“Those idiots completely compromised the structure. We got the horses out, but one wall collapsed, trapping Nicole.”
“What?” Morgan shouted loud enough to be heard without a phone. “Is she all right? Do I need to call Adam?”
“She’s okay. Dusty but okay. We’ll call Adam later. Right now, this building won’t hold till morning. We’ve got to shore up the loft or the whole damn thing could come down.”
Morgan let out a sound that sounded something between a moan, sigh, and growl. “Got it.”
The sound of chairs moving and scraping against polished wood floors reached Ryan through the phone. He could hear his other brothers murmuring in the background, his Uncle Sean could be heard spouting orders.
From where he and Nicole stood, slowly inching their way over the mounds of debris, the creaking continued overhead. He prayed they weren’t going to lose the roof. “You’d better…” Ryan didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence, another sonic crack sounded in warning, like a snow cliff before an avalanche. No time to run, or to hide. Throwing himself over Nicole, his arms wrapping around her, he did his best to cover her entire body with his. Another crack and a heavy weight knocked the phone from his hand, the screen glowing a mocking blue in the distance. Shooting pains stabbed at his back, the roaring sound drowning out Morgan’s words. “Ryan? Ryan! Answer me!”
Chapter Seventeen
Her fork suspended inches from her mouth, Mariah stilled as her sons transformed from dinner guests into a synchronized unit of desperate motion. The thunderous scrape of chair legs against the hardwood floor cut through the suffocating tension of the restaurant.
“Ryan? Ryan! Answer me!” Morgan’s roar into his cell phone echoed off the walls. Not waiting for a response that clearly wasn’t coming, he bolted for the door.
Quinn was a half-step behind, already thumbing his own phone. “Neil! Get Nora and come back to the livery now!” Quinn shouted into the receiver, his voice tight with an edge of panic Mariah had never heard. “The livery is collapsing. Ryan and Nicole are inside. We might need a nurse.”
“Damn,” her son’s voice came through the speaker loud and clear. “We’re on our way.”
“Hurry.” Quinn didn’t bother with polite goodbyes, he merely disconnected and kept moving.
A cold, paralyzing weight settled in Mariah’s chest. “My baby,” the words caught in Mariah’s throat. Pushing back from the table, her hands trembled so violently she had to grip the edge of the linen cloth to keep from stumbling.
A firm, warm hand settled on her forearm. Mariah looked down to see Eileen standing beside her. “Stay positive, Mariah,”her voice a grounding force amidst the rising chaos of the dining room. “We’re going to get them out. Every able bodied man is heading for that building right now.”
Pounding against the wooden boardwalk, the sound of their own footsteps was the only thing Mariah could hear as they raced down Main Street. The dusty West Texas air, once warm and welcoming, now felt like a shroud. They reached the livery just as a low, agonizing groan of splitting timber vibrated through the ground. The sound made the fine hairs on the back of Mariah’s neck stand on end.
The scene at the rear of the building was a nightmare of white dust and splintered wood. Like ants rushing to protect a disturbed mound, every man on the street seemed to be converging on the wreckage. Tools clanked against the concrete. The heavy thud of hydraulic jacks hitting the dirt punctuated the frantic commands being shouted.
“Jacks here! Move those two-by-fours!” Sean’s voice commanded from the center of the debris.
Mariah moved toward the gaping hole where the modern stable had stood. A hand caught her other elbow, slowing her progress. She turned, looking into the concerned eyes of Anne. The woman she’d resented for so many years.
“Stay close to us, Mariah,” Anne spoke softly, her tone almost reverent. “The men need space to work.”
“My baby,” she repeated, leaning into the support of the two women she’d spent a lifetime pushing away. Together, the three women eased their way into the shadowed interior of the original livery, staying well back from the shifting pile of the collapsed loft.
“Any idea where they are?” Sean looked to Morgan, his face coated in a layer of white pulverized plaster.
Mariah’s eldest boy shook his head, his hands occupied with a massive timber he was using to shore up a sagging joist. “Wecan’t get any closer until this section is stabilized or we’ll all be buried under the roof.”
All be buried.The words stabbed at Mariah like an ice pick. Sharp, precise, and painful. The seconds dragged on, the minutes limped by. How could her baby breathe under that mountain of mess?
“All right!” Quinn shouted. “Roof’s as stable as it’s going to get. Carefully, let’s find them. And whatever you do– stay clear of the temporary supports!”
Working from the outside edge in, careful not to stand on anything other than the concrete floor, frantic hands tossed bits and chunks of wood and plaster across the way. Sean calling Ryan and Nicole’s name every other minute.
“I can’t.” Breaking free from the two women who had stood at her side, Mariah threw herself to the ground at the pile’s edge and began working to free her son. It took a moment to see past the panic and notice that, just like before, on either side of her, the two women she’d resented all these years, worked at her side to free her son. What a crazy mess.
Gritty and thick, the dust coating Nicole’s tongue tasted like a century of pulverized plaster and stale cedar. She tried to inhale, but a heavy, unyielding pressure across her ribs made the simple act of breathing an exhausting victory. Blinking into the absolute darkness, memories returned in jagged, painful flashes. The red circles on the pine. George’s condescending snort. The final, thunderous roar of the ceiling raining down as the world turned white—or black.
A sharp, hot pulse radiated from her right arm, and her left knee felt as though it had been caught in a vice. She tried to shift,but the movement sent a white-hot spike of agony through her shoulder. “Ryan?”
The name came out as a raspy, weak thread. She waited, straining to hear over the pounding of her own heart. Silence. The darkness felt heavy, pressing against her eyes.
Reaching out with her good hand, her fingers didn’t find cold, splintered timber. They met the rough, warm denim of a work shirt and the solid, damp skin of a neck. The realization hit her harder than the fallen beams. The weight on her chest wasn’t the roof. It was Ryan. He’d thrown himself over her, a human shield against the crushing weight of the loft.
