Certified Cowboy

by Rita Herron

  “You’re right.” Brody grunted. “Maybe I’ll have another talk with him and be able to convince him to leave us alone.”

  “I hope it works this time,” Johnny said. “I’ll have a sit-down with the boys, counselors and staff. Hopefully someone saw something and will come forward.”

  Brody cleared his throat. “Thanks, keep me posted.”

  He disconnected the call, then spent the rest of the afternoon working on the lineup for the rodeo, dropping by the small groups to oversee the practice rounds, and checking security measures. He carefully examined each pen and stall himself to make sure nothing else had been tampered with.

  A team of ranch hands roped off areas for the events for the younger children while Kim helped two college counselors organize items for the stick pony rides, cornfield maze, the horseshoe toss, face painting and the other special events.

  Another group worked to designate areas for the food vendors, which included a barbecue pit, Brunswick stew booth, cornbread counter, corn on the cob stand, cowboy caviar corner, Tex-Mex bar, along with several others. Other booths would sell souvenirs including cowboy hats, belt buckles, Western clothing, stuffed ponies and posters. Volunteers would hand out the programs, which also included information on the BBL.

  Finally, it was meeting time. Johnny whistled to snag the group’s attention.

  As he explained about the problems, unease rippled through the room.

  “Listen, guys, believe it or not, I was once your age,” Johnny started, trying to address them with respect and understanding but also adopting a no-nonsense approach. “Everyone enjoys a good prank. I was known to pull a few myself.” He hesitated. “But I also did some dumb stuff, which could have gotten someone hurt or worse, killed. If that had happened, I don’t think I could have lived with myself.”

  He watched the faces, searching for guilty looks, whispers of a conspiratorial nature, any sign of the culprit in the crowd. But picking out one guilty face in a sea of kids who’d already seen more trouble and heartache in a lifetime that anyone deserved was hard. A lot of them were angry. Had chips on their shoulders. Had learned to lie and fake innocence to cover their butts. Some of them had had no guidance. Some wanted to save themselves from the brunt of a fist. And some were just plain rebellious.

  Still, he had to make his point.

  He cleared his throat, his tone firm. “But cutting fencing and breaking pens where dangerous animals can escape is serious business. I hope, and pray, that none of you had anything to do with this, but if you did, or if you know who was responsible, please come to me and we’ll talk. We’re here to have fun, but we also want to teach you how to become responsible men.” He paused for effect. “If you work on a ranch or with powerful animals like horses and cattle, or intend to pursue the rodeo circuit, one of the first rules you learn is that safety is a priority. Never underestimate the power of an animal, in the pen, on a riding trail or in a rodeo arena.”

  Boys shifted. A few anxious whispers erupted.

  “Now let’s review safety precautions and rules for the rodeo events.”

  He displayed charts to illustrate his points and spent the next half hour discussing them and answering questions. By the time he finished, he hoped he’d instilled some healthy fear and respect into the crew.

  “Remember, respect the animal and he’ll respect you.” Johnny smiled. “Then you’ll respect yourself.”

  When he finally finished his talk, he decided to take another ride across the ranch to check things out. Then he’d circle back and walk Rachel and Kenny home.

  Forty-five minutes later, night had set in, with heavy dark storm clouds brewing as he headed back to the dining hall. The inky gray seemed to stretch forever, giving the pastures and land an ominous, deserted feel.

  Ms. Ellen honked from her Thunderbird as they passed each other, and he waved in return. Then he noticed a hazy fog in the distance near the dining hall.

  Alarm rippled up his spine, and he pressed the gas pedal. Was that smoke?

  Ms. Ellen had just left the dining hall. Wouldn’t she have known if something was wrong?

  His heart jumped to his throat, and he roared past the arena, frantically praying he was wrong. But the closer he got to the dining hall, the more his fears intensified. A thick plume of smoke curled against the darkness.

  The scent of burning wood seeped through his open window, and sweat trickled on his skin as he roared to a stop. Flames danced along the back wall, racing upward toward the black sky…

  Dammit. The dining hall was on fire.

