Welcome to Harmony (36 page)

When he walked out of the fire station to his truck, he noticed both the major’s rental car and Alex’s Jeep still parked in the same spots they’d been in last night. Either they’d worked all night, or they were early risers. As soon as he got Saralynn to school, he’d drop by with a dozen doughnuts and see if they’d made any progress.

Thank goodness Andy Daily’s Toyota, with broken washers in the back, was gone. It always junked up the parking lot, plus if Andy was still there, he would eat half of any box of doughnuts Hank took in. The man had no life other than the firehouse and the desk in dispatch. Most of his meals were passed to him from the drive-up windows in town.

Saralynn was waiting for Hank when he pulled up at the B&B. His mother and aunts might love sleeping in the old home decorated in antiques and plastic flowers, but one look told him Saralynn hated it.

“When can we go back home?” was her first question.

“A few days.” Hank didn’t want to admit that he felt safer with them in town. “I thought you girls might like a little holiday.”

“You’re kidding, Uncle Hank. There’s a wall of old hats in that place, and last night the aunts kept me up laughing as they tried on every one, twice. Can I sleep with you at the station?”

“I wish you could, Princess. We need someone who can cook around there.”

They pulled into the diner parking lot and he lifted her out.

“Will Sir Knight be here?”

“I don’t think so,” he said as he scanned the windows and saw Tyler, wearing a hat, sitting alone at a booth. “Correction, he’s here.”

Saralynn was all smiles. When they reached Tyler’s table she insisted on giving him a kiss. When his hat fell off, she had to kiss the Band-Aid over his stitches. She told Edith that she planned to be a nurse whose kisses could cure.

After she finally settled into eating her breakfast, Hank asked Tyler, “How are you?”

Tyler smiled, but his eyes looked tired and sad. “I’m fine. Lost contact with a friend yesterday, and that hurt more than my stitches.”

“Anyone I’d know?”

Tyler just shook his head. “Just someone I was corresponding with. It’s nothing. Any clues on who’s setting the fires? Besides me, of course.”

“Davis was a fool. He wasted good time going after you. He disappeared after the roadblock broke up. Word is he was called down to Austin to do some explaining. Alex said if he goes after me for slugging him, you can go after him for false arrest.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Tyler said. “I just want to forget the whole thing.”

“I figured that, but he doesn’t know it.”

Tyler nodded. “Alex understands what really happened. Is she the one who turned him in?”

Hank shook his head. “The major did, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she has the ear of all the top people down at the capital. She’s quite a lady.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet her.” Tyler’s eyes were sad again. “I would have liked to talk to her.”

Hank tried to cheer him up. “Good news about Willie; our youngest firefighter is becoming a star. He’s now conducting interviews on grass fires, and one of the stations wants him to come in to do a series of shorts on fire safety. The kid’s eating it up. They say he’s got a face the camera loves. Who knows, he may give up firefighting and join the news team.” Hank didn’t add that the kid might be better at it. Willie tried hard and had all the excitement and enthusiasm in the world, but he lacked judgment.

Conversation stopped when the food arrived. With half his plate empty, Tyler finally broke the silence. “I want to thank you for standing solid behind me. The sheriff told me you fought to stop Davis even before I knew he was after me.”

“That’s what friends do,” Hank said simply. “Just like you dropping everything and rushing to save Saralynn.”

Tyler smiled. “You’re right. That’s what friends do.”

TWO DAYS AFTER THE FIRES WERE OUT, NOAH SHOWED back up on Truman land. Most of the bandages and bruising from his bull ride were gone, but his movements were still slow.

Reagan feared that when he came over Uncle Jeremiah planned to let him have it for driving one of his tractors and plowing up good grassland when the fire never reached them. The old man had been complaining about the scarred earth for two days. When she saw Noah climb out of his truck, she knew Jeremiah was about to cause a great deal of trouble. By the time he got finished yelling at Noah, it would probably be another fifty years before the McAllens and Trumans would speak to one another.

Her uncle moved to the porch, widened his stance, and prepared to yell at the only friend she had.

She knew she had to do something or the two would say things they could never take back. Bonds and battles in this town went on for lifetimes.

Reagan picked up the hot chocolate pie she’d just made and ran out the side door. Just as Noah stepped on the first step of the porch, she threw the pie, plate and all, at his face.

It smacked flat in the middle of his smile and slid down his shirt.

Both men were so stunned, neither could say a word.

Reagan saw her chance. “Get off Truman land, Preacher. We don’t want you here. You plowed up good land and almost ruined a tractor that belongs in a museum. My uncle and I hate you for what you did. We hate you!”

Jeremiah was so stunned by her outrage, he felt sorry for Noah. “Now settle down, Reagan,” he yelled, as if they weren’t standing five feet apart. “The boy was just doing what he thought was right. The grass will grow back, and I can fix the tractor good as new. I think you’re way out of line here, kid.”

Noah used one long finger to push a slice of pie off his cheek and into his mouth. “Fiery, isn’t she, Mr. Truman. I’ve got a theory that it’s because of all that red hair. Somehow it clogs up her brain.”

Jeremiah stared at her. “I’ve been complaining for two days. I guess she took up the cause. As for red hair, mine was red until the day most of it fell out. Then, I swear what was left turned white with mourning that same day.”

Noah laughed and stepped on the porch. “You got a towel I can borrow”—he ate another bite—“or a plate I can scrape this onto so I can finish eating?”

Reagan didn’t like being ignored. “I thought I told you to get off my land.”

Noah sat down in the green rocker. “I didn’t come to see you, Rea. I came to see your uncle.”

Reagan turned to Jeremiah. “Are you going to let him stay?”

“Of course. In fact, boy, you’re welcome to stay for supper.”

