Excerpt: Bubba to the Rescue

By the time they untied and mounted their horses, the fire had reached the barn. Between the hay stacked inside and the dry old wood, it would not be long before it was completely engulfed in flames. The air around them was thick with smoke now, and Leslie’s throat burned from her efforts. She tried to put her discomfort out of her mind so she could concentrate on getting through the woods and back home before the fire reached them. She and Alex kicked their mounts into a gallop and headed back toward Green Meadow.

While they ran, Leslie could hear the horses calling frantically in the arena behind her. “Do you think they’ll be OK?” She shouted to Alex.

“It’s far enough from the barn that they won’t be in danger there, and since there’s no dry grass around it, they should be fine,” he yelled. Leslie took her eyes off the trail to look at his face. It was covered in grime and his brows were furrowed in worry. She imagined her own face looked much like his. “Besides, we can’t worry about them anymore, Leslie. We have to get home and make sure Green Meadow is OK. If we wait any longer, we could be trapped in the burning woods.”

Leslie’s stomach lurched; she knew he was right. She looked back over her shoulder and could see flashes of orange through the trees. She pushed Lucky to go even faster, although his breathing was labored and his neck was soaked with sweat and covered in froth where the reins rubbed it. “Lucky, I’m so sorry, but we have to keep going,” she breathed into his mane. “I promise, if you just get us home, you can have a nice, long rest.” Silently, she prayed to God to get them home safely. While they ran, Leslie could hear the fire coming closer and closer.

They were almost to the property line for Green Meadow when they heard a crashing in the underbrush to their left and Lucky and Fred jumped to the side, stopping to whirl and face the brush and nearly unseating their riders. Leslie clung to Lucky’s mane and managed to hang on. She looked up, and a horse leaped out of the bushes. Its eyes and nostrils were large and veins stood out on its neck.

Lucky snorted, his eyes large as he stared at the strange horse. Leslie could feel him trembling beneath her, so she stroked his neck and told him, “You’re OK, Lucky. It’s just a horse.” Her voice sounded shaky and strained to her own ears.

“Whose horse is that?” Alex asked. His voice sounded as shaky as hers.

Leslie did not have time to answer, because a tree branch fell behind them in a shower of sparks. Beneath her, Lucky screamed and bolted forward. The fire had reached them.