A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1) (18 page)

Trey’s temper was hotter than a Fourth of July firecracker. He was sweating under the sun—part heat, part fury—as he sprayed pressurized water from the extinguisher along the far edge of the blaze. He had to get out ahead of the flames before they leaped the fence and raced toward a herd of Angus in the bone-dry pasture of Wildcat Ranch.

If he could get his hands on the culprits who were trying to burn down his family’s ranch, there’d be hell to pay. Bad enough they’d tried to torch the ranch again, but they’d targeted virgin acres of the nearby Texas Timber Christmas tree farm, too. Made him mad as a Comanche who’d had a string of horses stolen in the dark of night. There was no going back. Just like the warrior who’d hunt down those thieves to the ends of the Earth to get back his prize herd, Trey would stalk these arsonists till he made sure they were brought to justice.

After the side-by-side fires and the heart-to-heart with Misty, he had to wonder if he’d been wearing his thinking cap backward. What if Misty was here to help, not hurt? What if Texas Timber wasn’t trying to burn him out so he’d sell to them? What if some folks—or a single person—he’d never considered before were the culprits?

Trust was a fragile thing, but once it took hold, trust was strong and tenacious as barbwire. Misty was earning his trust in a big way. He might be a tad slow, but once he got the bit between his teeth he was hot on the trail. Now he was looking at the arsonists and their motives in a whole new way.

He could hear the crack and pop of cedar oil as fire spread through the trees behind him. A breeze caught the smoke from burning trees and blew it over him in a gray fog. He coughed to clear his lungs. If that wind got any stronger, his ranch would be vulnerable to fire jumping the road. But he didn’t have the time or means to deal with both blazes, not with only two fire extinguishers. The tree farm had to wait for the rigs while he did what he could to control the flames licking toward his ranch’s fence line on this side of the road.

As luck would have it, the culprits had been too lazy, or too stupid, to cross the barbwire fence and start the fire where it could do real damage fast. They’d focused on the shoulder of the road where the grass was short, sparse, and filled with gravel. Trey could smell gasoline and see an oily residue where liquid had been dumped on the ground. If he hadn’t been here, the blaze would’ve taken hold and spread fast with the added accelerant and drought conditions. He hated to think about the destruction that would have happened on Wildcat Ranch.

Between the water extinguisher and the ABC dry chemical extinguisher, he hoped he had enough power in the cans to put out the fire before it broke loose. Cattle were vulnerable, but wild animals, too. Plus all the small ground critters like toads and snakes that could easily get caught in a fast-moving fire and not be able to escape.

Still, he was lucky. He’d arrived in the nick of time and the available fuel was limited so the burn was slower. Once more, Misty had proven herself to be his Christmas angel. If she hadn’t wanted to see the ranch, they wouldn’t have been on this road at this time of day. And they wouldn’t have seen the fires.

As he sprayed with water, a flame escaped, blazed, and tried to claw its way up his leg. He stomped on the fire with his thick leather boot sole and drove the blaze into the ground. He stopped spraying while he beat back the flames near him with his tough cowboy boots.

If the fire managed to jump this fence, he had another plus in his favor. He’d baled hay last summer, although there was precious little good grass with the heat and drought this year. He’d even had to buy hay to make sure his cattle had enough food to last through the winter. Short, dry grass wouldn’t provide as much fuel, so it’d burn fast but not as hot.

He continued to spray around the edges of the fire, wetting down an outer area of containment. He let the gasoline-soaked center burn as he moved inward with a wide spray that extinguished flames. Heat buffeted him. Smoke stung his nose and burned his eyes, but he ignored the sensations as he continued to douse the fire.

He aimed at another spot, but nothing came out of the extinguisher. He tried to coax a little more from the can, but he’d emptied his first fire extinguisher. He set it down on the road and picked up the can he’d saved for the gasoline-soaked area. He only had a limited amount of chemical, so he had to be smart about its use. He sprayed fine yellow powder over the center of the containment area to put out the remaining red-orange flames now surrounded by a blackened area.

