* * *

That afternoon, Emily found Ginny seated at the dining room table.

“Look,” Ginny said, holding up a sheet of paper, a wide smile on her face. She had drawn a picture of a cow, and Emily was amazed. Chase had described the cow down to the patch on her forehead, and Ginny had accurately captured the image.

She still marveled at Chase’s patience with Ginny and how he had allowed her to touch the cow from the tip of her nose all the way to the swishing tail.

“What a lovely picture,” Emily said. “We must hang it on the wall.”

Ginny laid the paper down and smoothed it flat with the palm of her hand.

A flash of light drew Emily’s gaze to the window. Swirling clouds drifted over the distant hills, accompanied by a bright bolt of light. The storm was still too far away for the thunder to be heard.

“It’s lightning, isn’t it?” Ginny asked.

The child never failed to amaze her. “Now how do you know that?”

“The air feels different,” Ginny said. “It feels heavy and tingly.”

“It’s dry lightning,” Cookie said from the kitchen doorway. “The worst kind.”

“I know what lightning looks like,” Ginny said and made a zigzagging gesture with her finger.

A bright flash drew Emily’s gaze back to the window. She worried about Chase. People were known to be struck by lightning. As always, his number one concern would be for the cattle, not himself. Even Cookie looked worried.

Leaving Ginny to her drawing, Emily walked outside and stood on the veranda to watch the dark sky. The air had taken on a greenish tint and had a sweet, pungent smell. The wind had picked up slightly. A thunderbolt stabbed the ground, followed by a bright upward flash and the low rumble of thunder. Nature was putting on quite a show.

After watching the northern sky for several minutes, Emily started back to the house, but something stopped her. Something had changed, but what?

She returned to the veranda railing and quickly spotted the column of smoke rising from the ground even before she smelled it.

Gasping, she clutched her hands to her chest and watched in horror as the smoke began to spread.

31

Chase beat the flames with the shirt off his back, his bare chest glistening with sweat. Fanned by the wind, the fire spread quickly across the dry grass.

Bolts of lightning zigzagged to the ground, followed by the crash of thunder.

Bright-orange tongues licked at a wagon, and the bales of hay stacked on the flatbed quickly caught fire.

Cattle had been moved away from the metal barbed-wire fences, but they were still in danger of being struck. Last year, the ranch had lost five cattle to lightning.

Chase’s present worry was for the pen that housed the new mothers and their offspring. If the wind grew any stronger, the outbuildings might go up in flames, and fire could spread as far as the main house.