Welcome to Harmony (19 page)

Bob ran to the barn and began loading up the cages as fast as he could. He had his van full by the time she came around the house with the garden hose. A gray fog of smoke drifted between them. The black ground cloud had moved twenty yards closer.

He took the hose from her hand, wishing it would stretch past the fence. “Get in the van and drive across the road with the rabbits. I’ll wet the fence line down.”

Stella had never taken orders well, but for once she didn’t discuss his plan. She climbed in and gunned the engine. For a woman who never liked to drive, she looked like a racer flying down the road.

Before she was out of sight, a pickup turned down his drive. The McAllen kid, Bob thought. He’d seen the boy pass by on his way to the old worthless McAllen ranch ever since the kid could see over the steering wheel. Everyone said he was a good boy despite being as crazy as his old man about the rodeo.

Noah McAllen jumped from the truck before it stopped moving. “How can I help?”

Bob motioned to the old washtub he used to clean up the rabbits for show. “Grab that and bring it to me, then get all the feed sacks you can find in the barn.”

By the time Noah found a half dozen sacks, the tub was full of water and two more neighbors had arrived. They knew what to do. Noah might be only a kid, but he learned fast and did twice the work of the others.

One man cut the fence with pliers he kept on his belt, and they all stepped into the field beyond Bob’s property. Barbed wire wouldn’t stop the fire; only a road would, and Bob and Stella’s home lay between the fire and the road.

The four men took wet sacks and formed a line about twenty feet apart. Each man had to hold the fire line so that it didn’t reach the thick grass of the yards and flower beds or beyond to the house and barn.

Bob worked as fast as he could, knowing that even if they held the fire, it would eventually bend and come up the sides. There wouldn’t be enough men to stop it then. Four men could hold one side of his property line, but it’d take a dozen or more to save the place.

The black smoke burned into his lungs and his face, and Bob’s hands felt sunburned in the heat.

He was aware of Stella even in the smoke. He’d hoped she would stay with the van, but he knew it was in her nature to come back and join the fight. She was passing out soaked sacks and tossing burned ones into the tub. She moved with the hose, spraying the men down as well as the ground when they came near enough for her to reach them. The fire constantly pushed them backward. Before long they’d be at the fence line. Bob tried not to breathe deeply as he fought harder.

The sound of sirens filled the air moments later. Bob felt like it had been an hour since he’d first seen the fire, but it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. The sheriff’s car pulled in first, and then the fire truck crossed the grass and headed toward the open spot in the fence.

Another pickup, loaded down with men with shovels, pulled up near the house. The men jumped out and ran toward the fire line, holding their shovels high like ancient Scots going to battle.

Bob stepped back as the fire hose came to life, spraying water over the grass in a twenty-foot sweep.

Men with shovels dug a ditch in the ground between the barn and the grass. If fire came again, it would have to jump the line to reach the barn.

He stared and watched, knowing how close he’d come to losing his home, Stella’s quilts, the rabbits. If he hadn’t seen it coming when he did . . . he couldn’t think about what would have happened.

“You all right?” someone whispered as Bob felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

He turned and smiled at the sheriff. He had no words.
Thank you
seemed an empty bucket, considering what they’d all done.

She seemed to understand. “Your wife went in the house to wash up. The boys will take care of making sure it’s out. You look a sight.”

When he didn’t move, she added, “It’s over, Mr. McNabb. You can rest now. It’s over.” She put her arm around him and tugged him toward the porch.

“Your little brother was here when I needed him,” Bob managed. “Without him . . .”

Alexandra smiled. “I know. I’m proud of him. He’s a good kid.”

Bob nodded. “The best, if you ask me. Tell him I said so.”

“I sent him inside to wash. You can tell him yourself.”

Bob took a few steps toward the house and stopped. He stared at the open door, with Stella moving around the kitchen. They didn’t have much. Didn’t even own the house they’d lived in for half their marriage. But when he thought about losing everything, he realized just how rich he was.

He walked in, his face and clothes black with smoke. Walked right up to Stella and kissed her on the mouth like he hadn’t done in years.

As always, she understood him and moved into his arms. They were alive.

When she tugged away, he asked, “How are the rabbits?”

“They’re fine.”

“I meant for you to park the van across the road and stay there.”

She shrugged. “I know, but I couldn’t see sitting with the rabbits while you were just down the road fighting to save the house. If those rabbits had died, we’d have dinner, but if you’d . . .” She couldn’t finish for crying.

He held her tightly and smiled. He felt the same.

People were moving all around now, washing up, doctoring burns on their hands and faces, rolling up the fire hose, but he didn’t care. Bob leaned close against her ear and whispered, “I think tonight, when we’re alone, I’d like to make love to my wife.”

She giggled just as she had when he’d first mentioned the idea forty years ago.

“And,” he added, “I don’t think I’ll smoke a cigarette afterward, if you’ve no objection.”

ALEX CHECKED THE SECOND-DEGREE BURNS ON HER LITTLE brother’s hands and face. “You got too close without gear.”

Several of the firefighters in the country kitchen agreed with her.

Noah tried to pull away. “I didn’t exactly have time to go shopping for the crisis.” Immediately he looked like he regretted snapping back. Unlike her, Noah was usually even-tempered. “When I drove up and saw the smoke coming toward the McNabb house, I only thought about helping.”

