Texas Reckless

by Gerry Bartlett

  “Settle down. You don’t know that.” He handed her the oxygen mask. “Take another hit of oxygen. You still sound like a bullfrog with a bad cold.”

  Sierra nodded. Yeah, the cool air helped her throat but did nothing to cool off her temper.

  “I won’t be scared off.” She threw the mask next to the tank.

  “Maybe that’s not why your barn was torched. Have you made anyone else mad lately?” Rhett shook his head at the paramedic. “I think we’re done with the oxygen. Thanks.” The man began packing up his equipment.

  “Yes, thanks, Ronnie.” Sierra realized she’d been rude to the man, who was a neighbor. “The oxygen helped.”

  “No problem, Sierra. Sorry about the barn. You need a place for a horse or two, call me. I’ll come with my trailer.” He jumped down from the back of the truck. “I hope we catch the fucker who did this. Burning barns with horses inside. That’s pure evil.” He nodded. “I’d better see if anyone needs me up front.”

  “Evil. You’ve got that right. Yes, I’ll take you up on that tomorrow. Appreciate it.” Sierra moved out of the way so the man could move the truck. “You see? Not everyone around here hates me.”

  “Good to know.” Rhett frowned. “Have you thought of anyone else who does?”

  “You were a witness yesterday. Clearly Will Jackson is pissed at me for putting his son into my therapy group.” Sierra realized it would be a long time before she’d get to work with her kids again. Another reason to be furious and sick to her stomach.

  “He’s just enough of an asshole to want to make you pay.” Rhett glanced over at the ruins. “First, you need to call the sheriff and get her out here. Since we all agree this was arson. I don’t know how volunteer fire departments work, if they have their own arson investigator.”

  “In a small town like Muellerville? It’ll be the sheriff’s job. I hope this time she takes me seriously. Surely she won’t think I burned down my own barn.” Sierra’s eyes stung. God, the smoke had done a number on her.

  “The fire looks about done. Why don’t we go into the house? You can call her and anyone else you think needs to know about this.” Rhett guided her around where the firemen were still watching the smoldering barn.

  The ground was muddy, and Sierra slipped. She landed awkwardly and fell into his arms. For a moment she stayed where she was, cheek against his bare chest. His nice broad chest, now covered with dark streaks of soot, felt good, warm, under her face and hands. She leaned back and touched the colorful tattoo circling his bicep.

  “Flames? Really? Can’t say that does it for me right now.” She traced the red, yellow and orange tattoo with a fingertip.

  “My first best-seller was Firestorm. That’s the one that made me do a deep dive on arson. I recently dated a tattoo artist. Getting this seemed like a good idea at the time.” Rhett held her by the shoulders.

  “It’s beautiful.” Sierra smiled up at him. “Thanks for pitching in and risking your life to save my horses, especially the last one. You definitely played the man card there. You even helped the firemen find the source of the fire. Is there anything you can’t do, Rhett Hall?”

  “Plenty, but I hope you never find out what those things are.” He brushed a finger across her cheek. “I’m sorry about your barn, Sierra. I had to man up when you were taking off into a burning building like the guardian angel for all those horses.” He smiled, his hand warm on her skin. “I admire the hell out of you.”

  “Uh, thanks.” Sierra blinked back the tears that had been close to falling since she’d first looked at those poor horses in the corral.

  “You’re covered in grime. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” Rhett ran his hands down her arms.

  “No, I’m fine. Just mad as hell.” Sierra grabbed his hands and held on. “I swear to God, Rhett, we’d better find the bastard who started that fire and bring him to justice.”

  “Damn right. Call the sheriff. If we’re lucky, she’ll find some evidence to identify your firebug.” Rhett turned her toward the house and gently helped her over the rough ground.

