“No,” Jacob agreed.
Judith redialed Beverly’s phone number and counted the unanswered rings. Did Beverly fail to answer because she wasn’t home or was she unable to answer because of the fire? Keneisha’s joyful smile and lively dark eyes drifted into Judith’s mind. Please, let them be safe.
The fire engine turned down the dirt road that led to Judith’s cabin.
Not the church! Had someone set fire to her grandfather’s church?
As they followed the fire engine the true source of the flames became apparent. Waves of fire surged through her grandfather’s barn, the old timber groaning as it suffered the torturous flames.
Jacob’s truck skidded to a stop. He shot out of his seat, reached into a toolbox in the truck’s bed, pulled out a bulky jacket, and then raced to join the other firefighters.
Judith scrambled out of his truck and made her way to the fire engine.
The barn was beyond rescue. The sheets of metal that had once formed the patchwork roof tumbled to the ground, sending avaricious sparks into the overhanging canopy of pines.
“Judith!”
Judith’s ice cold blood warmed at the sound of Beverly’s voice. She saw Beverly pushing through the firemen.
The two women embraced.
“Are you OK?” Judith asked. “Where’s Keneisha?”
“We’re both OK. I called the fire department as soon as I saw the smoke.”
A wall of the barn collapsed, sending a wave of heat and smoke towards them.
“Let’s get out of the way.” Beverly said.
Keneisha was standing on the porch, Pumpkin clutched tightly in her arms.
They went to stand with the little girl.
Judith’s heart squeezed at the sight of Keneisha’s wide eyes and trembling bottom lip. Judith wrapped her good arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulled her close. “It’s OK, nobody’s hurt.”
“But what about Mr. Isaiah’s barn?”
“Wasn’t much left of it. If the fire hadn’t gotten it, the next big wind would have.”
The little girl’s gaze was transfixed on the blaze.
“Let’s go around to the back porch,” Judith suggested. “There’s no need for Pumpkin to see this.”
Judith and Beverly guided the girl to the back of the cabin.
“What’s that?” Keneisha asked, pointing to one of the porch posts.
A piece of white paper fluttered in the gusts of heat from the fire. Judith pulled it off a nail and read its chilling message.
You ignored one warning.
Don’t ignore the second.
The next fire will hit closer to home.
“What is it?” Beverly asked.
“I have to show this to the fire chief,” Judith answered without further explanation. She went back towards the blazing barn.
Where was Jacob? She searched the figures silhouetted by the fire, but couldn’t locate him among the other men. The anxiety to see him, to know he was all right, clawed at her throat until it ached from the strain.
A jacketed arm blocked her path. “That’s far enough,” a man’s gruff voice said.
Judith looked into the man’s soot-lined face. “I need to see the fire chief.”
“That’s me,” he said. “Emmett Dutton.”
“I’m Judith Robertson.” A familiar hand touched her shoulder and her anxiety evaporated. She looked up into Jacob’s sweaty face. “Are you OK?”
Jacob wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m fine. Sorry we couldn’t save the barn.”
“The barn is nothing. But I found this on my back porch.”
Jacob frowned over the hostile words and passed the note to the chief.
The older man fished a pair of glasses from his pocket and squinted at the paper. “The sheriff should be here in a few minutes. He’ll have to look into this, but we’ll know more about whether this was arson once the inspector from the state fire marshal’s office has a look.” He turned to Judith. “Any idea who would want to hurt you?”
“The same people who burned Henry Washington’s church. First, I was told to mind my own business, and then I was run off the road. Now this.” Judith gestured towards the ruined barn. “It’s Dwight Thompson.”
“What do you think?” Chief Dutton looked at Jacob.
“As far as I know, there’s no evidence to pin these arsons on Dwight, but he did make some menacing remarks to Judith.”
A squad car pulled up behind Jacob’s truck.
“Here’s the sheriff now,” Emmett said. “Thank goodness this is his mess to clear up and not mine.”
Mark Grey and Sheriff Miller climbed out of the squad car. Jacob followed Mark to the burn site while the sheriff stopped to talk to Chief Dutton.
When the fire chief handed the paper to the sheriff, the sheriff scowled and returned to his squad car. He retrieved a plastic bag with the word evidence written in red block letters across the front and placed the note in the bag. Then he walked to where Judith stood waiting.
“Sorry to see you’ve lost your barn,” Sheriff Miller said.
“Dwight Thompson left that note for me,” Judith said.
“How do you know that?”
“He’s been threatening me for weeks. It had to be him.”
Sheriff Miller scanned the area. “We’ll look into it.”
He didn’t believe her. What would it take to make the sheriff see what was so obvious to her?
Mark Grey approached, his shoes covered with ash. “The arson inspector will be out tomorrow morning, Miss Robertson. Until then, leave everything just the way it is.”
“Dwight Thompson left me a note. The sheriff has it.”
Mark shifted his gaze from Judith to the sheriff and back to Judith. “We’re following every lead, Miss Robertson. But we can’t act on hunches and feelings. When we’ve gathered enough evidence, we’ll make an arrest.”
“My barn was burned for just one reason. To scare me.”
