Fired Up

by Mary Connealy

  Dare got ready to punch any man who said one word of complaint.

  “Thank you so much for coming here today, gentlemen.” Glynna’s voice was soft, womanly. She spoke quietly, and everyone in the room leaned forward a bit to catch every word. “I know my husband was hard on this town. You’ve all been hurt by him at one time or another. That you came here today to my diner . . . well, I’m honored.” Her eyes flashed golden and for a few seconds they brimmed with tears, but then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

  Her hair was in a knot on top of her head, with little blond curls escaping and hanging over her temples and ears and neck. Dare knew where all those curls hung because he looked mighty close for far too long. She was a vision so beautiful, her skin and hair and eyes all of a rich golden color, delicate. That she had a few bruises and scabs on her face made her look like she’d come through a battle, weary but unbroken.

  She was the bravest little thing Dare had ever seen.

  “I’m afraid I’m not giving you the best meal today,” Glynna said. “It’s not good enough for all you fine men who have no reason to support me after all you’ve suffered at my family’s hands. I’ll understand if you don’t want to pay. This meal can be my gift and my apology to you all. Tomorrow will be better, I promise. I’ll have a better handle on my new stove by then.”

  “The meal is fine, Mrs. Survey. Of course we’ll pay you for it.” The choking blacksmith took another swig of his coffee and couldn’t quite control a shudder.

  Nods of agreement from the men of their willingness to pay made Glynna’s beautiful eyes well up again. But she fought back the tears. A vision of true beauty and courage.

  Her son came in with four more plates, serving everyone some substance that appeared to be lumps of coal. Dare noticed the boy roll his eyes as he dodged around his ma and plunked more food down on tables.

  Glynna drew in a shaky breath, blinked at them all just as everyone with a meal went to eating. “God bless you all for coming. I’ll help get your meals to you now.”

  She turned and rushed back into the kitchen just as Paul slapped a plate down in front of Dare. Which made him quit staring at the spot Glynna had just vanished from, though the shape of her seemed to be burned into his mind like he had stared at the sun for too long.

  Dare looked at Paul, who was glaring back at him. A jolt of annoyance almost made Dare say something to the kid. Then the smell of the roast beef distracted him.

  “How long has your ma been cooking, boy?” Luke asked, poking at the beef on the plate in front of him. Luke had a woman cooking for him, so he had something to compare this meal to.

  “Cooking is a word that has never meant the same thing to my ma that it means to others. She seems to have a powerful fear of rawness.” Paul returned to the kitchen just as Glynna came back with two plates.

  Luke was sneaky, but Dare definitely saw him take the meat and shove it into his pocket.

  Vince muttered, “A perfectly good cow died for this.” He started sawing on his own meat.

  That meal was a show. Every man there watched Glynna move as if he were entranced. She wasn’t flaunting herself; she was just so pretty it was impossible to look away. She continued to serve them and pour more coffee. It was a roomful of ruffians. Broken Wheel, a miserable little town in Indian Territory, was a place for outcasts. Dare wanted to exclude himself and his friends from that, but he wasn’t sure he should.

  Among these coarse men, no one was other than polite and proper. More notable, no one said a word of complaint. In fact, their thanks were generous and delivered at length. They ate so slowly that Dare knew it couldn’t be blamed on the food—which a man had to eat slowly if he wanted to retain possession of his teeth. No, they just wanted to be in Glynna’s presence for as long as possible.

  Finally, with the longest noon break ever taken in Broken Wheel over, the crowd thinned out.

  Dare noted that the cost of two bits for the meal had been paid by everyone. Of course, each man chose his moment and then paid Glynna personally; no one just left money on the table. She graced them each with a smile and a few words, a few seconds of her time and attention. That alone was worth the money, regardless of the food’s quality. She also gave them the good news that she was going to be open for breakfast and lunch starting tomorrow.

  God have mercy on them all.

  Glynna’s pockets were heavy with coins. Her restaurant, at least on day one, was a rousing success. Dare knew good and well every one of those varmints would be back tomorrow. Twice.

