Echoes of Danger

“Okay, but why? Why do we need a tent, huh, Dana?”

Her eyes held a determined glint. “We’re going to sleep there tonight.”

“All right!” He danced around in a small circle. “In case they come back?”

“You got it, bud.”

Stephen regained his spunk, strutting around with a new purpose. “You gonna use the shotgun, Dana? We ain’t supposed to play with guns. No guns for Stephen.”

“I just might have to break that rule this once,” she said, her tone firm while her heart skipped and swayed like the beaten bluestems nearby. “I’ll show them they can’t get the best of us.”

The prairie at night was a live thing. Like a great rippling snake, the flat fields around the house slipped and curved and moved in a slithering symmetry. The new wheat and bluestems parried and tangled together in the whining wind, the cottonwoods moaned a soft, rustling lullaby, whispering their secrets to the bright stars that looked so close, Dana thought surely she could reach out and grab one for herself.

She’d never wished upon a star before, but tonight as she lay inside the small close confines of the sturdy tent they’d erected and stared out the opening to the night sky, she picked the evening star, and she said a little prayer for guidance, for strength, for control. Please, God, let my troubles be over. Let me find some peace, let me do the right thing, for Stephen, for myself. Let me do it right, for Mom and Dad.

She’d been thinking about moving to Kansas City for a long time. Tony called at least once a week, telling her of all the fun he was having, the restaurants, the parties, the entertainment, the wonderful social life. “You’re missing out, Dana. This is where the action is.”

Yeah, right. She knew Tony Martin. His only social life consisted of his computers and the Internet. The man lived and breathed technology. It had landed him a great, good-paying job, but it didn’t leave much room for real relationships. He was like a piece of shining tin, brilliant and gleaming on the outside, but shallow and hollow on the inside.

Which is why Dana had turned down his invitation to marry him and come live with him in the big city. Tony didn’t have an ounce of romance in him. Since he’d never taken the hint and even remotely tried to woo Dana back, since he just didn’t get that she had to have more than a live-in computer genius, since he had never once thought about anyone but himself, she’d sent him on his way, alone.

Tony was married to his work, plain and simple. He didn’t have an inkling of what was involved in hearts and flowers, and he certainly didn’t have the patience to deal with a slightly autistic, hyper preteen boy who had the emotional maturity of a seven-year-old. Stephen was one of the main reasons she and Tony weren’t together. They’d never discussed it; he’d never come right out and told her, but she knew by his words and actions that Tony didn’t want to deal with Stephen. Tony wanted her. He didn’t want her little brother.

But he was a good friend in spite of their breakup a couple of years ago, and he did have connections. And Stephen could thrive there with the proper therapy and some new doctors who actually understood his condition. Maybe it was time to cut her losses and head to Kansas City.

She glanced over toward the murky white silhouette of the Universal Unity Church, sitting in the distance like a giant piece of rock candy. The place had suffered little to no damage in the storm. Her neighbor’s good luck had held. And the strangest part, Caryn Roark had sent over two young girls with clothes and food for Dana and Stephen. She’d even extended an invitation for Dana and Stephen to stay at the church compound until they were back on their feet. Dana had declined the invitation, her memories of the meeting she’d had with Caryn Roark still fresh in her mind.

“We’re the only ones left,” Dana said again, wondering where Caryn got all the money to finance her operation. The woman was generous to a fault with the community, and that was part of what worried Dana about her neighbor. Caryn seemed to expect favors in return. “Something just doesn’t set right over there.”

Oh, well, soon it wouldn’t matter to Dana. Soon, she supposed, she and Stephen would be moving on. Once the dust settled and she found out just how much she had left and how much she could sell to make a little moving money, at least. After paying off her debts, she’d take her pittance and start over fresh somewhere else.

Only, in her heart, she wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight, even if she didn’t have much fight left. She didn’t think she had the courage or the fortitude to face such a formidable task. And she wasn’t about to go begging for charity, whatever Caryn Roark’s intentions were.

Instinctively she touched a hand to Stephen’s head, gently pushing a tuft of thick golden hair off his brow. The boy sighed again and flipped to his side in his Kansas City Royals sleeping bag.

Left alone with the stars and her worries, Dana again thought about the man named Bren. Bren. An unusual name for an unusual man. Definitely not a standard Kansas-type name. But then, she’d known from the start that Bren wasn’t from Kansas. Touching the pocket of her jeans, she remembered she had his card tucked inside. She’d kept it there, close, instead of putting it in the bottomless pit of her shoulder bag.

He’d said he’d help her. She’d been taught not to ask for help. It was going to be a long, lonely night. Or so she thought.

