“Oh, Ty.” She hugged him fiercely. He couldn’t hold back a groan.
She let out a squeak. “Ty, you’re hurt. Your arm is burned. Where’s the doctor?” she cried. “He’s hurt!”
“It’s not that bad.” Ty looked down at the long, wide burn on his arm. Then again, maybe it was. He twisted around to look at the livery stable. Flames shot high into the air. All four walls were ablaze. Somehow, the fire had jumped across the alley, embers carried on the wind or falling debris, he supposed. The saloon and billiard hall on the corner was completely in flames. He watched in horror as the fire crept along the boardwalk, igniting a second store. Trying to stand, he glared at her when she held him down. When did she get to be so strong? “I need to help.”
“You need to stay right here.” Looking around, she yelled, “Somebody get a doctor.” Her voice gentled. “Ransom and the others are doing all that can be done.”
“Quint?”
“He made it out okay. He’s still coughing some, but he’s helping with the fire hose anyway. Thank goodness, here comes Dr. Thomas.” She waved frantically. “Over here.”
The good doctor knelt beside them, nodding when Camille pointed to Ty’s arm. “Sorry. You’d think with three doctors in this town a man could get treatment quicker. But broken bones and new babies don’t adhere to a schedule.” He frowned when Ty coughed and grabbed his side. “You got another burn?”
Ty shook his head. “Horse knocked me into the wall. It’s not cracked. Had cracked ribs before and this isn’t the same.”
The doctor leaned down, pulling up his shirt, gently pressing his side with his fingertips. “No obvious break and no cuts. You’re likely to have a hefty bruise. Come over to the office where I can properly tend to that burn.”
“Not now. I need to stay here until the fire is out.” He dragged in a breath and was thankful when it didn’t trigger another round of coughing.
“Then let me wrap it. That will at least keep it from getting dirtier. Don’t you try to man the hose. Take plenty of deep breaths, even if it hurts. Try to force that smoke from your lungs.” He took a bandage from his bag and carefully wrapped it around Ty’s forearm. “I’ll check Quint out before I head over to the office. Can’t see as anyone else needs me. The minute you can leave, you hightail it over to the office so I can clean that up proper.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Ty watched the fire for a few minutes after the physician walked away. “I need to send Cade a telegram. Fine way to start off his week. Hope I can convince him that he doesn’t have to come home right away.” He stood with Camille’s help, though he didn’t really need it. “After I talk to Ransom, I’ll let Cade know about this. Then I’m coming back here.”
“All right.”
He looked at his love, wondering why she had suddenly become so docile. “No fussin’ at me?”
“It wouldn’t do any good. But I’m staying right with you to make certain you do what the doctor ordered.”
“Good.” Ty caught her hand and together they walked over to where Ransom was supervising the battle. They were concentrating on keeping the fire from spreading. It appeared they had succeeded. The flames dwindled in Mr. Schroeder’s new tailor shop, but, like the saloon, it was a total loss.
“Do you know what caused it?” asked Ty.
Ransom made a quick appraisal of his condition before answering. “A ranch freight wagon cut the corner too sharp going into the wagon yard. It was loaded high with buffalo bones. One of them must have been sticking out and struck the lantern hanging from the eaves, the one lighting the way into the yard, and knocked it down. The driver was pulling two wagons and didn’t notice it. By the time he parked the wagons and climbed down, flames were already racing up the side of the building. He sounded the alarm and tried to douse the fire with his coat, but a spark flew through the window and lit a pile of hay inside the building.”
“And it spread too fast.” Ty surveyed his ruined building. At least he had insurance and other means of livelihood. With all the liquor in the saloon adding fuel to the fire, he hoped the proprietor had insurance. He caught sight of Mr. Schroeder, standing forlornly off to the side. He glanced at Ransom. “Thanks for taking charge.”
“That’s what you pay me for. It’ll probably burn half the night, but I think we can keep it under control.”
Ty nodded and walked over to speak to the tailor. Camille went along, staying right by his side as she’d promised. “Mr. Schroeder?”
The man turned his head, the despair in his eyes highlighted by the flames. “It’s all gone. Everything. How will I support my family?”
“You don’t have insurance?” Ty figured he knew the answer already.
“No. I’ve made suits for fifteen years and never needed insurance.”
“I’ll pay your losses, Mr. Schroeder.”
Schroeder’s mouth fell open. “Why?”
“That was my livery stable.” Ty choked as a cough caught him by surprise. It took a few minutes to catch his breath. “Since the fire started there, I feel responsible. I trust you’ll be fair in the estimate of loss. We’ll start working on it tomorrow.”
The tailor scrutinized him a long time before he replied. “You’re a good man, McKinnon. I accept your offer.”
They shook on it, then Ty and Camille looked around for the saloon keeper. He was holding the nozzle of the fire hose at that moment.
Ty approached the man carefully. He had a reputation for a hot temper, though he and Ty had always gotten along. “Jake?”
Jake Forrester glanced in his direction and turned the fire hose over to someone else. “Nasty business.” He glanced at the bandage on Ty’s arm. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Gotta let Doc fix it up after a while. Do you have fire insurance?”
