Jefferson checks on Sorry, and I send a quick glance around at the other horses: the Joyners’ gelding, the Major’s tall mare, the cart horse. Artemis the cow is pressed up against the fence, her big eyes rolling around in her head. This corral isn’t much. Hampton rigged it quick to give the animals a homey place, but it won’t hold them all if they panic.

I let the scent of smoke pull me forward, through the milling animals and over the opposite fence. “Jefferson?” I call out, staring at the feed shed. Hampton built it out of the way of the animals, so they couldn’t get to it at night. It looks like a wide outhouse open on one side, filled halfway to the roof with hay bales. A few bags of oats sit on shelves up high. Maybe it’s the darkness, but my view of it seems fogged, and my lungs are starting to burn. “I think the shed is on fire.”

He sprints toward me and clears the fence with a single leap.

“Hampton?” I call out, and it’s almost a scream. Maybe he brought a lantern out here. Maybe he set it down on a hay bale and forgot about it. He’s probably asleep somewhere, the fool man. He’s been working too hard to keep a proper watch, I’ll wager, in his eagerness to see his wife again.

Several things happen at once.

“A leg!” Jefferson says, pointing at the ground. Sure enough, a boot snakes out from behind the shed. “Hampton?” he calls out, running forward.

The shed whooshes into flame.

A gunshot cracks the air, less than fifty yards away, and something squeals—a hurt-animal sound that I feel deep in my bones.

From the opposite direction, where our camp is, comes a human scream.

I freeze, knowing I need to do something, not sure which direction to dash off to first.

“Hampton!” Jefferson says again. He squats down beside him and smacks the man’s cheeks. “C’mon, wake up!”

Heat licks at my face, and I can see everything for yards now that it’s washed in a firelit glow.

“Lee, don’t just stand there!”

His voice jolts me to action. I heave the top log from the corral’s fence and thrust it aside. Peony dashes out first. “Go on, git!” I yell, smacking the rump of the nearest ox, then Sorry, then Artemis. We’ll be a day rounding them up, if we find them at all, but at least they won’t hurt themselves trying to escape or, worse, get burned.

I sprint over to Jefferson and Hampton. “Is he dead?” I ask in a breathless voice, then I cough. The shed is a conflagration now. The very air feels like it’s on fire.

“Not yet! Grab his legs. Help me get him away from here.”

For a short man, Hampton sure is heavy. We cough and heave our way farther into the meadow, Hampton’s body swinging between us. We reach a muddy patch free of dry grass, a safe distance from the feed shed, and we lower him gently to the ground.

“What’s wrong with him, Lee?” Jefferson asks, finally letting fear into his voice.

“Was he shot?” I say, remembering the gunshot moments ago.

“I don’t see any blood.”

“But he’s breathing?”

“For now.”

I jump to my feet. “I’ll get Jasper. And water.” I hesitate. There’s no way we can bring enough water down the hill to put out that fire. “I’ll bring shovels. We need to dig a break, before the trees catch fire.”

Jefferson rises to come with me.

“Stay with Hampton! Someone’s still out there. They might—”

“There’s trouble back at camp, too.”

He’s right. My toes curl to think of the scream I heard. Becky, probably. No, it wasn’t her voice. Henry? And something got shot, out there beyond the meadow. I’m terrified it was one of our dogs.

“Let’s go.”

I grab the lantern, and together we run back up the hill. My foot catches on a rock, and I nearly fall, but I don’t dare slow down. The air glows, and smoke sears my lungs. We crest the top. Our camp is on fire, too.

Jefferson runs to help the Major, who has whipped off the canvas roof of his shanty and is futilely smacking at the flames licking the corner of Becky’s cabin. The college men sprint back and forth from the pond with buckets of water, trying to douse the conflagration that used to be our cart. Andy and Olive stomp around, snuffing sparks and tiny flames that flutter to the ground.

“Where’s Becky?” I yell. “And the baby?”

Becky barrels from the cabin, baby in her arms. She shoves her tiny daughter at me. “I’ll be right back!” she says, and she turns and dashes back inside.

“No! Becky!” Smoke thickens, blurring my view of the cabin door she disappeared into.

My feet twitch to go after her, but I can’t go in there with the baby in my arms. I look around for a safe place to put her so I can do something. She starts to wail, and tears streak the soot on her face, so I bounce her the way Martin always does.

Martin.

“Where’s Martin?” I scream through the smoke. “Anyone seen Martin?”

I grab Jasper’s arm as he’s dashing by, water sloshing over the side of his bucket. “Hampton is hurt,” I say. “Down by the corral. He’s unconscious.”

Jasper is wearing his long underwear, half unbuttoned. His feet and legs are drenched to the knee from fetching water in the pond. “Is he safe?”

“I don’t know! There was someone out there, Jasper. Someone with a gun.”

“Was Hampton shot?”

“I don’t think so. Feed shed is on fire, though. Jefferson and I dragged him out of range.”

“Artemis!”

“I drove her out of the corral. We’ll round her up later.”

“All right, fetch my kit—unless my shanty has caught fire, too. I’ll meet you down by the corral once we’ve secured the cabin.”

He turns to go, but I grab his arm again. “Have you seen Martin? He was supposed to be on watch.”

The look that washes over Jasper’s face sends fear stabbing into my gut. His expression becomes resigned. “Fire first, before we lose everything and put the little ones in danger.”

I nod once. It’s a harsh decision. An awful one. And I agree completely.

Hitching the baby onto my shoulder, I run for the college men’s shanty. Mine is a wreck, the canvas roof burned to nothing, the walls caved in and sending long tongues of fire into the sky.