He had the fire on the run, but it kept clawing back. He hit the blazes with chemical and snuffed them out with his boots till finally the last of the fire fizzled and went out, leaving an area of blackened grass highlighted with yellow powder. He sighed in relief. He’d had just enough in the two cans to handle the blaze. For now, Wildcat Ranch was safe.

But he could feel heat from the tree fire behind him. He turned to survey the other side of the road. Not good. White smoke billowed upward from the burning saplings. Crackling and spitting sounds filled the air. If the fire hadn’t been so deadly, it’d look beautiful. The fire jumped from one cedar to another to create a patchwork quilt of blazing bonfires across the tree farm.

Trey’s jacket was made to repel heat and wick away inside moisture, but he was still sweating from the fire and exertion. He hoped the rigs got there soon. They had to stop that blaze fast before it spread out into the county or across the road to his ranch.

When he heard the deep growl of a truck, he grinned. Help had arrived just in time. He hung the fire extinguisher from a strap over one shoulder, then walked over and picked up the other empty can and slung it by the strap over his other shoulder.

He glanced down the road and felt his gut flip-flop. Misty had come back. He didn’t want her anywhere near this danger. Even worse, she’d stopped in the middle of the road. She needed to either get out or get his pickup off the lane so apparatus could move in close to the fire.

He jogged toward her, pointing toward the ditch by the side of the road. His truck had enough clearance so it’d be no problem, but did she realize that? He kept gesturing as he neared her, looking toward Wildcat Road as he ran. If the rigs came barreling down the road, Misty would be planted smack-dab in the way. Last thing they needed was a crash or an impediment to stopping the fire in its tracks.

Finally, he saw her nod in understanding. She steered off the road, bounced over the ditch, and took out a line of saplings before she came to a stop. She turned off the engine, stepped down from the truck, and ran toward him.

He stopped, transfixed by the sight. She’d pulled on his yellow and orange Hi-Vis parka. As she ran, his jacket flared out around her like the wings of an angel—his Christmas angel.

Even so, he still wished she wasn’t here. Sap in the cedars was exploding and sending out sparks as the blaze raced toward the bigger trees. Dense smoke was spiraling up and spreading out from where it covered the ground. He coughed to clear his lungs.

When she reached him, Trey wrapped an arm around her, not feeling much of her body because of their firefighter gear. Still, she was safe.

“I got hold of Hedy. Kent and Sydney are on their way.”

“Great.” He gestured toward his ranch. “Got that fire put out, but the other is—”

“Huge!” She stepped away from him, walked toward the tree farm, and then turned back, shaking her head. “That’s dangerous.”

“With the right equipment, it’s containable.”

“Good. How can I help?”

“Volunteers will be here soon. We’ll get it under control. You can go on back to Twin Oaks.”

“I want to help.” She raised a foot. “See. I’ve even got boots this time.”

He smiled, but he still shook his head. “So much smoke and fire can’t be good for you.”

“I’m better about it now.”

“I can see that.” He cleared his throat. “About Texas Timber—”

“First thing, let’s save what we can of this tree farm. Then we talk.”

“Okay.” He kept an eye on the fire, wishing the apparatus would arrive. “Not much we can do right now but let it burn. No people or homes are in danger. As long as the wind doesn’t come up, the ranch is safe.”

She turned to face the fire. “It doesn’t seem right to just stand here and watch those little trees burn.”

“Yeah. Tell that to the arsonists.”

She jerked her head around to look at him.

“I found gasoline on the ground.”

“We’ve got to stop these fires.” She walked down the road, looking from ground to fire and back again. “Can you tell where the fire started?”

He followed her, checking the fire’s progress. “I’d say about in there.” He pointed to a blackened area. “No fence on this side of the road so they could walk into the trees to start the blaze.”

