by Kim Redford
“Misty, it means somebody started those fires. Two at once can’t be an accident of nature.”
“Like the house?”
“Yes.” He fixed her with hazel eyes gone dark. “But it also means we were together when those fires were set, even if they smoldered for a bit before they got going good.”
“And if we’re together—” She felt her breath catch at the enormity of what he was telling her.
“Somebody else—”
“Not us.”
He smiled, laugh lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
“Do you have an extra fire extinguisher?”
“Forget it.” He picked up a large red fire extinguisher with a black shoulder strap and set it on the ground. He pulled out another extinguisher and slung it by its strap over his shoulder.
“I want to help.”
“Good. Take my truck back to Wildcat Road and drive toward town till you get coverage. When you reach 9-1-1, tell them where we are and to alert Kent and Sydney.”
“Okay.” She opened the door, stepped carefully down, and ran around the front of the pickup to him.
“After that, please go back to Twin Oaks.”
“What?”
“You’re not trained for these blazes. And remember your fire phobia.”
“I helped before.”
He tugged her gently against his chest and held her close a moment. Then he set her back. “I don’t want you in danger.”
“But I can help.”
“If anything happened to you—”
“Nothing will.”
“That’s right, because you’re leaving here.” He twirled her around and nudged her toward the front seat. “No time for sass. Get going.”
“Okay. I’m going, but only because somebody’s got to reach Hedy at the station.”
“That’s my Misty.” He slammed the back door, picked up the fire extinguisher from the ground, and slung it by its strap over his shoulder. He gave her a quick nod, then jogged toward the smoke.
She got in the truck and revved the big engine. She’d quickly come to like the height and power of a pickup. She made sure Trey was at a safe distance, then turned around and headed out. She drove with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the phone. She hit speed dial for 9-1-1 as she hurried down the road, but she still couldn’t get coverage.
When she came to Wildcat Road, she spun the wheel one-handed to make the left turn and skidded toward the shoulder. She dropped her phone as she overcorrected in the other direction. Finally, she got the truck safely stopped on the side of the road. Good thing she wasn’t in Dallas with all that traffic.
She felt the fast thud of her heart from the adrenaline that had kicked in, so she took several calming breaths. She had to be careful because Trey was depending on her alone to get help. She reached down, felt around on the floorboard, and finally found her cell wedged in a corner. She grabbed it and set up straight.
She hit 9-1-1 again. Still no response. She gunned the engine and tore down the road toward town, dialing over and over.
“Wildcat Bluff Emergency. How may I help you?”
“Hedy! Is that you?” Misty pulled to the side of the road and stopped the pickup so she could safely talk.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Misty Reynolds. We’ve got a fire out here on either side of the road between Wildcat Ranch and a Texas Timber Christmas tree farm.”
“Say again?” Hedy spoke in a calm, professional voice. “Fire on both sides of the road?”
“Yes. Trey’s there now fighting the fire. He needs help. Please alert Kent and Sydney, too.”
“I know the area. Alarm’s gone out.”
“Thank you.” Misty felt deep relief. “He’s alone.”
“Not for long.”
“I’m going back.”
“Misty, you get out of there.” Hedy’s voice was no longer professional but filled with emotional concern. “We can handle it.”
“The fire’s on both sides of the road.”
“Understood. But—”
“Thanks!”
Misty slumped against the seat and rubbed her forehead. She’d done it. Help was on the way. But she needed to do a little more before she went back to lend her support to Trey.
She called Audrey. No answer. She was probably in a meeting. Misty sent a text. “Fire at Christmas tree farm opposite Wildcat Ranch. Fire trucks on way. I’m at fire. GTG.”
Next she hit speed dial for Cindi Lou, who quickly picked up.
“Tell me you’ve got him tied to his bedposts and you’re just taking a break to spill all,” Cindi Lou said in a sultry voice.
Despite the situation, Misty couldn’t help but chuckle. “I wish.”
“Shoot. What gives?”
“We’ve got a fire on the Texas Timber Christmas tree farm across from Wildcat Ranch.”
“How bad?”
“There’ll be loss but not total. Fire trucks are on their way.”
“The hunk?”
“He’s there now with a couple of fire extinguishers.” Misty felt renewed urgency to return to the fires.
“That’s like whistling in the wind.”
“I’ve got to get back to him.”
“Misty, you two take care. Hear now?”
“I hear you. Later.” She broke the connection.
Misty had done her civic duty. Help was on its way. She could go back to Twin Oaks and nobody would blame her. But Wildcat Bluff was personal now, as well as professional. And now Trey was her trusted friend, as well as so much more. She wouldn’t rest easy till he was safe.
She turned the truck around and headed back to the fire. She gunned the engine and heard the pickup respond with a deep growl. Reminded her of Trey. If he thought she’d run to safety and leave him to face danger alone, he didn’t know her very well.
In the distance, smoke billowed up into the sky over the Christmas tree farm. It looked much worse than when she’d left a short time ago. Drought, heat, and a slight breeze were fanning the flames. She could smell burning cedar. Panic started to well up, but she batted it down. She wouldn’t allow old feelings to overwhelm her. Not when Trey needed her.