  He sure would be.

  He might eat before he got here, but he’d come. And he’d wear a coat with big pockets. He sure hoped she didn’t serve stew. Although, considering today’s meal, maybe her stew would be hard enough that it wouldn’t make much of a mess in his pocket.

  When at long last the diner was nearly empty of patrons, Glynna came out and looked at Dare, Luke, and Vince—the last ones remaining.

  “It went well, don’t you think?” She apologized for the food again. “Do any of you want more coffee?”

  Luke had his back to the kitchen, so Glynna couldn’t see his face when he closed his eyes in what looked like pain. “No, thank you, Mrs. . . . uh, what’s your new name again?”

  “Sevier.”

  “Sev Yay, got it. I’ll try and remember. Mrs. Sev Yay, can you sit down for a few minutes?”

  “Just call me Glynna, for heaven’s sake.” Glynna sat beside Luke at the end of the bench, straight across from Dare. Vince was on Dare’s left, across from Luke.

  “I’ve got a few things to work out with you about your land.”

  “I told you, I won’t take a cent from you.”

  “You told me, all right, about fifteen times. I don’t like it, but I understand how you feel. But that leaves me in charge of a bunch of land that’s no more mine than it was Greer’s. I’m not takin’ nuthin’ from that polecat.” Luke pulled a stack of letters from his pocket. The chunk of . . . food rolled out and bounced on the floor with a loud crack. It reminded Dare of the avalanche just because that was the last rock he’d seen rolling until now. Vince caught the thing on the bounce and stuffed it in his own pocket. Glynna didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’m writing to everyone who lost land because of your husband.” Luke ignored Vince, or maybe he was trying to keep Glynna’s attention. He laid the letters on the table in front of her. “I’ve found who I can, and I thank you for your help with names and such. There were men in town who knew more names and where those folks ended up. I’m going to give back every bit of land that isn’t mine. That leaves us with a stretch of land that belonged to Greer before he started with his stealing. What I can find tells me he owned it legally, so that makes it yours.”

  “I won’t take it.”

  Luke sighed. “So you’ve said, ma’am, but it’s still yours. It has to be dealt with, and no one but you can do it. Even if you want to give it away, it has to be done right and proper.”

  Glynna got a stubborn look on her pretty face. Luke didn’t argue with her. He just looked at her, calmly but without backing down.

  Finally she wilted. “What do you advise me to do, Luke?”

  Dare wondered if Luke had learned that trick since he’d gotten married. Dare memorized the exact expression on Luke’s face, planning to use it in his future dealings with the woman.

  Chapter 7

  Glynna began what could only be described as an all-out assault on the bellies of Broken Wheel. Because it had been Dare’s idea, that might be something he would have to answer for at the Pearly Gates. On the other hand, it was going to be great for the doctoring business.

  Yet despite the terrible food, no man in town would ever think of missing a meal. Glynna was just too pretty. All she had to do was come out of that kitchen with her golden eyes, grace each and every man with one of her sweet smiles, and the men figured they’d gotten their money’s worth. Besides, none of them could cook worth a hoot, either. The differe
nce being most of them had more sense than to try.

  Every morning and noon, Dare went to the diner for a meal. He liked a moment of Glynna’s attention as much as the next man. He was greeted by a crowd of men and billows of smoke. He had to hunt for a place to sit.

  The diner was a true success, if you didn’t count the food, and so far none of the men did. There was an endless parade in and out of Dare’s office each afternoon. Mostly due to bellyaches. So Glynna was helping make Dare’s business more successful, too.

  These men kept him up late with indigestion complaints as well as glowing compliments about Glynna’s pretty face and sweet manner. After a hard day of treating their bellyaches, Dare fell into bed, exhausted. He was asleep in an instant, dreaming about halos of golden hair, bouncing roast beef, and thick black smoke wafting toward him like a rain cloud, which then rained silver coins down on his head like an avalanche.

