October's Fire (Fairy Glen Suspense Book 1)

by Valerie Power

  “Down the creek, east along the access road, and up over the dam. We can check out the fire damage up close and personal.”

  “Lead the way,” she said, and fell into step behind.

  Parts of the valley had burned, haphazard incursions here and there of oaks burnt down to stubs, other parts completely untouched.

  Before they got to the shortcut to the top of the high dam, she caught movement on the other side through the trees. “Sally, over there.” She pointed through the dense growth on the other side of the flowing water.

  Sally rolled her eyes and said, “Ever since your story about the witch I keep thinking I see things in the woods. I can’t let myself get like that, like—”

  “Like me?” Deirdre said, and Sally didn’t answer. They both saw who it was at the same time. Vivian, on Apache.

  “Vivian!” she shouted, and Scarlet whinnied a high-pitched squeal.

  Vivian stiffened and almost imperceptibly cued Apache into a trot, as if she hadn’t heard. He began trotting, but against her will he made a large easy circle, splashing through the shallow creek and back towards them, nickering a greeting in his low throaty voice. Vivian’s mouth was tightly pressed together as she pulled the reins and cued him with her legs, trying to make him turn around. She finally gave up as he came and joined the group.

  “I guess Patch decided for you,” Deirdre said.

  “It’s Apache,” Vivian grumbled, but she fell into step behind Giselle and in front of Scarlet.

  Vivian was just one of the many mysteries still unanswered. During the first days after the fire they were both still in shock, and they hadn’t talked about anything that had happened on the mountain, although they had exchanged some pointed glances. There was so much that was unbelievable, maybe neither one of them wanted to admit what they’d seen.

  But how did Vivian know so much about the backside of Bartley’s criminal affairs, including exactly which cartel that man was involved with? That was what she was dying to know now, especially with Sally here, but she knew she would have to tread lightly if she wanted answers. Better to start with something else first.

  “So Vivian, I have an idea. I have to tear down my barn and move it over the property line.”

  “Still?” Sally asked.

  “Yep. Doesn’t matter that the road project is on hold. Once the county has you red-tagged they don’t quit. So I was thinking, we could ask Mrs. Fey about keeping our horses at her place. Give her a little income, maybe enough to hire a lawyer to look into her eminent domain case.”

  “Our horses?” Vivian asked.

  “Sure. They could all use a little pasture time. They like each other, and Apache really needs company. It’s not right keeping him alone.”

  “It’s too far. I’d have to drive down there to go riding. I don’t think so.”

  “So your convenience is more important than his well-being?”

  Sally interrupted the stand-off. “You don’t have to decide right now.”

  “—Damn right I don’t—” Vivian muttered.

  “We’re going to ride over and see the fire damage, and maybe have lunch at Gorda’s,” Sally said firmly. “Would you like to join us?”

  “Sure,” Vivian said reluctantly. A small victory.

  There would be plenty of time to work on her. And Deirdre was confident she could change Vivian’s mind.

  This is the end of October’s Fire.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at what’s to come in the next book in the Fairy Glen Suspense Series

  NOVEMBER’S MISSING

  coming out in Fall 2021

  Thursday, November 1

  DAY OF THE DEAD

  At the top of the dam, Deirdre, Sally and Vivian looked back towards the west, with the ridge of Paraiso on the left, and Fairy Glen’s rolling hills on the right, Rancho Alto in the distance, and the ocean beyond.

  The canyon where the meth lab had been, where Deirdre had been shot at, was black. Skeletal trees stood sentinel on the darkened slopes.

  After a silent minute, they continued over the high trail that went from the dam down the other side into Del Diablo. The entire hillside was charred, and they paced through in solemn silence. Below them, the elongated shape of Lake Hemingway stretched from side to side. The hillside beyond it was equally devastated.

  Sally finally broke the silence. “Jeeminy Christmas,” she said in a hushed tone. That about summed it up.

  The three women on horseback traveled through the haunted wasteland, smoke overhead, smoke underneath. At the back of the line, Deirdre took in the devastation on either side of her. Manzanita branches created black fractal patterns against the ash that stirred and floated like snow underfoot.

  On a steep switchback, in a little hollow beneath a rocky outcropping on the side of the trail, there was a small shape, something not natural…burnt scraps of black denim and red cotton, strands of long curly hair.

  Her eyes and brain did not connect, until in one horrific moment, she sucked in her breath, screamed to Sally and Vivian, jumped off Scarlet and ran towards it.

  She fell to her knees, and knelt before the burnt remains of a girl child.

  Thanks for Reading!

  I hope you enjoyed October’s Fire.

  It would mean a lot to me if you could leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Just a few lines and a star rating will help other readers discover books they love!

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  Acknowledgments

  A book is a thing you must birth, wrestle, wrangle, tame, and then, finally, set free. In no particular order, I’d like to thank:

  My mother, who gave me a love of mysteries and took me to see The Black Stallion in the theater, which changed my life. My dad, who gave me his talent for art and has unconditional faith in me. Pat, who taught me art and later married my dad, and is a constant source of inspiration and encouragement. My sister Fiona who always looks out for me and believes in me.

  Bruce, the love of my life, who supports my creative endeavors, protects my free time, and gives me motivation to finish. I might never have set this darn thing free without him.

  My critique group, the Inkwells: William Barnes, Sarah Beauchemin, Michelle Fogle, Dani Heinemeyer, Ramona Josephs-Horton, Steve Nickell, Carol Pope, Ruth Roberts, Dave Stangland. You were all immensely thoughtful and helpful in the birthing, wrestling and wrangling stages.

  My friends for their patience and encouragement, especially those that read my early drafts: Krishna Martins, Sharon Doar-Toth, Mary Mathews, Miranda Halverson, Marcia Broadway.

  And these amazing and influential horsewomen and friends from throughout my life: Jennifer O’Keeffe, Anne Gunther, Heidi Stevenson, Leah King, Bobbie Lieberman, Victoria von Holder, Colleen Taggart.

  And, the horses. Among others: Ruby, Perle, and last but never least, Marrukah, my once-in-a-lifetime fairy tale horse.

  About the Author

  I’m a lifelong horse lover and California native. I’ve had a varied career that includes photographing pearl farms in Asia and running an underground performance art circus. My husband and I now live at our off-grid homestead in the high desert of San Diego County.

  Visit me on the web at valeriepower.com