  Were Rachel and Kenny still inside?

  Chapter Eleven

  “Mom, there’s smoke!” Kenny cried.

  A shudder tore through Rachel as she jiggled the door to the walk-in pantry. “I know, baby, I’m trying to get us out, but the door’s jammed.”

  Kenny coughed, and she tugged at the doorknob again, jerking with all her might, but it wouldn’t budge. Meanwhile, smoke seeped below the crack in the doorway and was flowing into the storage room. The scent of burning wood and plastic filled the air, the crackle of splintering boards. The fire was growing stronger, traveling toward the pantry.

  If she didn’t get them out soon, they might die.

  She felt for her cell phone but realized she’d left it on the kitchen counter when she’d stepped inside to unload the box of canned goods. Frantically, she glanced around, searching for a tool to help dislodge the door, or another escape route. A back door? Window? Another connecting room?

  None of them.

  Fear clawed at her, and she glanced up and spotted a vent. Could she crawl through it?

  No, the vent was too small and narrow for her to fit.

  Kenny doubled over with a cough, and her own eyes burned from the smoke. Then a crashing sound came from the kitchen. The ceiling? Burning boards?

  Dear God, how was she going to save them?

  Tears threatened, but she spotted several stacks of dish towels. If they could stay alive until someone spotted the fire, maybe they would be rescued.

  She gestured toward the stack of dishcloths. “Kenny, grab those rags and stuff them at the bottom of the door to keep the smoke out!”

  Kenny raced to do as she said, and she slammed her weight against the door, pushing it. “Help! Someone help us!” Again, she stepped back, then rammed her shoulder and body against the doorway, this time with such force that pain knifed through her shoulder blade and ripped down her arm. The wood was growing warm, too, heat radiating from the paneled door.

  “Mom?” Kenny kept shoving towels in front of the opening, but he was coughing more violently now, and his cheeks were red from the heat. Outside the door, the blaze hissed louder and more wood splintered.

  “Stay low,” Rachel ordered, remembering that smoke rose and that the freshest air would be lower.

  Frantic, she grabbed a broom and banged the door repeatedly, but to no avail. She spotted a handheld can opener on the counter and grabbed it. Maybe she could use it as a lever to pry open the door.

  Kenny started kicking at the door and she beat it with her fists. “Help! Someone help!” Kenny shouted.

  Sweat trickled down Rachel’s chest and temple as she jammed the edge of the can opener into the door edge and pushed, but the door still wouldn’t budge. Smoke stung her eyes, and tears caught in her throat. But she couldn’t give up.

  She kicked the door again, then grabbed the biggest can she could find and pounded the wood surrounding the doorknob, hoping if she kept it up, the impact might shatter the wood and make a hole big enough to slip her hand through.

  Kenny lowered his head, coughing into his hands.

  “Please, someone, get us out!” Rachel screamed. “We’re trapped inside!”

  Something crashed on the other side of the door, and terror seized Rachel. Even if they did get the door open, if the room was completely on fire, how would they escape?

  JOHNNY CURSED AS HE shoved open the door and saw the flames dancing alo
ng the back wall near the kitchen. He scanned the large dining room to see if anyone was inside, but thankfully, it was empty.

  Although sounds erupted from the back. Wood splintering. A crash.

  He grabbed a fire extinguisher from one of the built-in emergency units, then punched Brody’s number. “Brody, there’s a fire at the dining hall.”

  Brody released a string of expletives. “How bad is it?”

  “Just the kitchen now. I’ll try to control it until the fire department arrives.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call some hands to help and be right there.”

  Another banging sound echoed over the roar of the fire, and Johnny’s chest tightened with fear.

  Was that a voice?

  Clutching the fire extinguisher with a white-knuckled grip, he hurried to the kitchen entrance. Flames chewed at the wooden beamed ceiling and floor and shot toward the pantry, and a smoky haze flooded the room making it damn near impossible to see.

  But the pounding noise grew louder, and sheer panic knifed through him. Someone was trapped in the back in the pantry.