Noah smiled without giving Rea a glance. “Might as well. I’ve already had dessert, though. To tell the truth, things are crazy around my house. Mom’s cooking and Dad is fixing things. I saw her give him a list of chores this morning, and he smiled. Can you imagine that?”

“Kicked once too often in the head during his rodeo days would be my guess.” Jeremiah sat down beside Noah. “Is he acting loco? Bumping into walls. Talking to himself. Sleeping more than normal.”

“He and Mom both are. They’ve been acting so strange, so often, I can’t sleep at night.”

Jeremiah, who had no knowledge of relationships, nodded as if he understood.

Reagan slipped into the house and grinned. She was brilliant. The two men were talking.

She could hear them as she checked on supper. Noah said he’d stopped by to tell Jeremiah that he saw Andy Daily pull off Lone Oak Road at the opening to Truman land when he was driving past.

Reagan moved to the window.

Noah saw her, winked, then continued talking to Jeremiah, “I slowed to a stop just past your turnoff and waited a minute, then turned on the dirt road just because I thought it odd that a guy hauling old laundry machines would be heading your way. It’s not like there’s anything else along the turnoff to your place.”

Jeremiah leaned forward in his chair. “Is odd. Never seen Andy Daily on my land. Know who he is, though. I nodded at him a few times in town. He’s the fellow with those two laundry places. There was an article about him in the paper a few years back. Something about making his living a quarter at a time.”

“That’s him.” Preacher leaned closer. “I think he may be dumping old broken washers and dryers in that brush between the trees at the turnoff. He was acting real strange. When I turned in a few hundred feet behind him, he drove into the ditch like he was trying to hide from me. He got so far off that dirt you call a road, he almost disappeared in the trees. If he’d been coming to see you, he would have moved on. If he’d accidentally turned onto your road, he would have turned around and waved.”

Jeremiah hollered for Reagan to wait on dinner a while. By the time she got out of the house, Preacher and Jeremiah were in the cart and heading toward Lone Oak Road.

She’d told Jeremiah the trees needed work for weeks. Old evergreens with dead branches on the ground caught every tumbleweed that blew close. Even Noah had mentioned that it was a real fire hazard. Now Andy Daily thought he could dump his trash in the pile of dead wood and brown branches.

The old dog whined beside her.

“Hate being left behind, do you, boy? So do I.”

On a whim, she walked to Noah’s truck, found the keys still in the ignition, and hopped in. The old dog barked and jumped in the back. They made it to the edge of the trees when she heard shouting.

Reagan jumped out and saw Jeremiah standing beside the cart, yelling, “Get off my land! This ain’t the city dump, you fool.”

The roar of an engine being pushed to the limit sounded, and she spotted Daily’s Toyota parked in a ditch halfway between the road and the clearing. The man driving gunned it again, trying to get up the embankment. Something sloshed out of the washing machines in his truck bed, splashing over the ground.

Jeremiah yelled again as he backed toward the cart.

Reagan felt her blood chill. She couldn’t see Jeremiah’s features clearly, but she knew something was horribly wrong.

Suddenly, the old Toyota rolled backward and then shot forward in an all-out effort to make it up the embankment. Over the noise, Andy Daily yelled something that sounded like a curse.

She heard the roar of the engine, then saw a washing machine tumble out the back as the truck almost reached the chalky dirt road. The front of the truck bucked like a bronco and rolled, crashing back into the ditch along with the load of washing machines. Whatever liquid he carried inside the machines splashed out around the truck.

The smell of gasoline flavored the dry, warm air.

One blink later, fire shot from the ground, engulfing the truck in a ball as bright as fireworks.

Jeremiah jumped into the cart and pulled forward, but smoke and flames shot across the road before he disappeared.

Reagan thought she heard a cry, like a wild bird, then only the sound of a raging fire sweeping up the dried trees.

She started toward them, but fire seemed to be swinging in the branches. She could no longer see the cart, and she knew she couldn’t drive into the black smoke that blocked the road. She was trapped.

Crying so hard she could barely see, Reagan turned the truck around and raced for the house. She ran to the water and turned it on, knowing that she only had minutes before the flames would reach her. The fire would take the trees, crawl across the prairie grass, and be at the plowed ground before help could get here from town.

Pulling the cell phone she’d bought yesterday from her pocket, Reagan dialed, then froze. The road was on fire. No one would get to her.

She was alone. If fire jumped the barrier Noah had plowed, she would have to fight it alone.

“Noah,” she cried. Oh God, where was Noah? Had he been in the cart? He had to be still in the cart. He was hurt. He wouldn’t have gotten out. Pushing tears away, she whispered, “He’s in the cart with Jeremiah and they’re on the other side of the ball of fire.” They had to be. She wouldn’t think of any other possibility.

She ran around trying to wet everything she could as the sound of the raging flames grew louder. Forcing herself not to look toward the road, she filled the buckets still scattered about the yard. She soaked all the blankets she could find as she tried to remember what else Noah had told her to do.

The fire crackled and roared. The air grew thick with smoke, making her eyes water. Or maybe she was still crying. She no longer knew or cared.

The air grew warmer and wind whipped heat, like the first breath from a hot oven, in her face.

She checked the trench where the garden hose was running. It would never be full in time. She ran to the water tank. With fumbling fingers, she tied a hoe to a long rope and swung it over the top of the tank.

One. Two. Three times. No luck. The hoe clanked against the side of the tank and fell to the ground.

How could she pull the tank down if she couldn’t get a handle on the top? Something Preacher had said one night at the rodeo echoed in her mind.
Failure is not an option.
She tried again and again. The heat of the fire now radiated through her clothes. Pulling one of Jeremiah’s old bandannas from the clothesline, she wet it and wrapped it around her head. She picked up the hoe and tried again.

On the sixth try, the hoe caught on something and she pulled.