As she turned off Wildcat Road, she slowed and reached behind the seat to grab Trey’s firefighter parka. Between the parka and her boots, she’d have some protection when she helped him.
In her mind’s eye, she saw a lone man in a firefighter jacket, desperately fighting to save lives and land. He was a larger-than-life hero.
Her hero.
Chapter 25
Trey’s temper was hotter than a Fourth of July firecracker. He was sweating under the sun—part heat, part fury—as he sprayed pressurized water from the extinguisher along the far edge of the blaze. He had to get out ahead of the flames before they leaped the fence and raced toward a herd of Angus in the bone-dry pasture of Wildcat Ranch.
If he could get his hands on the culprits who were trying to burn down his family’s ranch, there’d be hell to pay. Bad enough they’d tried to torch the ranch again, but they’d targeted virgin acres of the nearby Texas Timber Christmas tree farm, too. Made him mad as a Comanche who’d had a string of horses stolen in the dark of night. There was no going back. Just like the warrior who’d hunt down those thieves to the ends of the Earth to get back his prize herd, Trey would stalk these arsonists till he made sure they were brought to justice.
After the side-by-side fires and the heart-to-heart with Misty, he had to wonder if he’d been wearing his thinking cap backward. What if Misty was here to help, not hurt? What if Texas Timber wasn’t trying to burn him out so he’d sell to them? What if some folks—or a single person—he’d never considered before were the culprits?
Trust was a fragile thing, but once
it took hold, trust was strong and tenacious as barbwire. Misty was earning his trust in a big way. He might be a tad slow, but once he got the bit between his teeth he was hot on the trail. Now he was looking at the arsonists and their motives in a whole new way.
He could hear the crack and pop of cedar oil as fire spread through the trees behind him. A breeze caught the smoke from burning trees and blew it over him in a gray fog. He coughed to clear his lungs. If that wind got any stronger, his ranch would be vulnerable to fire jumping the road. But he didn’t have the time or means to deal with both blazes, not with only two fire extinguishers. The tree farm had to wait for the rigs while he did what he could to control the flames licking toward his ranch’s fence line on this side of the road.
As luck would have it, the culprits had been too lazy, or too stupid, to cross the barbwire fence and start the fire where it could do real damage fast. They’d focused on the shoulder of the road where the grass was short, sparse, and filled with gravel. Trey could smell gasoline and see an oily residue where liquid had been dumped on the ground. If he hadn’t been here, the blaze would’ve taken hold and spread fast with the added accelerant and drought conditions. He hated to think about the destruction that would have happened on Wildcat Ranch.
Between the water extinguisher and the ABC dry chemical extinguisher, he hoped he had enough power in the cans to put out the fire before it broke loose. Cattle were vulnerable, but wild animals, too. Plus all the small ground critters like toads and snakes that could easily get caught in a fast-moving fire and not be able to escape.
Still, he was lucky. He’d arrived in the nick of time and the available fuel was limited so the burn was slower. Once more, Misty had proven herself to be his Christmas angel. If she hadn’t wanted to see the ranch, they wouldn’t have been on this road at this time of day. And they wouldn’t have seen the fires.
As he sprayed with water, a flame escaped, blazed, and tried to claw its way up his leg. He stomped on the fire with his thick leather boot sole and drove the blaze into the ground. He stopped spraying while he beat back the flames near him with his tough cowboy boots.
If the fire managed to jump this fence, he had another plus in his favor. He’d baled hay last summer, although there was precious little good grass with the heat and drought this year. He’d even had to buy hay to make sure his cattle had enough food to last through the winter. Short, dry grass wouldn’t provide as much fuel, so it’d burn fast but not as hot.
He continued to spray around the edges of the fire, wetting down an outer area of containment. He let the gasoline-soaked center burn as he moved inward with a wide spray that extinguished flames. Heat buffeted him. Smoke stung his nose and burned his eyes, but he ignored the sensations as he continued to douse the fire.
He aimed at another spot, but nothing came out of the extinguisher. He tried to coax a little more from the can, but he’d emptied his first fire extinguisher. He set it down on the road and picked up the can he’d saved for the gasoline-soaked area. He only had a limited amount of chemical, so he had to be smart about its use. He sprayed fine yellow powder over the center of the containment area to put out the remaining red-orange flames now surrounded by a blackened area.
He had the fire on the run, but it kept clawing back. He hit the blazes with chemical and snuffed them out with his boots till finally the last of the fire fizzled and went out, leaving an area of blackened grass highlighted with yellow powder. He sighed in relief. He’d had just enough in the two cans to handle the blaze. For now, Wildcat Ranch was safe.
But he could feel heat from the tree fire behind him. He turned to survey the other side of the road. Not good. White smoke billowed upward from the burning saplings. Crackling and spitting sounds filled the air. If the fire hadn’t been so deadly, it’d look beautiful. The fire jumped from one cedar to another to create a patchwork quilt of blazing bonfires across the tree farm.
Trey’s jacket was made to repel heat and wick away inside moisture, but he was still sweating from the fire and exertion. He hoped the rigs got there soon. They had to stop that blaze fast before it spread out into the county or across the road to his ranch.