  “Help, someone, help!”

  “We can’t get out!”

  Dammit, it was Rachel and Kenny.

  “I’m here,” Johnny yelled. “Hang on and I’ll get you out.”

  Flames blocked his way, but he had to get to the back. His heart pounded as he sprayed the fire with the extinguisher, clearing a path.

  “Hurry!” Rachel cried.

  More banging as they tried to open the door. Heat seared Johnny as he grew closer to them. Damn. How had they gotten stuck inside?

  Sweat soaked his skin and hair, and his hands were shaking as he continued working to dowse the flames. Heat blazed, stinging his arms, but he finally plowed through and made it to the pantry. Johnny pulled at the door, but it wouldn’t open.

  “The door’s jammed!” Rachel cried.

  She and Kenny had wedged towels along the bottom to stifle the smoke. But judging from the coughing he heard inside, some was obviously seeping through.

  “Hurry!” Rachel yelled.

  Johnny jogged toward the emergency closet on the opposite side of the kitchen, unlocked the door and grabbed the ax he’d stowed there for emergencies. Wood splintered and he dodged a falling board, beating at flames licking the leg of his jeans as he ran back to the pantry door.

  “Johnny?” Rachel’s voice sounded raspy now as if she was growing weak.

  “I’m here,” he yelled. “Get Kenny and stand back as far as you can. I’m going to break open the door!”

  Her footsteps shuffled from the inside. “We’re against the back wall.”

  “I have an ax,” Johnny shouted. “Cover your heads in case wood splinters fly!”

  He waited a second, giving her time, but the flames had started climbing along the opposite wall now. “Ready?”

  “Yes, just get us out!” Rachel shouted.

  Sweat dribbled down his forehead to his eyes, and he swiped it with his sleeve, then swung the ax into the door near the doorknob. Wood splintered and cracked, and he swung it again, then again, knocking off the doorknob and surrounding wood.

  Heat scalded his back as he ripped open the door. Rachel and Kenny were huddled in the far corner with Rachel protecting Kenny with her arms and body.

  Emotions crowded Johnny’s chest as he ran to them.

  RACHEL’S EYES BURNED from the smoke, but relief poured through her as she looked up at Johnny. Kenny coughed against her, but Johnny scooped him into his arms and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

  Rachel felt dizzy, but she clung to his hand, covering her mouth with her arm to keep from inhaling more smoke as they raced through the kitchen. A section in the far corner was still aflame, but it looked as if Johnny had extinguished the fire near the pantry.

  Johnny led them outside, and she dragged in the fresh air, her lungs aching. He carried Kenny to a giant oak far from the smoke and eased him to the ground. “Are you okay, buddy?”

  Kenny was sweating and soot streaked his little face, but he nodded, his eyes huge as he glanced back at the dining hall. A truck roared up, then another, followed by an SUV, and Brody and four ranch hands jumped out.

  Brody looked angry and worried as he jogged toward them. “Is anyone hurt?”

  Rachel shook her head and pulled Kenny up next to her. “No, we’re okay.”

  “I put out most of the fire, but there’s still flames along one wall.” Johnny motioned the ranch hands to follow him. “Come on.”

  Brody moved in front of him. “Stay here with Rachel and the boy and wait for the ambulance,” Brody said. “I’ll go.”

  Rachel clutched Johnny’s arm. “We don’t need an ambulance,” Rachel said. “We’re all right.”

  A muscle ticked in Johnny’s jaw. “You’re both going to be examined,” he said firmly.

  Rachel bit her lip to stifle an argument. She didn’t want attention drawn to her and Kenny, or that reporter to get wind of this and expose them.

  But Kenny had inhaled some smoke and looked pale. What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t allow a doctor to examine him?

  “I’ll be right back.” Johnny hurried to his truck, then returned a moment later with a water bottle and offered it to her.

  “Thanks.” She unscrewed the cap and gave it to Kenny. His hands were shaking, his complexion ashen as he turned up the bottle and drank.

  When he’d taken a few sips, he handed it to Rachel and she drank slowly, grateful to soothe her parched throat.

