A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1) (26 page)

Misty laughed out loud with delight and clapped her hands. She’d never have dreamed she’d be having so much fun on Christmas Eve. She certainly wouldn’t have thought of caroling. Trey raised his voice in a deep baritone. She joined him with her soprano as she tried to remember songs she hadn’t sung since childhood such as “Silent Night” and “White Christmas.”

How her parents would’ve loved Christmas in the Country. She waited for the usual pain at their memory to bring tears to her eyes. Instead, she felt tenderness and love for all they’d given her and all they’d shared before the fire. She wished they could be with her now. Aunt Camilla, too.

Misty took a deep breath, feeling her lungs easily expand in contrast to the contraction she’d felt for so long. She’d healed in an unlikely place called Wildcat Bluff—thanks to its wonderful people, enduring spirit, and a cowboy named Trey Duval.

Trey must have sensed her thinking about him, for he glanced over with a hot glint in his eyes that promised more sizzling nights in their future. He took his right hand off the steering wheel and held it out to her. When she clasped his long, strong fingers, she felt as if she were cementing the bond they’d forged from the first moment they’d met on Wildcat Road.

When their train of hayriders wound around to Old Town, Misty was amazed to see folks standing outside on the boardwalk and waiting for Christmas caroling. Businesses were still open with inviting holiday lights glimmering in windows and along the roofline above the boardwalk. A country band of men dressed in plaid shirts with jeans and women in long, colorful skirts played mandolin, fiddle, banjo, guitar, harmonica, and squeeze box in front of Adelia’s Delights.

Kent led them to the far end of Main Street where he stopped so the ATVs pulling colorful trailers with laughing and waving hayriders could line up behind him in front of the boardwalk. Trey brought up the rear and braked at the entrance to Gene’s Boot Hospital.

Soon the band broke into a lively “Winter Wonderland.” Folks on the boardwalk joined in the song, clapping their hands, and the Christmas carolers raised their voices to add to the fun. Their joyful singing filled the night and spread out over the town like the bright jewels of stars across the night sky.

Trey held Misty’s hand as they sang together, easily transitioning from popular country songs to old standards. “Joy to the World,” “The First Noel,” and “Deck the Halls” were favorites.

She could easily see a scene like this played out over a hundred years ago. Only she would be sitting in a horse-drawn wagon wearing old-time clothes—longskirt and stylish hat. She felt a deep sense of continuity, a way of passing time-honored traditions from one generation to the next. She imagined enjoying Christmas in the Country with her yet-to-be little girl. Misty knew her parents had loved being together as a family at Christmas. From now on, she would celebrate the season in their memory and carry forward this fine tradition.

As the music wound down, the ATVs came to life, the hayriders waved in farewell, and folks on the boardwalk waved back. Soon the caravan set off down Main Street, turned onto Cougar Lane, and trailed through neighborhoods as the hayriders sang Christmas carols to people who came out of houses onto their front lawns.

“Are you having fun?” Trey asked, glancing over at Misty.

“Yes! So much to do and so much fun.”

“That’s Christmas in the Country.”

“I can see why folks come here from all over.”

“One of my favorite sections of the hayride is coming up.”

“There’s more? And better?”

“Just wait and see.”

Soon Kent turned down a street and the ATVs pulling trailers with their twinkling Christmas lights and happy carolers followed, one after another, until they disappeared from Misty’s view.

“Now watch closely when I turn down that street.” Trey pointed ahead.

“Okay.” But she doubted there was anything that could top what she’d already seen in Wildcat Bluff.

As he made the turn, he slowed to a near stop, letting the caravan move on ahead without them.

“Oh, Trey! It’s gorgeous.” A large cluster of red, green, orange, and purple giant lollipops wrapped in cellophane were spotlighted by a single bright lamp at the base of the display on one side of the entrance to the street.

“Thought you’d like it.”

“Lollipop Lane.” Misty read the sign below the lollipops made with a fancy, crimson script on a bright, white board. She clapped her hands in delight.

