Sam's gaze narrowed as he leaned back in his chair. "What did Quill say to you?"
"We were supposed to have a meeting of the minds, but Judson lost his somewhere along the way."
"What did he say?"
Brett could feel her cheeks growing warm as she recalled the accusations and implications Judson had made.
"Brett?" Sam prodded when she didn't say anything.
"I didn't enjoy hearing what he said the first time. I certainly don't want to repeat any of it." She smiled weakly. "I had the last word only because I stormed out of his office."
"Did you shut the door in Miss Frostbite's face?" Sam asked.
"His secretary wasn't around." Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "But I made the chandelier clatter like crazy when I slammed the front door with everything I had."
"That's my girl," he said with pride, as though she'd just won a Pulitzer Prize. "Don't worry about the papers. Darren can call Carl Trenton, our attorney in San Francisco, to go over anything you want explained. We'll set up a conference call and leave Judson Quill out of it."
Darren looked from Sam to Brett, a puzzled frown between his eyes. "I wonder if your attorney is any relation to this dingbat lady who keeps nagging Terry." Turning to his assistant, he asked, "Terry, didn't you say her name was Quill?"
Terry had just taken a forkful of cooked yellow squash, so she settled for a nod as a reply.
"What is she pestering Terry about?" Sam asked.
Terry was finally able to speak. "This woman wants a part in the documentary. And not just a walk-on. She wants a starring role. She insists she has had 'extensive training in the arts,' as she puts it."
"Don't they all," Darren said. "Remember that guy who had gotten his picture in the paper for pumping gas into the car belonging to the fiftieth customer and thought he should be in the 'movin' pikchurs'?"
Terry nodded. "That's about the size of it. This woman's experience consists of a few parts in local theater productions. Apparently, she has a costume left from her role in The King and I that she wants to use for our film." Terry grinned at Sam. "She dragged this dress, that had about ten yards of material in the skirt alone, along with her and showed it to me. Deborah Kerr would have laughed herself silly if she could have seen it. I doubt if any self-respecting southern woman would have been caught dead in that gown in the 1860s, or any other time period."
Hank took exception to Terry's remark. "There were loose women in that time period, just like any other."
"I bet you didn't learn that in high-school history class," Terry said.
"My dear child," Hank replied, "there have been loose women since the beginning of time."
"Actually," Brett said, "that term was used to describe shameless women who went without their stays. When they weren't properly cinched into their undergarments, they were considered loose women, literally and figuratively."
Terry nodded her head vigorously. "This Quill woman definitely has something loose, and it's not her underwear."
Hank and Wade laughed. Sam looked at Brett. "Do you know her?"
"It has to be Kathryn, Judson's wife. Actually, she's his second wife. My mother always felt sorry for her because Judson's first wife was a hard act to follow. The first Mrs. Quill has become something of a saint with each passing year that her friends have had to deal with Kathryn. According to my mother and father, Judson has spent a lot of energy smoothing over some of the feathers Kathryn has ruffled. My mother felt Kathryn basically tries too hard to fit into the role of Judson's wife, whereas if she relaxed a little, people would accept her as herself and not as a substitute for Judson's first wife." Turning to Terry, she added, "Please don't feel you need to find a role for her just because she was a friend of my mother's."
Terry smiled. "Don't worry. I won't. I told her that all the roles have been cast, but we would call her if we could use her as an extra in any of the crowd scenes. She said not to bother. Then she asked about stand-ins for the actors. I told her they had also been cast. Then she wanted to know what would happen if the understudy became sick at the same time as the actor they would stand in for."
"Maybe we'd better hire a food taster," Darren said. "It doesn't sound like this woman is going to give up."
Sam pushed his chair back abruptly. "If you'll excuse us, Brett promised to show me her mother's greenhouse."
