by E. E. Burke
“If he comes at me, I’ll have a good reason to put down the cur like I shoulda done before. That dog’s a menace.”
If Bud had intended to shoot Bear without provocation, he would’ve already done so. The bully was taunting them. Hank had dealt with bullies enough to know, the only way to defeat them, was to stand up to them without giving them the reaction they wanted.
“A menace? Bear?” Hank stroked the dog’s head and Bear quieted. “Darn near everyone in town has petted him, and he’s made lots of friends. He even won the talent show. No one else we’ve met considers him a menace. Why don’t we ask Charlie what he thinks? He told me yesterday he’d like to have a puppy sired by Bear.”
Hank let the remark sink in. He made the point he knew the mine owner personally, and that Hardt liked his dog well enough to want its offspring, which was partly true. Charlie had remarked about the fine qualities Bear might pass on to a litter, and Hank had filed away the thought that the mayor would be first on the list for a puppy.
“Listen up, you blind bastard. I’m only givin’ you one more warning. Leave town and don’t come back. We don’t want your kind here.”
“I’m not sure Sheriff Draven agrees with you, but I’ll consult with him on it. Oh, and by the way, he was here earlier, looking for both of you.”
It was true Hank had seen the sheriff bright and early, and Draven had asked whether these men had caused more trouble. Now Hank could report back in the affirmative.
“Shee-it. Let’s get out of here, Bud.”
“Draven don’t scare me.”
So Ned was the more intelligent of the two.
Bear’s growling got louder as Bud’s shadowy form loomed.
“You’re gonna regret goin’ to the sheriff.”
Hank slid his hand into his coat. He noted he was shaking as his fingers curled around the compact gun. “I don’t think so.”
***
Valentine’s Day morning, Jolie rolled over in bed, pulled the pillow over her head and groaned. What was all that noise? Sounded like glass breaking. For once, when she tried to sleep in, one of the others had decided to get up early and have a party. After she’d locked up last night, as usual the last to seek her rest, she couldn’t sleep.
She had to stop thinking about Hank. He wasn’t destined to be part of her life. But if the other women wanted to find husbands, she wouldn’t stand in their way. She’d mention this new mission to them and let them decide what they wanted to do. As for her, she had to be realistic about her own future. With brides rolling in, and those other crusaders eager to rid Noelle of vice, it was only a matter of time before she’d be run out of town. She might as well start packing.
With an annoyed huff, she threw off the covers and rubbed at the gooseflesh on her arms. She dressed in a hurry, choosing the warm wool over the thin silk. Later, once the house had warmed up, she could dress for business. Right now, the stoves needed be stoked and breakfast started. She couldn’t wait until Milly returned. If Angelique had gotten up first, she would do it. Felice, no. Belle...maybe.
Jolie sniffed. Something was burning. Ugh. Had one of the girls tried her hand at cooking, then left food on the stovetop and wandered off? If she weren’t around to correct this sort of mistake, they’d burn the place to the ground.
She flipped the long braid over her shoulder and threw open the door.
Smoke. Whitish gray, hovering. It slithered up from the stairs and undulated along the ceiling. Dread clamped a cold hand around her spine.
“Fire!” she screamed, racing down the stairs. In the parlor, flames engulfed the curtains and the furniture, and were crawling up the papered walls. Smoke gyrated from the tips of the flames up to the ceiling. Broken glass lay on the floor, and she caught the distinct odor of kerosene. Had someone knocked over the lamp?
“Angelique! Felice! Belle!” Jolie yelled their names. Her lungs seized in the smoky air and she coughed. No one answered from the kitchen or back parlor.
The fire licked at the doorway into the hall, making the wood crackle, and the flames inched toward the balusters.
Oh dear God, it was spreading so fast.
She had to rouse the girls and get them down the stairs and out of the house before the fire and smoke blocked their way. Whirling around, still barefooted, she raced up the steps, screaming. “Wake up! The house is on fire!”
