Cowboy Firefighter Heat

by Kim Redford

  “MG and Hedy would still let the community know about it.”

  “Some folks won’t go online, so we’d need to leave forms at Adelia’s Delights and Morning’s Glory.”

  “They’d be happy to help, I’m sure.”

  She sighed as she glanced over their to-do list. “But is there time to add this at the last minute?”

  “It’s our idea, so it’s our choice.”

  “But the time?”

  “I’m willing to work extra hours to get it done. What about you?”

  She didn’t have to think long. She was here to nurture musicians of all ages and experiences. “Wild West Days only comes once a year. If we miss this opportunity, we’ll have to wait until the next Labor Day weekend.”

  “We can set up events at the Hall on other occasions.”

  “And I want to do that, but this is a really big showcase for local talent.”

  “Tell you what.” He leaned toward her. “Why don’t we go to Sure-Shot later and catch this band’s act? I need to check on the ranch, too. Let’s do both.”

  “When do they play? And where?”

  “Weekend evenings and Sunday afternoons at the town gazebo.”

  “They must have a following,” she said.

  “Yes. Plus, it’s free entertainment for folks after a hard day’s work on the ranches.”

  “Okay. I’d like to hear them. And see your ranch. But we play Friday and Saturday nights at the Hall.”

  “How about this Sunday?”

  “If we can take time away from our plans, I’m all in.”

  “We’ll make it work. We might even catch a movie afterward at the Sure-Shot Drive-In.”

  “I’d heard Bert and Bert Two had it up and running again. How’s it doing?”

  “Great. It’s open on weekends and hosts other events during daylight hours.”

  “I’ve been meaning to go see it, so this is a good excuse.”

  He grinned at her, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to park in the back row of the Passion Pit?”

  She laughed, patting his arm. “So all of this is really about getting me into the back seat of your pickup?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bed not good enough for you?”

  “I just want to experience what it must’ve been like back in the fifties and sixties when necking in the back seat was as good as it got.”

  “I think we can improve on it.”

  “I’m willing to let you show me.”

  “No doubt.” She leaned into him, feeling his solid warmth, as she glanced from her marked-up paperwork on the table to the scarred wood of the long bar to the beams of the high ceiling. It just didn’t get much better than this in life. She hadn’t heard any more from Simon, and she hoped he was long gone, but she still felt a little uneasy that he might have stayed in the area.

  As if Craig picked up on her thoughts, he covered her hand with his large strong one. “I’m glad the Settelmeyers installed surveillance cameras and more lights in the parking lot. Do you feel safer now?”

  “It should help. Still, he could park out on Wildcat Road and walk into the Park.”

  “I know that only too well.” Craig squeezed her hand. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go ahead and install cameras on the cabins?”

  “Let’s wait and see. As far as we know, he hasn’t been back, so I’m hoping the roses were sort of a farewell gift.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  “We need to come up with a place for the local band stage.” She desperately wanted to ditch their talk about Simon, so she hoped Craig took the bait.

  “The Lone Star is already booked solid except for those two cancellations.”

  “That’s not enough time for what we want.”

  “I know.”

  “We could fill one of those spots with your Sure-Shot band and put them on the other stage as well.”

  “Sounds good.” He drummed his fingertips on the table, then stopped and looked at her. “What about the Chuckwagon Café?”

  “Folks will be coming in and out, talking while they eat, and—”

  “Not inside. Outside. You know the café is at the end of the Old Town block of stores, so there’s a little garden with three or four picnic tables out there.”

  “That’s perfect.” She smiled, feeling as if things were finally coming together in a great way. “We could schedule so as not to interfere with other events, but this way shoppers and folks just walking down the street or even those who came especially to hear them could park nearby.”

  “It’d bring more business to the Chuckwagon, too.”

  “Do you think Slade and his family would agree?”

  “They’re big backers of Wild West Days, so I’m sure they’d come onboard to support local musicians.”

  “Good. This means we need to contact Slade about the café and Ivy about the website.” She leaned back in her chair, trying to think of anything that needed doing at the moment.

  “First, we’d better run it by Hedy and Morning Glory.”

  “Plus Bert and Bert Two.”

  “Right.”

  She picked up her marker and fiddled with it a moment. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”

  He chuckled, glancing over at her. “If we’re not, let’s back out before we get everybody in two towns excited about it.”

  “It feels good, like we’re doing the right thing.”

  “I know. It’s what we do in Wildcat Bluff County.”

  “Right. We help others.”

  “And the entire community.”

  She glanced over at him, feeling mischievous. “Help others. That means you’re going to participate in the cowboy firefighter dunk for charity event, aren’t you?”

  “No. Absolutely not. It’s a lousy idea. There are plenty of other ways to—”

  “You’re not averse to getting wet, are you?”

  “I’m averse to a long line of cowgirls just itching to dunk every cowboy they know…for good measure if nothing else.”

  “But it’s for charity.”

  “Nope.”

  She walked her fingertips up his forearm to his elbow, to his shoulder. “Pretty please?” she asked in a soft, high-pitched tone.

