Darci's Pride

Andrew’s gaze turned speculative. “Darci thinks…”

His cousin kept talking, but his words barely registered. Darci says. Darci thinks. Darci believes. It had been that way all evening. No matter where the conversation turned, it always twisted back to Darci Parnell.

And even a deaf man could have heard the admiration in Andrew’s voice.

“I’m so damned lucky to have her,” he said, and Tyler refused to let his fingers tighten against the glass. “She’s really giving me her all.”

Tyler bit back the hard sound that wanted to break from his throat. “She’s a go-getter,” he drawled. “Always known how to get exactly what she wants.”

Andrew stiffened, swore softly. “Christ, will you listen to me? I’m sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking. She told me about you two.” He stood, spread out his hands. “If having her around is a problem—”

“No problem at all,” Tyler assured. “You won’t find anyone who can do for you what she can.”

Somehow he didn’t choke on the words, and the image they immediately evoked, of Darci smiling as she pushed up on her toes and curved her arms around Tyler’s neck…

Andrew didn’t look convinced. “I’m not here to—”

Tyler lifted his hand. “It’s all good, mate. Darci is good, the fund-raiser is good…your campaign is good.”

The blue in Andrew’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. They looked like brothers, but they weren’t. They were cousins. An ocean had separated them most of their lives. They knew how to talk horses and campaigns, but that’s where it stopped.

Hell, even Shane didn’t bring up Darci Parnell.

But long after Tyler had gone upstairs, long after the big stone house had gone quiet, the scent of rose and powder overrode that of leather and sandalwood.

He should have slept. Sunrise would come whether he wanted it to or not, and with it a full day of training and finalizing security for LC. But sleep eluded him. He tried reading. He tried some of Peggy’s new age music. He tried another drink.

But the restlessness kept right on surging.

Shortly after one o’clock he turned out the lamp and resigned himself to counting wallabies.

He’d reached fifteen before the bullhorn broke the silence. He was on his feet before the red glow coming from his window registered. For one sickening second everything slowed, blurred—the shouting, the glow that turned into flames, the acrid intrusion of smoke.

The frantic scream of horses.

But just as quickly adrenaline punched through the haze and he was yanking on his jeans and his boots, grabbing a shirt as he lunged for the door.

Chapter Three

This was when he woke.

This was when he always, always pulled himself awake.

When he ran toward the fire. When the orgy of flames streaked against the night sky and the smoke poured from the windows, when the alarm kept droning against the normally quiet night, when the horses cried. That’s when he made the nightmare end, when any horseman would sit up drenched in sweat, heart slamming and breathing hard, shoving aside the residue of the nightmare. Before. Before they ran into the barn. Before they smelled the stench of burning—

Tyler didn’t wake up. Because he wasn’t asleep. And the strobe light pulsing against the night sky from the barn complex was not a drill.

“Jesus, God,” Andrew shouted from two steps behind, but Tyler kept right on running. They’d prepared for this, trained for this.

But it was instinct that took over, instinct that drove him straight for the flames shooting from Barn B—and the fifty-eight two- and three-year-olds trapped inside.

His staff was already there, grooms and trainers and exercise riders fighting the fire and wrestling the terrified horses out one at a time. If one horse spooked—

“The far pasture!” Tyler barked as he passed head groom Charlie Moore. “Make sure someone stays with them!”

Grim-eyed, Charlie nodded, and ran.

Both men knew what would happen if the horses were not contained. They would try to return to the barn, their home. Where they felt safe.

It had happened before.

“Where’s Daniel?” he shouted above the pulse of the bullhorn.

“Inside!” Mac, another groom, answered. “He called 000, then went in!”

Tyler didn’t hesitate. The bush fire brigade was on the way, but there was no time to wait. Sucking in a sharp breath, he grabbed a flame-retardant blanket and ran into the darkness, veering left while Andrew went right. Flames greedily consumed the center section, where they kept the tack.

Trying not to inhale, he ran down the corridor until he found an occupied stall. Halters and lead ropes hung outside each, illuminated by glow-in-the-dark tape. Coughing, he lunged in and reached for the horse.

“Hey there, mate. No worries now,” he rasped, pretending everything was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. “How about a little nighttime walk?”

Whinnying, the colt shuffled deeper into the illusion of safety offered by his stall.

From the ceiling, flames curled downward. “Easy now,” Tyler choked out, and this time he used more force, draping the horse in the blanket and urging him from the stall.

The burning in his lungs demanded that he run, but Tyler kept his movements contained, measured. If the horse sensed his alarm—

On a fresh burst of adrenaline, he staggered into the night, tried to breathe. But it was smoke that he dragged into his lungs.

“I got him,” one of the young trainers said, falling into the assembly line evacuation plan they’d designed, but never thought to use. Only Tyler and Daniel and a few others were designated to be in the barn. That would keep the process as orderly as possible. Everyone had a place, a role. Rescue horses. Secure them. Fight the fire. If someone turned up missing—

Simultaneously Andrew and Daniel staggered from the cloud of smoke, each wrestling an antsy horse.

“Ty!” came an urgent voice, and then his brother, Shane, was there, running toward him. “I came as fast as I—”

“The pasture!” Tyler called. “Make sure none of the horses—”

A loud groan killed his words, followed by a long, tearing crack, then a crash somewhere inside the barn…and the panicked scream of a horse.

“No!” Charlie roared, but before Tyler found the groom, a thrashing Appaloosa broke from the direction of the pasture toward the barn. Charlie bolted after him. “Someone get him!”

Tyler started toward the horse, but Shane took off first, grabbing the horse’s lead as he reared up against the flames.

“Got him!” Shane cried, fighting to bring the panicked animal under control.

Tyler pivoted back to the barn where another trainer dragged two more horses into the marginally clearer air.

In the distance, the blare of the fire engines merged with the bullhorn. From the main road, the lights of several cars and trucks could be seen racing toward the ranch.