Welcome to Harmony (30 page)

There was no way to get closer to the fire except on horseback, and before men could saddle up, the fire would spread the width of the canyon. It was already climbing the walls in spots, spreading through the scrub trees and dead cottonwoods along the dried-up creek bed. Before long it would break free of its confinement of canyon walls.

Hank felt every muscle tighten, preparing to fight.

He couldn’t send men down. Much too high a chance they’d end up trapped. They’d have no choice but to wait.

Hank let the ropes take his weight as he reached for his cell. The case clipped to his belt was empty. He grabbed the radio, trying to remember where he’d left the phone that never left his side.

As soon as Andy at dispatch picked up, Hank began rattling off orders. “Call in the parks department. They’ll need to find a place in both directions of the fire where they can stop it in the canyon.” He remembered a water crossing a few miles up where the canyon widened enough to get trucks in. To the east, the canyon narrowed. If the parks service could get a water dump from the base at Altus, that would stop the fire from crawling along.

“And, Andy . . .”

“Yes, Chief?”

“Call in all the help you can get from towns around. This is big and it
will
climb the walls.” Hank stared down, swearing that the burn had grown even in those few seconds. “It’ll probably break out of the canyon in more than one place. We’re going to need more men than we’ve got now to control this one.”

“I’ll call.” Andy’s voice vibrated with excitement. “And don’t worry, Chief, as soon as I can get off this desk, I’ll be out there with you.”

Hank could feel the heat now as he began to climb, pulling his weight up a few feet at a time. His hands were sweaty inside the gloves. His muscles strained. Smoke climbed with him, robbing him of oxygen.

He jerked the rope, the signal for Brad to start the winch, then waited.

Nothing.

Night had settled in and, with the smoke, Hank couldn’t see the edge of the canyon wall clearly. He felt his way, climbing. Jerking the rope to signal. Climbing.

He had no idea if he was twenty feet from the ledge or forty. He tugged the rope hard, sending the message to Brad for the fifth time.

“Brad better be dead,” he said with his teeth clenched, “or I’m going to kill him when I get out of here.”

His shirt turned wet with sweat, but he couldn’t stop. He tried yelling for Brad, but the wind whipped his call away, circling it down the canyon.

Then finally, the rope jerked and pulled. Hank relaxed for a moment as he started rising, than realized he was moving too fast. Brad must have pushed the winch full throttle. He wasn’t climbing now, but bracing his legs, trying to swing away from the walls before the edges pounded him. He felt like a boxer who couldn’t get his footing before another punch sent him spinning.

Hank cleared the top, scraping his knee before he could roll over on his back. He yelled as the rope dragged him across solid ground, with flying dirt and weeds scratching his arms and face.

Halfway between the ledge and the Dodge, he finally stopped.

“Damn it, Brad!” he yelled as he released his harness from the rope. “You trying to kill me?”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath of fresh air, and looked into the stormy blue eyes of the sheriff. For once in her life, she looked like she was too angry to speak. She stood above him, fists on her hips, glaring at him as if it were all his fault for almost getting himself killed.

Over by Alex’s cruiser Hank heard Trooper Davis shouting on the phone, “We found him. Damn fool almost got himself cooked.”

Alex offered Hank a hand up. He clasped her arm while she grabbed his and tugged him to his feet. They were so close he could feel her brush his chest when she breathed, building anger like steam.

Before she started cussing he smiled and asked, “Worried about me?”

“Yes,” she said without moving back. “If you die, there will be all kinds of forms to fill out. How could you have been so dumb to go down alone? Who did you think would winch you up, a jackrabbit? Another five minutes swinging above that fire, you would have been a marshmallow in full burn.”

He didn’t try to defend himself. It was almost worth all the scrapes and bruising he got to see how much she cared, even though she’d probably clobber him if he suggested that caring might be at the bottom of all her anger.

Hank spotted Brad coming out of the shadows. “Sorry, Chief, I had to throw up again.”

Hank would have let Brad have it, but right now he had something else on his mind and far too close to his body. Alexandra.

Like a dozen times before, all she had to do was step away, but she didn’t. Despite all her complaining, she was drawn to him.

He fought the urge to kiss her. She wanted him, needed him, just as dearly as he needed her. No matter what she said, she’d been worried about him.

“Right now, Alex, we’ve got a fire to fight, but when this is over,” he whispered as Trooper Davis started toward them, “we’ve got unfinished business.” He took a deep breath, loving the way she smelled. “And believe me, we will have time one day.”

She didn’t say a word, but her body brushing his was enough to make him hotter than the fire ever had.

Brad flipped on the bar of lights on top of the Dodge. Hank moved away from her and began folding up the ropes.

“Thanks for pulling me up,” he said. “Remind me to teach you to use the slower speed.”

She stared at Brad, figuring out where the problem must have been in Hank’s plan. “How about I shoot one of your volunteers?”

“No need. He knows he’s now an ex-volunteer.” Hank tossed gear in the bed of the pickup. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Andy patched me through when the state parks service started asking questions. He told me about where he thought you were, and I headed this way while I talked.” She looked at the rim of the canyon, glowing now as if dawn were just beginning to break. “What did you find?”

“It’s growing, feeding off dried trees and brush. I’m guessing, but I think it’ll break the rim before dawn, and then we’ll have a full fight on our hands.”

