by Kim Redford
She turned onto a two-lane road that had well-maintained barbwire fence running along either side. She looked out over sun-bleached grasses and leafless trees. Everything looked as dry as a tinderbox just waiting to be set off by accident or intention. Small groups of red cattle congregated under big green live oaks, already getting under shade from the glaring sun overhead.
She came to a cross lane and turned left down the smaller but still good asphalt road. Up ahead she could see blackened land. She felt a tightening in her chest and her breath caught in her throat. Not now, surely not now. At least she had her inhaler with her. Why had she ever thought it’d be a good idea to investigate a fire? But she hadn’t thought she’d be dealing with live fires, only the aftermath of a fire. And she hadn’t had trouble with her phobia in years, so she couldn’t have anticipated the extent of her reaction.
She turned up the AC and took a deep breath, feeling her anxiety slowly settle down. That’s right. This fire was long over and had nothing to do with her. In her mind, she repeated her special words, “Be here now. Safe and sound. Be here now,” and she felt better, reminding herself that she had fought a blazing fire yesterday and won. This was nothing compared to that.
She drove on down the road, pulled off the side into a ditch, and cut the engine. She got out and glanced around, smelling an acrid scent. On either side of the lane stretched blackened land with tall tree stumps rising up like ghostly sentinels. Complete devastation as far as the eye could see. Instead of fear, she felt a deep sense of loss. All those vibrant green cedars grown over countless years had been waiting to be harvested and sent out into the world to adorn living rooms and make people, particularly children, happy at Christmas.
It was simply a flat-out horrible shame. How many innocent birds and animals had died in the flames? What if the fire had swept over ranch houses and into town to kill people? Hot indignation welled up in her. Now she was particularly glad she’d taken the job. She couldn’t right this terrible wrong, but she’d do her best to find the culprits and see they never did anything this devastating again.
She walked down the road, looking from left to right along the ground. She hoped to see something, anything that might be a clue. But of course, too much time had passed and not much could have been left in the wake of the fire. Still, she looked from ground to sky and back again. She’d read the fire investigation report. Arson by accelerant was suspected, but accidental conflagration by a tossed cigarette or campfire in the current intense heat and drought conditions could not be ruled out either.
It’d be easy for anyone to set a fire on the edge of the property or walk deep into the trees and start a blaze because there were no fences to keep people out. And there was no one around to see the culprits because no local folks were hired to work the Christmas tree farms. Crews were brought in from out of town to plant seedlings that were left to grow. Crews returned to harvest and haul the trees to market at the right time of year when the cedars were the correct size. The business was lucrative, growing, and competitive. Texas Timber owned other tree farms in East Texas. None of those had burned, so this fire could have been an accident.
But Texas Timber executives didn’t think so. And now that she was here, she didn’t think so either. Maybe she was having a flight of fancy, but something about this fire felt sinister. She walked farther down the road, wishing something, anything would speak to her. A black crow cawed loudly and flew over her head toward Wildcat Bluff. Now she understood the bad feeling. All vibrant life was gone. She shivered at the thought.
She’d seen enough. She walked back to her SUV and sat down inside. She realized that she felt no anxiety and had no breathing issues. Instead, she felt deep determination to take on this problem and win.
She drove back out to Wildcat Road and headed toward another of Texas Timber’s Christmas tree farms. She wished she’d learned more at the fire site, but at least she’d taken the first steps.
After a few miles, she turned down another good asphalt road. On the left she saw small green cedars growing in long rows into the distance. She felt a great sense of relief that these trees looked so alive and well. She glanced to the right. A barbwire fence enclosed ranchland with black cattle grazing on hay on the other side. Here peace and serenity and life reigned in contrast to the burned-out tree farm.
Once more, she’d seen enough. She swung her SUV around, turned left onto Wildcat Road, and headed north for Wildcat Bluff. She wanted to get a better sense of the town and its residents. Adelia’s Delights would be a good place to start since she’d already met Hedy at the fire station. And Hedy’d probably know where to get a high-grade fire extinguisher.
When Misty drove into town, she found a parking place in front of the Lone Star Saloon. She sat there a moment as she looked around Old Town. Lots of folks walked up and down the boardwalk, carrying packages in their hands. They laughed and talked with each other as they went in and out of stores. She could hear Christmas music playing on the outdoor sound system. All in all, nothing looked amiss. In fact, everyone appeared extremely happy.
She drank more coffee as she checked her phone for messages. Cindi Lou had texted a smiley face, so she returned it since there was nothing noteworthy to report. No calls from Trey, so he was probably doing whatever kept ranchers busy with cattle. She might as well get on with her day.
She put her phone in her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped outside. Hot already. She could smell the enticing scent of cinnamon, apples, and caramel. Somebody down the block was luring customers into their store with the irresistible aroma of holiday food. Instead of following her nose, she headed toward Adelia’s Delights.
She entered the store to the sound of chimes, and then quickly closed the door behind her to keep out the heat. She smiled in delight, for she felt as if she’d been transported back in time, particularly after she read “Established 1883” on a sign on the wall. She admired the mellow oak floor to the high ceiling of pressed tin tile in an intricate design to the tall glass containers of old-fashioned hard candy on the checkout counter near the ancient black and gold cash register in back.