  A loud crack jerked Dare awake. He smelled smoke, and considering his twisted-up dreams, it took him a while to realize he wasn’t smelling dinner.

  The smoke filled his lungs and started choking him, and he came fully awake to realize his house was on fire. He jumped out of bed and felt the heat coming up through the floor. Yanking on his britches, he snagged his boots and shirt but didn’t take the time to put them on as he rushed to his bedroom door. He grabbed for the knob.

  It was burning hot, and he snatched his hand back with a shout of pain. He knew, even in the pitch-dark, that his bedroom was filling with smoke. The cracking sound was something giving way, maybe the floor in the hallway. Then he saw a flicker of orange cutting through the smoke. Backing away from the door, he rushed to the bedroom window and flung it open. Flames shot up. This is where the light had come from—fire outside as well as in.

  His window was right above a small roof sheltering the front door, and that roof was engulfed in flames. The crackle turned to a roar as if the fire were a living beast, consuming his house to fill its belly.

  The floor he was standing on grew hot enough that, while he tried to think of a way out, he tugged his boots on, then his shirt so he could keep his hands free. By the time he was finished he was hacking, the smoke making his chest burn from within. He had to escape before the whole house collapsed under his feet.

  One more glance out the window told him that way was out of the question. There was only one other. He went back to the door, grabbed the tail of his shirt to protect his hand, and twisted the knob.

  Flames slammed the door open and exploded into his room. He staggered back and fell flat. A white-hot blaze shot over his head, straight for the window. Clawing his way backward, he saw he’d made a trail of fresh air to feed the fire.

  On his back now, he felt the boards hot beneath him, the fire already eating into the wood from below. As the floor heaved and the fire howled, Dare remembered the war—the battlefields and those days he’d thought he knew what hell would be like. Here he was with another devilish example.

  He knew the floor wouldn’t last much longer. Praying for protection, the first burst of flames eased, and in the evil red light he saw, straight above him, the trapdoor to the attic.

  The attic with its pull-down steps was right over his head.

  Dare had rarely even poked his head up there. Going higher in this house seemed like a blamed fool idea.

  Another loud crack told Dare something big had just collapsed. The floor beneath him shuddered as if it had taken a hard blow.

  He scrambled to his feet in the choking smoke. A rope hung down from overhead, and he reached up and yanked down the steps to the attic. Before leaving the room, he grabbed his doctor bag from where it sat near the door. Then he was up the stairs like a shot.

  Remembering how the fire had rushed for the open window, he tugged the ladder closed to slow down the raging monster. He choked and fought for every breath. The fire was corralled for the moment, but the attic was also filling with smoke. Instantly Dare dropped to his knees, where the smoke wasn’t quite as thick. He knew there was a window on each end of the attic. A glance at the nearest window showed flames flickering outside it. No way out on that side. He hitched the strap of his bag around his neck and crawled toward the far window, staying low to keep his head out of the smoke. He knocked boxes and furniture aside to clear a path forward.

  His house was the last one on this side of town. Looking through the window before he opened it, he saw a long way to jump, but there was no fire to be seen anywhere.

  He tugged on the window and it rose an inch, then jammed. He didn’t have time for a struggle. A glance for something to smash the glass revealed a plank of wood close to hand. He picked it up and swung hard. The glass broke, but there was a wooden frame dividing the window into four small panes. He clubbed the window until the frame shattered and fell away and there were no jagged shards of glass left on the edges. Then he crawled out to sit on the sill. Three full stories high. He’d likely break his legs jumping, possibly even die. The roaring from the floor below told him he had no choice.

  He turned to hang from the sill and cut a few feet off the fall. Facing into the attic, he heard a loud whoosh as the fire blasted up to where the attic steps were. The sill Dare sat on lurched, and he felt the building sway.

  “Catch the rope!” The shout came from below.

  Dare twisted to look down and saw Vince.

  “Tie it off inside and slide down!” Vince with a lasso and a plan. God bless him.

