by Kim Redford
“It’s worth all the effort to make even one person that happy, isn’t it?” Bert Two said.
“You’re absolutely right.”
“Hey, I’d better show these cars where to park. We’ll see you in the snack shed later.” Bert Two quickly left, beginning to direct vehicles to their assigned positions.
“I’d better get back to our booth to help Melinda,” Bert said before he sauntered away.
Sydney moved to the front of Celeste to watch the parade, marveling at the unique beauty of the classic cars as they drove into the entryway. Soon the horses came into view and began their turn at the end of the road for their journey back to the starting point and their trailers there.
She wished Storm had felt like braving horseback again, but she hoped Granny had at least brought her to the parade. She watched for friends, eager to see the clothes they wore and the horses they rode.
Billye Jo, Serena, and Moore showed up first, turned out in the Lazy S colors of green and purple with the brand stitched onto classic dark-brown rancher jackets with leather collars worn over pearl-snap shirts and Wranglers. They rode quarter horses, born, bred, and trained on the Lazy S that had a fine reputation in the state and well beyond. Sydney waved at them, and they waved back, looking happy and proud on their mounts.
She laughed out loud when she saw a fancy goat cart with big wooden wheels and a sign on its side that read “Morning’s Glory & Adelia’s Delights: Gifts to Inspire.” From her seat inside the cart, Hedy waved with one hand while she held the reins of a brown-and-white pony in the other. Morning Glory sat beside her, as usual dressed in her flower child splendor of long, multicolor flowing skirt, aqua peasant blouse with a nubby orange sweater, and several of her handmade macramé horse-harness necklaces dangling around her neck. She waved, too.
Fortunately, Sydney had remembered to ask Morning Glory to smudge the snack shed earlier in the week. After burning sage and sweetgrass inside, her friend had pronounced the drive-in all set for new customers. Sydney chuckled at the thought of Morning Glory’s new Mr. December cologne. She bet it’d be a big seller at the Sure-Shot Beauty Station.
She watched Kent ride by on a sorrel gelding with Lauren riding a chestnut by his side. They wore jean jackets with the Cougar Ranch brand emblazoned on the front and back. Sydney waved at them, expecting to see Dune riding with their brand, but he wasn’t with that group of cowboys.
Trey and Misty rode up next, waving and grinning from the backs of their frisky palominos with silver-studded bridles and saddles gleaming in the bright sunlight. They represented Wildcat Ranch with snarling wildcats emblazoned on their crimson jackets.
She’d thought Dune might be riding with the Wildcat brand since he wasn’t with Cougar Ranch, but maybe he’d decided to stay out of the parade altogether. No, that didn’t make sense. He’d told her he’d see her at the parade, so he had to be here somewhere.
Finally, she saw the Chuckwagon Café’s entry. She waved to Granny and Mom, who rode in a small chuckwagon replica driven by Slade with his big hands on the reins of a sleek bay gelding. They waved back, and Granny tossed her a Chuckwagon Café key chain with the café’s logo printed on it.
She didn’t see Storm in the wagon, so she grew a little concerned at her absence. If Storm hadn’t wanted to leave the café, maybe they’d left her there with Dune to watch over her. Still, she didn’t like not seeing Storm with her family, so she’d find out about her daughter as soon as the parade was over.
A few more riders passed by, but she didn’t know them. They must have come from out of the county. She waved anyway, and they waved back, appearing happy and proud to be part of the special event.
She glanced down at the Chuckwagon Café key chain, then tucked it into her pocket, wondering again about Storm. And Dune.
“Mommy!”
She looked up at the sound of her name. And there—shockingly—rode Storm on her white-and-brown pony as if there’d never been an ATV accident or fright or anything. Dune rode right beside her on a buckskin gelding with dark-brown leather tack trimmed in silver. He raised a hand in greeting and smiled at her. Storm and Dune looked pleased at having surprised her, so she simply grinned and waved back, thinking how perfect they appeared together—just as if they were father and daughter.
