Chapter Eleven

Pain clogged Samantha's throat, stealing her voice as Zachary paced angrily back and forth, his hat clutched in one hand while he growled unintelligibly under his breath and shoved his other hand through his thick black hair over and over.

Tortured was the only word to describe the expression on his rugged face. Guilt ripped Samantha apart. This was her fault. She never should have let the fire get so big, she should have cleaned better, she shouldn't have let Zachary see this...

Stepping toward him, determined to help, Samantha was stopped when Timothy grabbed her arm gently. Turning her questioning gaze to him, he gave a quick shake of his head. "Leave him be... I've never seen him like this..."

Was Timothy worried that Zachary would hurt her? Should Samantha be worried that Zachary would hurt her. She looked at Zachary again and pulled her arm from Timothy's grasp. "I'll be fine."

She was not afraid of Zachary. Call it instinct, call it naivety, but something inside of her simply knew that she could trust the man. The way he had grabbed her at the door, the way he had held her so gently and yet so firmly against his strong, broad chest, the way he had buried his face in her hair and whispered gruffly—no, Samantha was not afraid of Zachary. And right now, he needed her.

She went to him and laid her hand on his forearm, bringing the man to a sudden stop. His dark eyes met hers. There was a war going on in those brown depths. Sadness and anger all swirling together and making Samantha's own heart ache for him.

"Zachary..."

He pulled away from her, shoved his hat back on his head and strode to the barn, coming out moments later with a metal rake. Samantha frowned as she watched him storm to the fire and gather up a rake full of burning fabric and embers.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as he carried that rake toward the house. Was he going to burn the place down? "Zachary no!"

"I won't be talked out of this," Zachary warned. "I'll never know peace until this damned place is gone." He paused a split second before starting up the stairs. Samantha tried to go to him, to stop him from what he was doing. That was his family home! He hadn't even been inside. What if there were things he wanted? Mementos and treasures that he would never see again if he destroyed the place with fire.

Before she could reach the house, Timothy was grabbing her around the middle from behind and pulling her back. "You'll get hurt," he warned.

It was then that Zachary tossed that rake into the house, grabbed a kerosene lamp off the porch that was still full of the combustible liquid and threw it with all his might into those flames.

The sound was one that Samantha would never forget. The very air within the house roared as if caught up in a twister. Zachary walked backward down the porch steps and Samantha watched in horror as those flames, fueled by the kerosene, quickly spread in that old wooden farmhouse.

Tears filled her own eyes as she watched him go into the barn and return with a metal kerosene can. She knew there would be no saving the house—it was already catching fire quickly and once he threw yet more fuel on the flames, it would go up like a tinderbox.

But surely there were things in there he would one day want back! Samantha had been forced to leave her home and flee for her life and now had nothing to remind of the family she had once had. She didn't want the same for Zachary.

Twisting quickly to free herself from Timothy's hold, Samantha lifted her skirts and ran. Her heart raced as she leapt up onto that porch. Zachary cried out her name, ordered her to stop, but she didn't obey.

Instead, Samantha took the deepest breath she could before rushing into the smoke-filled house. Her eyes instantly began to burn as she struggled to see through the haze. The heated air around her caused her skin to burn as she stayed to the side of the wall and did her best to avoid the flames—flames that were licking at the furniture and the walls and spreading toward the green rug that ran up the staircase.

Her mind focused on her task, Samantha went to the mantel above the fireplace and scooped the photograph, knitting needles, yarn, and pipe into her arms.

The sound of bootsteps pounded behind her over the whistling rush of fire sucking the very air from the room. A hand grabbed her arm, spun her around, and she found herself looking up at a very angry Zachary.

Her lungs burning with a need for air, Samantha knew she had to get back out that door. If she was forced to draw a breath in here, the smoke could do damage to her chest and throat. Zachary, still holding tight to her arm, spun around and ran for the door, dragging her behind him.

The moment they were off that porch and in fresh air, Samantha released the old air from her lungs and happily sucked in new. Her burning eyes were watering, and she squinted against the sunlight. Zachary swooped down and began patting at the bottom of her skirt causing Samantha to realize it had been on fire.

