By The Light Of The Moon
Cindy Caldwell
Copyright © 2019 by Cindy Caldwell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Orange and blue flames shot high in the night sky as Colin stood in the fire station, waiting for the other volunteer firefighters to arrive. The call had gone out all over the South Campos, a loose-knit community covering a long span of beach on the northern Sea of Cortez, in Baja California. The large American population relied on the marine radio to keep in touch, and the emergency had been broadcast to all. Now, the volunteer firefighters were rushing in. He hoped that someone was already at least dousing the flames with hoses or buckets.
“Bomberos, bomberos, fire at Campo Ventana.” His hands clenched tightly as the men he had helped train quickly and silently donned their turn-outs. The truck was ready to go, filled with water, as there would likely be little water available at the fire scene. His stomach already in knots and adrenaline flooding his veins, he was eager to be off to the scene, wondering how much damage had already been done.
The men, his friends and fellow firefighters, were ready in a flash and seated on the truck. The captain gave Colin a nod, and with that, he started the engine, flipping the switch for the siren and lights as soon as he’d pulled out of the garage that served as a fire station in this remote, seaside community.
His stomach churned as he watched the flames grow, speeding toward the structure as fast as was possible on the dirt road he’d turned down, expecting a mile at least of a bad trek into the campo. The fire was closer to the water, the Sea of Cortez, and the truck bounced on the ruts and stones. Colin’s fist pounded on the steering wheel as he was forced to slow down.
“This camp doesn’t have a well,” his friend James grumbled, a fact that had already caused Colin’s chest to tighten with worry.
“You’re right, but we have a full truck and can call for the second. Hopefully, they’ve already started emptying their water tanks on it.”
Firefighting in the Baja California community of the South Campos was a challenge as most areas had to have water delivered, and it was a valuable commodity. Here, along the beaches of the Sea of Cortez, a few of the camps had wells, but not this one. Homeowners had large water tanks on the roofs of their houses and water was delivered and used sparingly.
On the occasions that a fire did break out, everybody in the campo pitched in to help. Bucket brigades and hoses backed up the firefighters, hoping that the fire would be contained to one small area and the whole campo wouldn’t go up in flames. As Colin neared the fire, he hoped this would be one of the lucky times that it wouldn’t.
The full moon shone brightly on the road, and they were able to find their direction with its help. Colin was grateful for that. There were no streets to speak of, the dirt roads leading to the homes in the area difficult to navigate. Colin let out a sigh of relief as he saw that this particular garage that was on fire was right by the road, and there was no risk of getting the fire engine stuck in the sand that some roads were plagued with. The flames shot high into the sky.
“James, take Colin and Javier with you with the fire hose and start. I’ll go help the owner on the other side with their hoses.”
“Got it,” James said as he motioned for the men to follow him. They’d already gotten the fire hose out and were ready to roll.
“Over here,” a woman shouted as Colin headed to the opposite side of the building. A man and a woman stood with a hose that sprayed not much more than a trickle on the flames. “We’re so glad you’re here. We’re doing what we can,” she said, her hand leaving a trail of soot as she brushed her hair out of her eyes.
The roof of the brick garage was engulfed in flames and Colin ushered the owners back toward the house as the spray of the fire engine hose did its job. “Is there anyone in danger? Anyone in the garage?” he asked as the man sat down with a thud and stared at the garage.
“No, no one in there. Humans and animals accounted for.”
Colin said a silent thanks that this one looked simple and no one was in harm’s way. As the flames subsided, he walked to the other side of the building. Branches rustled as he passed a tree back a bit from the building, out of sight from the house. “Who’s there?” he yelled, hoping it was his imagination.
His eyes widened as the shape came slowly into view by the light of the dying flames. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of what he saw. Out of the shadows came a woman, her hair black and long, her eyes dark and beautiful. He wondered at the riding boots and jeans for a moment until he saw what followed her. The horse she led behind her whinnied as he stopped directly behind her, his head raised at the flames.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, starting toward her to lead her away. “Horses don’t like fires, and you could be hurt.”
She held her hand up, stopping him in his tracks. “My horses know when they are safe,” she said. “And she is safe now. We wanted to see if we could help.”
He stood still a moment, not quite sure what to say. The horse was beautiful, with a long black mane and shiny coat. He had raised horses as a child in Ireland but had never seen one that remained calm around fire. “I don’t see how you could, but thank you. Horses and fires don’t mix.”
Her lips curved into a smile, one eyebrow raising as she glanced at the mare beside her. “You don’t know my horses.” She smiled back at him as she settled her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the beautiful mare. Nodding her head in his direction, they turned and were swallowed by the darkness.
“Who was that?” James asked as Colin came around to the truck. “Was that a horse?”
