All around him, his cowhands slapped furiously at the ground with whatever they could get their hands on. Big-Foot Harry and Beanpole Tom pounded the flames with shovels. Faces streaked with soot and ashes, they looked like warriors on the warpath.

Rusty rode up on his horse and tossed burlap bags to the men. Chase dropped his tattered shirt and grabbed a bag midair. Thick, scorching smoke burned his eyes, and a sharp, tangy smell seared his lungs, but there was no time to think of physical discomforts.

Loud bellows of panicky cows and frightened calves drowned out the shouts and curses of the cowhands beating the earth with frantic blows. Despite their efforts, the wind scattered the embers, and flames continued to spread.

Lightning forked the sky, followed by loud booms that jarred the earth. Rusty’s startled horse reared up on its hind legs, throwing its rider.

Cursing beneath his breath, Chase ran toward the fallen man and dropped on his knees by his side. “Rusty!”

Rusty’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t speak. He looked dazed and had a nasty bump on his head.

“I’ll take him back,” Boomer said, waving Big-Foot Harry over. “We need a hand over here!”

While the two men struggled to lift Rusty off the ground, Chase picked up his burlap bag and set to work again. He was now down three men, and the fire continued to spread.

He beat the flames until his arms ached. Fire licked at his boots and the legs of his trousers. Sweat ran down his face and bare chest. Somehow, they had to keep the flames from reaching the taller grass next to the outbuildings. Gasping for air, he stopped to catch his breath. That was when he saw her.

Emily.

Only her small size allowed him to recognize her through the thick smoke. What in the name of Sam Hill…?

Fearing for her safety, he rushed to her side and snatched the burlap bag out of her hands.

“Go!” His throat was raw and his voice hoarse. Not giving her a chance to argue, he repeated his command. “I said, go!” The last thing he needed was to worry about her getting injured.

Her spine stiffened, and the stubborn look he’d come to dread suffused her face. “I’m not leaving.”

His anger flared. He didn’t have time to argue. “I mean it, Emily.” He was yelling now but didn’t care. “It’s dangerous. Now go!”

“I’m not going,” she yelled back. “This is my home too!”

Stunned by her words, he stared at her, speechless. It took him a full moment before he could find his voice again.

“Do…do you mean that?” he stammered. “About this being your home?”

She drew in her breath as if she too had been surprised, even moved, by the words that had fallen from her lips. “I mean it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Dropping the burlap bag, he cleared the distance between them. He took her in his arms and spun her around. “You’ll never know how much I wanted to hear you say that.” Setting her down, he gazed at her, his heart feeling as if it would burst with joy.