by Kim Redford
“I understand. Let’s keep that idea on a back burner for now.”
“Okay. Thanks for all your help.” She leaned back in her rocker.
“Happy to do it.” He glanced toward Wildcat Road. “Sounds like a party is about to arrive.”
“That does sound like a lot of traffic.” She leaned forward to get a better view of the entry to Wildcat Hall. “I thought you said only the sheriff and a firefighter were coming here. That’s only two vehicles.”
He chuckled, standing up. “Hedy must have put out the word.”
“What word?” She stood up, too.
“That the new lady of Wildcat Hall Park needs help.”
“But I didn’t ask for help.”
“Too late now.” He pointed toward Wildcat Road.
She was astonished to see a convoy of pickups, SUVs, a sheriff’s vehicle, and a couple of ATVs turn off the road and make their way toward her. “Oh my.” She felt her stomach turn over. “Didn’t I tell you Fern is the one good with people? I’m a poor substitute.”
He put an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close. “You’re no substitute. You’re the real deal.”
And the parking lot filled with vehicles.
Chapter 6
Ivy glanced back into the cabin at her laptop, just waiting for her to resume work on her client’s website. Comfortable, familiar, something she knew how to handle. She looked through gaps in the trees toward the vehicles arriving at Wildcat Hall—and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Uncomfortable, unfamiliar, something she didn’t know how to handle.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and felt Slade’s hand tighten around her shoulders in support and encouragement. She was glad of his presence, his strength, his commitment to the Park—even to her.
“They’ll love you,” he said with utter conviction.
“I’m not Fern.”
“No question. She’s gone. You’re here to stay.”
Ivy felt a chill run up her spine, as if he spoke prophetically. “Like I said, I’m just here long enough to take care of the place till she gets back.”
“I know what you told me.” He tugged her even closer. “But I’m not listening to your words. I’m listening to your body.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “And my body is telling you I’m staying right here in Wildcat Bluff?”
He kissed the top of her head again. “Yeah.”
“You don’t know a thing about me.” She shrugged his hand away and stepped forward as she watched the vehicles stop and park, and the doors open.
“I know enough.” He spoke in a voice gone husky with emotion.
She turned to glance at him, feeling something in his words, his voice, his intent, strike deep—so very deep—that it unnerved her. She was city, not country, and she had no plans to change her lifestyle for a man. Any man.
He looked steadily at her, ignoring the growing noise from the parking lot of slamming doors, rising voices, and footfalls on asphalt. “You might as well know it upfront. I’ve waited a lifetime for you. I’m not waiting a second longer.”
She put a hand to her chest, over her heart, feeling a resonance within her that echoed his words, as if she’d been waiting a lifetime for him. But it didn’t make sense in her world, old or new. He was a stranger, and yet he didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt like home. She caught her breath on a rising tide of emotion that made her want to fling herself into his arms. And stay there.
“Slade!” a tall man wearing a cowboy hat, red shirt, Wranglers, and boots called out as he walked briskly toward the cabin.
“Hey, Craig,” Slade called before he stepped up beside Ivy. “Best go down and meet them.”
She straightened her shoulders and moved to the edge of the porch.
“I’ll be right beside you every step of the way.” He clasped her hand, squeezed her fingers, and then let her go.
She pasted a smile on her face, walked down the stairs, and headed along the path, wishing she’d changed clothes because she was still in comfy yoga gear for cleaning and organizing the dance hall. No matter, she could handle the situation if she just viewed it as part of the job of owning and managing Wildcat Hall.
As she came face-to-face with the stranger, she could see the others were still arranging themselves into some type of order in the parking lot. She needed to establish herself in a position of strength from the get-go or chance getting into trouble later.
“I’d like you to meet Ivy Bryant, Fern’s sister. Ivy, this is Craig Thorne,” Slade said.
