Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection) (36 page)

“Holy crap,” Marty said when they got near the barn, his fingers poised on the door handle.

The reason for his expletive became quickly clear. The shade covering the haystack was in flames, the wooden posts and trusses holding the tin roof ablaze. Smoke poured from the haystack in a huge funnel, going up at least thirty feet before veering off at an angle.

John Peterson stood between the burning haystack and the barn, spraying water on the fire with a garden hose. He could have been spitting on it for all the good he did. A single garden hose was no match for this inferno.

Before the engine came to a complete stop, the guys were already piling out and donning the rest of their gear. Within the next minute, they had the hose unrolled and hooked up to the water tank on the engine. Kenny Junior turned a valve, and a blast of water a hundred times the size of the garden hose exploded from the nozzle.

“What can I do to help?” Aubrey asked. Since none of the Petersons appeared injured, her nursing skills weren’t in demand.

“Unload the other hose from the back of the engine and unroll it,” Gus told her. “We may need to pump water from the Millers’ stock pond across the street if the tank runs dry.”

“Okay.” Aubrey glanced over her shoulder as she headed to the back of the engine. Gage held the nozzle, his feet planted solidly in place, and aimed it at the fire. Kenny Junior backed him up. The rest of the guys cleared the area around the fire, dragging, pushing, or driving anything and everything away.

“Jeremy, come back,” Mrs. Peterson cried. She ran after a young boy—Aubrey assumed he was her grandson—who’d escaped the confines of the house.

The boy, no more than three, must have had aspirations to be a firefighter when he grew up. He refused to listen and kept running up the hill leading to the barn until he was alarmingly close to the fire.

“Get the hell out of here,” his grandfather yelled. He’d gone over to the barn wall closest to the fire and was wetting it down with the hose.

Jeremy stopped in his tracks, evidently startled by his grandfather’s brusque outburst, and began to cry.

“Come back,” his grandmother called, huffing and puffing. She’d lost speed halfway up the hill, unable to catch her agile grandson.

Aubrey dropped the hose and bolted. She reached Jeremy and swooped him up in her arms.

“I’ve got you, sweetie pie.”

Jeremy didn’t want to be rescued. He wiggled and squirmed and hollered, “Snowflake,” over and over in Aubrey’s ear.

She was more than a little glad to present him safe and sound to his grandmother.

“Jeremy, honey, I told you to stay in the house. It’s not safe out here.”

Aubrey glanced back up the hill to the fire. The flames still raged despite being saturated with water. The four wooden posts holding the shade covering blazed like giant matchsticks.

Other than on TV, she’d never witnessed firefighters in action. A burning haystack might not compare to a city skyscraper in terms of danger, property damage and potential loss of life. But it was nonetheless terrifying, especially when Gage and his crew ventured close to the flames.

Beside Aubrey, Mrs. Peterson struggled to hold on to her rambunctious grandson. “He wants to find Snowflake.”

“Is that one of the horses?”

“Heavens, no,” Mrs. Peterson exclaimed. “She’s our barn cat. A stray we recently took in. And wouldn’t you know it, she produced a litter of kittens three weeks ago. In the haystack of all places.”

Aubrey had been watching Gage fight the fire, only half listening to Mrs. Peterson. The older woman’s last remark, however, had Aubrey paying rapt attention.

“The cat and kittens were in the haystack?” she gasped in horror, unable to consider the dire consequences.

“They got out. At least, we
think
they did. John saw Snowflake carrying one of the kittens into the barn right when we first noticed the smoke.”

“One?” Aubrey asked. “How many did she have?”

“Four,” Jeremy answered. He’d quit wiggling quite so much and hung on his grandmother’s arm, attempting to move her. She stood steady as an iron post.

“He’s been enthralled with the kittens,” she explained. “Playing with them all week.”

“Cats are very resourceful,” Aubrey said. “And resilient. I’m sure Snowflake’s fine.” And at least
one
of her babies.

“Can’t we go look for her, Grandma? Please?” Jeremy’s whining intensified.

“No.”

“But the kittens...”

Her voice softened. “We’ll look for Snowflake the minute the fire’s out. I promise.”