“You’re probably right.” Mark took a handkerchief from his back pocket and used it to wipe his face. “The security cameras are up and running. If anyone tries to destroy the church, there’s a good chance we’ll catch him on video. You shouldn’t stay out here alone.”
“I’m going to stay with Beverly Lewis. Do you know her?”
“Yes, I interviewed her about your car accident.” Mark used his chin to point to Judith’s arm. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” There were so many more important things to talk about than her health.
“Not scared?”
As she took a quick inventory of her emotions, a revelation astonished her. She felt angry and frustrated, and there were definitely strands of impatience and resentment floating around in her conscious, but she wasn’t scared. She’d spent most of her adult life cowering in fear. But she wasn’t afraid now.
Beverly and Keneisha walked to Judith’s side.
“I’d better call Brother Henry and tell him about this,” Beverly said. “C’mon, Keneisha. Time for us to go home.”
Keneisha passed the kitten to Judith. “Don’t let go of Pumpkin. She’s scared of the fire and all those men.”
“I’ll take care of her. I’ll be over to see you later tonight.”
“I’ll have your room ready,” Beverly said.
Judith made her way towards the smoldering ruins of the barn. Just as she rounded the front of the cabin, she saw Jacob shake the sheriff’s hand.
Minutes later, the firefighters and the sheriff pulled away, their tail lights forming a long red line in the night.
“What did the sheriff say?” Judith asked as Jacob joined her.
“Says he’ll go and question Dwight Thompson. But trust me, Judith. Dwight will have an alibi.”
Judith studied Jacob’s tired face. “You look worn out. Want to come in for a while?”
“I told the chief I’d stay here to keep an eye on what’s left of your barn. I’ve got to make sure no other fires st
art. Thank goodness it’s not windy tonight.”
Judith led him to the cabin. “Can I get you something?”
“How about a gallon of water?” Jacob answered as he laid his heavy jacket over the porch railing and collapsed into one of the rocking chairs. “I’m going to stay out here where I can keep watch.”
Judith carried Pumpkin inside the cabin. When she returned with two glasses and a pitcher of ice water, she settled into the rocking chair next to him.
“When are you going over to Beverly’s?” Jacob asked.
“When you leave, I’ll go.”
They sat in silence for several minutes as the night closed around them.
Jacob rested their joined hands on the arm of the rocking chair and closed his eyes.
Just when Judith suspected he’d fallen asleep, he drank the rest of his water and passed the empty glass to her. “Can I have some more?”
“Of course,” she answered. But when she returned to the porch with a full glass, he was no longer stretched out in the chair. She set the glass on the porch railing and trailed him to the ruins of the barn.
He glanced up as she approached, and then continued raking the hot coals and spraying them with the water hose. Plumes of ash and cinders hovered over the site, burning her throat with acrid smoke. “Won’t be much longer before this fire’s completely dead. Then I’ll take you over to Beverly’s.”
“I can drive myself. I’ll get my bag out of your truck.”
“Judith?”
She turned and waited for him to continue.
“I’m worried about you.”
Judith slid her good arm around his waist and nestled her head against his shoulder. He smelled of smoke and sweat, but she relished the feel of his strength. If only she could ease his worry—go back to his parents’ house or let him stay with her—but she wouldn’t give in to fear. She’d come too far to let fear beat her down again.
“I know God will protect you,” Jacob said. “But relying on faith is hard. I’d feel a lot better if I could be with you.”
She rose to brush her lips against his.
Jacob deepened the kiss.
This man loved her, wanted to protect her, and although she was far from certain about their future together, she was falling in love with him. She encircled his neck with her arm and gave herself to his kiss.
Once things got back to normal, when Henry’s congregation was in its own church and Dwight Thompson’s hate group was dealt with, she would savor the time she had with Jacob. They would spend hours together, just talking. Just falling in love.
Jacob ended the kiss and nudged her back. “Time for you to go.”
“Why?”
“Because I know where kissing you might lead. Some things should wait until after our wedding.”
He loved her so much he’d even protect her from their shared desires.
****
Sabine County was a long drive for Jacob, but he would go much farther if it meant helping Sheriff Miller or Special Agent Grey. The note Judith had discovered had turned Jacob’s blood to ice. Dwight had told him the arsonists might not stop at burning empty buildings and the note had warned that the next attack would hit closer to home. Did that mean Judith’s cabin?
She’d been run off the road on purpose and her barn had been torched. There was no doubt she’d been targeted by someone who didn’t like the way she was helping Henry’s congregation. Jacob admired the way she’d answered Henry’s call for help. He even respected her determination to not back down. But did it have to be Judith?
The fact that she was an outsider to Piney Meadow was undoubtedly a factor. If his family had bought the land, and then loaned the church, no one would have threatened them. The Fraser family employed too many people to risk the loss of business because of threats or property damage.
But Judith was a stranger. She didn’t have family scattered throughout the county like he did. Judith didn’t know who came from honest, hard-working people and who had family trees full of con men and criminals. She’d been as vulnerable as a baby possum at a highway crossing.