“Good to meet you.” She shook Craig’s hand, thinking she could see why Fern would’ve been reluctant to leave him. He was a good-looking, tall drink of water with a firm handshake, chestnut hair, hazel eyes, and a cowboy’s strong body. He wore a windbreaker with the Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue emblem embroidered on the front and carried a bulging backpack.
“Likewise.” He took a deep breath before he plunged forward. “Any news about Fern?”
Now she knew why he’d been first to greet her. He couldn’t wait to hear about her sister. “She’s fine and playing a gig.”
“Did she…did she mention me? I mean, we’re supposed to perform together at Wild West Days. I know that’s a long ways off from Christmas, but still, I wondered if she’d be back by then at least.”
Ivy felt sympathy for him, but she couldn’t do anything about it or ease the situation. “I haven’t heard much from her, and I don’t know about her upcoming gigs.”
He looked disappointed for a moment, then he shuttered his eyes. “If she asks, tell her I hope she’s back by Labor Day.”
“I hope she is, too.” Ivy gave him a gentle smile. “In the meantime, I’m doing my best to fill in here at the Park.”
“We’ve already had some ideas about changing the menu.” Slade stepped up beside her as if staking first claim on her friendship. “But now we need to see if we can gather evidence from the fire.”
“Right.” Craig quickly turned take-charge. “Sheriff Calhoun is here. Hedy, too. And—”
“We saw the parade,” Slade said, chuckling. “Did you bring all of Wildcat Bluff?”
Craig joined his laughter. “Pretty near. Folks want to meet Ivy.”
“Tell you what,” Ivy said. “You don’t need me at the fire site, so why don’t I take everyone who isn’t needed there to the Hall and offer them something to drink?”
“Good idea,” Slade said, agreeing. “Craig, are you taking samples?”
“Yes. I brought evidence bags.”
“Okay. Let’s introduce Ivy, then get on over there. I want to show you and the sheriff some stuff.”
“Sounds good to me,” Craig said.
Ivy walked on down the path with the two guys following her to the parking lot, where the group had assembled around a woman in a wheelchair and a tall man in a cowboy hat wearing a shiny badge.
Slade reached her side, then gestured at the group. “Folks, I’d like you to meet Ivy Bryant, Fern’s sister.”
She smiled and nodded at the friendly looking group as they chorused hey, hi, and hello.
“This is Sheriff Calhoun. He’ll be leading the investigation into the fire and intruder.”
“Howdy, Ms. Bryant.” Sheriff Calhoun tipped his beige cowboy hat to her. He also wore a tan police uniform, black cowboy boots, and a holstered revolver on one hip. “After I investigate the scene, I’d like a few words in private with you.”
“Certainly,” Ivy said. “I do appreciate you coming out here so promptly. I needn’t tell you how concerned I am about the Park.”
“We’re all concerned,” the woman in a power wheelchair piped up. She had thick silver hair in a long plait dangling over one shoulder and sharp brown eyes. She was wearing a red shirt, Wranglers, and red boots.
“Ivy, meet Hedy
Murray. She’s the heart and soul of Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue and owner of Adelia’s Delights in Old Town.”
“Good to meet you,” Ivy said.
Hedy chuckled as she smiled at Ivy. “I’m more like chief cook and bottle washer.”
“Thought that was my job,” Slade said with a grin.
“Only at the Chuckwagon.” Hedy teased right back before she gave Ivy a sharp look. “Hope you’re not going to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble.”
Ivy took a deep breath, not knowing quite what to say in response. “I’m still here so far.”
“Hedy, what are you trying to do, run her off? Shame on you.” A tall, slim woman with long, curly ginger hair wearing an aqua blouse and a long, swirling skirt with turquoise cowgirl boots and a dozen or so long necklaces walked up and held out her hand. “I’m Morning Glory. Welcome to the county. We love your sister and we’re prepared to love you, too.”
“Thanks,” Ivy said, shaking a hand with soft skin and strong muscle. She felt glad for the warm welcome.