They obviously weren’t representing Steele Trap Ranch, because Storm wore a long pale-pink gown with a dark-pink bodice and net overskirt. A bow had been tied around her forehead with pink net extending behind to flow down her shoulders. Her pony wore a large pink bow on his head with more net wrapped around his neck, and his tail was braided with pink cord.
Sydney felt tears sting her eyes, because Storm looked totally adorable. She suddenly realized that she should’ve included a princess, along with a queen, in the Sure-Shot parade. Storm had obviously thought about it but said nothing to her. Fortunately, their family had helped make her princess dream come true. Next year Sydney would make sure little girls could enter the contest so they had a chance to be the Sure-Shot Christmas Princess and ride in Celeste.
As Sydney waved at her daughter, Dune rode over, leaned down, and whispered, “I’ll be back in a bit. Wait for me.”
She nodded in reply, even as she wanted to reach up and tug him down to her. “Thanks. Storm looks so happy.”
“She’s perfect as a princess, isn’t she?” He gave her a warm smile before he turned and rejoined the parade.
Storm threw her mother a kiss, waved her small hand, and then rode off with Dune by her side.
Sydney watched them until they disappeared from sight. She sighed in contentment, knowing nothing could be much better in life than a cowgirl princess and a cowboy firefighter.
Chapter 35
By the time dusk settled across the North Texas plains, Sydney was ready for some TLC, but at the same time, she couldn’t have been more satisfied with the extraordinary day.
Turnout for Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In had been phenomenal, particularly for its first year. The Bluebonnet Café had made lots of folks happy with great food. Downtown merchants had garnered new, enthusiastic customers. The car clubs had been well appreciated and left midafternoon so members could drive back to their homes before dark. Vendors had connected with people who loved handmade products, and they’d packed up their belongings and left, too. Bert and Bert Two had overseen breaking down and storing the tables and umbrellas for use at other events.
Best of all—on a strictly personal level—was the fact that vendors and stores had sold out of every single cowboy firefighter calendar. Now everybody was clamoring to make it a yearly tradition. She chuckled at the thought of rounding up their local cowboy firefighters for a photo shoot again. But that was a year away, so she simply put it on a back burner. For now, the calendars had boosted the fire station’s bottom line, so they went forward with a much-needed financial cushion.
No doubt about it, the new year was shaping up to be great in so many different ways.
For the moment, she could relax in comfort. She sat in an aqua metal chair on the snack shed’s patio, watching a stream of vehicles enter the gate and turn down one row after another as they slowly filled the drive-in. She wondered how many years it had been since people had gathered in this venue to watch movies. Right here, right now, they were together, not separate as they would have been if they’d been sitting in homes watching big screens or little screens. She enjoyed the idea of a like-minded group of folks leaving televisions and computers behind to celebrate Christmas with classic films.
She’d invited her grandmother, mother, and daughter to join them for the dusk-to-dawn movie marathon, but they’d opted to take the traditional Lollypop Lane ride during Christmas in Old Town at Wildcat Bluff. After that, they planned to go home and get some rest. In particular, they wanted Storm not to get too tired or excited by her busy day. Sydney had agreed with their assessment, so she was here by her
self except for Dune.
He’d gone to park Celeste at the far end of the drive-in near where the trailer and tires had burned, because he wanted to leave the best spots for customers. It was a little farther to walk later, but she didn’t mind—once she rested her feet—because her leather coat kept her warm even with the growing chill in the air.
Farther north in the old days, drive-ins had only been open in summer due to inclement weather, but in Texas, folks had a much longer season, so December was cozy, perfect for snuggling together.
She wasn’t needed anywhere, so she could catch her breath. Inside the snack shed, Serena and Moore handled the food while Bert Two tended the cash register. Bert prowled the place, making sure any last-minute problems were taken care of in an efficient manner.
