She wrapped her arms around her stomach, curling into a ball. Be safe, little one. She prayed silently to the life inside her. Be safe. Above them, the roar of the fire was like a living beast, devouring everything Elias had built.
Elias saw the smoke from the ridge. It rose like a black pillar against the dying sun, a stain on the perfection of the evening. His heart stopped, then hammered against his ribs with a violence that made him dizzy. Naya, he did not think. He spun his horse and drove his spurs into the animal's flanks.
The horse, sensing his rider's terror, launched into a dead run. They flew across the darkening plain, risking gopher holes and broken legs. Elias leaned forward, his face a mask of grim desperation. Every second felt like an hour. The smoke grew thicker, turning from a smudge to a billowing cloud.
As he crested the final hill, the scene unfolded before him like a vision of hell. The barn was fully engulfed. Flames licked 50 feet into the air, painting the yard in dancing orange light. The heat washed over him even from this distance. Harlan's men were circled around the burning structure, laughing, their rifles resting on their saddles.
Elias let out a roar that was not human. It was a sound of pure animal anguish. He rode straight into the yard, ignoring the men, ignoring the guns. He bailed off his horse while it was still moving, hitting the dirt and scrambling to his feet. "Naya!" he screamed, running toward the wall of fire.
"Hold it right there, Ward!" a voice shouted. A bullet kicked up dust near his boot, but Elias did not stop. He ran to the barn doors, but the heat drove him back. The entrance was a curtain of flame. Naya, he fell to his knees, coughing, the smoke searing his lungs.
He stared into the fire, his soul tearing in half. She was in there. He knew she was in there. Then, he heard it, a muffled sound, not a scream, but a rhythmic pounding. It was coming from the ground.
Thump, thump, thump. The root cellar. Elias scrambled up. He grabbed a horse blanket from a nearby rail, dunked it in the water trough, and threw it over his head. He charged into the burning barn.
The heat was unbearable. It felt like walking into the throat of a dragon. His skin blistered instantly. He could not see. He could only feel.
He stumbled over debris, guiding himself by memory toward the tack room. The roof was coming down. He could hear the main beam cracking. He found the corner. He fell to his hands and knees, feeling for the iron ring.