“Aye, it was. I don’t know who she was or where she came from. She wanted to see if she could help.”
“With a horse? At a fire?” He slapped his forehead with his hand. “What was she thinking? Horses and fire don’t mix.”
“That’s what I told her, but she didn’t seem to agree.” Colin looked into the distance to see where she had gone, but the flames had gone and the darkness taken over.
Chapter 2
The fire was completely knocked down with not even a wisp of smoke remaining. “Nicely done, lads,” Colin said, slapping his newest crew member on the back and offering his hand.
“That one wasn’t too bad,” Robert said as he shook Colin’s hand. “Glad nobody was hurt.” The young man’s freckled face shone with sweat as he wiped his brow with a red neckerchief. “I’ve seen much worse where I come from.”
Colin turned back toward the building. “It sure could have been worse.”
“Yeah, much worse,” Robert said as he walked toward the engine.
“Goo
d on you, mates,” Colin called out to the rest of the crew as he turned toward the owner approaching the rubble.
The owner of the garage walked around the side of the building, stepping gingerly over the charred remains of beach chairs, kayaks and fishing rods. “Thank you, boys. You were here in a hurry. So glad it didn’t get over to the house.”
“That’s what we try for, sir. Keep it as small and contained as possible.” Colin took his offered hand and gave it a strong shake.
“The wife and I had a bad feeling when we heard the firecrackers going off on the beach. What with the breeze and all, it’s not a good idea. They could land on anyone’s roof and it’s all over.”
“You heard fireworks tonight?” Colin hadn’t noticed any, but there were many miles of beach and lots of people loved fireworks, oblivious to the danger to the homes they lived in.
“Yes, we’ve heard them for several nights. Some out-of-towners on vacation. They’ve been riding up and down the beach and having fireworks every night. We asked them to move further on, but they wouldn’t.
“I can come back tomorrow and take a look. Maybe I can see what started it if you’re really not sure.”
“I don’t know for sure if it was the kids and their fireworks. Easy to blame them, though. I don’t know what else it could have been. I’d appreciate it if you’d check.”
“I’m not exactly a professional, but I’d be happy to take a look.”
The man and his wife glanced quickly at each other. “We’ve heard that you might know a thing of two about fires. We’d appreciate the help.”
Colin hung his head in mock shame as he heard James roar with laughter.
“Yes, his experience with the IRA should come in handy.”
“Thanks, James. That’s all I need.”
The man and his wife grabbed for each other’s hands. “Well, we’ve heard things.”
“Have you, now,” Colin replied with his thickest Irish accent. “I hope I can live up to your expectations.” He couldn’t help but smile as he turned away and saw the glee on James’ face.
“Careful, friend. Next thing you know, they’ll be calling you because there’s a spy in the house. 007, to the rescue.”
Laughter filled the cab of the fire engine as the men returned to the station. It was always a relief to successfully put out a fire and they shared a collective sense of relief that no one had been hurt. A cheer rang out as Colin said, “Beer on me to celebrate a job well done.”
The men headed back to the station that had been built by the volunteers several years prior and put all of their tools and supplies in their proper places. Colin was frequently surprised by how long that took, but knew it was critical so that the next time they were called out, everything would be ready. They met every Saturday morning, though, to go over some exercise, learn something new from the captain and to clean the equipment. But at the rate they were going, there might be another fire before then and they had to be prepared.
“Want to head over to the poblado for afore-mentioned beer?” James asked as he and Colin locked the door behind them. They were frequently the last to leave, and this time was no different.
“Aye,” Colin said, rolling his tongue around the soot that covered his teeth. “I am a bit parched, to be honest with ye.”
James nodded, wiping a rag over his beard which was, to Colin’s eye, a little grayer than it normally was. The cloth came away more black than white, and they headed across the road.
Colin looked around for a moment outside of the cantina and scouted the horizon. A large, dark plume had started and he stopped in his tracks, his eye trained on the spot.
“What is it? Smoke?” James stopped too and shielded his eyes from the sun, following Colin’s gaze.
The radio clipped to Colin’s back pocket hadn’t made a sound. He turned it off and back on to make sure he heard the comforting squeak it made—no, there hadn’t been a call that they’d missed.
James pointed a bit further to the right. “Look, there’s another one.”
Colin reached for the binoculars he always carried and looked more closely at both plumes.
He let out a deep breath and shook his head. “No, looks like dust.”
“Regular dust devils?” James asked. He turned away from the plumes and held open the door of the cantina, ushering Colin inside.
“No, bigger than normal. With all these fires, I may be a little antsy. But I think it’s just dust from riders practicing for the Baja 250.”