Misty kept on walking, glancing up and down. “Trey, look here!” She suddenly knelt on the road, pointing at the shoulder almost directly across from the burned area near his fence.

He jogged a few steps and knelt beside her. He saw a white tissue with a red smear that’d been pressed into the ground by a boot or animal or something.

“Could it be evidence?” Misty asked.

“Maybe. But anybody could’ve dropped that or tossed it out a car window anytime.”

“Still, it’s something. I’d like to pick it up, but I don’t want to cause problems with an investigation.”

“Let me handle it.” He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket, placed his foot near the tissue to indicate size, and took several pictures. He stepped back and shot a wider angle to show location. She took photos with her phone, too. He gently dislodged the tissue from the dirt and held it up by one edge with two fingers so she could get a better look.

“That’s lipstick!” She pointed at the crimson smear on the white tissue. “It looks fresh, not dried out by the sun.” She glanced up at his face. “Do you think our arsonist is a woman?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. This might not have anything to do with the fire.”

“True. But it’s something to check out.”

“You bet.” He carefully eased the tissue into a big pocket. “I’ll transfer it to a baggie.”

“You’ve got some in the truck?”

“Yep. All the volunteers carry them just in case.”

“Good idea.”

A gust of wind sent smoke wafting toward them. Trey put an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get back to the pickup.”

“Okay by me.” She coughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

He didn’t know if the tissue was evidence, but it was the first thing they’d found that might relate to the arsonists. And Misty had found it. He wasn’t even surprised by this fact. She’d been good luck from the first. But now he wanted her where she was safe. She didn’t need to be inhaling the smoke or fighting a fire. If she was a trained volunteer, he wouldn’t feel so protective. On the other hand, maybe he’d feel the same need to keep her safe.

When they reached his truck, he laid the empty fire extinguishers on the back floorboard. He rummaged in a tackle box where he kept supplies and found the right size baggie. He eased the tissue out of his pocket, gently enclosed the evidence in the plastic bag, then wrote the date, time, and place with an indelible marker on the outside. Last, he put the baggie in the tackle box and shut the lid.

Now he had to focus on fighting the fire. He took off his cowboy boots and tossed them in beside the cans. He quickly pulled on his yellow waterproof firefighting boots and set his yellow fire helmet on his head. He grabbed a face mask and thick leather gloves, then stuck them in the pocket of his yellow jacket.

About that time, he heard sirens out on Wildcat Road. Fire-rescue was here. Now they could get this blaze stopped in its tracks.

“Sounds like the cavalry!” Misty pumped a fist in the air.

“Might as well be blowing a big brass bugle.”

“And just in the nick of time.”

“Thanks again for sounding the alarm.”

“Any time.” She glanced up at him with a smile on her face.

She looked good in his too-big parka, but he’d never known her to look any other way. Talk about fires. She knew how to light one in him by a single glance. But he pushed that thought aside for another time and place.

With siren shrieking, the new bright red booster turned off Wildcat Road and rocketed toward them. Trey heard the piercing sirens of the big engine back on the main road and headed their way. He hoped that’d be enough rigs, but they could call in more if necessary.

He gave a thumbs-up as the booster came to an abrupt stop in front of him. He ran around to the driver’s side, jerked open the door, and grinned up at Sydney.

“What took you so long?”

“Couldn’t abandon my mani-pedi, now could I?” Sydney joked as she stepped down from the booster in full firefighter gear.

“Nope,” Trey agreed. “I wouldn’t want you to fight fire without your nails done. What would folks think?” He quickly matched his cousin’s humorous coping mechanism that they’d all developed to deal with the tension, stress, and heightened emotions of fighting fires.

“Heaven forbid.” Sydney glanced at the blazing tree farm, shook her head at the sight, and then nodded at Misty. “Looks like Trey’s showing you another good time in Wildcat Bluff.”

“He’s just that kind of guy.”