  “No.”

  “With sugar on it?”

  “Fern, I’m a grown man. Baby talk is not going to work on me.”

  She leaned in closer, letting her breast rub up against his arm, feeling their body heat rise and merge. “You sure?”

  “I’m the cochair. I have more important things to do during Wild West Days. Besides, there are plenty of cowboy firefighters who’ll take part in it to raise funds for the station.”

  She walked her fingers back down his arm and moved in even closer. “But there are none of your caliber.”

  Finally, he chuckled, grasped her hand, and kissed the tip of her smallest finger on her left hand. “You think you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”

  “Don’t I?”

  He gave a long sigh. “You’re determined to get me soaking wet in front of the whole county, aren’t you?”

  “A little eye candy could do it a whole lot of good.”

  “That Sydney Steele. First, she comes up with the cowboy firefighter charity calendar and has to rope a dozen cowboys to get them to hold still long enough for a photo shoot.”

  “Smart cowgirl.”

  “And now she comes up with a charity cowboy firefighter dunk.”

  “She’ll probably take photos for the next calendar.”

  “You think?” He appeared startled, then horrified at the idea.

  “You might plan your clothes with that in mind.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to do it.”

  “Isn’t Sydney k
ind of like MG and Hedy? Doesn’t she always get what she wants in this county?”

  He leaned back in his chair, in the pose of a long-suffering male. “Yeah, she sure does.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “One thing.”

  “What?”

  “If I survive Wild West Days, I may have to hang up my spurs.”

  “Oh no. Just let me polish them for you and you’ll be good to go.” She gave him a little hint of a smile to let him know she could handle that job and plenty more for him.

  As they were sharing a look that promised more heat later, she heard Ivy’s ringtone. Brought back to reality, she grabbed her phone.

  “We’re at Steele Trap II,” Ivy said in a concerned voice.

  “What’s wrong?” She gripped the phone, feeling her heart speed up.

  “It’s Fernando.” Ivy lowered her voice.

  “Uh…is he sick?”

  “What’s going on?” Craig leaned toward Fern, appearing puzzled.

  She shrugged at him, trying to understand why Ivy would call her about the famous Angus bull.

  “If you don’t mind and have the time…” Ivy said.

  “Of course we have time for you. What’s going on?” She shook her head at Craig, trying to convey that she was clueless.

  “Please just get over here as quickly as you can. I’ll let Storm explain the situation. Please bring Craig and your guitars.” And she was gone.

  Fern looked at Craig. “They need us at Steele Trap II.”

  Chapter 16

  Fern watched the North Texas countryside, turned from spring wet and green and cool to summer dry and brown and hot, while Craig floor-boarded the gas pedal of his dark blue pickup as they drove down Wildcat Road. They were silent, surrounded by the high whine of tires burning up pavement in their rush to help.

  When he abruptly wheeled off the road, she glanced up at the cut-out, black-painted steel sign that read STEELE TRAP II as they hurtled under it. They rattled across the metal pipe cattle guard and headed up a narrow lane that led to a single-story ranch house constructed of natural rock and cedar trim with double front doors and big picture windows. Several pickups in various colors and sizes were parked haphazardly in front of it.

  But that’s not what drew Fern’s attention most. She glanced to the left, at an ornamental pond that reflected the brilliant blue and fluffy white clouds above with green lily pads dotting here and there. In the center of the water stood a big black Angus bull—easily two thousand pounds of solid muscle—with his head held low in dejection, instead of high in pride.

  On the edge of the pond stood an eight-year-old girl with a mane of wild ginger hair wearing turquoise cowgirl boots, faded, ripped jeans, and an aqua, rhinestone-studded T-shirt. She held a metal bucket in both hands out toward the bull, but he ignored it. Ivy and the Steele clan clustered around her. Lula Mae led the family that consisted of her daughter, Maybelline, grandchildren Sydney and Slade, and granddaughter, Storm. They all wore jeans, shirts, boots, and hats.

  “Looks like Storm is trying to lure Fernando out of the pond,” Craig said. “But what’s he doing there? His pasture is on the first Steele Trap Ranch since he was Storm’s last Christmas gift.”

  “I don’t know,” Fern said. “And why do they need our guitars?”

  “Guess we’re about to find out.”

  Ivy looked up, saw them, and gestured to park on the side of the road.

  Craig stopped the truck across from the pond, then jumped out and picked up their guitars from the back seat while Fern stepped down onto dry, crackly grass. When she walked around the front of the pickup, he held out her guitar. She slipped it out of its case, then returned the case to the pickup while Craig did the same thing.

  “Fern!” Storm set down her bucket and sprinted across the road, holding out her arms.

  Fern caught her with one arm, squeezed her tight, and then looked into bright hazel eyes.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!” Storm gave Fern the once-over followed by a big frown. “Still, you shouldn’t have left us. We need you in Wildcat Bluff.”

  “I’m here now.”

  “You better not go away again.”

  “I’m not planning on it.” She glanced up at Craig and saw him smile.