  Johnny stooped and tipped Kenny’s face up with his hand. “Feeling better, partner?”

  Kenny nodded, then swiped at the water dribbling down his chin with his hand. “It was hot in there.”

  “I know, buddy. The medics will be here in five minutes. Just rest till then.”

  The boy leaned back against the tree, and Johnny gestured to Rachel to step to the side. “What happened? How did you and Kenny get trapped in the pantry?”

  Rachel pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Ms. Ellen’s back was hurting, so I told her to go home, that Kenny and I would stock the shelves before we left for the night.”

  Johnny nodded. “I passed her on the way to the dining hall. So she hadn’t been gone long when the fire broke out?”

  “No.” Rachel’s head felt foggy as she thought back over the details. “After she left, Kenny and I went into the pantry.”

  “Did you close the door?”

  Rachel fidgeted. “Not all the way. But when Ms. Ellen left, it slammed shut. I figured the wind caught it as she went out the other door.”

  Johnny chewed over that possibility. “Then what happened?”

  Rachel wrung her hands together. “Kenny and I were shelving canned goods, then I smelled smoke and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.”

  “Did you hear anyone else inside the kitchen? Footsteps maybe?”

  She strained to remember. But Kenny had been chattering away about the rodeo while they worked and she had let down her guard. “No. What are you getting at, Johnny? You think someone intentionally set the fire?”

  The sound of a siren wailing rent the air, and the ambulance raced down the drive, the fire engine on its heels.

  “I don’t know, but we’ve had two other questionable incidents lately, and this makes the third.”

  Earlier, Johnny mentioned his neighbor might be sabotaging the ranch. Had he set the fire?

  Rachel’s chest squeezed with panic. Or had Rex?

  She’d known he would kill her if he found her. But would he really kill his own son?

  JOHNNY WAVED THE MEDICS over to examine Rachel and Kenny, then led the firemen inside the building.

  Brody looked up and greeted the firemen. “We extinguished the last strains of the fire, but we don’t know what caused it.”

  “Captain Jim Madison,” one of the firemen said. “If you don’t mind, take your men outside, and let us look around for the point of origin.”

  Brody g
estured to the ranch hands to go outside, but Johnny waited beside Brody as the men examined the scene. He wanted answers.

  The scent of smoke and charred wood permeated the room, the memory of Rachel’s screams for help haunting him.

  “How are Rachel and Kenny?” Brody asked.

  “The medics are checking them out now.”

  One of the firemen knelt to study the oven and floor surrounding it.

  “That door was jammed,” Johnny said to the captain. “I think the lock was broken.”

  Madison walked over to examine the door, then turned to Johnny. “You’re right. Looks like the lock was jimmied.”

  Anxiety knotted his shoulders. Had someone intentionally trapped Rachel and Kenny inside the pantry?

  The other fireman brushed aside debris and sniffed along the edge of the wall. “Captain, it smells like gasoline over here.”

  Brody’s boots pounded as he followed the captain to the site. Madison knelt and studied the wall and floor, and Brody’s expression grew strained.

  “You’re right,” Madison said. “There was an accelerant.”

  Roy, one of the hands, poked his head into the door. “You want us to start cleaning up?”

  “Not yet.” Brody reached inside his pocket for his phone. “This fire was no accident. I’m calling the sheriff.”

  Johnny’s gaze met Brody’s, Copeland’s name lingering in the silence between them.

  Had he hired someone to mess with the fencing and the bull’s pen and set this fire to force them to shut down?

  Or was it the man after Rachel and Kenny?

  Chapter Twelve

  Brody released an exasperated sigh as he ended the call. “The sheriff’s on his way.”

  “I need to speak to him when he arrives,” Captain Madison said. “Meanwhile I’m going to take some samples to send to the lab.”

  Brody nodded, and he and Johnny stepped outside.

  “Do you think Copeland is responsible?” Johnny asked.

  Brody shrugged. “I don’t know. I called him, but his housekeeper said he’s been out of town for the last few days.”