She could easily understand why Hedy loved this store. Knickknacks in all shapes, sizes, colors, and prices filled deep shelves and glass cabinets. One section contained country pickles, jams, and other edible items in canning jars. A prominent display of the Bluebird of Happiness, sky-blue glass birds in all sizes made in Arkansas, gleamed in the front window.
A tearoom area had small, round ice cream tables with matching chairs tucked into a quiet corner near a front window. A tall cedar tree decorated in red and green antique ornaments with a Christmas angel in a white satin gown on top graced that section of the store.
Misty quickly decided the tearoom was a likely spot for a quiet conversation with Hedy, who was bound to know everything going on around town, and particularly at the fire station. She just hoped Hedy was at work today. She headed for the back of the store.
“Misty, you’re just in time!” Hedy zoomed around the checkout desk in her wheelchair.
“For what?”
“Watch the place for me, will you?”
“Sell merchandise?” She blinked in surprise.
“Station’s gone quiet. Sure to be the new computer system acting up again. We’ll get the glitch solved, but so far I’m the only one who can fix it.” She glanced out at the street, then back.
“Do you want me to drive you? You could close the store.”
“Right before Christmas? Not on your life.”
“But how will you—”
“I’ve got a wheelchair van and I drive with hand controls. I get around fine and dandy.”
“I’ll be happy to help, but I don’t know how to deal with sales.”
“No need. Morning Glory’ll be over to do that.”
“Morning Glory?”
Hedy chuckled. “She’s got the
store next door. Didn’t you notice it? Morning’s Glory. Too clever by half, I say.”
“What does she sell?”
“My point exactly.” Hedy rolled her eyes. “Far as I’m concerned, she’s still stuck in the sixties. And proud of it. She’s a flower child, if you know what I mean.”
“Not exactly.”
“You’ll see.” Hedy pointed to one side. “Our stores are connected by that open archway. If folks want to buy something, call her.”
“Okay. I’ll do my best. How long will you be gone?”
“Not long. And thanks.” Hedy waved a hand as she headed toward the back of the store. “Morning Glory’ll be over to introduce herself pretty quick.”
Left alone, Misty stood in the middle of Adelia’s Delights. She kept getting surprised in Wildcat Bluff, not only by the situations but by the people, too. Hedy obviously trusted her, a stranger, enough to leave her in charge of her store. That would never happen in Dallas.
“There you are!”
Misty glanced around. A tall, slim woman with a riot of long, curly ginger hair wore a lapis-blue shirt, long, swirling skirt in many colors, and burgundy cowboy boots. At least half a dozen necklaces hung down to her small waist.
“You must be Misty. I’m Morning Glory.” She clasped Misty’s hand in a strong shake.
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Heard you have a good vibe.”
“I just got to town yesterday.”
“Good news travels fast.” Morning Glory grinned and small lines radiated out from the corners of her eyes to give her a warm and friendly appearance.
Misty smiled, not knowing quite what to say.
“Anybody who’ll take on a grass fire with nothing more than a towel is on the side of the angels.” Morning Glory glanced up at the top of the Christmas tree. “Heard you’re our Christmas angel.”
“Trey again? I just helped out.”
“Like today.” Morning Glory tapped the toe of one boot. “It’s quiet now. Later, you could get a stampede.”
“Christmas shoppers?”
“You know it.”
“What do you sell?”
“Oh, this and that.” She clutched her necklaces. “Candles, oils, herbs, vitamins. That type of thing.”
“I’ll enjoy seeing your merchandise.”
“Anytime.” Morning Glory held up two fingers in the peace sign. “We’d better put on our business faces.”
“I’ll call if I need you.”
Morning Glory fumbled with the jewelry around her neck, selected a necklace, pulled it over her head, and held it out to Misty. “This one’s obviously for you.”
“Thank you.” Misty hesitantly took the necklace, not wanting to be rude. “Is this macramé?”
“Made it myself. Beautiful, isn’t it? I’m thinking I ought to buy some supplies and teach a class before it’s a lost art. What do you think?”
“Looks like a lot of work.”
“Thing is, as I’m sure you know, when it’s art, it’s not work.”
Misty simply nodded.
“Now there’s an idea. Maybe I’ll teach macramé during Wild West Days over Labor Day.” Morning Glory looked Misty up and down. “Put on your necklace and let’s groove on it.”
Misty attempted to remember what Trey had said about the original Wildcat Bluff settlers. Independent cusses or something like that. Now she believed it. She slipped the smooth, knotted macramé over her head. She stroked the pendant that dangled from it.
“In case you don’t know, that brass piece is horse harness hardware. The hardware works perfectly for pendants since it comes in all sorts of designs like swans, animals, and such. Back in the day, a shiny row of those sewed on leather looked pretty on horses pulling conveyances.”
“I had no idea.” She didn’t say it, but she wasn’t even surprised that folks in Wildcat Bluff would wear horse harness hardware around their necks. Somehow it suited the place. And oddly enough, she thought the necklace pretty.