  Did he think she was an invalid? Feel sorry for her because of the limp? At this point, bone tired and sad, Sierra found it impossible to care. It was clear that if someone was determined to force her off her ranch, she needed help. Rhett was obviously willing, but he was a stranger. Family would be better, people she’d known all her life, guaranteed to want what she wanted. Her brother was a lawyer and knew people, like the investigator who’d looked up Rhett’s background. Yep, she was calling in favors. She didn’t like depending on anyone, but desperate times…

  They reached the front of the house just as the sun rose in the east. A car rolled up at the same time. The sheriff. Apparently Jim had decided the arson claim had enough merit to call her right away. Good.

  Sheriff Myra Watkins climbed out of her car, took one look at Sierra, then at the firefighters loitering nearby and taking their time rolling up their hoses. Myra frowned and shook her head.

  “What?” Sierra didn’t understand her reaction.

  Rhett scrubbed a hand over his face, looked down at her, then cleared his throat. “Uh, now that the sun is up, you might want to go inside and change clothes. Or at least pull your robe together before you talk to her.”

  “I’ve been working a fire. So I’m a little dirty. And wet.” She’d been sprayed a few times. A hazard when you’re standing near the firefighters. She hadn’t given a thought to how she looked since she’d jumped out of bed.

  Rhett fought a smile. “Look down at yourself, Sierra.”

  She did. Well, there it was. The white T-shirt she’d slept in was filthy, of course. And wet. So her boobs were on display for all to see—nipples prominent and tight in the chill morning air. She blew out a humph of disgust with men that sent her into a coughing jag. That made the firefighters stare and nudge each other. Well, let the little boys gawk all they wanted; she had important things on her mind. She turned on her heel and headed into the house. While she was there, she’d shower. Sierra grabbed her cell phone and called her brother while she walked. Yes, important things. Like figuring out who had almost cost her every horse she owned, not to mention her barn and tack.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time Sierra got back to the living room, Rhett realized he and the sheriff had reached an impasse. The sheriff had started off suspicious of anyone “not from around here.” That Rhett had shown up on Sierra’s doorstep the day before the fire made him even more of a suspect. He had the opportunity, staying just steps away from the barn and all. Seemed to the sheriff that this was an open-and-shut case. Who else could get past the security at the gate and throw gasoline around, then get clean away without leaving a trail?

  Rhett knew he should be worried but instead was taking mental notes like crazy. Sheriff in a small Texas town, Myra Watkins was the widow of the former sheriff. She’d taken over when her husband had died on the job. Oh, he hadn’t been gunned down in a shoot-out. Heart attack. She made it clear that she might have been elected on a sympathy vote but had kept the office because she was hard on crime. She’d met her late husband while at a law enforcement seminar put on by the FBI. She looked Rhett right in the eye and dared him to try to treat her like anything but a cop determined to do her duty.

  “Yes, ma’am. Ask me anything.” He knew better than to come across as defensive as he fielded her questions. She could probably throw him in the local jail just for looking guilty. Sheriff Watkins frowned through Rhett’s explanation of how he happened to be staying with Sierra.

  “I tell you, Sheriff, I’ve spent exactly one day in Dallas. Flew in, signed a few books at a bookstore, then flew back to Austin, where I was staying with my sister.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed that you’re a big shot author? My cousin wrote a book. If I found her at the site of a suspicious fire, I’d treat her just like I’m treating yo
u.” She made a note in her spiral-bound book. “Give me details of that trip. You sure you didn’t connect with that outfit trying to buy Sierra’s land?”

  Rhett told her everything he knew about the store where he’d signed, the people he’d met and the date he’d been there. He had to rein in his rising temper. She was being thorough. Which was a good thing. But this was a waste of time. The sheriff should be out looking at the evidence, checking video if Sierra’s security system had that capability. He mentioned that.

  “Good idea.” Myra stood when Rhett got up and headed for the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

  “My throat’s dry. I inhaled a lot of smoke. I need water. Would you like a bottle?” Rhett opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle. He wished like hell he could shower, like Sierra had obviously decided to do before facing off with the law.

  “No, thanks. Sierra’s been trying to convince me that developer is behind why her cows are dying and her fence was pulled down.” The sheriff had followed him into the kitchen. “Where’s Rachel? I sure could use a cup of coffee.”