She’d seen a list of the films, and she was anxious to watch White Christmas with Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney. They’d also show Holiday Inn, Miracle on 34th Street, A Christmas Carol, It’s a Wonderful Life, and others. Dune had jokingly—at least, she’d thought jokingly—suggested Die Hard since it was set at Christmastime, but she’d nixed that idea right away.
After folks parked vehicles, they exited their cars and descended on the snack shed. She had no doubt Serena, Moore, and Bert Two were going to be kept busy till the first movie came on the screen. She’d offered to help if they needed her, but they’d told her to get some rest and enjoy the films.
For now, she simply sat still in the crisp, clean air as night enveloped the drive-in and vehicles took the remaining slots.
Suddenly the big white screen filled with color and animation to begin the dusk-to-dawn entertainment. She laughed out loud at the sight, because they’d found old snack shed commercials with bright-red hot dogs slathered with too-bright yellow mustard and plastic-looking yellow cheese drizzled over tortilla chips. Oh yes, these retro ads and movies were going to be fun.
But she was thirsty and hungry, no matter how bad the food looked up on the screen, because she could smell the tantalizing aroma of fresh-popped popcorn. Dune was supposed to stop by and pick up lemonade and popcorn for them on his way back, but she didn’t know if he’d be able to get close to the counter. Maybe she should get up and go stand in line, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to put her feet through it, not in her kitten heel pumps.
About the time she’d decided to pick up her purse and get on her feet, Dune came out the snack shed door, carrying two huge drinks in his hands with two popcorn boxes crushed in the nooks of his elbows. She jumped up to help him before something spilled or dropped to the cement.
She eased one drink out of his hand, set it on the small orange metal table between their two chairs, then retrieved the other drink and set it down, too.
He placed the boxes of popcorn on the table, and then flopped down in a chair.
“Rough inside?” She glanced over at him as she sat back down.
“You know it.” He shuddered, as if in horror. “If Serena hadn’t already had these ready to go for us, I’d be empty-handed now.”
“Good for her.” Sydney sucked lemonade through a red-and-white striped straw and moaned in delight. “I needed that.”
He took a big drink and let out a sigh. “It feels good to sit down a minute.”
“I’m not hiking back to Celeste yet.”
“No need. This is fine right here—for now.”
“Anyway, they might need us inside.”
“Or we might need another slow dance.” He gave her a suggestive look out of the corner of his eyes.
“Oh no. I don’t trust you on a dance floor.”
He laughed, rolling his shoulders in relaxation. “I bet it’s not me you don’t trust.”
She joined his laughter, remembering their steamy time in the snack shed. “I guess I might’ve had a little something to do with our, uh, dance.”
“Anytime you want to dance again, just let me know.”
“For the moment, I’m giving my feet a break.”
“I was thinking horizontal.”
She chuckled, simply shaking her head as she slurped more lemonade and enjoyed their banter.
“It’s about time for the first movie to start,” he said. “What do you think it’ll be? You vetoed Die Hard, but there’s always Santa Claus Conquers the Martians or The Nightmare before Christmas to get us started out right.”
“You and your old flicks. You never did tell me how you’ve seen so many and know so much about them.”
“Didn’t I? It’s simple. In certain situations as a firefighter, you can spend a lot of time waiting and watching for fires. It’s boring and stressful at the same time. Movies can fill the void—and sometimes, the worst films are the best, because you never want to get too deep into a story line.”
“I want to hear more about it.”
“I’ll tell you but not now.” He glanced over at her. “We’ve got plenty of time to share stories about our lives later. Tonight, let’s just be together.”
“I like that idea. I like it a lot.”
“Look, the snack shed is emptying out, and folks are hurrying back to their vehicles, carrying their goodies.”
“I hope White Christmas is first.”
Suddenly Dune set his drink on the table with a snap and leaned forward, looking toward the far corner of the snack shed. “Do you smell that?”
