. "Seems a stretch to me, but from what I've heard about Holden, I doubt he'd appreciate being blackmailed, especially by his ex-lover's new husband."

"My father was desperate for money so he could come get me," she'd said defensively.

He'd turned to look at her. "I don't think Holden McKenna killed him. According to my mother, Holden didn't know about me. If he wanted to kill anyone, I think it would have been my mother."

"Still, I think my father ran into someone over there, and that's how he ended up in a well. I'm just wondering what they did with his pickup."

Brand had wondered about that, too. "I doubt it's still on the McKenna Ranch, if that really is where he was killed."

"I have to find out if that's where he died and who's responsible." She'd started toward the open window. "Also, there might be an older ranch manager or hand who was around back then who remembers something from that night—especially if things got as violent as I believe they did."

"Hold on. Where are you going?"

"Weren't you listening? To the McKenna Ranch. I'm betting that most everyone has gone to Billings to see your father in the hospital. I called, and no one answered at the house. This is a good time to search the place."

"How about using my front door instead of the window?"

She'd grinned at him. "You are so thoughtful." She'd moved swiftly to him, kissing him passionately but slipping away before he could put his arms around her and take the kiss to the next level. "Are you coming?"

Brand had groaned and reached for his hat. "I know I'm going to regret this," he'd said under his breath as he followed her to her SUV parked down the road.

He wasn't about to go to the McKenna house in a Stafford Ranch pickup with the logo on the side. Even some of the ranch hands at both the McKenna and the Stafford ranches were at war—because of the feud between his mother and biological father.

Birdie had no idea what she might be instigating. But he also knew that she would go alone if he didn't go with her. "I can't imagine what you're hoping to find," he said now. "A smoking gun?"

She shook her head. "As far as I can tell, the last time anyone saw my father was when he turned in to the McKenna Ranch. With Holden in the hospital and everyone away from the house, it's like they are inviting us to see what we can find over there."

"I am fascinated by the way your mind works." He'd never been in the McKenna Ranch house. He'd never stepped on the property. It had always been off-limits. Now he could admit that he was curious about the place—about his father. He told himself he was only going with Birdie to save her from herself, but he knew that wasn't all there was to it.

Under other circumstances, he might have been raised on the McKenna-Stafford Ranch with two loving parents and no range war between them. He thought about CJ, behind bars awaiting trial for what would probably be a life sentence. Would his life have turned out different if Holden and Charlotte hadn't been at each other's throats all these years? One thing was definite. Brand wouldn't have been a bastard, unsure of where he belonged in all this.

Brand pushed away the what-ifs as he got his first glimpse of the house. It wasn't until they drove closer that he saw the smoke. It billowed up from the far end of the sprawling ranch house.

L IGHTS AND SIREN ON , Stuart swept through Powder Crossing and onto the county road. As he did, he saw the smoke. It rose into the sky, ebony against the pale gray twilight. He couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from—just in the general direction of the McKenna Ranch. At first there didn't seem to be that much smoke rising from behind the stand of cottonwoods.

He told himself it would be a bush fire, but as the plume of smoke widened and grew, he alerted the fire department, afraid he knew exactly where it was coming from. No simple brush fire, he told himself as he raced toward the McKenna Ranch—and the flames were now rising above the tops of the cottonwoods along the river. If he was right, it was coming from the main house.

His mind spun. Holden was still in the hospital in Billings. As far as he knew, Elaine was there as well. Cooper and Tilly had moved into their new house some miles from the main ranch house. Treyton had moved out. Oakley and Pickett weren't back from their extended honeymoon. Given all that, who was left at the house? The ranch hands could all be at the bar in town. Wasn't this poker party night?

He didn't have to guess who might have started the fire if his instincts were right. But where was Holly Jo?

A S THE M C K ENNA R ANCH house came into view, Birdie slowed and let out a gasp. "That's his pickup." She looked over at him. "That's the kidnapper's pickup parked out front."

"He's set the house on fire," he said, pointing to the far wing. "If Holly Jo is in there..." Brand was already throwing open his door and getting out even before she brought her SUV to a stop. "Call the sheriff!" he yelled and ran toward the house.

Of course, Birdie was right behind him, calling 911 as she ran. She reached him as he scaled the front steps and stopped. He grabbed her, drawing her aside. "Do you smell gasoline?"

