Page 57 of Ashes of the Past
Did he really just tell me to stay put? Is he serious?
The sound of Barney’s frantic barking cuts through the stillness like a siren, and I’m already running before I fully process what’s happening. My bare feet slap against the porch steps as I sprint outside, the sharp chill of the night air stealing my breath. Smoke stings my nose, and the acrid tang of something burning sends a bolt of panic through me.
We haven’t had rain in a week. If the wind turns, that barn fire will take mine and Dad’s houses, not to mention the main barns and all of our equipment and crops.
“Olivia!” I shout, my voice cracking as I sprint toward Dad’s house.
Barney’s barking grows louder, echoing from inside the house. I throw the door open, and there’s Olivia standing in the hallway, rubbing her eyes, half-awake. Barney is at her feet, barking his head off.
“Why is it so bright?” she asks in confusion.
“The barn is on fire. Put Barney on his leash and get outside!” I yell, my voice sharper than I intend, but there’s no time for softness. She blinks, startled, but she moves quickly, grabbing the leash from the hook by the door. “Go toward the road and don’t look back until you’re there! Call 9-1-1!”
Her eyes widen as the urgency in my voice registers. “Okay, okay!” she says, fumbling with the leash before snapping it onto Barney’s collar. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t argue—she bolts out the door, Barney dragging her toward the driveway. Relief flickers through me, but it’s fleeting. I have to get Dad.
I race to his room, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Dad!” I shout, throwing the door open. He’s a heavy sleeper, and tonight is no exception. He’s sprawled on the bed, his breathing slow and steady, completely unaware of the chaos outside.
“Dad, wake up!” I grab his shoulder and shake him hard. He groans, swatting at me like I’m an annoying fly.
“Brynn? What the hell—” His voice is thick with sleep, but I don’t let up.
“The barn’s on fire! You have to get up!” I practically drag him upright, and the words seem to finally register. His eyes snap open, and he swings his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing for the jeans draped over a chair.
“Damn it,” he mutters, yanking on his clothes with practiced speed. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that I’m afraid it’s going to spread to the houses! Olivia’s calling 9-1-1. We have to get out of the house now!”
He doesn’t need more convincing. Within seconds, he’s dressed and following me out the door. The smell of smoke is stronger now, and the faint orange glow on the horizon sends a fresh wave of fear coursing through me.
Shit, this is bad. This is so bad.
Down the driveway, I can see Olivia and Barney, her phone, a small beacon of light in the darkness. She’s doing exactly what I told her.
Thank God she listens so well.
Dad and I hit the ground running, and by the time we reach the barn, the scene is chaos. Flames lick at the edges of the roof, casting eerie shadows over the ranch. The ranch hands are already there, working tirelessly. Buckets of water are being thrown, hoses dragged across the dirt, and shouts ring out as they coordinate their efforts.
This isn’t our main barn, but it houses our most expensive horses and three bulls. If the fire spreads before the fire department arrives, we could lose everything.
“Where’s Jack?” I shout to Nick as I scan the crowd.
He’s hauling a bucket of water, his face slick with sweat.
“He’s getting the animals out!” Nick yells back, jerking his head toward the barn. My stomach twists as I look around. I’ve seen almost all the ranch hands but not Jack.
The flames are climbing higher, the heat pressing against my skin even from a distance. The horses inside are screaming, their panic palpable. The ranch hands work with a precision born of experience, leading the animals out one by one, soothing them with calm voices and firm hands despite the chaos.
Dad is already in the thick of it, helping guide a panicked bull away from the barn. He’s shouting orders, his voice steady and commanding, but I can see the worry etched on his face.
“Brynn, stay back!” he calls over his shoulder, but I can’t. Not when Jack might still be inside.
“Where’s Jack?” I ask again, this time to anyone who will listen.
The ranch hands exchange glances and the unease in their expressions sends my heart plummeting. No one answers. No one knows.
“I saw him go inside,” Paulo says.
