LIGHTS 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?
AS THE MCKENNA RANCH 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.
BIRDIE 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.
HOLLY JO 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.