***
After the bully had stomped off, Hank breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t see whether Bud had drawn on him, and without knowing for certain, he wouldn’t have pulled his gun. As much as he despised men like Nance, the thought of killing a person made Hank’s stomach turn. He’d once committed to saving lives, not taking them.
He leaned against the wall and after a moment, tapped his foot. How much time had passed? Maybe a half hour since those men had left. Mr. Hardt must’ve forgotten about the meeting. Regardless, Hank couldn’t wait any longer. He had to let the sheriff know those two men might be plotting to ambush him, or worse, make trouble for Jolie.
With Bear in the lead, he started down the sidewalk toward the sheriff’s office, which was at the end the block where the road veered off. It was quiet, still too early and cold for most folks to be out.
Hank pulled up the collar of his overcoat and adjusted the wool scarf to cover the lower part of his face. Up this high in the mountains, it was still the dead of winter and would be for some weeks to come. He still liked Noelle, despite the weather. The growing population was friendly, mostly, and it brimmed with opportunity.
Suddenly, Bear seemed eager to get going. As they drew closer to the corner, the dog began to pull. Hard.
“Stop. Why are you pulling me into the street? You know better than that.”
Bear wouldn’t stop even with Hank resisting, and he decided to go along, trusting the dog knew something he didn’t. Fairly well-oriented, he realized they were headed in the direction of La Maison.
“Oh boy, not again. I didn’t mean we’d go talk to her this early. If we wake her, she’ll dump a chamber pot on our heads.”
In the bright morning light, Hank could make out the now-familiar shape of the house. Mingled with the scent of the wintery mix squishing beneath his boots, was a faint smoky smell. Everyone had fires burning in this cold, but he hadn’t notice the smell so strongly before. He slowed the dog down and found one of the hitching posts.
A loud bang startled him. Someone came stumbling out of the house, running toward him, and his heart sped up.
“Help! Help us! The house is on fire!” The woman threw her arms around his neck. He knew who the voice belonged to, Felice, but he couldn’t smell her strong perfume over the stench of smoke.
He peeled Felice’s plump arms from around his neck. “Where’s Jolie?” he demanded.
“Still inside. She told me to run and get help, and she went after Belle and Angelique. Oh my God, it’s burning down! It’s going to burn down on top of them!” Felice wailed.
“How bad is it inside? Has the fire spread? Are the stairs clear?”
“I-I don’t know. Jolie woke me and said the house was on fire. By the time I got out of my room, the smoke was already upstairs.”
A fire like that would get out of control fast. They couldn’t afford to wait for help.
Hank clamped down on a rush of fear. He stripped off his overcoat and gave it to Felice. The poor woman had to be freezing. “Go to the diner. Tell them people are inside, and we need a water brigade.”
Felice dashed off.
Hank groped and found the metal ring on the hitching post. He tied the leash tight and checked the harness that ran beneath the dog’s legs and around his shoulders to make sure it would hold. Bear couldn’t help him in all that smoke. If he succumbed, he didn’t want the dog to die too.
He hung his hat on the post, gave his best friend a hug, stood and said in a firm voice: “Stay!”
Chapter 12
Belle shrieked as Jolie dragged her out of the bedroom. “I’m in my nightg
own!” That was one word for the sheer material draped over her body. “I’ll freeze!”
“You’ll burn up if you don’t get the hell out of here!” Jolie yelled. She shoved the stupid girl toward the stairs. “Some chivalrous fellow will lend you his coat. Now get out of here!”
Dear God.
She had to remain calm. If she released the panic welling up inside and started screaming too, the girls might freeze up or do something odd in their terror. That had happened the last time she’d been in a burning building. A poor woman had perished trying to hide under the bed!
Belle held her hands over her nose. “I can’t breathe. I can’t see anything. There’s too much smoke.”
Jolie crouched low where the air was clearer. “Get down, close to the ground. There’s air down here.”
Belle dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward the stairs.
Jolie tried Angelique’s doorknob, but she’d locked it. “Angelique, wake up! The house is on fire, we have to get out!”