Trey turned onto Lollipop Lane, driving at a snail’s pace behind the line of hayriders. On either side of the street in front of the sidewalks ran a long ribbon of multicolored lights that connected the lane like an undulating river with gentle twists and turns.

“Oh! I love Lollipop Lane.” Misty pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped a few photos. She quickly texted one to Cindi Lou, knowing her BFF would love the sight, too.

Misty glanced from side to side to make sure she missed nothing along the lane. The residents had gone all out for Christmas. She’d never seen such a wide variety of decorations in such a limited area. She admired traditional red and green balls hanging from trees, an inflatable Santa Claus with reindeer, shimmering blue and white icicles stretched along a roofline with an illuminated angel on top, an electronic light show timed to Christmas music, and hand-carved and painted gingerbread folk. The creativity went on and on.

She wondered how the ribbon of light was made, so she looked closely at the ground. Folks had cut the ends off plastic gallon milk jugs and placed a colored lightbulb inside each container before laying them end to end to form a continuous line of stunning color.

She turned to Trey and smiled in happiness. “It’s all so beautiful. Everyone has gone to so much time and trouble. Thanks for bringing me here.”

“My pleasure.” He returned her smile. “I knew you’d like Lollipop Lane.”

“How long have residents been doing this?”

“Years. It’s a tradition.”

“And a wonderful one.”

As the hayriders made their way down Lollipop Lane, singing Christmas carols with gusto, residents came out of their homes to watch and listen. Families laughed, pointed at friends, and waved to the caravan. Many folks carried kids, cats, or dogs in their arms. They were all dressed in colorful holiday clothes, including most of the cats and dogs.

Misty waved back, joining in the caroling with Trey, as the line moved steadily forward. Ahead, she saw that Lollipop Lane came to an end at a cross street. She was disappointed she’d soon be leaving behind this special place.

When she felt her phone vibrate, she checked and saw a text from Cindi Lou. “Yowzer!” Misty chuckled at her friend’s response.

“Important?” Trey glanced down at Misty’s phone.

“No. I just couldn’t keep from sharing Lollipop Lane with my BFF Cindi Lou.”

“And?”

“She loved it.”

“Good.”

As the last of the ATVs pulling trailers turned off Lollipop Lane, Trey stopped his four-wheeler.

Spread out before Misty on the front lawn across the street was a large Nativity scene illuminated by floodlights. The figures were beautifully carved of wood and hand painted to look as real as possible. She felt deeply touched by the beautiful sight. And then she looked closer to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

“Are those horses?”

Trey chuckled as he pointed at the Nativity scene. “That’s Wildcat Bluff heritage at its finest. Our ancestors decided it’d be smart for Comanche ponies to watch over the Baby Jesus instead of camels. If you look to the side of the manger scene, you’ll see a panther guarding them all. ”

“Makes a Wildcat Bluff kind of sense, doesn’t it?”

“Yep. Horses once meant the difference between life and death to a person in the West. And cats have long protected this area. First, actual wildcats like cougars. And now other cats. It suits Wildcat Bluff.”

She nodded in agreement as she turned to him with a smile.

He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Just like you.”

As Trey drove away from Lollipop Lane, his cell phone vibrated where he’d tucked it in his shirt pocket.

He jerked it out and slid it open. “Trey here.”

“All hell broke loose,” Harry said in a gruff voice.

“How bad?” Trey got a sick feeling in his belly.

“What is it?” Misty appeared alarmed in the yellow light of a street lamp as she leaned toward him.

Trey turned on the speakerphone so she could hear his conversation with the police chief.

“Fires all over the place. Looks like somebody’s trying to burn down the county.”

“That’s crazy.”

“You’re telling me.” Harry’s voice took on a hard edge. “Sent out all the rigs. Not enough. We called in Montague, Cooke, and Grayson Counties for support. Fannin County is on alert. Troopers and sheriff are on the job, too. But we’re still shorthanded.”