That was news to Brett. She went along with the excuse he'd given, though, since she had a pretty good idea why he wanted to speak to her alone. She couldn't help but notice the grim lines around his mouth after she'd mentioned her meeting with Judson. They were still there, along with a determined glint in his eyes. He would want to know exactly what Judson had said to her. She was learning that Sam Horne was big on details, and not just when it pertained to his work.
She pushed back her chair and was about to excuse herself when the swinging door connecting the dining room to the kitchen was violently pushed open and crashed loudly into the sideboard beside it. Everyone turned toward the doorway as a man burst into the dining room.
His gray uniform made it obvious he was one of the reenactors. "Mr. Horne," he said, looking immediately at Sam. "You'd better come quickly. There's a fire in barn number one."
Darren's chair toppled over as he jumped to his feet. "That's where we stored the camera equipment."
Sam was running for the door when he said over his shoulder, "Brett, call the fire department."
Brett raced to the nearest telephone, which happened to be in the kitchen. Everyone else who had been in the dining room followed Sam through the kitchen, slamming the outside door as they headed toward the barn.
Her heart was lodged in her throat at the thought of all of them running into danger, but Brett managed to give the vital information to the person who answered the emergency number. When she hung up the phone, she saw Mrs. Arthur wringing her hands as she looked out the kitchen window, murmuring under her breath, "Oh, dear. Oh, dear."
Brett approached the older woman and put her hand on her shoulder. "The fire department is on its way, Mrs. Arthur."
She glanced past the housekeeper to look out the window. The sky was dark with only a half-moon providing any natural light. She could see pairs of car lights moving toward the barn as the alarm went out and the crew arranged the cars so their headlights were directed at the barn. There were also a few security lights attached to the building; her father had installed them on all the outbuildings for insurance purposes. Flashlights danced back and forth across the field from the encampment as more people ran toward the barn.
Brett strained her eyes to see any sign of fire coming from the large structure. The lights inside the barn flashed on, and it was then she could see a thin column of smoke rising from the upper door of the hayloft. Then flames licked the dark sky, and gray smoke was caught in the beam of a security light attached to the arch in the barn roof.
"Will you make some coffee, Mrs. Arthur?" Brett suggested, more to keep the housekeeper busy than out of a genuine need. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."
"Of course." The older woman visibly pulled herself together. "I should have thought of that myself." When she saw Brett walking toward the door, fear was back in her voice. "You aren't going out there, are you, Miss Brett?"
"I have to, Mrs. Arthur. This is my family's land and it's my responsibility to take care of it."
And she had to make sure Sam was all right, but she didn't admit that to the housekeeper. She was frightened enough just thinking about something happening to Sam without putting it into words. Thoughts spoken aloud gave them power, and Brett didn't want to make her fear any stronger than it already was.
Once she was outside, she could smell the acrid odor of smoke and see orange flames reaching into the darkness. Far off in the distance, she heard the faint scream of a siren. A little of her fear receded. The fire department would be there soon.
She ran toward the barn. Men in gray wool uniforms worked beside men in casual mod
ern clothes as they hurried in and out of the barn, giving the scene an eerie otherworldly view. Each man went into the barn empty-handed and exited carrying equipment, moving quickly and efficiently like a team of ants.
Occasionally someone would yell a warning or an order to do something, but the sound overpowering everything was the ominous crackle and snap of the fire in the loft of the barn.
Brett ducked around the lines of men and entered the barn. She recognized several familiar faces of crew members she'd met during the last several days, even though their faces were blackened with smoke. Then she spotted Darren directing people as they carried the valuable cameras and other pieces of equipment out of the barn. Darren's tan shirt was soiled with smoke and grime, his face smudged with sweat.
A gray haze hung in the barn, making the air heavy and pungent. Looking up, Brett couldn't see any flames coming through the floorboards of the loft overhead. She hoped that meant the fire was contained there and wouldn't spread to the rest of the barn.
Suddenly something crashed onto the floor above, sending angry red-and-yellow sparks through the cracks. Five men moved quickly from beneath the area as water started falling between the boards.
