The Marshal's Ready-Made Family ; The Cattleman Meets His Match by Sherri Shackelford

Author:Sherri Shackelford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWO

Fear spiraled through Moira’s stomach and shot to her knees, weakening her stance. She’d gone and done it now.

The cowboy was easily two paces behind the kidnapper. Feinting right, she swept the handle around and batted her attacker’s legs. The man staggered and his arms windmilled. His left hand smashed against a hanging lantern. Glass shattered and sparks showered over the hay-strewn floor. Like a wild animal set loose, brilliant orange flames spread across the dry kindling. Astonished by the sudden destructive force, she staggered back a step.

In light of this new threat, Moira tossed aside the pitchfork and stomped on the rapidly spreading danger.

“Get back!” John hollered.

The kidnapper’s face twisted into a contorted mask of rage.

He pointed at Moira through the growing wall of smoke separating them. “It’s fitting you’ll die in fire, you little hoyden.”

With another shouted curse he pivoted toward the exit. Midstride, his right foot caught the curved tongs of Moira’s discarded pitchfork. The handle sprang upright and ricocheted off his forehead. The kidnapper’s expression morphed into a comical mask of astonishment before going slack. He stumbled back a step, jerked and collapsed. A soft cloud of hay dust billowed around his motionless body.

Moira stifled a shocked peal of laughter.

The cowboy gaped. “You are a menace.”

Her sudden burst of hysterics dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. Flames licked across the floor, belching black smoke in their wake.

Moira waved her hand before her face. “Stop bickering and help me put out the fire. I’ll get, I’ll…”

She stumbled over her words and her feet as she dashed back into the stall.

She lifted the sacks, revealing four flushed faces. “Fire! Everybody up. Help me beat out the flames.”

The girls scrambled from their hiding place and dutifully rushed past, each of them snatching a sack in turn.

Using his coat, the cowboy had already doused two of the smaller fires. “Wet those sacks first!” he shouted.

Without needing instruction, Moira and Tony doused their sacks and joined him. Hazel tugged a heavy bucket of water from a nearby stall. Sarah met her halfway and together they hoisted it into the air and dumped the contents onto a pile of glowing embers. The water hissed and steamed over the scorched ground. Darcy flitted around the edges, snapping her damp sack and adding more fuel than help.

The horses whinnied and kicked at their stalls. Tony opened the enclosure nearest the fire, then covered the horse’s eyes with a scrap of cloth.

A panicked shout announced the arrival of yet another man. He was old and grizzled, his back bent into a c and his arms no more than long, thin twigs jutting from his spare body. Judging by his muttered grumblings, Moira figured he was the Norwegian she’d heard earlier—the livery owner. He joined their efforts, stomping on the dying embers in a frantic jig.

Between the seven of them, they had the flames under control in short order. As the smoke dissipated, Moira kicked at the dusty floor, scraping away the top layer of ashes.

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