“That’s MG if her full name is too big a mouthful,” Slade said. “Don’t let her sweetness fool you. She’s tough as nails and keeps us all in line. And she’s the owner of Morning’s Glory with all the handcrafted lotions, potions, and perfumes to set you up for life.”
“Don’t forget all the local artists I support, too,” Morning Glory said. “Please come to visit me at my store. I bet you’re in need of your own personal scent. I made one for Fern and she loved it.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.” Ivy smiled at the woman who could have been most any age, but she had eyes as mischievous as a teenager.
“And you must come to Adelia’s Delights,” Hedy added. “We’ll all have tea in my tearoom. And you must meet Rosie.”
Morning Glory chuckled as she put her hand on Hedy’s shoulder. “Rosie is absolutely the queen of cats and certainly the queen of Adelia’s.”
“I’d like to meet Rosie, too.” Ivy realized these delightful women were putting her at ease and reassuring her that all would be well, despite the fire, while she lived in Wildcat Bluff.
“Allow me to introduce Bert Holloway.” Hedy glanced up at the tall, good-looking man with a hand on her shoulder. He wore a Western-cut suit with a bolo tie and expensive, ostrich cowboy boots. He had thick, dark hair streaked with silver and tanned skin that suggested a life spent mostly outdoors. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Bert said in a deep voice. “If there’s anything I or my son Bert Two can do for you, we’d be glad to help out.”
Hedy patted Bert’s hand, smiling with a glint in her eyes. “I have to admit he can be quite helpful.”
Morning Glory laughed. “Nobody doubts it…not since you two got engaged.”
“Thank you.” Ivy liked this friendly group more all the time.
“Wildcat Jack, at your service.” A tall man with kinetic energy stepped forward and thrust out a hand. He wore his long silver hair in two plaits wrapped with multicolored, beaded leather cords that dangled over his shoulders. He was dressed in a dark-blue shirt, Wranglers, and scuffed cowboy boots.
“Good to meet you.” She shook his calloused hand, marveling that he was one of those rare people—like her sister—with a personal magnetism that couldn’t help but draw you into his sphere.
“He’s our DJ at KWCB, the Wildcat Den,” Slade said. “But you better watch him. At seventy-nine years plus, he’s pretty near stolen the heart of every woman in the county.”
Morning Glory put her hand on her hip and grinned at Jack. “And he’s heartless about it, too.”
“No, ma’am,” Jack said, disagreeing. “I’m simply a man who never wants to disappoint a lady.”
Hedy laughed hard, shaking her head. “Now that’s the truth. He’s not known to disappoint.”
“Better not go any farther down that road.” Slade cut in, grinning, as he gestured toward another woman. “Meet Eden Rafferty. She’s Jack’s partner in crime at the Den.”
“Now tell the truth,” Jack said. “She’s my boss and owner of our now-famous radio station, ever since we went after a global audience.”
“And we found that cache of vintage recordings,” Eden added before she smiled warmly at Ivy. “Welcome to Wildcat Bluff. You’ll have to forgive our teasing ways. We’ve known each other forever.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jack said, shaking a finger at her. “I never ask forgiveness.”
Ivy joined the general laughter, feeling more at home with these folks the more she got to know them. For the first time, she could understand why Fern had been so charmed and so eager to be part of this community.
“Slade, thanks for the introductions,” Sheriff Calhoun said, “but we best be about the matter at hand.”
“True,” Slade said. “If possible, we don’t want any more fires around here.”
“I certainly agree,” Ivy said, turning from him to the group. “I’d like to invite all of you who aren’t part of the investigation to join me in Wildcat Hall. I’m sure we can find something to drink there.”
“If you can’t find it yet,” Hedy said, laughing, “I bet the rest of us know just where everything is kept.”
“Right,” Morning Glory said. “The Hall has been our home away from home forever.”
“And I’d like to talk to you about live streaming from here during the cattle drive and the holidays,” Eden said.
“I’ll be happy to discuss it,” Ivy said. “I suppose you talked about this with Fern before she left.”