“Next time,” said Hank, who had joined them, “wet a bandanna and tie it around your face. Dunk your hat, too, if you get a chance.”

“And wear gloves,” Alex ordered. “Mom’s going to have a fit about you getting singed.”

“I’m not hurt,” Noah insisted, glaring at his bossy sister.

“I’ve had sunburns worse than this.”

Alex chose not to argue with him in front of everyone. They could both see the blisters rising on the backs of his hands.

She nodded a thank-you as Stella passed, offering everyone iced tea in mason jars. When Noah joined the other men, Alex walked out into the night, where the smell of smoke was still thick in the air. Usually, this time of night was her favorite part of the day, but now danger drifted in the wind as if whispering of more trouble to come.

When she reached the fence, she heard Noah’s truck and knew he must be leaving. The fire truck started backing through the mud toward the house. It was over. In a few minutes the night would be still and quiet again. And, thanks to the breeze, free of fire.

Alex knew it was Hank who walked up behind her. She didn’t turn but whispered into the smoky stillness, “You were right. You warned of a fire tonight.”

“Yeah, and I hate that I was,” he answered, resting his arm on the fence post. “If we’d been five minutes later, the McNabbs would have lost their home.”

“McNabb told me he knew you’d come.” She smiled. “He thinks you hung the moon, Hank. Told me you were like a son to him.”

Hank shifted. “He never told me that. I think a lot of him and Stella, too, good people. If he were twenty years younger, I’d give him this job and stay on my ranch long enough to make some money.”

Alex shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d find something else to keep you busy. You’re nothing but a Boy Scout, Matheson. Always trying to help people.”

He didn’t deny it. “You’re nothing but a wild child, McAllen. If you hadn’t been sheriff, you’d probably been an outlaw.”

She didn’t argue. She’d made her share of dumb choices.

They were both silent for a while, and then he added, “I hate the thought that someone is out there starting these fires. We have all we can handle with the accidental ones started by lightning or backfiring cars, or downed transformers. We don’t need a nut running around setting them on purpose.”

“If the wind had been stronger tonight . . .” she began.

“We’d be standing beside ashes,” he finished.

On impulse, she gripped his forearm and closed her fingers around the solid muscles a few inches above his wrist. “You’re not in this alone, you know; we’ll fight this, Hank. We’ll fight it together.” All the problems they had between them—all the past that haunted them—didn’t matter. All that mattered was stopping whoever was setting the fires before someone was killed.

His hand closed around hers. “There’s nothing else we can do here tonight. I’ll call in help first thing tomorrow morning and we’ll find the point of origin. Maybe our firebug got careless and left a clue.”

“Until then,” she said, wishing she could see his face in the darkness, “I’ll have a patrol out here making sure no one sets foot on the land. As far as I’m concerned, this entire burn is a crime scene and I’m treating it like one.”

Someone yelled, “Chief!”

Hank turned, pulling away from her touch. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, as if someone might be close enough to hear.

She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her any better than she could see him. “Name the time?”

“Seven, your office for coffee. The team should be here by eight and we’ll find out where this fire started.”

He walked toward the house, but she stayed in the shadows. She wanted to stand there and listen to the wind, feel the heat still in the earth, smell the smoke. Somewhere near was a criminal who was trying to destroy her town, and she planned to get to him first.

REAGAN SAT DOWN BESIDE JEREMIAH IN WHAT SHE THOUGHT of as her chair. The darkening sky seemed muddy tonight, but the air was far too dry for it to be fog. She swore this part of Texas sometimes had negative humidity. The air just sucked what little moisture there was out and turned it into dust mites.

“There’s a fire northwest of here,” Jeremiah said to himself. “I can smell it.”

“Any idea what’s burning?” She’d learned he could read the atmosphere better than a crossbreed of a weatherman and mystic.

“Grass, I think, just grass. When trees burn, they leave the smell of heartbreak in the air.”

“Oh.” She tugged her blanket around her, thinking she’d always wondered what heartbreak smelled like. “How far away do you think the fire is?”

“It’s out by now. All we’re getting is a drift of the smoke in the wind.”

She looked at the silhouette of him a few feet away. Even in the night she could see his bent, crippled-up frame. Like an old tree root, he seemed to draw life from the earth. There was not one ounce of doubt in her mind that he loved his apple trees more than he’d ever love any human.

“You ever have your heart broke?” she asked, just for something to say.

He was so quiet, she wasn’t sure he planned to answer, and then he surprised her and said, “Once.”

Reagan waited. For Jeremiah, the flow of conversation was more like a drip.

“I was engaged to a Matheson girl before I left for the war. I thought she was about the prettiest gal in the state. She called me Dimples and giggled every time she said the word. I suspect that would have gotten irritating in time, but when I was eighteen I remember thinking it was cute.”

“Really.” Reagan leaned over the arm of her chair and looked at him upside down. “Was this girl any kin to the Mathesons in town?”

He didn’t answer, but she could feel the look he was giving her even in the dark. It was the one that silently said she was dumber than a chipped rock.

“Oh, of course. You grew up around Mathesons with their ranch bordering us near the apple trees.” It occurred to her that if he’d married the girl, the Truman name wouldn’t be down to two. Now, when he died and the town figured out she wasn’t a Truman, one of the founding families would be gone. Completely gone. The thought hurt Reagan’s heart. How would she tell people that her family was extinct?