A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1) (8 page)

Bottom line, she needed his information. Worse, she wanted him. Even more dangerous, he appeared to know it and was more than ready to let on that he wanted her.

She flipped her hair back from her face in the universal action of a determined woman. She was a professional troubleshooter. She could certainly give her phone number to a cowboy firefighter and not lose any sleep over it.

And before she had a chance to ponder him any longer, he was back. He must have jogged to and from his truck because he was suddenly sliding the door open, striding to her side, and holding out his phone.

“I’d take it kindly if you’d program your number into my phone,” he said in a low, melodic voice.

She didn’t know quite how he did it, but just the sound of his voice put her in mind of big, soft beds and long, hot nights. She took his phone, quickly tapped in her number, and handed it back, being careful not to touch the heat of his hand.

“Thanks.” He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then turned and strode to the open door. He glanced back. “See you tomorrow.” And he was gone into the night.

She stood there a moment, feeling the heat of his kiss linger on her lips, and then shook her head. She was not going to moon over a man. She had a job to do.

She checked to make sure the door was locked before she went inside, up the stairs, and to her suite. She heard her cell chirping inside. She quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside.

She grabbed her phone. “Hello.”

“Now you’ve got my number, too,” Trey said. “Sweet dreams.”

And then she was alone with her phone, his number, and the prospect of extremely sweet dreams.

Misty unlocked her SUV door early the next morning. The Gladstones’ van was already gone. She guessed they were driving pretty far afield in search of vintage keepsakes. Interesting couple. Not quite her cup of tea, but she supposed others would be impressed with them, as well as their business.

She set her to-go cup of Ruby’s delicious-smelling coffee in the cup holder and a blueberry muffin on the center console. She plopped her handbag down on the passenger seat and set her phone beside the muffin, almost expecting it to ring. But that was just her wanting to hear Trey’s seductive voice again, and who knew when he might call, if ever. He certainly hadn’t contacted her during the night or this morning.

Anyway, today he wasn’t on her agenda. She wore comfortable jeans, a knit top, and running shoes since she had her sights set on reconnoitering the county and talking with folks in town. She particularly wanted to see what was left of the burned Texas Timber Christmas tree farm. Trey had been a big help as a tour guide when she’d driven him into town, and now she had better background knowledge from a local viewpoint.

She glanced around at the beautiful estate, morning sunlight bathing the pine trees and buildings in a golden glow. Still hot and dry with no letup in sight. If somebody had their sights set on causing trouble, between the weather and holiday distraction, there was no better time than the present. Texas Timber obviously understood that fact only too well.

As she ate her delicious muffin, she thought about her research. She’d been too tired the night before to follow up on her plan, so she’d looked into water issues this morning. She’d found several interesting articles online. Turned out North Texas cities, as well as Oklahoma City and Southwest Oklahoma, all wanted the Kiamichi River Basin water in Southeast Oklahoma. That happened to be the homeland of the Choctaw Nation and the Chickasaw Nation, so they were now involved in trying to preserve their water rights. Lawsuits had been filed. Studies were being done. But as far as Misty could tell, that situation didn’t affect Wildcat Bluff County. What might affect the county was the feds blustering about taking more private ranchland along the Red River with access to that water. But for the moment, she didn’t see how any of those issues could affect Texas Timber, although she’d keep them on a list as potential problems.

She took several sips of coffee and felt good to go. She backed up, drove out under the Twin Oaks sign, and made a right turn. She’d already programmed the GPS in her vehicle, so she simply punched the screen to call up the directions for her location. She pretty much had in mind where she was going, but she didn’t want to take a chance on getting lost on backcountry lanes.

Soon she turned onto Wildcat Road and headed south back toward Dallas. She passed ranches and farms with cattle or horses grazing in pastures and big, round rolls of golden, baled hay baking in the sun. She could see where streams, maybe dried up now, meandered across the landscape by the trees that grew along their low banks. A pickup came hurtling toward her on the other side of the road and the driver raised the first finger of his right hand on the steering wheel in a neighborly greeting. She returned the favor, being reminded that good manners were vitally important in the countryside.

She turned onto a two-lane road that had well-maintained barbwire fence running along either side. She looked out over sun-bleached grasses and leafless trees. Everything looked as dry as a tinderbox just waiting to be set off by accident or intention. Small groups of red cattle congregated under big green live oaks, already getting under shade from the glaring sun overhead.