She nodded and pointed to the splattered wet spot on the weathered wood of the porch. "The sheriff is on his way." They exchanged a look that said they both feared he wouldn't get here in time.

Brand tried the front door. It was locked. A locked door in rural Montana? He really doubted any of the McKennas had locked the door when they left. Just as he didn't believe they had doused the place with gasoline.

There was only one reason for the kidnapper to lock the front door. He'd left something in there he didn't want anyone to get to.

Holly Jo.

"You don't happen to have a weapon in your rig, do you?" he asked.

"I'm the only weapon I've needed so far."

"Right," he said. "Please stay here and wait for the sheriff."

She gave him her you really don't expect me to do that, do you? look.

"I'm going around back. We have to find out if Holly Jo is in there."

"It's a big house. We need to split up," she said.

"Bad idea. We don't know where the kidnapper is."

If Birdie heard him, she didn't answer as she moved to a window and tried it. This was rural Montana. No one locked their windows either. She shoved it open—just as she had his bedroom window earlier—and before he could argue, she swung a leg up and over to drop into the room and disappear from view.

Brand swore and ran for the back of the house. On the way, he looked for something he could use as a weapon. He found a fallen limb from one of the cottonwood trees. It was a good three inches around and about two feet long. He hefted it as he kept racing toward the back door.

The moment he went around the corner of the house, he saw more smoke curling out of a broken window in the far wing. The smell of smoke and gasoline was stronger back here. Brand felt the clock ticking. He had to find Holly Jo. If the kidnapper had brought her here, then she was somewhere in the house. He had no idea where the kidnapper was but knew that the man might ignite the entire house at any moment.

At the back door, he felt the doorknob. Not hot yet. He opened the door and saw that it led into the dining room. Beyond it was the living room. And there was Holly Jo. She was tied to a chair, gagged and frantically trying to free herself.

When she saw him, her eyes widened first in alarm, then in hope. Both were heartbreaking to see in the girl as Brand rushed to her, the smell of gasoline filling his nostrils as if the kidnapper had drenched the entire house in it.

"I'm Brand Stafford. It's going to be all right," he promised her even as she shook her head as if no longer believing that. He set down the limb he'd picked up and removed her gag before hurriedly trying to untie her. She'd been bound to the large chair and tied to a metal ornament on a log coffee table.

"He's going to come back!" she cried. "He'll catch you and kill you. He has a gun!"

"It's okay," he said, realizing that there wasn't time to untie her. "I'm going to get you out of here."

She began to cry, shaking her head, then staring behind him as if she expected the kidnapper to appear at any moment. He felt the prickle on the back of his neck, worried that she was right. Her kidnapper had wound yards of rope around her, tying intricate knots as if determined that she wasn't going to be set free in time.

Brand pulled out his pocketknife, but he wasn't even sure he could free her by cutting some of the rope away. He began sawing at the thick rope binding her not just to the chair, but to the huge coffee table next to her.

As he tried to reassure Holly Jo, he worried that Birdie might have already crossed paths with the gun-toting kidnapper. He hadn't heard a gunshot, but would he have, given how noisy the fire was? Smoke rolled up the hallway and began filling the living room. He figured the flames wouldn't be far behind. If he could have freed the chair from the heavy coffee table, he would have carried it out of the house. No doubt the kidnapper had thought of that, expecting someone to try to stop him and save Holly Jo.

He'd cut through a half dozen of the ropes around her and was trying to pull one free when he saw Holly Jo's eyes go wide. She opened her mouth and screamed, "No!"

Brand still had the pocketknife in his hand as he swung around. He only caught a glimpse of the man before the butt end of a gun slapped into the side of his head. The blow stunned him. He fumbled with his free hand for the tree branch he'd dropped by Holly Jo's feet while he struck out with the knife.

At the kidnapper's cry of pain, he drove the blade deeper into the man's thigh and tried to avoid another blow. He'd knocked the man a little off balance, and yet the next blow dropped Brand to his knees.

As his vision began to darken, he spotted Birdie. He opened his mouth to warn her. Behind him he heard Holly screaming right before everything went black.