Someone had hooked up a hose to the barn's water supply, she realized. A green length of hose stretched across the floor and trailed up the ladder leading to the loft.
Some idiot was in the loft fighting the fire with a garden hose!
She bit her lip as panic clawed in her stomach. Where was Sam?
She made her way through the lines of men until she reached Darren. "Where's Sam?" she asked anxiously.
Darren hefted a large carton off the floor and handed it to the next man. When his hands were free, he jabbed one thumb in the direction of the loft. "He's checking out the fire with Hank." He gaped as she whirled around and pushed through the men, heading toward the ladder to the loft. "Dammit, Brett!" he yelled after her. "Don't go up there. It isn't safe."
She looked back at him. "Then Sam and Hank shouldn't be up there. I'm going to get them down. The barn can be replaced. They can't."
"If you get hurt," Darren yelled as she scurried up the wooden ladder, "Sam will hurt me. Keep that in mind and be careful."
"If he's hurt and you didn't try to stop him, I'll do more than hurt you," she shouted back.
"I can't win," Darren muttered.
"You never can with a woman," said the man who was next in line, waiting for Darren to give him something to carry out. "Maybe I should set up the video cam," he went on. "Everyone would like to see the fireworks go off when a woman tells Sam Horne what to do."
Darren didn't answer at first. He watched as Brett paused halfway up the ladder, staring at something on one of the rungs. Whatever it was, she plucked it off and shoved it into her jeans pocket. Then she disappeared into the loft.
"If anyone can do it, I bet she can," Darren finally said.
"You're kidding, right, boss?" the man said. "This is Sam Horne we're talking about."
"Even a mighty oak can get cut down, Shorty." Darren pointed toward a number of containers that were marked FRAGILE. "Get some men to help with the spare lights. Put them somewhere where they won't be crushed by someone who doesn't know what they are. The bulbs will all probably have to be cleaned."
Shorty glanced once more toward the loft, shrugged, and did as he'd been told.
Sam spotted Brett the second her head and shoulders cleared the floor of the loft.
"Dammit, Brett!" he yelled.
He shoved the hose toward Hank, then strode across the loft to her, reaching her as she stepped off the ladder and took several steps toward him. He immediately turned her around.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Climb back down that ladder before you get hurt."
His order lost some of its impact when he coughed. Water pouring on charred wood had created a smudge-pot effect. The smoke was so thick, it seemed solid in places.
Brett gasped for air and coughed harshly when she breathed in mostly smoke. Her eyes began to tear from the acrid fumes, which made Sam curse when he was finally able to catch his breath.
"Do you have some kind of death wish I should know about?" he asked.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said angrily, wiping her sleeve across her eyes.
The sight of her face already streaked with smoke and tears made his throat ache. Taking her arm, he drew her back toward the ladder, his gaze on the floor. It seemed safe enough in this part of the loft. When she tried to pull away from him, he tightened his fingers around her arm.
"Sam!" she yelled. "Look out!"
He twisted his head around and saw a burning board break away from the side of the barn and begin to fall toward them.
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pushed her, following her onto the floor to roll with her several times. Red-hot embers flew into the air as the board fell.
Hank doused the area with water. "Sam, you and Brett all right?"
"Yeah. We're okay."
Sam levered his long frame off Brett and got to his feet quickly, ready for any other surprises. Everything seemed safe, so he pulled Brett to her feet. He didn't realize his hands were shaking until she was standing in front of him. He searched her face for any signs of pain.
"Don't ever scare me like that again, Red. I lost ten years off my life."
"You're welcome."
"What?"
"If I hadn't warned you, the board would have hit you. Yelling at me is evidently your odd way of thanking me."
"I'm yelling at you because you shouldn't be up here in the first place, and I'm going to continue yelling at you until you get your charming little butt down that ladder."
"The fire is almost out," she pointed out. "Look. Hank is soaking down the last few flames."
