She shrugged. “It's not like I studied a map or anything. I just know we need to go…” she coughed, interrupting herself as a stench of acrid smoke teased her nostrils. Annabelle squinted at the horizon. “There, look there.” She pointed at a plume of silvery gray that rose toward the heavens.
“I see it,” Gavin replied, urging the horse forward. “What a summer for fires this is turning out to be.”
Within moments, the crumbling shell came into view. Once a large farmhouse surrounded by lush fields, now, the roof had fallen in and many walls collapsed, leaving an unimpeded view of the charred interior walls. Rubble smoked on the ground. To the east, the fire had spread off in the direction of the open prairie. To the west, a single outbuilding—perhaps a small bunkhouse for farmhands—remained