B IRDIE HAD WORKED her way through the house looking for Holly Jo. There had been so many doors to open, so many rooms to do a quick search in. She'd heard the roar of the fire growing louder, her heart pounding as time raced by. If you don't find her soon... The words were like a mantra keeping time with her running footfalls.

She'd searched the entire wing before coming out in the living room to a scene that threatened to stop her heart. Holly Jo tied to a chair. Brand knocked to the floor, unmoving. All she could think was that she had to get to him. Get to him and the girl.

Holly Jo screamed as she saw Birdie, her eyes wide with alarm and fear—and warning.

Birdie's first impulse was to attack. The kidnapper's back was turned. He seemed to be holding his thigh as if in pain. She lunged forward, already moving toward the man, when she saw what the kidnapper had in his hand. A gun.

She slid to a stop on the wet floor, her gaze going to Holly Jo, who seemed to be motioning with her head for Birdie to hide.

H OLLY J O FELT her throat close, the last of a scream dying on her lips as she looked from Brand Stafford lying face down on the floor to Darius standing over him. She told herself not to look in the woman's direction for fear Darius would see her. Someone had said her name was Birdie Malone. She liked the name Birdie, so she'd remembered it.

She wanted to scream again, afraid he was going to kill the man who'd come to save her. Darius stared down at Brand Stafford for a moment, then pocketed the gun. She'd seen Brand around too, though she hadn't known his name, only that he was from the Stafford Ranch and that no one over there liked the McKennas.

Her kidnapper was bleeding and whimpering as he pressed a hand over his thigh and blood rushed over his fingers. He swore and picked up the gas can he'd been carrying when he'd hit Brand with his gun.

At a sound deep in the house, he frowned. "Stay here," he said to her. As if she was going anywhere. He turned and started up the stairs, sloshing gas over the steps as he went.

Holly Jo waited until Darius disappeared upstairs before she looked in the direction where she'd last seen Birdie. She wasn't there. What if she didn't come back? The smoke from the burning wing was growing thicker. It hurt to breathe. She looked down at Brand. Was he dead? She didn't think so. She thought he was still breathing. She strained against the ropes binding her. He'd managed to cut some of them away, but not enough. She tried to nudge him with her foot. She touched his leg, but he didn't move.

Then she spotted the pocketknife. If she could reach it, drag it to her...

As she pulled harder, one of the loops of rope gave from where he'd cut it. She realized she might be able to get free. Darius had gone out of his way to tie her securely, no doubt determined that this time she wasn't getting away.

She pulled harder and was able to wiggle one hand free, then the other. She began to work frantically at getting her ankles free. Any moment Darius could come back down those stairs. Brand had cut enough of the rope that she was able to unwind most of it, but there was one piece tied to the coffee table that would not give. She was fighting it when Birdie came out of the smoke like an apparition from the hallway to the kitchen. She had what appeared to be a wet towel wrapped around her face, two more in one hand and a large butcher knife in the other. Holly Jo wasn't even sure she was real until she fell to her knees and said, "Wrap this towel around your mouth and nose to keep out the smoke."

Holly Jo watched her put the other towel over Brand's face as he began to stir on the floor. Then the woman began to cut the rope—just as Holly Jo heard Darius coming back.

He was halfway down the stairs when he looked down and saw Birdie. In his surprise, he splashed gas from the can onto his pant leg. Holly Jo saw his face tighten in fury. Birdie hadn't seemed to notice; she was too busy cutting the rope with the huge knife.

But Holly Jo saw his look. She knew what the man was capable of even as she felt the rope binding her loosen and begin to fall away.

"No!" she screamed as she saw Darius fumbling in his pocket for his gun. "No!"

He staggered a little on the stairs as he dropped the gas can, the flammable liquid splashing over his feet as he hurried to get his gun from his pocket. She saw that one of his pant legs was dark with blood and now gas. He jerked the gun out, but at the same time, he pulled out something else.

Holly Jo didn't see what it was at first, but the object caught his attention as it fell to the carpeted step he was standing on and the puddle of gasoline he'd spilled. It wasn't until she heard a whoosh that she realized what had happened. He'd accidentally dropped his lighter, flicking it on as it fell, setting the lower part of his pants on fire, then falling to the gasoline-soaked stairs.

