A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1) (25 page)

Misty had thought Slade’s chili was extreme until she’d tasted the chili cook-off’s entries. Wildcat Bluff’s residents had outdone themselves in competing for the hottest of the hot. Not only that, but they’d been creative. She’d tasted chili seasoned with jalapeños, tomatillos, onions, garlic, chili powder, and who knew what else in the clear-your-sinuses arsenal of chili verde and five-alarm chili.

Now she felt like a fire-breathing dragon. A single burst of air and she’d probably melt everything in her path. She chuckled at the thought. She took a quick swig of cold water from the bottle she held in her hand. Not that it stopped the burn, but it eased the symptoms.

As the chili cook-off wound down, she stood at the end of the line where folks had helped themselves buffet style. Not much food was left. She’d replenished sweet tea, coffee, and water. Early on folks had swarmed over the chili like ants at a picnic. Now they sat contentedly at tables, eating, drinking, and chatting with each other.

Misty was reluctant to see the benefit end. She’d had a wonderful time. She glanced around the cafeteria. Slade was in the kitchen. Trey had carried out several bags of trash. J.P. had left to find Charlene. And Hedy was off fielding any issues that might arise. Kent, Sydney, Storm, Morning Glory, and Ruby were also working the room, picking up litter, pausing to chat, and making sure the event went as smoothly as possible.

She’d met new people and enjoyed being a chili judge. When she’d handed out the awards, folks had applauded with wild enthusiasm whether they’d won or lost. There’d be photographs of smiling winners in next week’s newspaper. People were even talking about making the chili cook-off an annual event. No doubt about it, the benefit for the Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue animal oxygen kits was a success.

She felt humbled by the outpouring of support by local residents and businesses. Every last bite had been a donation. Large numbers of local folks, along with many out-of-towners, had turned out to pay their five dollars and scarf down the chili and fixings.

She didn’t know how much money had been collected, but she thought there’d be enough to buy plenty of animal oxygen kits with some funds left over for other fire-rescue needs. She felt proud of her small part in making this event happen. Soon animals caught in dangerous situations would stand a much better chance of survival in this county.

All in all, she’d discovered she liked everything about Wildcat Bluff. She could never have imagined that change of heart back in Dallas. Small town. Country folks. Cowboy firefighters. Who knew they lived such wonderful, warm, fulfilling lives? And were such generous people? If she were stranded on a desert island, these were the folks she’d want with her—and in particular a cowboy named Trey.

She felt an itch between her shoulder blades that meant somebody was watching her. She turned around, expecting to see Trey. Instead, J.P. and Charlene walked toward her. Both were turned out in their usual Texas chic. She’d yet to see Charlene in anything other than skirts and high heels. Most people at the event had dressed comfortably casual with cowboy boots.

“What a fabulous event.” Charlene smiled with plump, crimson lips. “Just had to stop by and tell you so.”

“Thank you. Glad you could join us.” Misty glanced at J.P. “And you made a great judge. I needed your expertise in making decisions.”

“I’ve whipped up a batch of chili or two in my time.”

“He’s being modest,” Charlene said. “He’s won numerous awards for his chili.”

“Guess it’s a good thing for the winners you didn’t enter the contest,” Misty teased with a smile.

“Lots of fine competition,” J.P. said modestly.

“Well, we’re heading out,” Charlene added, “so just wanted to thank you.”

“Appreciate your support.” Misty wished she’d been able to warm to the couple, but there was just something about them that left her cold.

“Glad to help out.” J.P. turned to go.

Charlene hesitated, then stepped closer. “I was just wondering. Did you ever hear how that fire got started?”

“The Texas Timber tree farm?”

“I guess that’s the one.”

“Doubt they’ll ever know for sure.” Misty glanced from one to the other, wondering at their interest. But the fire had probably been the talk of the town.

“That’s the way of fires,” J.P. said.

Misty nodded. “See you back at Twin Oaks.”

As the couple walked away, Misty still felt as if she were missing something about them. She glanced down at Charlene’s shoes.
High heels.
Misty felt her breath catch in her throat as she thought back to Trey’s pasture and the heel imprints. What about the tissue with a smear of what she now realized looked like Charlene’s shade of crimson lipstick? No, surely not. They were simply a nice couple on an antique buying trip. And then she had another thought. At Christmastime? Wouldn’t they be selling, not buying? Now that she’d turned her mind in their direction, she realized somebody staying at the B&B could have easily picked the lock and searched her room. And they drove a van that could be used to haul accelerant instead of collectibles. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Maybe she’d eaten too much chili to think straight, but she couldn’t deny the long list of coincidences. Had the corporate saboteurs been right under her nose this entire time? Yet she had no actual proof and the official investigation could take weeks if not months to complete and then it might not help much. But she felt excited, as if she’d finally taken a major step in solving the crimes. First, she wanted to run her idea by Trey.