On alert, she sat up straight, sniffing the air. “Gasoline?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder. The drive-in is filled with cars.”
“That’s not all of it. I’m catching a whiff of smoke, too.” He stood up. “You better get Bert and Bert Two out here. Tell them to bring fire extinguishers.”
“But Dune—”
He took off running and disappeared around the corner of the snack shed.
She smelled it then—definitely smoke. She jerked her cell phone out of her purse and texted Bert and Bert Two with Dune’s instructions. If they weren’t out in seconds, she’d go get them. In the meantime, she slung her phone back in her handbag, jerked the lids off the lemonades, and picked up the full containers.
As she headed around the building, she heard the door open behind her. But she didn’t stop or look back, because she saw fire licking up the side of the snack shed. She noticed several wadded-up towels on the ground next to the wall that were probably the source of the blaze, so she ran over and tossed both lemonades on top of the fire. It shrank back for a second, but then surged upward again.
“Sydney!” Bert called, striding up to her with Bert Two on his heels. “Step back. We’ve got this now.”
She moved out of the way and watched them turn their fire extinguishers on the fire, cover the towels and wall with foam, and quickly extinguish the blaze. She felt a vast sense of relief that they’d stopped the fire before it had a chance to do more damage or hurt people.
“Good thing you were sitting outside, or we’d have been in big trouble,” Bert Two said, turning toward her.
“We owe you one,” Bert added as he glanced around the area, as if looking for any more trouble.
“You don’t owe me a thing. I’m just grateful we stopped this fire in its tracks.”
“Where’s Dune?” Bert asked.
She looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see far beyond the perimeter of the outside lights on the snack shed. “He noticed the fire first and took off that way.” She pointed in the direction she’d last seen him.
“I’d better go take a look,” Bert Two said.
“No,” Bert objected. “I’d better call Sheriff Calhoun. He won’t be far away, since he’s keeping an eye out here till we close down in the morning.”
“But if he’s in trouble…” Sydney suddenly realized that Dune might be trying to catch the arsonist.
“Wait a minute,” Bert insisted as he quickly sent a text and received one in reply.
“Okay, Sheriff Calhoun is on his way. He’ll turn off his lights and drive up to the snack shed so he doesn’t bother any of our patrons.”
“I hadn’t even thought about causing panic here.” Sydney suddenly felt worried about that idea.
“Let’s just keep it quiet till we find out the situation here,” Bert insisted in a tense voice.
“But we’ll find Dune.” Bert Two gave Sydney a reassuring glance.
“No need to look for me.” Dune walked out of the darkness, pushing forward a guy with his hands tied behind his back with a black hoodie.
“What’s going on?” Bert asked, stepping toward Dune.
“We’ve got our arsonist.” Dune shoved the guy to his knees in front of Bert and Bert Two. “Recognize him?”
“No,” Bert and Bert Two said in unison.
“Who is he?” Bert peered closer at the stranger.
“That’s right.” The man spat at Bert’s boots. “You wouldn’t know me, but you sure knew my dad.”
“Your dad?” Bert Two asked.
About that time, Sheriff Calhoun pulled up beside the patio and got out of his vehicle. He walked over, looked at everybody, and put his hands on his hips. “I thought we had another fire.”
“We did,” Bert said, “but Sydney and Dune caught it in time, and we put it out with our cans.”
“Okay,” Sheriff Calhoun said. “That’s good. But who’s the guy? And who tied him up?”
“That’d be Dune,” Sydney said.
“I rounded the building just in time to see him set those towels on fire, so I ran after him. He wasn’t anxious to come back, so I had to overpower him. I took his hoodie off him, tied him with it, and brought him back for justice,” Dune explained in a matter-of-fact way.
“Good work,” Sheriff Calhoun said.
“Another thing,” Dune added. “Now that we’ve got this guy in better light, I recognize him. He came into the clinic with his injured hand wrapped in a green-and-white towel while I was waiting for Sydney.”