“Better get Hedy to call out the ranchers and farmers,” Trey said. “They know our country roads like the backs of their hands and I bet they can spot a fire as fast as anybody.”

“Hedy’s on it. Christmas in the Country slowed our efforts, but the event’s winding down so folks are getting freed up.”

“Perfect timing for the culprits, isn’t it?” Trey pulled off to the side of the street, stopped his ATV, and watched the caravan go on without him. Kent could do without backup at this point in the route.

“Yep. Somebody’s got it in for us.”

“How many fires?”

“Not sure.”

Trey groaned. “Okay. Hayride’s over. Kent’s leading the ATVs back to the school. Call him. Soon as they unload the passengers and unhook the trailers, they can scour the pastures on their four-wheelers.”

“That’ll work.”

“I’m free now. What do you want me to do?”

“Find Jeremy. I can’t spare anybody else.”

“Jeremy!” Trey felt like he’d been broadsided.

“Yeah. He reported in at Twin Oaks. The Gladstones’ van wasn’t there. He alerted Ruby. She checked their room, but they’d cleaned out without telling her.”

“Suspicious, huh?”

“Damn straight. Ruby’s staying there in case they come back. She’s waiting with her shotgun, but I sent a guy over to stay with her.”

“Good.” Trey tapped his fingertips against the steering wheel. “Where did you last hear from Jeremy?” Trey hated to think the young whippersnapper might be in trouble.

“Wildcat Road at the turnoff to that partially burned tree farm across from your ranch.”

Trey groaned again. “Think they went back to finish the job?”

“Crossed my mind.”

“And Jeremy got caught in the middle of it.” Trey’s mind leaped ahead as he tried to sort out possible dangers. “Okay. I’ll call in the hands to patrol the ranch, but I’ll go after Jeremy.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “And Trey, watch your back and stay in touch.”

“You too.” Trey clicked off his phone.

“Now I really think it’s the Gladstones,” Misty said. “But I won’t contact Audrey till we know how this plays out. No need to worry her.”

“Sounds good.” Trey punched speed dial and got his foreman on the phone. “Greg, we’ve got a situation. Firebugs are attacking the county. They may try for the ranch again. Get hold of as many hands as you can and send them out on patrol. Call Harry if you run into trouble.”

“They’re not getting Wildcat Ranch,” Greg said in a gravelly voice. “I’m on it.” And he clicked off.

“Good man.” Trey dropped his phone back in his pocket.

Misty gave Trey a determined look. “I can’t think of any reason for the Gladstones to set all these fires except to scatter resources. That’d leave their real goals vulnerable, wouldn’t it?”

He nodded in agreement. “The Texas Timber Christmas tree farm and Wildcat Ranch.”

“Right. Nobody’d be around to stop the fires this time.”

“If that’s right, they’d go there last, wouldn’t they?”

“I’d think so. And it’d mean we still have a chance to get ahead of the fires.”

Trey hesitated and looked over at her. “Maybe I’d better take you back to the cafeteria. My truck’s there.”

“Why?” She cocked her head in puzzlement.

“I want you safe.”

She smiled, but shook her head. “I don’t want you in danger either. But that’s not an option. We’re in this together. Thick or thin.”

“Let’s go get ’em.” Trey gunned the engine.

He tore down the street, and then turned down one lane after another till he’d driven out of town. He headed across open pasture, knowing the owners and knowing the fence gates that’d let him come in the back way to his own property. It’d give him a chance to surprise anybody watching the main roads.

He bounced the ATV across dry grass, startling sleeping cattle, driving cottontail rabbits out of hiding places, and sending birds flying from low perches in trees. He was glad the full moon illuminated the countryside. He had the ATV’s headlights on, but those provided limited coverage.

Trey braked in front of a gate in a barbwire fence. He stepped out of his four-wheeler, opened the gate, got back in his ATV, drove to the other side, got out, and closed the gate.

When he sat down again, he glanced at Misty. “Rough ride?”