Why wasn’t Angelique opening the door?
Jolie’s eyes burned and tears streamed down her face, mostly from the stinging smoke, but also from fear. She kept seeing the charred body of that other woman with her mind’s eye. “Don’t be afraid, honey,” she wheedled. “I’ll get you out of here. Just please, open the door.”
“Jolie!”
She jerked her attention toward the stairs, shocked at hearing Hank’s voice. “Hank?”
He emerged from the stairwell and crawled toward her. “One of the girls ran past me. Where are you?”
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Rescuing you.”
She reached out, grabbed his hand and pulled him to her, then gave him a hard hug, before she reared back and hit him on the shoulder with the flat of her hand. “Stupid damn fool!”
“You’re welcome,” he said, in between coughing. “Now let’s get out of here. You can beat me later.”
“I won’t leave without Angelique. She’s locked herself in her room.”
“Show me.”
Jolie put Hank’s hand on the door. “Here.”
Hank stood up, landed a hard kick, and the doorframe splintered. He kicked twice more until the door gave way, and Jolie rushed inside.
In the far corner, Angelique had crouched into a ball. She had her arms crossed over her head, protectively, and didn’t seem to be aware of them.
Jolie grasped her arm and spoke quietly, but firmly, “Angelique, honey, the house is burning down. We need to leave. Now.”
Angelique drew away from her and pulled herself into a tighter ball.
“If she won’t walk out, I’ll carry her,” Hank offered.
There was no time to waste talking to the terrified girl. Smoke was fast filling up the room, and for all they knew, the stairs were now on fire.
“All right. Hank’s going to carry you.” She scooped beneath Angelique’s arms and lifted her so Hank could get a grip on her, but Angelique fought to get away.
Hank grabbed the girl, slung her over his shoulder, and took a firm hold across the back of her legs. “I have her. Show me the way out.”
In the hall, the smoke was so thick, Jolie couldn’t see. She also couldn’t breathe standing up, and Hank was coughing behind her. She dropped to her knees and pulled at him. As soon he knelt beside her, Angelique broke free and wriggled away, heading in the wrong direction. Hank snaked an arm around her middle. “Oh no you don’t,” he rasped. “This is the way out.”
Jolie crawled to the stairs with Hank following, dragging Angelique, whose loud keening raised the hair on Jolie’s neck. When they started down the steps, he put Angelique in front of him. Jolie grasped her ankles, and together they coaxed and hauled her down the stairs. Flames had engulfed the wall next to the parlor. The heat was so intense she feared her clothes would melt. At last, they reached the bottom step, and she and Hank dragged a hysterical Angelique outside. Once there, an even worse noise could be heard, and it wasn’t coming from Angelique. Bear’s anguished howling continued until Hank went over to calm the poor dog.
Jolie swallowed, and her throat burned at the effort. She felt as if she’d been roasted in an oven. Another few minutes, and she would’ve been. Hank hadn’t waited for help to arrive; he’d stormed into the house and braved the fire. The fact he’d left his dog outside meant he hadn’t been very sure he’d make it back out. Jolie trembled. From cold or shock, she wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, she couldn’t make it stop.
Angelique had become compliant at last, but she still had that scary, blank look on her face. What had happened in there couldn’t be blamed solely on her reaction to the current fire. Something else, something from her past, must have triggered her response. Whatever it was, it must’ve been horrible.
Jolie gathered her friend in her arms and began to rock her back and forth. “It’s all right. We’re safe. Hank rescued us.”
“May I help?”
Jolie turned at the question. Holding out a blanket was the doctor’s wife, the young woman Jolie had once teased so mercilessly. There was no censure or ill will in Cara’s emerald green eyes, only kindness and mercy.
Angelique hung her head, her hair falling into her face, as Cara wrapped the blanket around her.
“She’s...” Jolie tried and failed to come up with a word to describe her friend’s terrifying state. “She locked herself in and wouldn’t let me in her room. Hank kicked the door down, but she fought us, like she was afraid to leave.”