There wasn’t much more she needed to do here. The cafeteria staff would finish up. She emptied her water bottle in one long gulp and tossed it in the trash. She glanced around for Trey. And there he was. She felt her heart speed up at the sight of her very own good-looking cowboy firefighter.

“Hey,” Trey called. “You ready for our hayride?”

As she looked at him, she felt sudden longing in her heart for a little girl with long, dark hair dancing in cowgirl boots.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

After they said their good-byes, Trey tucked Misty’s hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her outside. Night had fallen and a big yellow moon rode across the heavens as if ready to illuminate the way for Santa Claus and his reindeer. Blue lights twinkled in the trees, country music drifted from Old Town, and the scent of evergreens filled the soft evening breeze.

Mystical and magical, as always. Yet Trey had never enjoyed the season more, despite the fires and cut fence. He glanced at Misty. He knew who’d made this Christmas special for him. He pulled her closer against his side as they walked down the sidewalk. She smelled like chili and hot peppers. He figured he smelled the same way. And it was a tantalizing aroma. He wondered if she’d taste as hot as she looked at this very moment. Later he’d find out.

He nodded to people heading to their cars, Old Town, or the waiting hayride vehicles. Folks were getting in and out of pickups in the parking lot. They talked and laughed as they enjoyed Christmas in the Country.

On the far side of the parking lot, a long line of two-wheel flatbed trailers hooked up to ATVs waited for hayriders. He and his friends had built wood fences with two-by-fours, painted them red and green, and attached them to the trailers. They’d placed sweet-smelling, square-baled hay along the interior sides. Folks could sit on the hay bales, lean against the fence, and see everything along the hayride route. Christmas lights twinkled in sparkling red and green along the flatbed fences.

Trey could hardly wait to take Misty on a hayride. She’d love the special route and he’d love having her with him.

“Come over here,” Misty whispered, tugging on his arm. “I want to tell you something.”

Surprised, he let her lead him under an oak tree with spreading limbs that was away from the revelers.

“I had an idea about the saboteurs.” She spoke softly so as not to be overheard by anyone.

He leaned closer, anxious to hear what she had to say.

“J.P. and Charlene Gladstone.”

“What!” His initial surprise turned to the realization that her idea was a distinct possibility. “Why do you think it’s them?”

She began ticking off the points on her fingers. “They drive a van that could hide any number of dangerous items like gasoline in cans. They’re staying in a nearby location at Twin Oaks. They’re buying instead of selling during the holidays. And Charlene wears red lipstick and high heels. Those heels may be a fashion choice, but some women wear heels so much their tendons become shortened so they can’t wear a low heel.”

“I didn’t know that.” He nodded thoughtfully as his mind raced down the possibilities.

“Sad fact about high heels. Still, it might explain why she’d wear them in a pasture, if she was there.”

“Pretty slim evidence.” He played devil’s advocate to push her theory.

“I know. But tonight there was something smug about them that set off alarm bells.”

“They’d have a reason to be smug if they were putting this whole shebang over on us.” He glanced out into the parking lot, but didn’t see the Gladstones’ dirty white van. “Something else. I noticed a lot of back-road dust on their vehicle.”

“Good point. What I want to do now is—”

“Let’s not spook them. Plus, you’re in Wildcat Bluff County, not Dallas County. If you agree, let me run this by our police chief. If need be, he’ll alert the county sheriff.”

“That’ll take time.”

“But if you go off half-cocked, we might lose them.”

“I won’t do that. But I bet there’s incriminating evidence instead of collectibles in their van.”

“Requires a search warrant.”

“True.”

“Our law is as frustrated and anxious to stop these fires and catch the culprits as we are.”

“I wish we could put a police tail on that van.”

“Maybe we can.”

“Should we warn Ruby?”

“Not yet. J.P. and Charlene may be innocent. Let me make a call.”

She nodded in agreement.

Trey wanted to run out and confront the Gladstones as much as Misty did, but they had to handle the situation intelligently. He pulled his cell out of his pocket. The entire police department, augmented by sheriff deputies, was on duty during Christmas in the Country. He’d try to get hold of the police chief first. Harry was an old friend, and Trey had his cell number.

He kept calling till he finally got through. “Harry, it’s Trey.”

“Trouble at the chili cook-off?”

“No. All’s fine here. Look, I’ve had an idea about the arsonists.”

“Now? In the middle of Christmas in the Country?”

“Timing’s lousy, I know.” Trey ran a hand through his thick hair. “But it’s the perfect time to set another fire with everybody so distracted, isn’t it?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Could you spare somebody to put a tail on J.P. and Charlene Gladstone? They’re staying at Twin Oaks. And they drive a white van.”

Trey heard Harry clicking on his computer. “Okay, got a hit. Nothing stands out about them.”

“They left the chili cook-off a bit ago.”