"Fire or not, I want you down that ladder. Some of this flooring is burned straight through."
"Only if you come too," Brett said stubbornly.
His clothing smelled of smoke and his hands and face were grimy with soot, but he looked wonderfully alive. She wanted him to stay that way.
"We're almost through up here," he said. "I'll be down in a minute."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll go when you do."
Sam was about to raise his voice to order her to do as he asked when he looked closer and saw the haunting fear in her eyes. Fear for him? he wondered. He felt his chest tighten with an unfamiliar emotion. Suddenly he needed to touch her physically, a response to the way she had touched his soul.
He was so stunned by his own emotions, he could barely speak above a hoarse whisper. "I couldn't take it if anything happened to you, Brett. Please go back to the house where you won't be hurt."
Her eyes were awash with tears as she looked up at him. "What makes you think I won't be hurt if you get injured or worse?"
He stared at her, then pulled her into his arms. He held her so tightly, she could barely breathe, but she didn't resist, holding him almost as fiercely.
Suddenly red lights flashed across the loft like a flickering silent movie. The fire trucks had arrived. Thankfully, the sirens had been cut off before they reached the crowded area. There was enough chaos without adding earsplitting noise.
Sam took Brett's hand and brought her along with him, away from the ladder for a change. "Watch where you step," he said as he stopped beside Hank.
She glanced at the gaping hole surrounded by blackened wood where the loft flooring used to be. The strong odor of kerosene and wet straw made her wrinkle her nose. A bundle of partially burned straw had been kicked away from the area. She frowned when she saw the straw. The loft was supposed to be empty.
Realizing what she'd unconsciously concluded, she looked at Sam with wide, puzzled eyes. "Some-one started this fire on purpose." When he nodded, she asked, "Why?"
Firemen clambered up the ladder and began to fill the loft, instructing the "civilians" to vacate the premises. One of the firemen actually said "vacate the premises." Brett suppressed the d
esire to laugh. No one else would think it was funny.
She chanced a glance at Sam and caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth. She looked away and "vacated" down the ladder. He and Hank followed.
The firemen had cleared everyone from the barn. Outside, Darren was arguing with a fireman that all the equipment hadn't been removed, but he was still not allowed to go back in.
As she watched the firemen do their job Brett shook her head in bemusement. "Why would someone set fire to the barn?" she asked Sam again. "The only thing of any value is your film equipment." She met his gaze. "I just answered my own quest on, didn't I?"
He nodded.
During the next half hour, Brett remained at Sam's side as he described to the firemen what he and Hank had found when they had climbed up into the loft. Luckily, Hank had remembered seeing a water hose coiled on the floor of the barn near the empty horse stalls. He'd quickly turned on the spigot full blast, and they were able to control the blaze before it spread very far. If the straw had been dry, they might not have been able to contain the fire. As it was, the damp straw had created a great deal of smoke, which might have been what the arsonist had wanted. Or else, the arsonist wasn't very smart.
A police car arrived shortly after the fire trucks, and even more questions had to be answered. Brett was asked about the contents of the loft, and she explained that the barn had been mostly empty. Her father had sold off the horses after his wife had died and the barn had been totally cleaned out to be used for storage of mowing equipment and other lawn and garden supplies. The loft had been completely bare. The straw had to have been placed there by whoever had started the fire.
When asked if she had any idea who could be responsible for the arson, Brett edged around the truth. "I don't know why anyone would want to burn down the barn."
The policeman jotted everything down in his notebook, then asked about the amount of fire insurance she had.
She felt Sam stiffen beside her and placed her hand on his arm as she answered. "As this is an historical home, no amount of insurance would be adequate to replace any building that is lost. Feel free to check the policy on file in my lawyer's office." She gave him Judson's address, adding calmly, "You might also like to check my property tax records, which are fully paid, and my bank account balance. You'll find I have no reason to burn down my barn for the insurance money."
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