She came to a cross lane and turned left down the smaller but still good asphalt road. Up ahead she could see blackened land. She felt a tightening in her chest and her breath caught in her throat. Not now, surely not now. At least she had her inhaler with her. Why had she ever thought it’d be a good idea to investigate a fire? But she hadn’t thought she’d be dealing with live fires, only the aftermath of a fire. And she hadn’t had trouble with her phobia in years, so she couldn’t have anticipated the extent of her reaction.

She turned up the AC and took a deep breath, feeling her anxiety slowly settle down. That’s right. This fire was long over and had nothing to do with her. In her mind, she repeated her special words, “Be here now. Safe and sound. Be here now,” and she felt better, reminding herself that she had fought a blazing fire yesterday and won. This was nothing compared to that.

She drove on down the road, pulled off the side into a ditch, and cut the engine. She got out and glanced around, smelling an acrid scent. On either side of the lane stretched blackened land with tall tree stumps rising up like ghostly sentinels. Complete devastation as far as the eye could see. Instead of fear, she felt a deep sense of loss. All those vibrant green cedars grown over countless years had been waiting to be harvested and sent out into the world to adorn living rooms and make people, particularly children, happy at Christmas.

It was simply a flat-out horrible shame. How many innocent birds and animals had died in the flames? What if the fire had swept over ranch houses and into town to kill people? Hot indignation welled up in her. Now she was particularly glad she’d taken the job. She couldn’t right this terrible wrong, but she’d do her best to find the culprits and see they never did anything this devastating again.

She walked down the road, looking from left to right along the ground. She hoped to see something, anything that might be a clue. But of course, too much time had passed and not much could have been left in the wake of the fire. Still, she looked from ground to sky and back again. She’d read the fire investigation report. Arson by accelerant was suspected, but accidental conflagration by a tossed cigarette or campfire in the current intense heat and drought conditions could not be ruled out either.

It’d be easy for anyone to set a fire on the edge of the property or walk deep into the trees and start a blaze because there were no fences to keep people out. And there was no one around to see the culprits because no local folks were hired to work the Christmas tree farms. Crews were brought in from out of town to plant seedlings that were left to grow. Crews returned to harvest and haul the trees to market at the right time of year when the cedars were the correct size. The business was lucrative, growing, and competitive. Texas Timber owned other tree farms in East Texas. None of those had burned, so this fire could have been an accident.

But Texas Timber executives didn’t think so. And now that she was here, she didn’t think so either. Maybe she was having a flight of fancy, but something about this fire felt sinister. She walked farther down the road, wishing something, anything would speak to her. A black crow cawed loudly and flew over her head toward Wildcat Bluff. Now she understood the bad feeling. All vibrant life was gone. She shivered at the thought.

She’d seen enough. She walked back to her SUV and sat down inside. She realized that she felt no anxiety and had no breathing issues. Instead, she felt deep determination to take on this problem and win.

She drove back out to Wildcat Road and headed toward another of Texas Timber’s Christmas tree farms. She wished she’d learned more at the fire site, but at least she’d taken the first steps.

After a few miles, she turned down another good asphalt road. On the left she saw small green cedars growing in long rows into the distance. She felt a great sense of relief that these trees looked so alive and well. She glanced to the right. A barbwire fence enclosed ranchland with black cattle grazing on hay on the other side. Here peace and serenity and life reigned in contrast to the burned-out tree farm.

Once more, she’d seen enough. She swung her SUV around, turned left onto Wildcat Road, and headed north for Wildcat Bluff. She wanted to get a better sense of the town and its residents. Adelia’s Delights would be a good place to start since she’d already met Hedy at the fire station. And Hedy’d probably know where to get a high-grade fire extinguisher.

When Misty drove into town, she found a parking place in front of the Lone Star Saloon. She sat there a moment as she looked around Old Town. Lots of folks walked up and down the boardwalk, carrying packages in their hands. They laughed and talked with each other as they went in and out of stores. She could hear Christmas music playing on the outdoor sound system. All in all, nothing looked amiss. In fact, everyone appeared extremely happy.

She drank more coffee as she checked her phone for messages. Cindi Lou had texted a smiley face, so she returned it since there was nothing noteworthy to report. No calls from Trey, so he was probably doing whatever kept ranchers busy with cattle. She might as well get on with her day.

She put her phone in her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped outside. Hot already. She could smell the enticing scent of cinnamon, apples, and caramel. Somebody down the block was luring customers into their store with the irresistible aroma of holiday food. Instead of following her nose, she headed toward Adelia’s Delights.