“That’s your guardian angel. Everybody needs one, particularly a Christmas angel. I knew there was a special reason I wore that necklace this morning.”
Misty stroked the wide wings, long gown, and bare feet of her angel. More Christmas. As soon as she got to her room, she’d better stow the necklace with the harp-playing angel in her closet.
“Now, you’ll do fine to teach macramé classes.”
“Teach? I’m sure others around here are better suited to help you. Besides, I’ll be back in Dallas.”
“Never try to predict your own future.”
Misty nodded again. Maybe she could make headway in her investigation. “Thank you. I just might need this guardian angel. I understand there’ve been a number of fires around here.”
“Bad mojo.”
“Have they all been grass and tree fires, like the one I helped with?”
“No. Buildings, too.”
“Good thing you’ve got such good fire-rescue volunteers.”
“That’s the truth of it. Great bunch.” Morning Glory whirled away. “I’m off to mix up a little of this and a little of that.”
As Morning Glory sashayed away, Misty wondered if the pretty woman had ventured a little too far on the wild side in her early years or if she was simply a creative personality. Either way, Misty couldn’t help but like her.
She glanced down at the necklace. She appreciated the thoughtfulness. The pendant didn’t look too overbearingly like an angel. Artfully avant-garde. She’d wear it a little while so as not to offend Morning Glory, but she didn’t need any extra reminders of Christmas.
Maybe she’d sit in the tearoom and wait for customers. Now that she thought about it, this situation could be a blessing in disguise. She’d have a great opportunity to start up conversations about local fires with shoppers as they looked around at merchandise.
She admired the bluebirds again, then sat down and looked out the front window at folks hurrying to and fro. Suddenly, a loud Klaxon sounded in the store and outside, above the boardwalk. She stood up in alarm.
“Misty, quick!” Morning Glory called from the back of the store. “Come on.”
She glanced around. Morning Glory wore a firefighter jacket over her shirt and a helmet on her head. She held similar bright yellow items in her hands.
Shocked, Misty looked from Morning Glory toward all the noise outside. Folks were streaming out of the stores, pulling on firefighter gear as they ran toward their vehicles. Hedy must have gotten the system back online and was testing to make sure it worked correctly.
“You can wear Hedy’s gear.” Morning Glory ran to the front door and quickly locked it.
“This is a fire drill, right?”
“No! We’ve got ourselves a real fire. A big one based on the number of blasts. And everybody helps out on a big fire. My pickup’s out back. We’ll take it.”
“Another fire?” Misty hated the thought. She pushed back the threatening edge of darkness as she clutched her new guardian angel. She’d fought a fire once for this town. Surely with all these people and something more than three towels, she could do it again.
“Quick. I’ve got a bad vibe about this fire.” Morning Glory tossed the extra firefighter helmet and jacket toward Misty.
She caught the gear and took deep breaths as she followed in Morning Glory’s wake.
Chapter 12
Trey pounded a u-nail into the wooden fence post and eyed his handiwork. He liked this section of old fence line. No telling how far back in time it went, since the posts were made of bois d’arc. That was the French name, but the trees were also known as iron wood or Osage orange because Osage hunters, like Comanche hunters, often made their bows out the extremely hard wood. He figured the fence would probably outlast him. Up through the Midwest, the trees were called hedge apple. Farmers had
planted hedgerows of bois d’arc back during the bad old Dust Bowl days as barriers to stop the vicious winds from lifting the topsoil and carrying it to the Gulf of Mexico. They’d also put the green hedge apples that grew on the trees in cabinets to keep out bugs.
He eased his hammer into his back pocket. Not much breeze today, so not much to keep him from baking in the sun. But it felt good, cleansing even, after the AC in the house. He took off his hat, pulled a blue bandanna out of his pocket, and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. He took a deep breath of the warm, dusty air that smelled like dry grass as he glanced around the pasture. Samson stomped a hoof under the shade of a live oak tree, patiently waiting to get back to the barn. Trey had already set out hay and made sure the stock tanks were full of water for the cattle. Ranch hands were taking care of work in other pastures.
All was as it should be. He could see it plain as day. But he still felt like a horse with a burr under his saddle. Fire, heat, and drought could be the irritating culprits, but most likely his feelings were due to his Christmas angel. He’d tossed and turned all night. One kiss. A few smiles. A bit of banter. And he was getting in deep. With a city gal, no less.
A little hard, sweaty work fixing fence was just what the doctor ordered to get his mind off Misty. He’d ridden Samson out at dawn with supplies and water. He could’ve taken one of the ATVs, but he’d wanted the ride to get the kinks out of his body. Besides, Samson was an old friend, and he needed that kind of easy company right now.
But nothing put his mind to rest. Samson would turn thirty pretty soon. And so would Trey. Made a guy think about his life and where he was going with it. Samson wouldn’t always be around. That was the way of life. Trey was still living in his folks’ guesthouse. He liked the simple and easy comfort. He also liked being near his parents, but they were slowly getting up there, even if he didn’t want to think about that fact, and change was in the wind.