“It is out.” Though not fully extinguished, the firefighters’ efforts had started to pay off. Already, the fire looked smaller in size and considerably less threatening.

“What do you think?” Mrs. Peterson asked Aubrey. “Is it safe to go into the barn?”

“The fire hasn’t spread, and I don’t think it will at this point.”

Mrs. Peterson’s glance alternated between her grandson and the barn. “I’ll just take a quick walk through and see if I can spot Snowflake.”

“Can I go with you?” Jeremy chirped.

“Absolutely not!” Aubrey and Mrs. Peterson said in unison.

Jeremy frowned. “Not fair.”

Aubrey reached out and rumpled his hair. “Maybe next time, kiddo, when you’re a little older.”

After returning Jeremy to the house, Mrs. Peterson went to the barn. Aubrey started up the hill, watching the firefighters. Gage and his crew had done their job. Smoke continued to pour from the blackened remains of the haystack but the fire was pretty much done for. The shade covering the haystack stood at an odd angle, the wooden columns now nothing but charred twigs.

If only there was something more she could do to help. Aubrey wasn’t used to standing around in an emergency situation. Her adrenaline rush, which had kicked in back at the ranch when Gage asked her to accompany him and Marty, had yet to abate.

She was halfway to the engine when she heard a loud crash. She looked over and gave an involuntary shriek. One of the burnt columns had collapsed, and a piece of the tin roof the size of a door had fallen and hit the ground with a horrendous clatter just inches from where Gage stood.

He jumped back. So did Kenny Junior. They momentarily lost control of the hose.

Aubrey stared, transfixed, her heart lodged in her throat, her stomach twisted in knots. Had the piece of roof hit Gage, he would have been seriously injured. Possibly disfigured. Killed if it had landed on his head.

“We’re all right,” Gage hollered when Marty, Gus and Mike came running. He regained control of the hose, stepped back several feet and continued dousing the smouldering haystack.

And still Aubrey didn’t move. She wanted to cry but no tears would come. It had happened again. In a moment of crisis, she’d frozen.

For how long she stared at Gage she didn’t know. Seconds. Minutes.

“Man down!” Gus yelled.

Aubrey turned her head, though her feet remained anchored in place. Mr. Peterson sat on the ground, evidently dazed, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Gus, who was working only a few feet away, reached Mr. Peterson first, then Mike. The two of them knelt down to talk to the older man.

Aubrey’s legs at last responded, and she hurried to join them. “What’s wrong?”

“Not sure yet,” Gus responded.

“Mr. Peterson?” She also knelt, noting his pasty pallor and rapid breathing. She automatically reached for his wrist and took his pulse. It was uneven and accelerated.

“I’m okay. Just need to rest a minute.” Sweat dotted his forehead.

He could be having a reaction to the roof collapsing or a touch of smoke inhalation but Aubrey suspected something more.

“Are you currently on any medications?”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

He listed his prescriptions. Aubrey recognized the names as those taken for a heart condition.

“You may have overdone it a bit.” She eyed the fire. Gage still had the situation under control. They were safe where they were, for the moment anyway. “I want you to rest while I get something from the engine.” She patted his arm. “I’ll be right back.”

Earlier, on the drive over, Aubrey had automatically taken a mental inventory of the available medical supplies and equipment and remembered seeing a portable oxygen tank.

She walked to the engine on shaky legs. Marty was there, unloading some shovels. At her request, he carried the oxygen tank to Mr. Peterson and helped her set it up. Mrs. Peterson arrived just as Aubrey was adjusting the valve.

“What happened?” she asked, her expression one of alarm.

Aubrey filled her in on the details.

“John! How many times have I told you to take it easy?”

“I’m all right,” he grumbled.

“He probably is,” Aubrey confirmed, “but I encourage you to call his doctor.”

Mrs. Peterson fussed over her husband for several minutes. Aubrey was relieved to see him grow stronger with each passing minute. They’d be able to move him into the house soon.

“Any sign of Snowflake?” she asked.

“Yes, thank goodness,” Mrs. Peterson replied. “I found her and all four kittens in a bucket under the workbench.”

“Jeremy will be glad to hear it.”