  Ivy walked over with Slade by her side and gave Fern a quick hug. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Of course. What’s going on?”

  Ivy glanced down at Storm. “Why don’t you explain the situation to my sister?”

  Storm stretched up as tall as she could get and took a deep breath. “Fernando has…had…a friend on the Lazy Q.”

  “That’s the ranch next to ours the Tarleton family out of East Texas bought not too long ago,” Slade said.

  “Daisy Sue lived there till yesterday.” Storm’s bottom lip trembled as if she was doing her best not to cry.

  “Daisy Sue?” Fern asked, still confused by the situation.

  “She lived on the other side of the fence from Fernando. It’s all that separated them,” Storm said.

  “She’s a fine Angus cow.” Slade reached down and put an arm around his niece’s shoulders, tugging her small frame against his muscular bulk. “We kept finding the metal gate between the two pastures open.”

  “Fernando is the smartest bull in the whole wide world,” Storm said with pride. “Gates are nothing for him to open.”

  “Do you think he’s been visiting her?” Fern cocked her head in question to Slade and received a nod in response.

  “We figure after dark.” Storm looked over her shoulder at Fernando, then back again.

  “True,” Slade agreed. “What we think happened is that once Fernando found her gone, he spent last night walking down here. That pond used to be his favorite spot.”

  “He’s a sensitive bull with a sensitive soul,” Storm said in a hushed, reverent tone.

  “She thinks he came to his old watering hole to soothe his soul’s loss,” Ivy said.

  “Right.” Storm stroked Fern’s guitar. “And he likes music.”

  Fern looked at the pond with Fernando standing belly deep in water. “I’ve never played for a bull before today.”

  “He loves your voice. And guitar.” Storm smiled at Fern. “Uncle Slade downloaded your recordings to my phone, and I play them for Fernando. It always soothes him when he’s feeling cantankerous.”

  “I know animals, as well as plants, respond well to music, but how will this help Daisy Sue?” Fern asked.

  “It won’t help find her,” Slade said. “We’re working on it.”

  “We’ll get her back. And soon.” Storm straightened her small shoulders. “She’s Fernando’s lady love…and she loves him. There might even be a baby on the way.”

  “Most likely,” Slade said. “He’s a popular fellow.”

  “True,” Storm said matter-of-factly. “Now that he’s a cow bull instead of an AI bull, he’s in demand. But Daisy Sue is his love.”

  “Looks like somebody is going to get another free top-of-the-line calf out of Fernando,” Craig said.

  “Yeah. But he’s stayed on the ranch since escaping the rustlers and getting safely home.” Slade looked in the direction of the Lazy Q. “The new owners have been mostly absent, so things have rocked along pretty much as usual till now. We heard a daughter of the family named Belle Tarleton is on her way to make this her permanent home. You’ve probably heard of Lulubelle & You.”

  “I own clothes from that western line.” Fern glanced down at her jeans. “I’m not wearing any of it now, but I love the designs.”

  “She’s the owner,” Slade said.

  “That’s a surprise. Why would she move here?” Fern asked. “I’d think she’d live near her big-city office.”

  “Nobody knows,” Slade said.

  “If she’s got Daisy Sue
someplace,” Storm said, “then we make her give Fernando’s love back to him.”

  “We’re looking into it right now,” Slade said. “Daisy Sue may already be on Tarleton family land in East Texas.”

  “Is that far away?” Storm stomped her foot in impatience.

  “Not so far that she can’t be returned to this ranch.” Slade stroked Storm’s narrow shoulder with his big hand in comfort.

  “Good.” Storm looked up at Fern. “Would you and Craig sing and play for Fernando? I think it’ll lift his spirits…and maybe get him to eat again.”

  “I’m happy to sing for him.” Fern was touched by the request and hoped it would help the downcast bull.

  “Me, too,” Craig said.

  “Thanks.” Slade clasped Storm’s hand and caught Ivy’s with his other. “Come on. Let’s all get back to Fernando.”

  Fern hesitated, watching them walk away. “Isn’t that a wonderful family? Imagine everyone turning out to help Storm with her grief and worry.”

  “That’s Wildcat Bluff for you.”

  “True enough. I hadn’t thought about playing music for a lonely bull when I returned, but it’s just what the folks of this county would do.” She clasped his hand, smiled up at him, then followed the others down to the pond.

  Sydney strode over to them, looking like a grown-up version of her daughter. She gave Fern a quick hug. “Good to see you. Thanks so much for coming out. Storm is really worried about Fernando. He isn’t acting normal, particularly since he left the ranch and walked down here without her.”

  “He’s always waiting for her first thing in the morning.” Slade took off his cowboy hat and pushed long fingers through his thick blond hair.

  Lula Mae and Maybelline, beloved cooks at the Chuckwagon Café, gave Fern hugs and big smiles before they stepped back to clear a path down to the pond through dry grass.

  “Any news on the missing cow?” Craig asked. “Have you heard from this Belle Tarleton?”

  “No,” Slade said. “Looks like our message has to go through a lot of folks before it gets to her, and who knows where she is or if she’ll respond at all?”