Misty tugged on Trey’s arm. “Just a hunch. See if he’ll check for them at the tree farm where we put out the last fire.”

The thought made Trey’s blood run cold. It’d be right across from Wildcat Ranch again. And it’d be an arrogant, smug, in-your-face kind of thing to do.

“Who’s that with you?” Harry asked.

“I’ll introduce you later,” Trey said. “Misty Reynolds. She’s a troubleshooter for Texas Timber. She wants to stop the fires as much as we do.”

“Is she our Christmas angel?”

“Yep. That’s her.”

“Okay. I’ll pull Jeremy off downtown and send him to Ruby’s. If the van’s not there, he’ll go on to the tree farm. If he doesn’t get a hit there, I’ll see if the sheriff can spare a deputy.”

“Thanks, Harry. Stay in touch.”

“Will do.”

Trey put his phone back in his pocket. “Could you hear any of that?”

“Bits and pieces.”

“Okay. Harry’s our chief of police. He’s going to send Jeremy over to Ruby’s to check on the van. If it’s not there, he’ll go to the tree farm.”

“That’s a relief.”

“We may be barking up the wrong tree.”

“True. But we can’t take a chance.” She looked up at Trey with a determined glint in her eyes. “And if that fails, we can drive backcountry roads all night till we do find the Gladstones.”

“I can think of better things to do.”

“Not if we catch them in the act.”

“True.” He squeezed her hand. “Harry’s on the ball now. Till we hear from him, we might as well enjoy the hayride. Want to try?”

“Let’s do more than try.”

He pointed toward the line of ATVs with their colorful trailers.

“I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but where are the horses?” Misty asked.

Trey sighed. “Everybody wants horses. They used ponies back in the day, but we’ve opted to hayride the easy way. Less mess. Less fuss.”

“It’ll still be just as much fun.”

“That’s right.”

“Are you driving one of those rigs?”

“Not tonight.” He pointed at the front of the line. “Kent leads the pack in his ATV. I bring up the rear in mine. We don’t haul hayriders. That way, if there’s an emergency or something, we’re free to run up and down the line or go for help. And we’re connected with our cell phones.”

“Are you sure you’ve got room for a passenger?”

“You’ll be right beside me.” He put an arm around her waist and turned her toward the end of the line. They saw Bert Two walking up to them.

“Evenin’,” Trey said.

“Enjoyed the chili.” Bert Two nodded at Misty. “Good to see you again. You had a fine idea to raise funds for animal oxygen kits.”

“Thanks for your support,” Misty said.

“Anything to help our fire-rescue.” Bert Two glanced at Trey. “Dad and I depend on them to help us. And we appreciate all the effort.”

“Regret we haven’t been able to save your buildings,” Trey said.

“Most you can do is try. And hope there’s an end to the harassment.” Bert Two gestured toward the hayride trailers where folks were stepping aboard. “Don’t let me hold you up. Just wanted to stop by and say thanks.”

“Appreciate it,” Trey said.

Bert Two tipped his cowboy hat to Misty. “Now, don’t go forgettin’ my offer.”

“I won’t,” she said.

“You two have a fine Christmas Eve, hear now?” And Bert Two sauntered out into the parking lot.

“What offer? And where did you meet him?” Trey felt a stab of jealousy that he pushed back down.

“Adelia’s Delights. And he’s just being neighborly like folks do in Wildcat Bluff.”

“He and his dad don’t have the best reputations in the county.”

“I’ve wondered if their building fires might be tied in with the tree farm fires.”

“Could be. But Bert’s building fires started before the first tree farm fire or my troubles.”

“Guess there’s no way to know yet.”

“Let it go for now. Engines are revving up for the hayride.”

He clasped Misty’s hand and led her to his big Ranger ATV that could seat four people. Red and black with open sides and roll bars, the four-wheeler was his baby. It’d take on cross-country or streets and roads with nary a whimper. It wasn’t a speed demon, but it was a workhorse. He couldn’t have managed the ranch without it or his other ATVs. Some days a horse was the way to go on the ranch, but other occasions required a four-wheeler.

He settled Misty onto the passenger black leather bucket seat in front before he walked around to the storage bed in back. He pulled two cold bottles of milk out of the strapped-on cooler. He walked around, sat down, and handed her a bottle.

“Thanks.”

“Milk is the best cure for chili heat.”

“Double thanks.” She took a long drink of milk. “What a relief!”

“Know the feeling.” He chuckled, and then took a hefty slug before he set the bottle in a cup holder.

When the ATVs in front started forward, Trey turned on his engine. As the hayriders moved away from the cafeteria, they started singing in front and others picked up the song in a rolling wave till it reached the back of the line.

“They’re singing?” Misty glanced at Trey in surprise as she set her bottle in a cup holder.

He grinned. “Didn’t I tell you? This isn’t just a hayride. Wildcat Bluff is waiting to hear our Christmas caroling.”