“Yep. Guess he thinks firefighting is a way to a gal’s heart.”

“I can grill a mean steak, too.” Trey defended his abilities as he tried to suppress a grin at their antics.

“No wonder he’s on the shelf at a young age.” Sydney winked at Misty. “Think you can help him out?”

“Think he’s worth it?” Misty asked.

Sydney cocked her head to one side as if seriously considering the idea. “Might need him for firefighting.”

“Looks that way.” Misty hooked a hand around Trey’s arm. “Guess I better drag him off the shelf.”

“Too late,” Trey said. “I already jumped down.” And to make his point, he jerked off his helmet and tossed it to the ground. He pulled Misty into an embrace, leaned her backward over one arm as if dipping in a dance, and gave her a kiss hot enough to make her toes curl.

When he raised her back up, he heard the sound of applause and whistles as the big red engine came to a stop behind the booster. He heard Misty’s laughter as he made a quick bow to the volunteers and she dipped in a curtsey.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that’s your entertainment for the day.” Trey picked up his helmet, held it aloft, and then put it on his head. He figured that little stunt ought to have eased tension for the entire afternoon.

Now they needed to make plans before they engaged the fire. They’d been trained to never rush into a dangerous situation without preparation. He looked for Granny and Aunt Maybelline, but they must not have made this run. Most likely they were back at the café with Slade.

Kent, Morning Glory, and six other volunteers leaped from the engine wearing firefighter gear. They crowded around Trey since he was the acknowledged fire captain—first on the scene and by rotation.

“Hedy radioed we had two fronts.” Kent looked at the fire, gave a loud groan, then glanced back at Trey. “But I only see one.”

“We got lucky,” Trey explained. “Caught the smaller fire on the right side of the road by Wildcat Ranch before it had time to spread. My two cans were enough to put it out.”

“Lucky is right,” Kent agreed. “And two at once can’t be an accident.”

“Nope.” Trey pointed toward the burned area beside the road. “They used gasoline to prime the pump.”

“Like the house?” Sydney asked.

“Same accelerant,” Trey agreed. “But we don’t know if we’re looking at the same culprits.”

“We’ll get them,” Misty said with determination.

Trey nodded as he smiled at her before he looked around the group. “More good news. We’re looking at a Class A fire size, little to no wind, except for a few gusts now and then.”

“That’s good,” Sydney said.

“Anybody who hasn’t met my dance partner,” Trey said with a smile, “this is Misty Reynolds. She helped me put out that grass fire on my property.”

“She’s Wildcat Bluff’s Christmas angel.” Kent raised Misty’s hand high as if she were competing in a boxing match.

“Go Misty!” Morning Glory called. “With her on our side, we’ll get this fire licked in no time.”

“That’s what we want,” Trey agreed. “Now, let’s use this road as our anchor point for fire suppression activity.”

“Works for me,” Sydney agreed.

“Misty, I’ll make this plain so you’ll understand what’s going on around you.”

“Thanks.”

“Anchor point means we’ll work from here to contain our wildland fire without the fire outflanking us.” Trey glanced around the group. “Let’s make a direct attack. Misty, that means we’ll be wetting and smothering the fire and physically separating burning fuel from unburned fuel.”

Misty nodded in understanding.

“Our objective is to make a fire line around the fire that’s to be suppressed. Namely, all those seedlings,” Trey continued. “Everything inside that line can—and will—burn.”

“Texas Timber is going to lose a lot of Christmas trees, aren’t they?” Misty asked, sounding resigned.

“Nothing like they’d lose if this fire size goes from Class A to Class B,” Sydney explained. “So far we’re lucky as all get-out.”

“True,” Trey agreed. “Let’s focus on what we’ve got. As far as an escape route in case the fire outflanks us, let’s use this road. Doubt we’ll have a problem with containment, but let’s make this road the safety zone, too.” Trey glanced around at the firefighters, who all nodded in agreement. “Don’t think we’ll need support from Montague, Grayson, or Fannin Counties, but I’m sure Hedy’s got their fire-rescue on alert.”