  “It’s her day off.” Sierra came into the kitchen looking clean and fresh, yet exhausted. “I’ll make us a pot. Sit at the table, Myra. How about some breakfast? I can scramble some eggs, make toast. Rhett?” Her smile looked forced.

  Rhett touched her shoulder. “Show me to the skillet. Eggs are one thing I can throw together.” He turned on the faucet and scrubbed his hands. Didn’t help much since he wore soot and smoke from head to toe, but it made him feel better. “Start the coffee, then sit. The sheriff and I were just wondering if your security system includes video.”

  “We have cameras recording at the gate, others but not behind the barn.” Sierra filled the coffeemaker and punched the button.

  “That’s too bad. Hall, if you’re going to cook, put on a shirt first.” The sheriff pulled out a chair. “Sierra may like staring at your manly chest but I’ve seen enough of it. Kind of puts me off my food, if you want to know the truth.”

  Sierra rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Myra. Maybe we should let Rhett shower instead of cook.”

  “No, sit there and rest, Sierra.” Rhett set the pan on the stove. “Be right back. You take it easy.” He heard Myra express her sympathy for the lost barn as he strode toward his room. He wiped off his chest with a washcloth, then put on a clean T-shirt. He still stunk of smoke but it couldn’t be helped. As he stepped back into the kitchen he heard the sheriff talking.

  “Bastard who started that fire is going down. Hard. I promise you that.”

  “Thanks, Myra.” Sierra was breaking eggs into a bowl.

  “I’ve got that. Sit. Drink your coffee. It’s ready.” Rhett poured them cups then pulled the milk and butter out of the fridge.

  “You really don’t have to cook for us.” But Sierra collapsed into a chair, her face pale. “I’m just so tired.”

  “I know.” Rhett knew shock when he saw it. He went through the process of fixing breakfast, his stomach waking up to the fact that he was starving.

  “Start at the beginning, Sierra. Where were you when you noticed the barn was on fire?” Sheriff Myra fired questions at Sierra while Rhett made toast and dished out three plates before he carried them to the table. He refilled their cups and poured coffee for himself.

  “Cream? Sugar?” He felt like a waiter.

  “Black is fine. But I could use a fork.” Myra smirked, like she wasn’t surprised that Rhett had forgotten one of the essentials.

  “Sure.” Rhett started to turn away when Sierra grabbed his hand.

  “This looks delicious. Thanks.” She smiled at him. “Now sit down. I’ll get utensils and napkins.” She stood and wrapped her arms around his waist. “And thanks for last night. If I forgot to say it earlier.” She looked up and wrinkled her nose. “We should have let you shower before breakfast.”

  “Sorry if my reek offends you.” Rhett smiled to show he didn’t mean it. “We saved your horses. That’s all that matters.”

  “Eggs are getting cold. And I wouldn’t mind some jelly for this toast, while you’re up, Sierra.” Myra was deep into her coffee.

  “Right away.” Sierra put her back to the sheriff and gave Rhett’s waist a final squeeze. “Got to keep the law happy.”

  Rhett watched her wearily pull out a drawer, then open the refrigerator again. He sat down across from the sheriff. “Go easy on her. This has been a rough night. Can’t you see how exhausted Sierra is?”

  “I’ve got a job to do, Hall. She wants this arsonist caught, so don’t tell me what to do or not to do.” Myra took the fork and knife Sierra handed her. “Isn’t that right, honey? You’re not too tired to help me figure out who might have done this, are you?” She twisted the top off a jar of strawberry preserves and spread plenty on her toast.

  “No, I’m not. But that won’t rebuild my barn. Or get my horses settled.” She sat down and poked a fork into her eggs. “One of my brothers is on his way. He’s a lawyer. He’ll act as a liaison with your office. And with the insurance company. They’ll probably send their own arson investigator.”

  “Good. You’re right. You need a trained arson investigator on this.” Rhett put down his coffee. “When can we expect your brother?” He didn’t know how long he’d be welcome here with family arriving, but he was glad Sierra was getting the support.

