Jenna's Cowboy by Sharon Gillenwater Page A

Popping. A steaming, whistling sizzle. Flames danced and leaped, devouring one board after another, shattering the fragile thread holding Nate in the present.

    •• He took the stairs slowly, watching for IED trip wires, listening for any unusual sound. Not that he could hear anything over the shouts of the Iraqi man downstairs. The man talked too fast for interpretation until a phrase jumped out. Allah be praised. “Bomb!”
    The building shook, the noise deafening. The blast threw Nate near the top of the stairwell, and he sprawled on the stairs. His head throbbed, and a wave of dizziness had him reaching for the wall to steady himself. Pain stabbed his leg. A large jagged chunk of metal protruded from his thigh. Jerking it out, he pulled the silk scarf from around his neck and tightly wrapped the wound, mentally blocking out the pain. Had to move.
    Lying on the stairs, he peered around the corner to the second floor. One big room. Empty. Smoke poured up the stairway, making him cough. Over the ringing in his ears, he heard moans. “Brown!” No answer. “Lieutenant!”
    “Here, Sarge.” The lieutenant’s voice was weak.
    Bracing against the wall, Nate stood and hopped down the stairs on his good leg. Paused at the last step. Checked the room. Clear. A crumbled wall splattered with blood and a lone shoe told the fate of the Iraqi man who’d led them into a trap. Broken furniture blazed, and flames slithered through the rubble. Private Brown lay by the door, one leg twisted and broken, his helmet blown out into the street. Head wound, possibly a bad one.
    Lieutenant Myers sat against the remnants of another wall, struggling to tie a tourniquet above a gaping wound in his upper arm. Nate dropped to one knee beside him, catching his breath at the pain ripping through his leg, and quickly tied the cord around Myers’s arm. Did the officer realize that the bones were crushed? Trying to avoid the smoke, he dipped low and dragged in a breath of air.
    “Get Brown out of here,” said the lieutenant, coughing. “I’ll be behind you.”
    Nate carefully lifted the kid from Ohio and laid him across his shoulder. Myers was on his feet. Nate hid behind the doorframe, surveying the area. Across the street, a young Iraqi woman opened the door of her house, quickly looked around, and motioned for him to bring the wounded man inside.
    Limping, Nate ran across the empty street as best he could. Hot, sticky blood saturated the bandage and the leg of his fatigues, oozing into his boot. He laid Brown on the floor of the house. Stepped back to the doorway. Street clear. Where’s Myers? Smoke poured from the damaged house. Flames leaped from the roof and one shattered window.
    He started back across the street. Couldn’t run. Leg dragging. Can’t stop .
    Shouts down the street. American.
    Myers on the floor. Door and wall on fire. Have to get him. Go through the flames.
    Roof collapsing . Shield the lieutenant. Searing pain. Smell of burning flesh. Mine. Flames everywhere. Gunfire outside.
    I will not die in here.

8
    “We need to move back. It’s too hot.” Jenna tugged on Nate’s arm, but he didn’t seem to hear her. He stared at the flames, his body rigid, his hands knotted into fists. He was breathing way too fast. Sweat rolled down his face. She tugged harder. “Nate, we have to move back.”
    First one person, then another jostled him as the crowd moved away from the fire. He looked at her, his eyes filled with sheer terror one second, blazing with fury the next.
    She dropped her hands and took a step back. “What’s wrong?”
    Without a word, he spun around and pushed through the crowd, shoving people out of his way. When he got past them, he broke into a run.
    Jenna met Will’s startled gaze, then turned to Chance. “What in the world just happened?”
    “I think the fire got to him.” Chance shouted to be heard above the cheer the pep squad was leading. “We’d better go after him.”
    It took a few minutes