  “Ready?” The fire roared like a hungry panther, but Vince roared louder and swung the rope in a loop over his head.

  Dare shifted to face outward. “Throw it!”

  As always, Vince was skilled at anything he tried. The rope would’ve settled over Dare’s shoulders if he hadn’t grabbed it.

  “Grab my bag.” Dare tossed his precious doctor bag to Vince, who snagged it without trouble.

  Climbing back into the attic, Dare quickly tied the rope off on a beam still holding up the roof. Another blast of fire exploded into the attic. The stored boxes and furniture were now catching fire.

  The fire was racing straight for him, devouring everything, fed by the cool night air pouring in through the broken window.

  Dare grabbed hold of the rope and went back through the window, sliding downward. Flames shot out the window just as his head dropped below the window level. Skin scraped off his hands as he scrambled, hand over hand, down Vince’s lariat.

  Flames crackled and howled above him as if they were angry he’d gotten away alive.

  The rope couldn’t last more than a few seconds with the fire chewing it to bits. He was still ten feet off the ground when it snapped.

  Plunging, he landed with a heavy thud on his feet and fell flat on his back. The burning end of the rope landed on top of him. Cinders rained down, and his shirt caught fire. The whole side of the house fell straight for him.

  Vince grabbed his arm and dragged him until Dare got his own feet working again. A blow to Dare’s back almost knocked him down.

  He looked sideways to see Vince slapping him as they moved.

  “You’re on fire!” Vince kept whacking until Dare’s clothes were no longer burning. He glanced back. “The whole wall is coming down. Keep moving!” They doubled their pace.

  A great crack drew Dare’s eyes around to see the wall falling, coming toward them in a rush, refusing to let him escape.

  With a deafening crash the wall slammed down just inches behind them. The concussion knocked them to the ground. Which saved them, as burning debris blasted over their heads.

  Rolling and slapping at flames, Dare felt Vince fighting the fire on Dare’s body and his own. Dare was almost too addled to help. Finally he could think, and he checked both of them. No flames on either of them.

  They staggered to their feet and then turned back to see Dare’s house completely engulfed in flames, the roof crashing in. But the important thing was that he’d made it out. He was okay.

  Vince breathed hard. He was mostly reco
vered from Flint Greer shooting him a few weeks ago, but he wore out fast.

  “My books,” Dare said. He took one step toward his house. One futile step.

  Vince gripped his arm and turned him away from the fire and landed the doctor bag Vince still carried right in Dare’s belly. “You’re alive. You can buy more books.”

  “I don’t know how to be a doctor without them.” Dare thought of all the volumes he had, destroyed now by the fire. He’d spent every cent he could spare on his books, studying like mad to learn enough to treat his patients correctly.

  Jonas ran up, appearing out of the smoke and falling cinders. “Are you all right?”

  His red hair caught the light of the flames until it looked like his head was ablaze.

  “He got out,” Vince replied, walking in the direction Jonas had come.

  Dare’s horse whinnied frantically. “I’ve gotta get my horse out of the corral.”

  There was a small stable near the house that had caught on fire and was even now going up in flames. The horse was on the far side of the corral behind the stable. Glowing red cinders rained down like brimstone in a wide arc all around the house, falling too close to the spooked horse.

  “I’ll do it,” Vince said, “then I’m going to the other side. Good thing you’re far enough from the woods and the town and there’s no wind tonight. The fire shouldn’t spread much, but we still need to keep watch.”

  Dare nodded, then tossed his bag behind him, well away from the flames.

  Jonas turned to stand beside Dare. “What caused it?”

  His question stopped Vince in his tracks. “I’d like to know that, too. Did you leave a fire in the fireplace or the kitchen stove?”

  “No. I let them both die out, but I guess there was a spark.”

  “I got here pretty fast,” Vince said. “The fire was all over the front door, burning straight up to the window of your bedroom. I ran around back and kicked the door open, and the flames were in the stairway. The kitchen with the stove, and your office with the only fireplace, were the last to catch fire.”