  “Liaison? To my mind that’s another word for interfering outsider. It’ll be bad enough having someone from a big insurance outfit digging around here.” Myra shook her head. “Call your brother off.”

  “No. I want him here, and it’s none of your business who I ask to stay with me.” She turned to Rhett. “Dylan will be here later today. He just had to tie up a few loose ends at his office so he can stay awhile.”

  “Am I in the way? Do you want me to leave?” It took everything in him to make that offer. Leave without finding out if it had been arson? And, if so, who’d set the fire and why? He needed to know how a story ended. Especially because Sierra looked haunted, vulnerable. She certainly wasn’t the full-of-fire woman she’d been just hours earlier.

  “After how you stepped up last night, I think you’ve earned the right to stay and continue your research. I’m sure this kind of”—she swallowed—“action is interesting to you.” She still hadn’t eaten a bite, but she finally sipped some coffee.

  “Not just interesting, Sierra.” Rhett hated that she thought he was that objective, using this situation for his own purposes. Though she wasn’t so far off base. His damned writer’s mind wouldn’t be still. Of course he itched to write down his impressions of the sights, sounds and smells of what had happened last night.

  “Let’s talk about last night.” Myra had polished off her breakfast and got up to refill her cup, making herself at home. “I need a timeline. See how this played out exactly. Your houseguest here claims he woke up when the fire alarm went off. Is that how you remember it, Sierra?” She looked her over with an eyebrow raised, as if implying they’d shared a bed.

  Sierra stabbed her eggs with her fork so hard it screeched against the plate. “I have no idea when he woke up. I was asleep in my own bed at the other end of the house.” She stared at the sheriff. “I heard the fire alarm about the same time Rhett banged on my bedroom door.”

  “Alarm company puts that at 3:48 this morning.” Myra’s notebook was on the table now, next to her empty plate.

  “I was too busy to look at a clock.” Sierra scooped up more egg. “My horses were screaming!” Tears filled her eyes. “You ever heard a horse scream in terror? Imagine ten of them crying and kicking and—” She jumped up and flung her plate into the sink, where it broke. Then she stood there, facing the window above it. Her shoulders shook as she cried silently.

  Rhett jumped up and pulled her into his arms. No, he didn’t really know her, but he couldn’t let her cry like that, covering her face with a worn dish towel. He
held her against him, his eyes meeting the sheriff’s over her shoulders. “Can’t you do this later, Sheriff? Sierra’s obviously reached her limit.”

  “Fine.” She got up, chair scraping across the floor. “I’m going out to talk to the fire chief again. Maybe he’s found something in the wreckage, a clue to help us track down the perp. We’ll talk later.” The door shut quietly as she left.

  Rhett just stood there, Sierra’s hair brushing his chin, breathing in her clean womanly scent. The way she kept that cloth over her face killed him. As if she had to hide her misery. He tried to tug it away but she held firm as she kept crying.

  “Sierra, come on now. You’ll make yourself sick. Why don’t you lie down for a while? Until your brother gets here. I need to shower and change clothes; then I could make some calls for you. You have a list? Maybe names of those neighbors who could take a horse or two until you get a new barn built?”

  She pushed back so suddenly and with such force that Rhett rocked back on his heels. “Get a barn built? Just like that? And how long would it stand before whoever wants me gone burns it down too? Maybe they’d get smart this time and cut the phone line first so the alarm didn’t go off. Killing a few of my horses as a consequence. That would sure send a message. ‘Get the hell out of here, Sierra. Sell out and give us your land.’” She wiped her damp cheeks with her palms and stomped around the kitchen table.

  Before Rhett knew what she planned, she picked up his plate and aimed it at the sink. Crash, it joined hers in pieces. The sheriff’s was next. Apparently destroying pottery was her way of dealing with anger. Coffee cups were next. Hey, she wasn’t totally out of control. Every piece went right into the sink. No extra mess to clean up. Rhett just stayed out of the line of fire. When she turned to eye the counter, he put his hand over hers.

  “Please spare the coffeepot. I need a cup to wake up every morning.” He held out his hands. “Feel better?”