Flames seemed to leap all around him. She heard him cry out and begin to run down the stairs, the fire chasing him like a mad dog. She saw flames lick at his heels and the hem of his jeans, climbing higher. He tumbled down the last few steps, slapping at the flames engulfing his clothing as he found his feet and ran toward the front door of the house.

The flames rippled across the floor after him like a river of fire and smoke. Fueled by the gas that had soaked into the old wood floor, the fire rushed after him as if in a race. He reached the front door and tried to open it. Holly Jo remembered that he'd locked it, saying he didn't want to be interrupted before he finished what he had to do.

She saw the flames catch him, racing up his back. Over the roar of the inferno, the last thing Holly Jo heard was Darius's screams as he unlocked the door and threw himself out past the porch and into the yard, taking fire with him.

A S THE SHERIFF raced down the county road, he could see the flames on the other side of the stand of cottonwoods. They rose high into the air as if licking at the sky darkening around them. Smoke billowed up in ebony clouds.

The McKenna Ranch house was on fire—just as Stuart had feared.

Siren screaming, lights flashing, he made the turn down the long drive, praying there was no one inside.

That was when he saw the kidnapper's pickup parked out front. To his horror, as he pulled into the yard, a figure engulfed in flames came running out of the house to fall into the grass.

The sheriff leaped out and ran to the blackened creature, seeing at once that it was too late. He rose quickly and ran toward the burning house as he heard fire trucks coming up the road behind him.

T HE STAIRCASE WAS ABLAZE , the smoke getting thicker. The flames rippled down the stairs to the hardwood floor. All the time Darius had been spilling gas on the stairs, Birdie had been working frantically to cut the rope. Holly Jo felt it finally give. She was free!

"Keep the wet towel over your nose and mouth," Birdie whispered next to her ear. "Get down on your hands and knees and crawl toward the front door."

For a moment, Holly Jo didn't know which direction to go. Birdie pushed her toward the door, yelling over the sound of the flames. "I'll be right behind you."

All she could think about as she dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl, each breath painful and making her cough, was Darius. She felt bad for him, even though she knew that he had planned to leave her in the burning house. He'd never planned to take her home. She was his revenge. Setting the house ablaze was just icing on the cake, HH would have said.

She thought of HH now, the smoke burning her throat even through the wet towel, the heat making her feel like she was on fire. Darius hadn't poured gas on the floor in the living room, but the fire moved hungrily toward her from the staircase. She realized that if she didn't reach the front door, the fire wouldn't kill her. It would be the smoke.

On the floor behind her, she heard Birdie and Brand. Coughing, she covered her mouth with the hem of her dirty, blood-splattered shirt and kept crawling, afraid she would never find the front door.

Moments later, Birdie and Brand were helping her to her feet. The three of them, arms wrapped around each other, moved through the smoke and out into the fresh air as the sheriff ran toward them.

"Is there anyone else inside?" the sheriff cried.

They all shook their heads as they stumbled away from the house, into the cottonwoods, sucking in air, coughing and finally dropping into the grass as they fought to breathe. The sound of sirens and fire trucks couldn't drown out the roar of the flames. Holly Jo could hear crashing inside the house, feel the heat even this far way.

She lay in the grass, staring up at the darkness filled with sparks and smoke. She was alive. It didn't seem possible. For so long, she'd thought for sure that no one would find her, no one would rescue her from her kidnapper, no one would ever be able to get to her in time.

"Holden," she said between coughing bouts.

"He's fine," Brand said. "Everyone from the ranch is fine."

She nodded, fighting tears. "My horse," she said, her voice a scratchy whisper.

"The horses are fine," Brand assured her. "The flames are far enough away from the stable."

She closed her eyes and began to cry in huge body-shaking sobs. As she did, Birdie put her arms around her and pulled her close. "You're safe now. You're safe."

When the EMTs insisted on taking all three of them to the hospital, it was Brand who said, "Holly Jo needs to see her horse first." The EMT started to argue.

"You have no idea what this girl has been through. She sees her horse first."

Holly Jo saw Birdie smile at him and Brand reach over to squeeze her hand.

"You'll come with me," Holly Jo said, not wanting to let either of them out of her sight. They'd saved her life. She still couldn't believe it as she looked toward the house engulfed in flames even as the firefighters pumped water over it.

If it hadn't been for them, she would have still been inside there—on fire.