She smiled as she shook her head. “All in a day’s work. Maybe you ought to let me open and shut gates from now on.”

“It’d sure save time.”

He took off across the pasture, bumping over clumps of grass and weaving around bushes as he watched the land and skies for anything that didn’t fit. He dreaded to see the telltale sign of smoke over his ranch, but so far the night appeared normal.

Misty helped at the next gate, opening and closing it like an old hand. He hit a little-used dirt road that skirted the back side of his ranch. He didn’t want to spook his own hands by tearing across pastures. He knew the sound of the ATV would carry on the night air, so he could only drive in so close without alerting others. He pulled up under the low-hanging branches of a live oak tree. He cut the lights and engine.

He stepped out and transferred his phone to the back pocket of his jeans. He listened intently as he gave his eyes a chance to adapt to the moonlight. No sounds of vehicles or folks talking. He didn’t hear anything that was cause for alarm, but he still had an uneasy feeling that something wasn’t right. He glanced back at the sky. As far as he could tell, there was still no sign of smoke in the bright full moon’s light.

Misty got out and walked around to him. “What now?”

“Let’s go in on foot to the road between the ranch and tree farm. See what we can see.” He held a fingertip up to his mouth to indicate quiet.

She nodded in acknowledgment.

Trey set off at a jog and she kept right up with him. He was glad the dirt road muffled their footsteps so they could make good time. When they got close to the asphalt road, he slowed and held up his hand. She dropped down to a walk with him.

He crept up to a corner of the ranch’s barbwire fence. Misty moved quietly like his shadow in the silver moonlight. Finally, he got a good view of the road. A Wildcat Bluff police car was parked on the shoulder up from the entrance to Wildcat Road. The front door was open. Trey felt a chill run up his spine. Misty squeezed his hand, so he knew she was concerned at the sight, too.

Where was Jeremy? He was a professional. He’d never abandon his vehicle and leave the door open. Now Trey was truly worried about the young policeman.

Trey glanced around the area again, but he didn’t see any sign of the Gladstones’ van. Maybe they’d come and gone or Jeremy might’ve spooked them to run for cover. Still, he doubted it.

He leaned down to whisper in Misty’s ear. “Got to check on Jeremy. Stay off the road and in the shadow of the fence line.”

She nodded in agreement.

He stepped onto the dry grass in front of the fence and started toward the police car. He kept his ears open and his eyes wide for any disturbance. One thing for sure, it was too quiet. Animals had gone to cover. That couldn’t bode well.

They hadn’t gone far when he heard the muted crackle of fire and caught a whiff of smoke. He looked in the direction beyond the burned area of the tree farm, but couldn’t see anything. Still, he trusted his instincts.

When Misty clutched his hand, he glanced down at her. She pointed toward an area on the tree farm. She’d affirmed his suspicions. He glanced back at the police car. He was torn between going after Jeremy or seeing about the fire. Misty didn’t give him a choice. She tugged hard on his hand, pulling him back toward the ATV. She was right. Jeremy was safer if they stopped the fire.

But where did that leave the Gladstones? Maybe they’d set the fire and used a back road to get out of there or maybe they were still lurking on the other side of the tree farm. Trey tugged his phone out of his pocket and tried to reach Hedy at the station. He hadn’t expected coverage and he didn’t get it. Even if he had gotten through, everybody was already out on calls. Bottom line, no backup. Whatever happened now, it was up to Misty and him.

He squeezed her hand and ran with her back to the four-wheeler. He leaped into the driver’s seat and she jumped in the other side. He started the engine, turned on the headlights, and tore out down the dirt road. No time for stealth now. They were racing against time.

As Trey passed the asphalt road between his ranch and the tree farm, he glanced down it. Jeremy’s police car hadn’t moved an inch. He wanted to go down there, but it had to wait. He kept going so he could come up on the backside of the tree farm. Ahead, he finally saw the Gladstones’ white van. He pointed for Misty to notice it, too. She nodded that she’d been proven right.