“Right,” James said before they were swallowed up by the cool rush of air and loud laughter inside the cantina. “We’ll be over-run with that soon enough. I forgot.”
“I did, too. I mean, I love the races, but the hordes of people that come with it I could do without.”
James nodded in agreement as the two men crossed through the colorful tables that dotted the restaurant and headed to a table closer to the windows. The cool breeze of the water wafted through there and it was their preferred spot.
Colin looked over at one of the tables in the corner where the old guys held court. They were there every night after they hauled their boats out of the water and cleaned their catch of the day. Empty shot glasses littered the table as they told their fish stories, not many of which could be believed, Colin usually thought. He’d always been friendly with them and he nodded over toward the one he knew best, Bruce, and got a nod in return. Not that it was accompanied with a smile. It was a pretty closed group, and when they weren’t talking about fishing, they were moaning about how the south camps had changed and the glory days had gone for good with the new residents and the resort that was in progress.
James and Colin settled into their own regular chairs and nodded as two ice-cold beers appeared in front of them. They walked through the fire again, as they always did, and speculated on how it could have started. By the time the brown bottles were empty, they’d decided they didn’t know and were ready to head home. Colin dropped James off with a wave to Megan and headed to his own house on the shore, reliving the fire in his memory once more before he fell into his bed, exhausted.
Chapter 3
Hanna had guided her mare back to her house, shaking her head at the encounter with the firefighter. She’d stayed back when she’d first arrived, watching the volunteers do their work. His commanding presence had been comforting at the fire and he certainly knew what he was doing, but after the danger had passed she’d only wanted to help. Why was it no one ever expected horses to be calm and able to handle fire?
As she led Violet into the small corral she’d built when she’d arrived several months ago, she turned to look at where the fire had been but found no sign of flames. Happy that they’d been able to limit any further damage, she made sure the horses had water and slowly walked toward her house.
She plopped down on her patio sofa, gazing at the stars in the night sky. Her thoughts turned to her horses and the years of abuse they had suffered at the hands of cruel ranchers before she had rescued them. She’d learned many things from her mentors about how to treat and train horses in a different way, one of respect and compassion. She’d taken time and care with Violet, and now they were able to almost ride as one. Violet’s fear of humans and of fire had subsided, and she was proud of her ability to remain calm and connected to Hanna during any type of situation. Violet still wasn’t too sure about the waves and water of the nearby Sea of Cortez, but they could work on that next.
She walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a soda, wondering about how the Irishman had arrived in this small, glorious part of Mexico. She had been surprised by his Irish accent. Here in Baja, that wasn’t very common. Spanish accent, yes. Irish, no. She realized she’d like to know more about him, and to show him that her horses could be helpful to the bomberos. They’d suffered greatly and had earned the opportunity.
The pungent odor of smoke still wafted through the air from the fire, and although she’d heeded their request to leave the scene, it was so near t
o her that she felt as if she was still there. She climbed to the upper patio and leaned against the railing, looking over toward the house that had burned. There was no moon tonight, and while the stars shone brightly, it was very dark. All she could see was what was illuminated by the headlights of the fire trucks—and that wasn’t much.
She could see men moving back and forth, and hear some faint voices. She moved a little closer and leaned further over the railing and could make out the voices a little better. She heard the Irish firefighter she’d spoken to—she knew his accent right away—tell her neighbors that he’d come back again tomorrow and take a look. Did that mean he thought there was foul play? She couldn’t imagine anyone in the south campos wanting to hurt anyone, and she shook her head, positive it had been an accident.
Her ears perked up when she heard something about the IRA—were they talking about the Irish man? That couldn’t be possible, either. She’d known in that brief moment that he was a gentle person. Not just anyone would give so much time to the volunteer firefighters, and she found it hard to believe that he was anything but kind. But maybe if she had the chance, she’d ask him.
Violet whinnied and her other horse, Regalo, stomped his feet and she realized that she needed to give them another flake of hay before she went to bed. She’d brushed them both earlier in the day and they were really settled for the night, but she liked to give them a little extra on the days that she took them out for a ride.
When she’d first been asked to take Violet and her colt, they’d both been emaciated and had broken free and run from a farm many miles away where they’d both been abused, almost starved to death to boot. She hadn’t had the heart to say no—someone had found out that she used to train horses for a living—and in hindsight, it had been one of the best decisions she’d ever made. Sure, they were a lot of work, but they’d taught her to have even more patience than she had before, and confirmed that she was right about the way she wanted to help horses. She used kindness, encouragement and positive reinforcement. It wasn’t like she was training them for a rodeo, just trying to teach them how to feel safe with humans again after they’d decided that they’d rather never see a human again in their lives. And she was proud of that.
By the Light of the Moon Page 1