But that was before Jacob had fallen in love with her. Now that his plans for the future were pinned on one beautiful woman with brown, curly hair and dark eyes that flashed with mischief, he’d do everything in his power to protect her. Even if that included talking to the Buchanans before the FBI or sheriff did.
Jacob pulled to a stop in front of a padlocked metal gate. There were five no trespassing signs of various sizes nailed to the gate and surrounding trees. Jacob honked the truck horn and waited. Someone would be out eventually.
About five minutes later, Jacob heard the sound of an ATV. Red dust drifted through the air as a man wearing stained overalls and a white tee shirt drove the vehicle down the dirt road. As the man neared the gate, Jacob recognized Lee Buchanan, the oldest member of the family.
The vehicle stopped. “Is that Jacob Fraser?” the man yelled.
Jacob got out of the truck and walked to the gate. “How are you, Lee?”
The older man scratched his white beard and got off the four-wheeler. “I’ll be better if you’re here to do business.”
“I’d be willing to talk about it. Are you ready to sell some hardwood?”
“I might be. Come on in and we’ll talk. I hope you brought your big wallet with you. Hardwood don’t come cheap.”
Lee unlocked the padlock and opened the gate. Jacob drove through, then waited while the other man closed and relocked the gate. Once the ATV was ahead of him, Jacob followed it to the Buchanans’ main house.
Several generations of the family lived in the ramshackle structure. The original cabin had been no more than four rooms, but as each generation was born, additions had been built. One side of the house was brick, the opposite side brown vinyl siding, and a third addition at the rear was covered with outdated asbestos shingles. There were several abandoned cars and two derelict house trailers scattered around the edges.
Jacob parked his pickup under a shady magnolia.
“Now, what can I do for you?” Lee said, as he approached.
“Last time I was here, you indicated you might be willing to sell some oak. What’s your thinking on that now?”
“Depends on the price. What’s your bottom line?”
Jacob watched Lee’s eyes as he named the price. The flash of interest in the older man’s gaze was exactly what he’d been hoping for.
Lee scratched his beard and spit a stream of tobacco juice. “You might as well get back in your truck if that’s all you’re offering. No need to waste your time.”
Jacob leaned against the hood. “You know I don’t haggle, Lee. That’s my top price.”
“I heard you were going to pay Dwight Thompson a pretty penny for some of his pine.”
“I don’t talk about deals I make with other clients.”
“Seems to me that if you can pay that much for common pine, you could come up with more for top grade oak.”
“I’m already offering you top dollar. My family has to cut the timber, transport it, and mill it. That’s a lot of overhead on our part.”
Lee sent another stream of tobacco juice into the red dust. “Wait here. I want to talk it over with my sons.”
Jacob let down the tailgate, and sat in the truck’s bed. No telling how long Lee would make him wait. But it didn’t matter. Land owners could hem and haw, negotiate all they wanted, and try to talk him into a higher price, but he never changed his initial offer.
Despite the magnolia’s shade, the summer afternoon’s heat pressed in on him. A Confederate flag hung limply from the pole attached to the side of the house and flies buzzed around the old oil drums the Buchanans used for garbage. But the most distasteful thing about the place was Lee’s sign collection.
One sign propped on an abandoned Chevrolet featured a crude drawing of a man hanging from a noose. The words painted beneath the picture warned of similar fates to anyone who stepped out of line. Racial slurs bl
ighted other signs and one oversized placard proclaimed the divine supremacy of white people.
Jacob’s throat tightened as he read the vile messages. After his first visit to this property, he’d told his father about the Buchanans. His father had agreed that such a family was “not worth the aggravation” and had advised Jacob to drop them as potential clients.
But it wasn’t timber that had brought Jacob back to this part of the county.
Lee Buchanan strode out, the screen door banging behind him. “I think we’re going to pass this time,” he said. “But if you can come up with another thousand dollars, we might be interested.”
Jacob climbed out of the truck’s bed. “That’s not going to happen, Lee, but I appreciate you hearing me out.” He opened the driver’s side door and turned to face the older man. “Before I leave, there’s one other thing I’d like to talk to you about.”
Lee’s bushy, white eyebrows drew together. “What’s that?”
“Have you heard about the church burnings in the area?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“I’m one of the volunteer firefighters in Piney Meadow and we had one a few weeks ago.”
“So?”
“Have you heard anybody bragging about setting the fire?”
Lee narrowed his eyes. Then his features changed as a broad smile replaced his scowl. “You must think I’m dumber than a sack of marbles.” He let out a harsh bark of laughter. “You see my signs and think I must know people who go around burning black people’s churches.”
Jacob’s throat tightened as Lee stepped closer.
“You listen here, Mr. High Horse Fraser.” Lee poked Jacob in the chest with one finger. “It’s my right as an American citizen to write whatever I want and put my signs on my own property. Just ‘cause you don’t like what I write don’t mean I’m stupid enough to burn down somebody’s church.”
Jacob brushed Lee’s hand away from his chest. “Have you heard of a group called Hunters United?”
Lee stuck his index finger in his mouth, dug out the plug of tobacco he’d been chewing, and threw it on the ground. He spit a few times before looking back at Jacob. “Yeah, I heard of them. Why?”
From The Ashes Page 16
