Aspen Gold (53 page)
Authors: Janet Dailey
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Historical
Sondra laughed at that. "You don't expect me to believe you."
"It's the truth. She's upstairs sleeping.
She came over to spend the night with me while Bannon's in Denver. You've got to let me go," Kit pleaded. "You can't mean for her to die.
You can't."
The fingers loosened on her hair. "No,"
Sondra murmured. "She can't die. It would ruin everything. Everything." She turned on Kit, striking out. "You stupid little bitch, why didn't you tell me she was up there?"
The hard blow sent Kit sprawling in the snow.
By the time she stumbled to her feet, Sondra was racing up the porch steps. Laboring for air, Kit ran after her.
Sondra charged into the house, calling Laura's name. Flames shot up, feeding on the sudden draft of oxygen that swept in with Sondra. When Kit reached the porch, flames blocked the doorway. She knew the staircase would soon be engulfed if it wasn't already.
She raced to the end of the porch and climbed and clawed her way up the metal drain spout to the porch roof. She inched her way across the snow-slick shingles to the gabled window of the spare bedroom. Crouching down, she peered through the glass. Smoke swirled thinly in the room, but she couldn't see Laura. Had she gotten out?
Had Sondra found her? Kit couldn't be sure.
"Laura!" She pounded on the glass.
Something moved. It was Laura. Kit almost cried with relief when she saw the little nightgown-clad girl. Laura came to the window, coughing, her face streaked with tears. Kit pushed at the window, trying to raise it. It was stuck.
From below came a muffled burst, then another and another. The ammunition in the gun cabinet, the fire was igniting it. She had to get Laura out of there. Frantic now, Kit strained to lift the window, but her feet kept slipping on the wet shingles.
A hand grabbed her arm. She swung around, her fingers curling to form claws. But it was Bannon, not Sondra.
"I can't get the window open," she told him.
"Get back," he said and motioned for Laura to do the same. Gripping the sides of the window frame, he rammed his foot through the glass pane, then kicked out the jagged edges and reached inside, scooping Laura up.
Kit moved to the edge of the roof and swung onto the drainpipe, sliding more than climbing down it.
As soon as she was on the ground, Bannon lowered Laura into her waiting arms, then climbed down himself and reclaimed Laura before guiding Kit away from the burning house, an arm firmly circling her shoulders.
A man in a chauffeur's uniform came running up. "The fire trucks and an ambulance are on the way."
Kit stared blankly at the limousine parked in the ranch yard, its lights on, its motor running. J.d. Lassiter stood outside the rear passenger door. She had no idea how Bannon came to be with Lassiter. At the moment, she was too tired, too cold, and too relieved to care.
Then she stopped, remembering. "Sondra--I think she's still inside the house." When she looked back, fire curled from every window of the first floor.
She breathed in sharply, then met Bannon's gaze. She started to tell him what had happened. Instead, she simply leaned against him.
She felt the brush of his lips on her hair and closed her eyes. Later. There would be time to tell him everything later. A lifetime.
THE END
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