Once he stood straight, those dark eyes met hers. "What the hell were you thinking?!" his deep, angry growl echoed in the afternoon air.

Samantha was breathing hard and she wanted desperately to swipe at her burning eyes but her hands and arms were covered in black soot and ash. "I just wanted to save a few things..." She held out the photograph and belongings she had pulled off the mantel. "I thought they'd mean something to you."

Zachary stared hard for several moments at her offerings. She saw his throat work as he swallowed hard. Then he grabbed the things, tossed them to the side in the dirt, and shook his head. "You're a foolish woman."

Samantha frowned. He had just insulted her but his voice had sounded so tender as he did so, she wasn't entirely sure if she should be offended.

Zachary pointed at the metal can with worn blue paint. "Tim, get that kerosene and pour some in the windows. I want that house gone."

Timothy seemed unsure but he also seemed to realize that no amount of arguing would change Zachary's mind—the house was already burning anyhow. He nodded. "Sure thing, Zachary."

Samantha still chose silence as Zachary took hold of her hand in his and led her around the house to the back where the water pump stood. He released his hold on her and pulled a bandana from his pocket. The muscles in his forearms twisted beneath his skin as he worked the pump handle up and down several times to get water flowing and wet the bandana.

Zachary wrung it out before stepping back to Samantha. Her breath caught in her chest as he moved in close. Those dark eyes seemed to be avoiding looking into hers as he began cleaning off her face. Samantha swallowed hard and tried to focus on simply breathing.

"You shouldn't have run in there. You could have been hurt."

Samantha felt herself trembling as those calloused hands brushed against her skin—though Zachary still avoided her gaze. "Those things are important," she managed to whisper.

For a fleeting moment, those dark brown eyes looked into hers. Then he was once again looking away as he ran that bandana over the tender skin of her throat. "There's not a thing in that house worth your life, Samantha...not to me."

Samantha had no idea what to say or how to respond. This was a new side of Zachary—a side that none of their previous interactions had truly prepared her for. He seemed so caring—gentle even. Slowly he pulled his hand away and tossed the wet bandana over the well pump.

The sound of shattering glass had both of them turning their gazes toward the house. Timothy had certainly done well with that kerosene. The house was, quite simply, engulfed, and it was burning quickly. Plumes of black smoke and hungry orange flames licked up into the sky above it.

"Why did you do that?" Samantha asked gently as she turned to face the burning farmhouse.

Zachary turned and stood side by side with her, his body touching hers. He was quiet for several long moments and she wondered if he was going to ignore the question. Finally, his quiet voice said. "I couldn't keep looking at the goddamn black door."

"I understand," Samantha whispered, and she did. Zachary was clearly someone who, while he tried to hide them, felt emotions deeply. He had found his entire family slaughtered in that house—it would never again have been his home. No matter how much paint covered the once blood smeared walls, no matter how much the furniture changed and got rearranged, no matter how many floor boards they tore up and replaced—all he would ever see when he walked in that door was bodies and blood. His soul would have never been at peace.

"I apologize for yelling at you," he stated as they watched those flames devour the house he once lived in. "I shouldn't have done that—or called you foolish."

That surprised her. Samantha hadn't realized that Zachary would be a man who bothered with apologizing. He seemed too proud.

"I'm sorry I worried you..."

"Worried me?" He let out a snort. "You scared the hell out of me. I... I don't want anything to happen to you."

Samantha felt her heart hammer against her ribcage once again when his pinky found hers and wrapped around it. She opened her mouth several times to speak but couldn't seem to form any coherent words.

What was happening? Samantha had spent so long running and keeping up walls. Her life had been survival and little else even before her father had sold her to Clinton Matthews in a bet. Samantha hadn't had time to waste daydreaming about love or romance or any other fanciful ideas that filled dime store novels.

But now... now this brooding, quiet, protective, haunted man had her suddenly contemplating things Samantha would have once thought impossible.

"I wanted you to have a piece of your family. Something to remember them by," Samantha finally stated softly when she regained her voice. "I know how it feels to have nothing."

She didn't have to turn her head to know that Zachary was studying her. She could feel those brown eyes gazing down at her. "What happened to you, Samantha? Why is a horse all you have left in the world?"

