Page 21 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

So, I’d stop wondering if the creature smelled like volcanic ash or smoked Targabeast meat.

I’d stop wondering where it went.

And I’d stop hoping it would come back.

7

TAMMY

When you wish for a miracle, be specific.

The explosion slammed through my restful sleep like a wrecking ball, jolting me upright in bed before my conscious mind even registered what had happened. My pulse kicked into double-time as I blinked into the darkness, disoriented and gasping. Sleep-addled thoughts scattered like startled birds as I tried to make sense of the sound that had ripped me from sleep. It didn’t help that I was massively hungover. Like, my belly still felt warm from all the whiskey and, now that I was sort of awake, I realized my head was still swimmy.

I hadn’t imagined the sound though.

Jarring. Loud. Dancing between a crash and a boom, with an oddly metallic quality that still echoed in my ears.

"What the hell?" I muttered, fumbling for my glasses on the nightstand. My fingers knocked against the lamp instead, sending it teetering. I caught it just before it crashed to the floor, steadying it with shaking hands.

Another sound filtered through the night—the horses neighing frantically.

I shoved my glasses onto my face and scrambled to the window, nearly crashing to the ground when my right foot landed on a liquor bottle. I waved my arms, managing not to slip. I kicked the bottle away and finished stumbling to the window, yanking aside the faded curtain I'd never gotten around to replacing. What I saw made my breath catch in my throat.

Where my supply barn should have been—that listing structure which I'd been meaning to shore up, but hadn’t gotten around to yet—was a twisted mass of splintered wood. Dammit. Why had it held on for so long, just to fall apart now?

But… there was something else in the middle of the wreckage. A metal structure catching the dim glow of the pole light.

"Jesus Christ," I whispered, my fingers pressed against the cool glass of the window. “Did a plane crash into the barn?”

The horses brayed with fear again. I glanced at the paddock, regretting my decision not to stable them properly. My vision blurred and I shook my head, which only made me nauseous. It registered that Mystery and Sassafras were close to one another, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, but I couldn’t celebrate. What if people were on that plane? What if someone had died?

My gaze was pulled back to the barn. I blinked several times. I didn’t see the metallic shine… or did I?

For a wild moment, I wondered if I was still dreaming—if this was just some bizarre stress-induced nightmare brought on by the looming bank deadline and all the whiskey. But the pounding of my heart felt too real, the cool floorboards beneath my feet too solid, the electric fear shooting through my veins too immediate. No, the barn hadn’t just collapsed. Some outside force had made it give up the ghost.

I yanked on my ripped jeans, not bothering with underwear, and pulled my faded Kansas Jayhawks t-shirt over my head. My fingers trembled as I shoved my feet into my boots without socks. Whatever was happening out there, I needed to check on the horses. And my supply barn. And… whatever had crashed.

As I clomped down the narrow hallway toward the front door, my mind raced through other possibilities. A meteor fell after the shooting stars. A gas pocket had exploded. Someone really got lost on the back roads and drove right into the damn barn.

The moment I pushed open the front door, my senses were assaulted from every direction. The night air hit me first, unexpectedly cool for June in Kansas, raising goosebumps along my bare arms. The strange metallic smell came next. It was laced with copper and smoke, along with an underlying sweetness like overripe fruit left too long in the sun. Not the familiar scent of my ranch at all. A barn post snapped, the crack of busting wood rocketing through the night.

Artie whined.

As much as I wanted to check out the barn first, I set my direction toward the pastures. I went to my old man first, cooing at him soothingly.

“It’s okay, Art. Nothing to worry. Let’s get you inside.”

One by one, I soothed the three animals. I led them to safety, offered them sugar cubes none of them would eat, and then, with gates locked, I focused back on my ruined supply barn.

As I drew closer and details came into stark view, I stopped dead in my tracks. My barn hadn't just collapsed; it had been obliterated. Splintered beams jutted from the wreckage like broken bones, while smaller pieces of wood and corrugated metal were scattered across the yard as if a giant hand had swept them aside in irritation. I was going to have to build it from scratch. There was no saving this mess.

My eyes widened as I noted the plumes of smoke curling upward from the wreckage. Had the hay bales caught fire? How? There weren’t any lanterns in the barn. Just the… power line running to the building to power the one damn lightbulb swinging from the ceiling.

“Shit,” I breathed out. “I should call the fire department. If the fire spreads, it won’t just be my ranch that gets hit.”

I turned away, took three steps, then stopped.

The burning smell wasn’t wood and hay. It wasn’t horse feed or saddle leather.