“But Doc said she’s to stay in bed.”
“Damnation, woman! I said there’s fire comin’! Take my child and keep her safe!”
Ruth shook her head and reached a shaky hand toward him. “I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll take her. I’m not sure what I was thinking.” She paused. “What will you do?”
“Do what I can to keep my place safe from the flames. I need to drive the fire away from the house, toward the creek. If I lose this farm—” He couldn’t finish. If he lost the farm, he’d lose everything. He’d have no means to support the only child he had left.
Ruth extended her arm and cupped his cheek. Her touch was scalding, and his whole body responded.
“Garth, do what you must. But please come back safely. Mary Alice needs you.”
He nodded. True enough. Mary Alice needed him. But did Ruth? Somehow he wanted her to need him. “Take my buckboard and team. Go to your pa’s.” He paused. “Better yet, take her to town. Get a room at the hotel. I’ll reimburse you. You’ll be safer there than at another farm. I’ll come for you when I can.”
“I’ll send anyone I meet along the way to help you,” Ruth said. Her midnight eyes glistened with tears about to fall.
Garth’s heart lurched. Funny, he’d felt more in the week since he’d met this woman than he’d felt in years.
“Don’t cry. I’ll…be fine. I’ve been through worse.”
If she only knew…
“Once I get to town, I’ll tell the menfolk, too. They’ll help, Garth. Dugan is a good town.”
Damn, he wanted to pull her to him for a wet kiss. But he only nodded and walked out through the lean-to.
* * *
Sitting on the wooden plank seat of Garth’s buckboard, her derriere bumping with each thud of hooves, Ruth hurried the horses along. Mary Alice sat silently next to her, her lips trembling. A shiny tear emerged from one bronze eye and trickled down her cheek.
“Don’t fret, Mary Alice,” Ruth said. "Once we get to town, we’ll send all the menfolk out to help your pa. He’ll get that fire away from your house. Don’t you worry.”
“I…I don’t care about the house. Or anything. I just need Pa. He’s…all I have left.”
“Gracious.” Ruth steadied her breath. “Your pa will be fine.” Resisting the urge to look behind her at the smoky clouds, she cleared her throat. “What are your horses’ names, dear?”
“The spotted brown one is Hector and the tan one is Josephine.”
“What lovely names.”
“Hector was Pa’s brother. He died in the war.”
“Oh, my.” How much loss was one man supposed to take? “And Josephine?”
“I named her aft
er Jo from Little Women.”
“Oh, so you have read that story.” Ruth smiled.
“Yes, ma’am. About a year ago. A lady at a boardinghouse we stayed at lent it to me. Pa was doing some work for her. The horse’s name was Gingersnap when we got her. I guess ’cause she’s kinda the color of gingerbread. Pa said we could change their names since horses don’t know the difference anyway.”
“No doubt he’s probably right. I think Hector and Josephine are perfect names.”
The child’s lips turned into a shy smile. Good, Ruth had succeeded in getting Mary Alice’s mind off the fire. For a few moments, anyway.
Ruth shivered under the sweltering sun as her nerves skittered. So far, she hadn’t passed a single person to send to help Garth. The hour was nearing suppertime, and it was Sunday. Of course no one was about. But surely someone would smell the stench of the smoke.
A half hour later they rode into town. Ruth stopped the team in front of the small hotel, tied them to the hitching post quickly, and hurried Mary Alice inside.