“Worst ever?”

He met her eyes. “Worst ever. You up for it?”

She nodded, and he realized he loved this wild, wonderful, brave woman.

TYLER WRIGHT SAT IN THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE. HE’D ALREADY tried the door. It was locked. At first he’d heard yelling and phones ringing, but then it grew quiet. The thought crossed his mind that everyone had left him behind, but he knew that would be too much to hope for.

He’d been worried for the first hour, eaten all the old candy in the sheriff’s candy bowl the second hour, and finally slept a while in her chair with his feet on her desk. Which wasn’t comfortable at all.

Tyler thought of trying to contact Katherine on Alex’s computer, but doubted he could get logged on, and if he did he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave a trace to Katherine on the sheriff’s files. If he was in trouble, he might somehow pull Katherine in, and Tyler would face a firing squad before he’d tell them about his hazel-eyed friend. They had this private world no one else would ever know about.

He groaned at his own imagination. He had no idea why the law was keeping him, but he doubted he’d be shot for speeding. Hank had said they needed his help, but something didn’t feel right about that. The sheriff, or rather that angry highway patrolman, wouldn’t lock him up if they wanted his help. Davis had given him a look that said he’d already convicted him of something terrible and was just waiting around until some judge pronounced sentence.

Bored and nervous, Tyler began walking around the sheriff’s office, examining everything. He discovered a closed vent over the door that when opened allowed him to hear conversations going on at the dispatch office across the hall.

He could hear the dispatcher calling in firemen for duty and giving directions to a meet-up spot a few miles north of the Matheson ranch.

Tyler moved a cell phone aside and unfolded a map sitting on the round table. He had no trouble finding the spot where the dispatcher was sending people.

The markings on the map interested him far more than the dispatcher’s conversations. He pulled up a chair and tried to figure out what all the
X
s and circles meant on the state map.

With his knowledge, it didn’t take him long, and the meaning frightened him more than Trooper Davis ever could.

The
X
s were burn sites . . . fires . . . each marked with a date. And—he held his breath—they were moving in a circle around Harmony.

The fires must have been set. Nature would never play such a game.

Another hour passed as Tyler read the details of every report as if it were the world’s best mystery novel. He guessed the sheriff hadn’t left it for any outsider’s eyes, but Tyler considered it like magazines in a doctor’s office. If it was there, he could read it.

Hard fear settled in his stomach. Whoever was setting the fires wasn’t some kid playing with matches. He reminded Tyler of a hunter circling his prey. Two, maybe three more fires and the circle would be complete. What would the madman with his weapon of fire do then?

Tyler knew the roads, even ones not marked on any map. He could see the arsonist’s pattern. Finally, he stood and moved to stare out into the midnight sky. His eyes burned from reading, but he still smiled. He knew why they must have called him in. He could help. He could show them the back roads the man setting the fires would have most likely taken. Maybe for them the police could find a clue, like tire tracks or maybe even footprints.

Tyler wished he’d watched more of those detective shows and fewer dancing shows.

Some of the fire points of origin were close to roads, but others were well off even the known unpaved roads. Whoever was setting them knew the area well. Maybe he’d grown up around here, or maybe he’d studied detailed maps like only the police and fire departments usually saw.

“Or maybe,” Tyler said out loud, “he was like me. Collecting maps, studying roads, exploring.”

Tyler didn’t like the idea that any part of him could be like someone who would cause damage for no reason, but he felt he might be able to see inside a tiny part of the arsonist’s mind and, in so doing, help in the capture of such a man.

The cell phone on the table began to vibrate. Tyler hesitated. He knew it was Hank’s phone. He also knew the chief had forgotten it.

Slowly, he picked it up, deciding it was probably Hank on the line wondering where he’d left his phone. In all the excitement of the fire, he might not have had time to notice it was gone until now.

“Hello,” Tyler answered.

“Uncle Hank?” came a small voice.

“No, dear, this is Tyler Wright.” The caller had to be Saralynn. “Your uncle left his phone with me.”

“Sir Knight,” she whispered, sounding like she might cry. “I’m afraid.”

Tyler forgot all about his problems. The little princess needed him. “What’s frightened you, dear?” He glanced up at the clock and noticed it was almost two in the morning. Far too late for a four-year-old to be up.

“A man called and told my gram that we all have to leave our house by dawn. He said there may be a fire coming our way.”

Tyler looked at the map. He wished he could lie and tell her everything was going to be all right, but if the wind was out of the north, it looked like the fire might just blow straight over the Matheson ranch.

“Is that true?” she whispered.

“It could be, child. But don’t you worry, your mom and grandmother and aunts will get you out, and you will all be safe.” Tyler knew Hank was out on the rim of the canyon right now with more than twenty men watching, waiting, ready. “If the fire does come, it will go around your house, but the smoke will make your eyes water and a princess’s eyes should never water, so they’ll take you somewhere to wait until everything is all right.”

He heard a sniffle.

“Mom told me to go to bed, she’d come get me when it’s time to leave, but I can’t sleep. I can hear them all moving around the house.” She sounded as if she might cry again. “Will you talk to me, Sir Knight? I don’t want to be alone.”

Tyler moved to a chair. “For as long as you like, Princess.”

Suddenly Tyler wasn’t tired and there was nowhere he wanted to go. He was right where he needed to be.