“Yes,” Jack replied. “We made lots of plans. That’s why we’re still surprised she up and left so fast.”
“She’s a rolling stone,” Ivy said, not wanting to go down that path anymore because there was no explanation that would satisfy them. Fern was as good as gold when she was with you, but when she was gone, she was simply gone.
“Craig, let’s go with the sheriff,” Slade said as he stepped closer to Ivy. “We might as well start over with all our plans. Ivy’s in charge now and she’s willing to work with us and the community to help make our upcoming events successful.”
“Yes, that’s right. Let’s discuss what’s possible and what’s not.” Ivy felt grateful to Slade for moving everyone past the Fern roadblock.
“Suits me,” Hedy said, giving Ivy an understanding look with her sharp brown eyes.
“Right,” Morning Glory said, agreeing. “I could use a glass of the Hall’s famous sarsaparilla.”
“I wouldn’t mind trying it either.” Ivy turned toward the dance hall, realizing they expected her to lead, wanted her to lead. One way or another, she’d do it. When she felt a touch on her shoulder, she glanced around to see who needed her attention.
Slade smiled at her with warmth in his blue eyes. “We won’t be long. Save us a drink, okay?”
“I’m sure there’s plenty for all.”
“Good.” He gave her a quick nod, then turned and walked away with Craig and Sheriff Calhoun.
She watched him a moment, still amazed at the impact he was having on her life. And then she turned back, squared her shoulders, and gestured for her guests to precede her into Wildcat Hall.
Chapter 7
“It’s not just the fire,” Slade said as he led Craig and the sheriff toward the cabin that had lucked out with no fire damage.
“What do you mean?” Sheriff Calhoun asked, looking around the area as they walked down the path.
“Somebody has targeted the cowboy cabins or the Hall…or, even worse, Ivy herself.”
“Does she have enemies?” Sheriff Calhoun asked.
“I questioned her about that first thing.”
“And she said?” Craig glanced over at Slade with a concerned look on his face.
“No. She’s a website designer and mostly stays home.”
“That means if somebody is afte
r anybody, it’s got to be Fern,” Craig said. “She’s the one who’s out there with all the fans. I even warned her that she has to be careful, but she’s so trusting that—”
“Don’t go jumping off the deep end before we know what’s what,” Sheriff Calhoun said, interrupting.
“But Ivy just got here and Fern’s been here, so it stands to reason the target would be Fern,” Craig said.
“I’ll say it again.” Sheriff Calhoun gave Craig a stern look. “We don’t jump to conclusions before we get the facts.”
“You’re right,” Craig replied. “It’s just that I’m worried about Fern. If she’d just told me her plans, I would’ve helped her. It’s not knowing and wondering and figuring and probably getting it all wrong that’s got me tied in knots.”
“If it helps,” Slade said, “Ivy doesn’t seem to know much more than us. And she says it’s not personal because Fern goes where the gigs lead at the drop of a hat.”
“I believe it,” Craig said. “Still, I’m worried about her.”
“We all are.” Slade stopped in front of the cabin. “Fern came to us out of the blue, but we came to see her as family.”
“Still do,” Craig said.
“We can’t do anything about Fern right now, so let’s focus on what we can do something about.” Sheriff Calhoun pointed at the cabin. “Show me the problem.”
Slade gestured under the porch, where the burnt Santa hat lay in a heap with the stench of smoke still lingering in the air. “I don’t know if the arsonist meant to destroy the cabin or simply put a scare into Ivy.”
“Or Fern,” Craig said.
Slade nodded in agreement. “You can see it’s not much material to torch under there, but it might’ve been enough to burn down the house because the wood is so old and dry.”
Craig set down his backpack and pulled out booties, gloves, and an evidence bag. “It’s probably as simple as flammable material and gasoline. Those are easy enough to get and easy enough to burn.”
“But that’s not the real problem, is it?” Sheriff Calhoun asked.