Samantha wanted to answer him. For the first time in so very long she wanted to let someone in. She wanted to let him know what had happened and why she had spent so long running. She wanted to share her fears with him....

And she would have—if Timothy hadn't chosen that moment to come around the house. "I used all that kerosene, Zach. I think it's...."

He stopped speaking when he saw them standing so close together. Quickly, Zachary removed his hand from Samantha's and placed distance between them. "Thanks Tim."

Samantha could see that Timothy seemed to be fighting back tears. He turned his gaze to the house. "We had some good memories there."

Silence reigned as the trio simply stood and watched the house burn. The flames raged even as the sky began to grow darker above them. It wasn't until the house had collapsed and become little more than smoldering embers and rubble that the silence among them was broken.

"I need to be getting you back to town," Zachary stated, and without looking at her, he walked away.

Timothy walked beside her as they followed after him. "That was real nice that you got those things for Zach."

"I thought they might mean something to him."

"And they do, or they will, as soon as he has time to think about it."

When they came around the house, Zachary was picking those belongings up off the ground. His seemed determined to not really look at them though as he carried them into the barn and returned a few moments later leading Athena.

They walked over to the oak tree where Timothy had hitched Blaze and his own brown mare earlier to keep them from running off in fear of the smoke and flames. Samantha didn't miss the way Zachary's hands lingered on her as he helped her into the saddle.

The ride to town was quiet and awkward. Whatever tender openness Zachary had been willing to show Samantha when they'd been alone, he clearly wasn't willing to show in front of Timothy.

Arriving in town, Timothy parted ways with them and Zachary pointed to the hotel. "Let's get you settled in at the hotel and then I'll take Athena to the livery and get her put up."

"I can do it..."

"It's dark. You need to be getting inside where it's safe. I'll tend to the horse."

Samantha's first instinct was to insist that she didn't need to be coddled but she swallowed that back. His words weren't spoken in a gentle tone but she knew they were well-meant. Zachary cared about her and she'd done enough to worry and frighten the man today.

Slipping off Athena's back at the hotel, Samantha found herself standing beneath the glow of the kerosene lamp with Zachary. She nearly told him she would see him the next day but paused. She wouldn't. Now that there was no more farmhouse, there was no more reason for her to be at the ranch to fix it up.

Zachary cleared his throat. "I reckon I'll be heading back home now."

She nodded. "What will you do with the house gone?"

He shrugged, his gaze going to the street and a group of men who saw them standing together and began whispering as they walked past. Zachary attempted to take a step away as if to place distance between them to save her from the gossip. Samantha simply rolled her eyes and moved with him. It was clear he noticed as he let out a sigh. "Samantha...."

"I don't care what they think, Zachary. Now answer me. What will you do now that the house is gone?" She worried that maybe it meant Zachary would leave. He had been gone for a long time before returning the night he'd first saved her in that saloon. Maybe, without the farmhouse to look after, he would go back to a life of wandering.

"The barns a decent place to lay my head," he replied. "Timothy and I still got plenty of work to do to get that place turned back into a functioning ranch and farm."

"So, you're staying?" she found herself asking, averting her gaze as her cheeks heated.

Zachary reached out and ran those calloused fingers from her elbow to her wrist before giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, I'm staying." Letting his hand fall, Zachary stepped away. "I gotta be getting Athena put up and get back to the ranch. Go on in now."

Samantha nodded and turned to walk inside, her mind swirling with questions and thoughts that she had no answer to or way of sorting out. She already knew that she wanted to stay in Hackney—she wanted her future to be here. Could that future be with Zachary Marston?

"Samantha?" his voice stopped her. She looked over her shoulder at him, waiting for him to speak. He pulled off his hat and gripped it tightly in his hands, appearing unsure and awkward. "Thank you for getting those things. That.. that picture... I had forgotten what they looked like without the blood..."

Without giving Samantha time to respond, Zachary placed his hat back on his wild black hair, turned quickly and strode away, leading both horses along behind him. 

A/N: Thanks for reading, y'all!I hope you liked the chapter. Perhaps Zachary is really ready to start healing now... maybe the fire will end up being the therapy the man needed. Thoughts, feelings, random comments--share them with me!