Steven James - The Knight

The fire climbed the wall to my left, toward the hayloft.

I scanned the barn but couldn’t see any way for me to get out. I knew the horse could gallop through the burning hay, but I’d be lucky to make it as far as the cage.

I reached for the latch and studied the chains holding up the cage.

The opening from the sliding doors is nearly three meters high.. .

The horse stamped and circled. “Open the gate!” Cheyenne yelled.

You can’t make the shot, Pat. Not from here.

No, but Cheyenne can.

I pointed to the length of chain attached to the corner of the cage closest to me. “Shoot the base of the chain!”

“What?”

“The chain. The closest one. Shoot it at the base!” Holding on wouldn’t be easy, but it’d be a lot easier than crawling upside down across the ceiling of my garage.

She gave me a puzzled look, then I pointed to the fire snaking up the wall toward the hayloft, and at last it registered. She drew her gun. “Open the latch!”

“But-”

“Do it!”

I threw open the gate, but instead of taking aim she kicked the horse into a flat-out gallop.

No!

Now I’ll never get As the Appaloosa raced through the blaze, Cheyenne swung her gun to the right and fired four shots at the chain as they passed the cage.

A clang.

The cage’s corner dropped to the ground, and the chain nearest me swung free.

This woman could shoot a gun.

The chain would be too hot to touch and probably too short to reach the ladder’s base, so I grabbed one of the horse blankets and dashed toward the cage.

I reached the cage and whipped the end of the horse blanket around the chain. Cinched it tight and ran back to the hayloft pulling the chain with me.

Holding the blanket, I climbed the ladder. The flames that were snaking up the wall raced me to the hayloft.

I scrambled onto the landing and stood. Stared across the barn.

I had a straight shot from the loft to the sliding doors, and the opening was high enough, but I’d need to avoid hitting the other chains and keep my feet above the flames raging across the floor.

But I could do it.

Maybe.

Flames began to finger their way over the edge of the hayloft and lick at the hay around my feet.

You need to go. Now.

I moved the blanket up the chain. Squeezed it.

Took a deep breath.

And jumped.

I swung through the barn.

Gauged my timing. Waited.

Flung my body toward the opening.

And let go.

I landed hard on my left side just beyond the edge of the flames, and rolled out the door, through the dirt, rolled, rolled away from the blaze until at last, I pushed myself to my feet and scrambled into the field.

The heat chased me, but with every stride it grew less fierce, less intense.

A quick breath.

Another.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the barn erupt into a ball of flame that mushroomed into the deep blue Colorado sky. A gust of heat swooped over me, and I had to cover my face with my arm and turn my back to the fire.

When I looked up I saw Cheyenne about five meters away, hurrying toward me, leading the Appaloosa. She’d managed to get Thomas off the horse, and he was leaning against a fence post nearby. “Pat!” she called. “Are you OK?”

“I’m all right.” Looking toward the barn, I saw that the gray Infiniti was gone. “You?”

She nodded and let go of the halter. The horse left and joined its partner, who was already more interested in nibbling grass than watching the burning barn. Although they each had some singed hair, thankfully neither animal looked seriously injured.

Police sirens wailed through the neighboring canyons.

If John was in the Infiniti, we might be able to catch him leaving the property.

I pulled out my cell but discovered it was cracked and dead. I must have smashed it when I landed and rolled away from the fire. Cheyenne noticed and handed me hers.

“Thanks.” I tapped in Kurt’s number and stepped away from Bennett so I could talk in private.

Kurt answered before I could say a word. “Cheyenne, we’re on our way.”

“It’s Pat,” I explained. “Cheyenne’s here with me. Listen, we’re looking for a male Caucasian, medium build, dressed in blue jeans and a gray shirt.” I gave him the plate numbers for the Infiniti.

“Gotcha. I’ll pass it on.”

Then, a thought. “Wait. He changed clothes once. He might have changed again. And it’s possible there are two men.”

“OK.”

I oriented myself to the steep, thickly forested terrain surrounding the ranch and considered the most recent research on the rational choice patterns of fleeing suspects. “If he’s on foot,” I told Kurt, “he’ll tend to bear right and favor southern slopes. He’ll head downhill. If he’s still in the car, tell your officers to look for him to take a left on Piney Oaks Road, then two rights. He’ll avoid the first on ramp to the highway-”

“Pat,” he said. He sounded a little annoyed. “We’re on it.”

“Have Colonel Freeman circle the area. What about road blocks, other air support?”

“Done.”

I looked at the barn. “And send a fire truck. He burned down the barn. No known casualties.” But even as I said the words I realized that by the time a fire suppression unit arrived, it’d be too late to do any good. Still, it seemed best to have a fire truck on site just in case. “And have the Arapaho forest station send a firefighter unit in case this fire decides to spread.”

“I’ll call it in,” Kurt said. “See you in a minute.” We ended the call, and I handed Cheyenne her phone.

“I was coming back for you,” she said softly. She was close enough now for me to see the intense concern on her face. “I thought maybe you…”

“He tried to kill me,” Thomas called to us.

We went to him, and as I walked, I realized that landing on my side hadn’t helped my bruised ribs feel better, but I reassured myself that it hurt a lot less than being burned alive.

Kneeling beside him, I noticed that he’d suffered first- and second-degree burns on the right side of his face, neck, and arm, but he didn’t appear to have any third-degree burns or life-threatening injuries. “Are you all right?” I asked.

He nodded stiffly.

“You’re safe now. Help will be here soon.”

He stared at me somewhat suspiciously. “You a cop?”

“FBI. I’m Special Agent Bowers. Did you get a look at the man who attacked you?”

The swirling lights of squad cars and several ambulances appeared on the potholed road leading to the ranch.

Thomas shook his head. “Wore a mask.” His voice was strained. “Was he in there? Is he dead?”

No, the car is gone.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Listen to me, Thomas, was it possible there were two men?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.” His hand was quivering. He turned to Cheyenne. “My wife. You’re sure she’s safe?”

“The police are on their way to your house. She’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry,” I said to him. “We’ll get the man who did this.”

Cheyenne stepped away to signal to the patrol units where we were.

“He was gonna kill me,” Thomas muttered. “He drugged me. Knocked me out.”

He seemed to be speaking to me from another place. “Thomas, did he say anything about the drugs he used on you? Do you know what they were?”

Thomas shook his head and repeated himself. “He was gonna kill me.”

I patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. The paramedics will be here in a minute.”

He took a choppy breath and nodded and watched the emergency vehicles rumble toward us.