“And we’ll radio Hedy if it turns out we need more of our own rigs and volunteers,” Kent added.

“Right,” Trey agreed. “For now, let’s keep it simple.” He glanced out across the burning section of the tree farm. “Birds have flown to safety by now. Most animals are probably long gone, but remember to keep an eye out in case some of the smaller ones have hunkered down on the outer perimeter.”

“Nobody wants a skunk or rabid rabbit running up their pant leg for safety,” Kent said with a chuckle. “Or a snake.”

“Has that ever happened?” Misty asked in concern.

Kent shrugged. “Pays to be on the lookout for whatever may have gone to ground.”

Trey could hear Hedy’s voice in the background coming over the apparatus radios as she kept updates flowing to all parties involved in the fire. Out in the field, communications were doubly vital.

“Okay, firefighters,” Trey said. “Let’s get this show on the road. Sydney, why don’t you pick a partner and take the booster and get out ahead of the fire. We’ll make a running attack from here.”

“Okay, Cuz.” Sydney gestured toward a tall, hulking firefighter. “Jim Bob, let’s pump and roll.”

“Misty, we need your help, but not in the field,” Trey said. “Will you take my truck down to Wildcat Road and head off any looky-loos who want to drive up here and get a closer view? Volunteers get through, but nobody else.”

“How will I know the difference?”

“Ask to see their firefighter gear. That’ll cull the wheat from the chaff,” Sydney said. “I’ll get you a flag from the booster.”

“I’m happy to do it.” Misty smiled at Trey.

“Highway patrol or sheriff deputy ought to be here to take over, but if they’re on the far side of the county no telling when they can make it.”

“I’ll watch for them,” Misty said.

“Appreciate it.” Trey smiled at her. This way she’d be helping but not directly confronting the fire.

“Morning Glory, will you go with Misty to the truck?” Trey nodded toward his pickup. “There’s a baggie in my tackle box that might contain evidence.”

“That’s big news,” Morning Glory said.

He shrugged. “Don’t count on it. But on the off chance it might be worth something, I’d like you to secure it in the engine and take it back to Hedy.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks.” Trey glanced at his cousin. “Kent, we need some large hose lays out there from the engine.”

“I’m on it,” Kent said.

Trey turned back to Morning Glory. “Picks and shovels ready to dig ditches for containment?”

“Let’s hope water works. It’s too easy for fire to jump a ditch and waste our hard work.”

Trey nodded in agreement. “Visual, radio, or vocal communications. Everybody got their portable radio?” He made a visual check to make sure all radios were on shoulders at head height for optimal use.

The volunteers nodded approval, squared shoulders, and focused intently on him.

“Okay, firefighters. Initial attack. Let’s engage.”

They leaped into action—all play and banter left behind as they went willingly into danger.

Trey stood at the center of activity on the road with smoke rising high into the sky. Sydney and Jim Bob boarded the booster with four-wheel drive and tore out across the edge of the conflagration. Morning Glory walked with Misty to Trey’s pickup and quickly returned with the baggie. Kent motioned toward where he wanted the hoses. The other volunteers started forward laying hoses—two firefighters per line. Morning Glory stood ready to charge the hoses—to make water pressure available—as soon as lines were deployed at the fire.

Trey glanced down the road and saw Misty maneuver his pickup across the entry point. Soon she walked out where she could easily be seen on the side of the road, holding a bright yellow flag.

All appeared to be in order, so he stepped up and sat down in the big engine. He keyed the mic. “Hedy, it’s Trey.”

“Say again,” Hedy replied in a clear, calm voice.

“Initial attack is underway.”

“Do you need additional rigs and firefighters?”

“Not yet.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always.”