Aubrey had been crouched beside Mr. Peterson and shifted so she could see the fire. Mike had taken over the hose with Marty backing him up. For all intents and purposes, the fire was out, though it continued to smoulder and hiss.

Gage came toward them, rolling his shoulders to relieve tension, a tired smile on his face.

“How’s our patient doing?”

Aubrey couldn’t help thinking if the piece of tin roof had fallen just a few inches more to the right, Gage might be the patient in her care along with Mr. Peterson.

“Better,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“You really should consider becoming a volunteer medic for the Hotshots.” Gage gazed down at her, his eyes filled with affection and admiration. “You’re a natural at this.”

But Aubrey didn’t feel like a natural. Far, far from it.

Chapter 11

G
age clipped his radio to his belt and walked into the kitchen. His mother stood at the counter, wrapping four large chocolate chip cookies in plastic. She dropped them in the ice chest he’d left on the counter.

“Hey.” He came up behind her and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “That’s my job.”

“I baked these this afternoon. Thought you might like them for your picnic.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Gage had invited Aubrey on an evening picnic and told her he’d bring the food. Not much of a cook, he’d made arrangements with Harold Sage, the owner of Sage’s Bar and Grill. Some of the stuff Harold fixed seemed a bit strange, but he promised Gage that Aubrey would be delighted at the gourmet fare.

“I can’t believe she’s leaving next Friday,” his mom said. “It seems like she just arrived.”

Removing a bottle of chilled wine from the refrigerator, Gage placed it in the cooler, the perpetual lead weight in his stomach growing heavier. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Aubrey’s imminent departure for days now.

They’d spent every free minute together since that day in the motor home two and a half weeks ago—which, because of their hectic schedules, wasn’t nearly enough. Gage had been gone for four of those days working a fire in Utah. Because his departure coincided with semester break at summer school, his sister was able to pick up most of the slack at the ranch.

Right after the fire at the Petersons’, she gave in to Dr. Ferguson’s persistent needling and agreed to volunteer at the clinic every other afternoon. News spread fast and before long, she had more patients than she could handle.

He hadn’t yet been able to convince her to volunteer with the Hotshots. Her personal demons continued to haunt her and Gage wished there was more he could do for her than lend the occasional ear.

For his part, he sailed along on a tide of contentment. He and Aubrey took long walks, went horseback riding, had dinner and then went dancing at a honky-tonk in Pineville, and generally hung out together.

They’d also had sex. Lots of it, frequenting the motor home whenever possible. One night, they tossed a sleeping bag and pillows in the bed of his truck and went on a drive to Signal Point. Gage would always remember the sight of Aubrey, naked and sitting astride him, moonlight glinting off her auburn hair as she bent down to kiss him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want their picnic tonight to end much the same.

“Look, honey.” His mom took a sip of her iced tea as if to fortify herself. “It’s none of my business, but I’m asking anyway. What’s going to happen with you and Aubrey when she leaves? Have you two discussed it?”

“We have. Though not recently.” Difficult as it was for him, he’d kept his word and not pressured Aubrey into any kind of commitment. “She’s leaving, and I’m staying. For now,” he added on impulse and then wondered why he did.

“Does that mean she’s coming back in the near future? Or are you moving to Tucson?”

“How would you feel if I did?”

His mom considered before answering, rubbing the condensation forming on the outside of her glass with her thumb.

“Ranching’s a funny thing. It’s either in your blood or not. You might look like your father, but you take after me in a lot of respects. I married into the lifestyle and accepted it because I love your father. I refuse to impose that same lifestyle on my children if it’s not what they truly and honestly want. Hannah does, I think. You, on the other hand, have fought to get away from ranching since you were a kid.”

“For all the good it’s done me.”

“You’re an adult now. No one can stop you from leaving, including your father.” Susan smiled ruefully. “Though he probably thinks he can.”

Gage shut the lid on the ice chest. “I can’t leave the ranch. Not while Hannah’s in college.”

“Granted, you being gone would make things harder, but not impossible.”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if Dad weren’t ashamed to ask people for help. That’s the real reason he wants me to stay. All that talk about family responsibility and obligation is just so he can save face.”