A creaking noise off in the distance grass made Dana’s head come up. A prickling of fear, like needles hitting the center of her spine, warned her that someone was nearby. She listened, her breath stopping, her eyes trying to penetrate the darkness, one hand on Stephen and the other one on the shotgun lying next to her left thigh.

Then everything shifted and moved. The night came to life as a brilliant light glistened near the farmhouse. A minute later an acrid smell drifted out over the prairie.

Fire. Someone was trying to burn what remained of her house!

Grabbing the shotgun, Dana pulled up out of the tent like a madwoman. “Hey, you—”

Her words were cut off by the shots that rang out into the night. Only, Dana hadn’t fired her gun yet.

Rolling back inside the tent, she hushed the now-wide-awake Stephen. “Stay down and stay quiet. Somebody’s trying to shoot us!”

Stephen buried himself inside his sleeping bag, his breath coming in great, scared huffs as his body rocked against the ground in a nervous fidget. “Dana?”

“I’m right here, sport. Just do what you’re doing. Stay hidden and don’t move.”

She watched as the fire grew stronger, leaping and dancing like a laughing demon toward the front of the house. Aiming her gun at anything, hoping to scare the intruders away, she pulled the trigger and waited for the old shotgun’s kick to bruise her shoulder. The lone shot exploded into the night. Dana sucked in the smell of gunpowder with each deep, frantic breath she took.

Then she took one long breath and shouted, “Get off my land!”

Silence from the intruder, hissing from the hungry fire.

Dana tried to raise up again, and another bullet whizzed by, this one coming from a closer angle. Stephen’s muffled cry only added to her own solid fear.

“What do you want?” Dana shouted to the wind.

A harsh laugh echoed through the night, but Dana got no answers to her question. Since Dana already had a sick inkling of who she was dealing with, the silence made her more mad than scared, even though deep down inside she knew she should be afraid.

“Leave us alone,” she called. “Can’t you just leave us alone!”

Dana heard laughter, then footfalls, as if someone were running away. Then only the hissing of the fire as it snaked up the porch railings.

A sick feeling shot through Dana’s stomach, making her want to retch. All sorts of horrible images ran through her mind. These people were mad! This wasn’t just kids out for kicks, and this certainly wasn’t a faith-abiding church like the one she’d always known. Caryn had threatened Stephen earlier and now Dana supposed she had sent her thugs to act on that threat. She had to find out if the other woman was doing this, and she had to keep Stephen safe.

“If it’s the land, you can have it,” she whispered, wishing she hadn’t been so direct yesterday with the crazed woman. But she had to wonder if there wasn’t something more here. Why would Caryn taunt her with threats against Stephen? She’d purposely pulled him out of school to avoid such teasing and taunts. These people didn’t even know Stephen.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Help us, please. She clutched Stephen close, soothing his keening cries with a murmured whisper. “It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She thought about calling for help on her cell phone, but realized it would take the volunteer firemen at least fifteen minutes to get here.

When she was sure it was safe, Dana pulled her brother’s covers off his head. “I’ve got to put out the fire, Stevie. Can you stay here?”

“No.”

Afraid to leave him alone, but even more afraid to take him out in the open, she wrapped an arm around him. “We’re going to crawl through the grass to the house.”

“Okay,” he said, this new challenge temporarily calming his earlier fears.

“We need to stop that fire from spreading,” she explained. She saw his eyes in the moonlight, saw the fear mirrored there inside him. “Stevie, you have to be brave. We’re going to get away from here and go to the sheriff.”

“Okay,” came the feeble reply. “I’ll be brave. Stephen can be brave.”

“Okay,” Dana echoed, the shotgun clutched close. “Stay low and stay right beside me,” she said as she inched her way out of the tent, belly-crawl fashion. The going was slow, and the fire was fast. The wind picked up, causing Dana to urge Stephen on beside her. Determined, she struggled to her feet, pulling Stephen up with her to run the last few yards. By the time they made it to the house, the whole remainder of the front porch was on fire. If she could only find the water hose.

They made it to the side of the house where a long spigot ran from the well to underneath the porch steps. Dana always kept a hose connected there to wash mud and dirt from their work boots.

Out of breath, her nerves tingling with fear and worry, she slid up the wall, still clutching her brother, spitting away the grass and dirt they’d gathered on the way. Behind them, the fire hissed and curled, its wrath causing beams to pop and aged frames to cave in like kindling.

“It’s all right, sport,” she said on a windy breath. “All I have to do is turn the water on and we can wash down most of the porch. Maybe we can save it.”

She stood, looking around to make sure the intruders were gone. Then she groped for the long thick noose of the hose, searching in the dark for the fat coil of rubber. Her hands reached out to emptiness. They’d disconnected the hose. It was nowhere in sight.