He cut left into the tree farm and kept going fast, dodging in between small cedars, smelling their pungent aroma, feeling the sharp limbs scrape across his bare arm through the open roll bars. He glanced to see if Misty was okay. She was leaning forward and toward the center of the ATV as she searched for the fire.

When he saw a flash of orange-red cut into the darkness, he aimed the ATV straight for the blaze. On the other side of the burning tree, J.P. and Charlene stood frozen with horrified expressions on their faces. They might as well be two deer caught in the headlights. He realized all they saw was a big four-wheeler barreling down on them. They couldn’t see who drove the vehicle or the intent of the driver. Finally, J.P. grabbed Charlene’s arm and started pulling her in the direction of their van, but she kept stumbling because of her high heels and impeding their progress.

Trey decided they weren’t armed or they wouldn’t be running away. He needed to stop them, but he had no way of subduing them. And then he had an idea that might work.

“Misty, take over driving, will you? No matter what happens, keep on their tail.” He hollered above the sound of the engine and the scrape of the cedars against the ATV.

“I’ve never driven a four-wheeler before.”

“You watched me. That’s good enough.”

He let go of the wheel and she caught it. He twisted around, grabbed the roll bar above his head, levered his body up and over the front seats, then landed on the backseat. He checked on Misty. She’d changed seats and was driving like a pro, staying right on the Gladstones as they tried to make it to their van.

He tossed a couple of old towels and a fire extinguisher into the front passenger seat. And he found what he was looking for on the floorboard. A rope. He grabbed it, made sure there was already a loop in place, and then stood up on the backseat.

With his head and chest above the open metal frame, he balanced against the swaying of the ATV with both feet, not unlike riding a bucking bronc. He raised his lasso over his head and started spinning it—waiting for just the right moment to rope two at once.

Trey watched as Misty kept after the Gladstones, but they weren’t an easy target. They were weaving between saplings, sometimes together, other times apart. Maybe this wasn’t going to work after all. And then Charlene turned an ankle and went down. J.P. helped her up and kept an arm around her waist as they headed toward the van again. Just the opportunity Trey needed. He had one shot and it’d better work. He judged distance and forward momentum. And let the rope fly up—out, over—and the big loop of rope settled around the shoulders of J.P. and Charlene. Trey jerked hard and they went down in a heap with the rope binding their arms against their bodies.

“Stop!” Trey hollered to Misty. “I’ve got them. You get the fire.”

As she slowed down, he leaped out of the ATV, keeping the rope tight in his hands. He heard Misty turn the four-wheeler around and head back toward the fire.

He ran over to the couple struggling to untangle from each other and remove the rope, but he’d been to this rodeo a few times before. He knew how to truss up a calf. He jerked hard, pinning their arms to their sides, then dropped to his knees and wound the rope around their ankles, back up to tie their wrists together, and tied off the rope. He’d been quick, just like he always was in an arena. Now they were hog-tied good and proper. They weren’t hurt, except for their pride.

He hurried back to Misty, listening to Charlene’s screams and curses as she struggled to get free. Guess she wasn’t much of a lady when things didn’t go her way.

Misty was beating at the fire with two towels, but trees with sap were hard to put out. He ran to the ATV, grabbed the fire extinguisher, came back, and doused the small tree as well as several saplings near it since he figured the Gladstones had poured gasoline over a wide area. Finally the blaze went out and the moonlit night again returned to silver and gray.

He hugged Misty close. “Got ’em.”

“I’ve never seen anything to match you riding that ATV like the back of a horse and whirling that rope above your head. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks. Got lucky.”

They walked over to check on the Gladstones. J.P. and Charlene were struggling to get free of the rope that bound them.

“Hate to tell you,” Trey said, “but the more you worry those knots, the tighter they’ll get.”

“How dare you truss us up like animals,” Charlene complained as she gave Misty and Trey angry looks.

“How dare you burn down Texas Timber tree farms and cut Wildcat Ranch fence,” Misty shot back at her.