And that was that. Trey stepped down from the engine to keep watch and alert any firefighter who might unknowingly be getting into danger. So far, all looked to be by the book. The booster was already in place. The engine’s lines were deployed. Morning Glory had charged hoses. When the first water gushed out onto the parched ground from the booster and engine, Trey raised a fist to the sky in triumph. Now they’d save the land and animals.

Time passed as the sun baked the ground—adding heat to the fire—and slowly moved from overhead toward the west. Trey spelled the other firefighters on the hoses so they could take a break and get a drink of cold water. Slowly but surely, they relentlessly tightened the noose of water around the conflagration until the fire had no place to go except burn itself out in the center of the tree farm.

Feeling a surge of triumph, Trey traded places with Kent, took off his helmet, grabbed a bottle of water, and poured half of the liquid over his sweaty face before he poured the rest down his dry and dusty throat. He put his helmet back on and glanced down at the end of the road. His pickup had been replaced by a DPS—affectionately known by some folks as the Dr Pepper Squad or technically correct as the Department of Public Safety—black-and-white Dodge Charger.

Vehicles had parked along the side of Wildcat Road. Folks were out taking photographs with cameras and smartphones. Misty stood talking with the trooper in his spiffy uniform. Trey felt a spurt of jealousy, but he pushed it down. No matter how many guys Misty talked to out there, she was soon going to be eating steaks with him.

He turned and walked back toward the fire. It was dwindling fast now. Little smoke in the sky. Few red-orange flames. Less stench. They’d done it. He clapped Kent on the back, and then stepped up into the engine again.

He keyed the mic. “Hedy, it’s Trey.”

“All still good to go?”

“Winding down.”

“What I like to hear.”

“We’ll retract lines on the engine and send it home.” He looked out the open door and saw the booster headed toward them. “We’ll leave the booster to watch for hot spots.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Later.”

Trey stepped down, feeling a great sense of relief as tiredness washed over him. What he wouldn’t give for a hefty hunk of buffalo steak right about now. But he could wait. He wanted to share it with Misty.

He heard vehicle engines turning over and the crunch of tires down at the end of the road. Folks were heading out. The DPS car wheeled out with the trooper holding out a hand in good-bye to Misty. She waved at him before she turned to look toward Trey. She grinned and gave a thumbs-up in triumph. He replied in kind, thinking she looked mighty fine.

The booster roared up but stopped well away from the hoses. Sydney and Jim Bob leaped out. Black soot streaked their gear and faces. Trey knew he looked about the same. He held up his palm and gave them both a high five.

“Good job,” he said, grinning at them. “You two up for staying here with the booster and watching for hot spots?”

“I live to serve.” Sydney jerked off her helmet and ran a hand through her damp hair. “Storm’s with Granny so I’m good to go.”

“If she’s staying I’m staying,” Jim Bob agreed. “But I expect somebody to deliver up barbeque and Dr Peppers.”

“Yum.” Sydney laughed. “I’m so hungry I could chase a horse—”

“You’re too tired to chase a horse, so don’t even go there.” Jim Bob winked at her. “Now I’m still in my prime after fighting a fire.”

“Hah!” Sydney laughed as she walked toward the engine with Jim Bob right on her heels. “Got any cold water left?” she called. “We’re all out.”

“Have at it,” Trey said as he glanced at Kent, who was retracting the engine’s hoses. He stepped up and sat down in the engine’s cab. He keyed the mic. “Hedy, it’s Trey again.”

“What’s up?”

“Jim Bob and Sydney need barbeque and Dr Peppers brought out here pronto to the booster.”

“Got it. Anybody else?”

“They’re going home or back to the station.”

“Good job.”

“Thanks. See you later.”

He keyed off the mic and leaned back against the seat. Another win. He couldn’t ask for more.

He jumped down from the engine and looked toward the end of the road. Misty stood there all alone beside his truck, waiting for him.

He felt warmth expand in his chest.