Chapter 8 - Shadows in the Barn
Defeated for the morning, Clara and Silas retreated down the winding canyon road, but the venom in their departure hung heavily over the Thorne Estate like a gathering storm. Silas had thrown a single parting threat over his shoulder: *The day is not over, Thorne. We will see what burns faster—your pride or your timber.*
By late afternoon, the wind had died down, replaced by an eerie, suffocating quiet. Caleb and Garrett spent hours checking the perimeter, securing the fences, and reinforcing the stable doors. Sarah kept Penny close, teaching her daughter how to knead bread dough near the warm stove, though Sarah's eyes never wandered far from the hunting rifle resting against the pantry wall.
Around dusk, a sudden, frantic neighing echoed from the lower barn.
Garrett immediately stood up from the dinner table, blowing out the lantern. "Stay here, Sarah. Lock the kitchen bolt."
"Garrett, wait—" Sarah began, but he was already out the side entrance, slipping into the shadows with his revolver drawn.
Through the frosty window, Sarah watched the lower barn. A thin wisp of dark, unnatural smoke was curling out from the hayloft vent. Fire!
"Penny, stay under the table and do not make a sound," Sarah commanded with a calm authority that brooked no argument.
Sarah grabbed the heavy woolen coat by the peg, seized the iron fire bucket, and bolted into the snow. As she sprinted toward the barn, two dark figures broke from the shadows near the tack room. One of them held an open kerosene tin; the other brandished a heavy iron wrench.
Garrett intercepted the first man with a brutal, bone-cracking shoulder tackle into the snowbank. The man dropped the wrench with a scream, but the second arsonist swung the kerosene jug toward Garrett’s head.
"Garrett, down!" Sarah shouted.
She lunged forward, throwing the heavy iron bucket with all her strength directly into the chest of the second attacker. The man stumbled backward with a grunt, spilling the volatile fuel onto his own boots. Garrett recovered in an instant, kicking the man’s legs out from under him and pinning him into the freezing mud with his knee pressed hard against the man's throat.
"Who hired you?" Garrett roared, cocking his revolver against the intruder's forehead. "Talk before I pull this trigger and leave your carcass for the wolves!"
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"Vance!" the man choked out, gasping for air in pure terror. "Vance paid us fifty dollars to burn the hay reserves and scatter the herd! He's at the Black Bear Saloon waiting for word! Please... don't shoot!"
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