She entered the store to the sound of chimes, and then quickly closed the door behind her to keep out the heat. She smiled in delight, for she felt as if she’d been transported back in time, particularly after she read “Established 1883” on a sign on the wall. She admired the mellow oak floor to the high ceiling of pressed tin tile in an intricate design to the tall glass containers of old-fashioned hard candy on the checkout counter near the ancient black and gold cash register in back.

She could easily understand why Hedy loved this store. Knickknacks in all shapes, sizes, colors, and prices filled deep shelves and glass cabinets. One section contained country pickles, jams, and other edible items in canning jars. A prominent display of the Bluebird of Happiness, sky-blue glass birds in all sizes made in Arkansas, gleamed in the front window.

A tearoom area had small, round ice cream tables with matching chairs tucked into a quiet corner near a front window. A tall cedar tree decorated in red and green antique ornaments with a Christmas angel in a white satin gown on top graced that section of the store.

Misty quickly decided the tearoom was a likely spot for a quiet conversation with Hedy, who was bound to know everything going on around town, and particularly at the fire station. She just hoped Hedy was at work today. She headed for the back of the store.

“Misty, you’re just in time!” Hedy zoomed around the checkout desk in her wheelchair.

“For what?”

“Watch the place for me, will you?”

“Sell merchandise?” She blinked in surprise.

“Station’s gone quiet. Sure to be the new computer system acting up again. We’ll get the glitch solved, but so far I’m the only one who can fix it.” She glanced out at the street, then back.

“Do you want me to drive you? You could close the store.”

“Right before Christmas? Not on your life.”

“But how will you—”

“I’ve got a wheelchair van and I drive with hand controls. I get around fine and dandy.”

“I’ll be happy to help, but I don’t know how to deal with sales.”

“No need. Morning Glory’ll be over to do that.”

“Morning Glory?”

Hedy chuckled. “She’s got the store next door. Didn’t you notice it?
Morning’s Glory.
Too clever by half, I say.”

“What does she sell?”

“My point exactly.” Hedy rolled her eyes. “Far as I’m concerned, she’s still stuck in the sixties. And proud of it. She’s a flower child, if you know what I mean.”

“Not exactly.”

“You’ll see.” Hedy pointed to one side. “Our stores are connected by that open archway. If folks want to buy something, call her.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best. How long will you be gone?”

“Not long. And thanks.” Hedy waved a hand as she headed toward the back of the store. “Morning Glory’ll be over to introduce herself pretty quick.”

Left alone, Misty stood in the middle of Adelia’s Delights. She kept getting surprised in Wildcat Bluff, not only by the situations but by the people, too. Hedy obviously trusted her, a stranger, enough to leave her in charge of her store. That would never happen in Dallas.

“There you are!”

Misty glanced around. A tall, slim woman with a riot of long, curly ginger hair wore a lapis-blue shirt, long, swirling skirt in many colors, and burgundy cowboy boots. At least half a dozen necklaces hung down to her small waist.

“You must be Misty. I’m Morning Glory.” She clasped Misty’s hand in a strong shake.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Heard you have a good vibe.”

“I just got to town yesterday.”

“Good news travels fast.” Morning Glory grinned and small lines radiated out from the corners of her eyes to give her a warm and friendly appearance.

Misty smiled, not knowing quite what to say.

“Anybody who’ll take on a grass fire with nothing more than a towel is on the side of the angels.” Morning Glory glanced up at the top of the Christmas tree. “Heard you’re our Christmas angel.”

“Trey again? I just helped out.”

“Like today.” Morning Glory tapped the toe of one boot. “It’s quiet now. Later, you could get a stampede.”

“Christmas shoppers?”

“You know it.”

“What do you sell?”

“Oh, this and that.” She clutched her necklaces. “Candles, oils, herbs, vitamins. That type of thing.”

“I’ll enjoy seeing your merchandise.”

“Anytime.” Morning Glory held up two fingers in the peace sign. “We’d better put on our business faces.”

“I’ll call if I need you.”

Morning Glory fumbled with the jewelry around her neck, selected a necklace, pulled it over her head, and held it out to Misty. “This one’s obviously for you.”

“Thank you.” Misty hesitantly took the necklace, not wanting to be rude. “Is this macramé?”

“Made it myself. Beautiful, isn’t it? I’m thinking I ought to buy some supplies and teach a class before it’s a lost art. What do you think?”

“Looks like a lot of work.”

“Thing is, as I’m sure you know, when it’s art, it’s not work.”