When he heard the deep growl of a truck, he grinned. Help had arrived just in time. He hung the fire extinguisher from a strap over one shoulder, then walked over and picked up the other empty can and slung it by the strap over his other shoulder.
He glanced down the road and felt his gut flip-flop. Misty had come back. He didn’t want her anywhere near this danger. Even worse, she’d stopped in the middle of the road. She needed to either get out or get his pickup off the lane so apparatus could move in close to the fire.
He jogged toward her, pointing toward the ditch by the side of the road. His truck had enough clearance so it’d be no problem, but did she realize that? He kept gesturing as he neared her, looking toward Wildcat Road as he ran. If the rigs came barreling down the road, Misty would be planted smack-dab in the way. Last thing they needed was a crash or an impediment to stopping the fire in its tracks.
Finally, he saw her nod in understanding. She steered off the road, bounced over the ditch, and took out a line of saplings before she came to a stop. She turned off the engine, stepped down from the truck, and ran toward him.
He stopped, transfixed by the sight. She’d pulled on his yellow and orange Hi-Vis parka. As she ran, his jacket flared out around her like the wings of an angel—his Christmas angel.
Even so, he still wished she wasn’t here. Sap in the cedars was exploding and sending out sparks as the blaze raced toward the bigger trees. Dense smoke was spiraling up and spreading out from where it covered the ground. He coughed to clear his lungs.
When she reached him, Trey wrapped an arm around her, not feeling much of her body because of their firefighter gear. Still, she was safe.
“I got hold of Hedy. Kent and Sydney are on their way.”
“Great.” He gestured toward his ranch. “Got that fire put out, but the other is—”
“Huge!” She stepped away from him, walked toward the tree farm, and then turned back, shaking her head. “That’s dangerous.”
“With the right equipment, it’s containable.”
“Good. How can I help?”
“Volunteers will be here soon. We’ll get it under control. You can go on back to Twin Oaks.”
“I want to help.” She raised a foot. “See. I’ve even got boots this time.”
He smiled, but he still shook his head. “So much smoke and fire can’t be good for you.”
“I’m better about it now.”
“I can see that.” He cleared his throat. “About Texas Timber—”
“First thing, let’s save what we can of this tree farm. Then we talk.”
“Okay.” He kept an eye on the fire, wishing the apparatus would arrive. “Not much we can do right now but let it burn. No people or homes are in danger. As long as the wind doesn’t come up, the ranch is safe.”
She turned to face the fire. “It doesn’t seem right to just stand here and watch those little trees burn.”
“Yeah. Tell that to the arsonists.”
She jerked her head around to look at him.
“I found gasoline on the ground.”
“We’ve got to stop these fires.” She walked down the road, looking from ground to fire and back again. “Can you tell where the fire started?”
He followed her, checking the fire’s progress. “I’d say about in there.” He pointed to a blackened area. “No fence on this side of the road so they could walk into the trees to start the blaze.”
Misty kept on walking, glancing up and down. “Trey, look here!” She suddenly knelt on the road, pointing at the shoulder almost directly across from the burned area near his fence.
He jogged a few steps and knelt beside her. He saw a white tissue with a red smear that’d been pressed into the ground by
a boot or animal or something.
“Could it be evidence?” Misty asked.
“Maybe. But anybody could’ve dropped that or tossed it out a car window anytime.”
“Still, it’s something. I’d like to pick it up, but I don’t want to cause problems with an investigation.”
“Let me handle it.” He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket, placed his foot near the tissue to indicate size, and took several pictures. He stepped back and shot a wider angle to show location. She took photos with her phone, too. He gently dislodged the tissue from the dirt and held it up by one edge with two fingers so she could get a better look.
“That’s lipstick!” She pointed at the crimson smear on the white tissue. “It looks fresh, not dried out by the sun.” She glanced up at his face. “Do you think our arsonist is a woman?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. This might not have anything to do with the fire.”
“True. But it’s something to check out.”
“You bet.” He carefully eased the tissue into a big pocket. “I’ll transfer it to a baggie.”
“You’ve got some in the truck?”
“Yep. All the volunteers carry them just in case.”
“Good idea.”
A gust of wind sent smoke wafting toward them. Trey put an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get back to the pickup.”
“Okay by me.” She coughed, covering her mouth with her hand.
He didn’t know if the tissue was evidence, but it was the first thing they’d found that might relate to the arsonists. And Misty had found it. He wasn’t even surprised by this fact. She’d been good luck from the first. But now he wanted her where she was safe. She didn’t need to be inhaling the smoke or fighting a fire. If she was a trained volunteer, he wouldn’t feel so protective. On the other hand, maybe he’d feel the same need to keep her safe.
When they reached his truck, he laid the empty fire extinguishers on the back floorboard. He rummaged in a tackle box where he kept supplies and found the right size baggie. He eased the tissue out of his pocket, gently enclosed the evidence in the plastic bag, then wrote the date, time, and place with an indelible marker on the outside. Last, he put the baggie in the tackle box and shut the lid.