“We’ll take good care of her.” Doc Deane picked up Angelique and carried her to a wagon. Colin was a good doctor, one of the best. If anyone could help Angelique, he could.
Now, for the first time, Jolie took in the crowd gathered in front of the burning building. Men had lined up and were passing buckets of water, even snow. Women came running; some to look on curiously, but others joined the men in their efforts to put out the flames engulfing the house. The smoke grew darker, thicker, as it billowed out of a broken front window and from the open door.
Jolie stared at the awful sight with numb disbelief. La Maison was going to burn to the ground, and there was nothing she, or anyone else, could do about it. She expected anguish, grief, even rage. Her home would be gone in a matter of minutes, and so would her security.
The do-gooders had won. God had rightly smote the sinners, as her mother would’ve said. On the other hand, no one had died. Maybe God wasn’t through with them, after all.
An ache in her chest joined the burning sensation in her throat. She rubbed her stinging eyes and turned away so she wouldn’t have to watch her future crumble to ash. She had no choice now except to start over.
Over by the hitching post, Hank had retrieved his hat and had a hold of Bear’s leash. He’d been speaking to the sheriff, and now he looked this way and that, as if he were searching for something or someone. She knew without a doubt he was looking for her. He’d never be able to see well enough to find her. Yet, he’d gone into that burning building to rescue her. Hank might’ve died...for her.
Emotion swept through her in a wave so strong, it made her breath catch and her knees tremble. If she mattered that much to him, she was worth more than she thought.
She wiped her nose with her sleeve and forced her numb feet through the snow, dragging her skirts as she walked up to him. With a sigh, she slipped her arms around his waist. On one hand, she wanted to strangle the idiot. Mostly, she longed to hold him tight and never let go.
“Good Lord, you’re freezing. You need a coat.” He gave her a hug then stripped off his suit coat and wrapped it around her.
Odd, she hadn’t noticed the cold until he’d said something. “Why don’t you have on an overcoat?”
“I gave it to Felice.”
She glanced down at her red toes. “Do you happen to have an extra pair of shoes?”
Hank swept her into his arms. “Direct me to the store and we’ll get whatever you need.”
Jolie tigh
tened her arms around his neck. All she really needed, she had right here. Suddenly, she recalled another treasure. “My Valentine card!”
Hank nuzzled her hair. “I’ll make you all the Valentine cards you want.”
She released a soft laugh, imagining the mess he’d make with paper and glue. Funny how she was more distressed about that card, than about the money she kept locked up. If she couldn’t recover the gold in the strongbox, she would be, quite literally penniless, and right back to where she’d started.
She ran her fingers over a smudge on Hank’s cheek. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise you will never run into a burning building again.”
His lips twisted into a wry smile. “I will, if you promise me you’ll never be inside a burning building again.”
She hugged him and buried her face against his neck. “I don’t deserve you.”
He kissed her on the head. “No, you don’t deserve to be saddled with me, but that’s what you’re going to get, so you might as well prepare yourself.”
Chapter 13
However long it had taken to build La Maison, it took far less time for the place to burn down. Jolie didn’t stay to watch. As promised, Hank carried her over to the general store, while she directed him and Bear padded alongside. She peered over Hank’s shoulder and saw Felice, still wrapped in his overcoat, and Belle, who someone else had taken pity on and given her a cloak. The two women trailed behind like forlorn baby geese.
When they got to Cobb’s Pen, Avis opened the door, and with a solemn expression, watched them file inside. “Liam is helping the others. He opened the store so they could get buckets. Get whatever clothes you need, I’ll find something for you to eat.”
Hank insisted on purchasing Jolie new stockings and shoes, along with a new dress to replace the scorched one she’d been wearing, and a new coat, as well as necessary items she might need. Avis contributed the same for the other girls, and kindly offered them all a place to stay for the time being. Jolie couldn’t make herself let go of Hank’s arm. The thought of leaving him made her feel panicked and sick to her stomach.