“Yes. Too many bullets flying around on Saturday nights not to. I’ll be out of business for a while, but it should cover the whole thing.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“We ’bout got the fire out. You’d better go let Doc tend to that arm. Wouldn’t do for it to get infected.”
Ty studied the remnants of the fire. “It will need watching all night in case it flares up again.”
“We’ll handle it. You go take care of your wound and get some rest. I’ve heard that smoke in the lungs can cause pneumonia if you aren’t careful.”
“I’ll stop back by after I see the doctor.” Ty slipped his arm around Camille’s shoulder. She put her arm around his waist, being careful not to press on his hurt side. Oblivious to the interested glances from those still watching the fire, they walked down the middle of the street, holding on to each other.
Chapter Twenty-One
Harvey Miller stood in the back of a wagon, waving his fist in the air. A small crowd had gathered to hear what he had to say. Camille slowed her pace along the boardwalk, stopping at the edge of the group to listen.
“Ty McKinnon is a dangerous man,” decreed Miller. “He almost burned down the whole town.”
“He didn’t start the fire. Everybody knows that,” Red Mulhany called back, shaking his head.
“His negligence caused it.” Ty’s political opponent shook his fist again, emphasizing every word. “Anyone with a lick of sense would have known better than to hang a lantern outside a livery stable. His irresponsibility makes him responsible.”
Several people frowned as if trying to decipher what he’d said.
“Willow Grove needs a mayor with common sense. A mayor with vision for the town, not one whose stupidity is going to ruin it.”
“Then they certainly don’t want you,” muttered Camille. A couple of men nearby heard her and grinned, nodding their agreement.
“McKinnon only cares about himself. He doesn’t care about the good people of Willow Grove. He wants to take over the town, to run it to suit his needs, not yours.” Miller pointed across the street at McKinnon Brothers. “He already has the largest store for fifty miles, but is he satisfied with that? No. He starts a sta
ge line and builds a livery stable. We already had a livery. We didn’t need another one.”
“Then how come the wagon yard was full this morning?” hollered a rancher from west of town.
“There are more people in town today than usual,” said Miller with a condescending smile. “Came in to see the destruction for themselves. Destruction caused by Ty McKinnon. I’m sure you found an adequate place.”
“There were more people here on Saturday than today,” said the rancher. “Both days I had to park my wagon here on the street. And I didn’t give you permission to stand on it.”
Miller ignored him. “Now I hear that McKinnon wants to build an opera house.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Judging from the numerous pleased expressions, Camille decided most folks liked the idea.
Miller frowned at the reaction. “An opera house is just another name for a variety theater. If McKinnon has his way, before you know it, we’ll have indecent theatrics right here on Main Street.”
“You ever been to an opera house, Miller?” asked city councilman Tom Carmichael.
“Of course not. McKinnon’s partner is Red Mulhany. We all know what a fine upstanding citizen he is.” He sneered at Mulhany. “A saloon owner who brings indecency to our fine city.”
“I apologized to my neighbors for that mistake,” said Mulhany. “Don’t forget that the ordinance Mayor McKinnon and the current city council passed sent them skedaddlin’ out of town.”
“And has kept others from stopping here.” Sheriff Starr walked through the crowd toward Miller. Camille noted with amusement that the people moved out of his way without hesitation. “You’ve done enough speechifying for today.”
“I most certainly have not. Willow Grove needs to realize how corrupt and irresponsible McKinnon is. He’ll ruin this town—if he doesn’t burn it down first.”
“That’s enough, Miller. Climb down from that wagon or I’ll haul you down myself.”
“You can’t make me stop. Free speech is an American right.”
“Disturbing the peace is an American wrong. I’ve had three complaints about you already this morning from the proprietors of these businesses, and one from the owner of this wagon. Next time you want to sling mud, do it in front of your own store.”
Grumbling, Miller climbed down from the wagon. “My store is at the end of the street. I need to be where I can talk to more people.”
“There’s an empty storefront right over there,” said Starr, pointing to a vacant building nearby. “Fork over the extra rent so you can move up here.”
“What about the others who lost their businesses last night?” asked Miller. “They should receive recompense from McKinnon since the fire was his fault.”
Camille gritted her teeth. She could barely refrain from marching up to the windbag and slapping him.
“Don’t pretend to be concerned about me, Miller.” Jake Forrester scowled at him. “Everyone knows you’d like to ride me and every other saloon owner out of town on a rail. But to set the record straight, I had insurance. I’ll start rebuilding in a week or two.”
“What about the shoemaker? Did he have insurance?” Miller’s arrogant demeanor was disgusting.
“I am a tailor, not a shoemaker.” Schroeder’s disdainful glance spoke volumes about what he thought of the other man’s clothing. “I do not have insurance.”
“There you have it. A man ruined by McKinnon.”
“No, you’re wrong,” said Schroeder. “Mr. McKinnon has already given me more than enough to replace everything that was lost and to start over. Would you have done the same?”
Miller sputtered. “I wouldn’t have caused a fire in the first place.”
With that comment, the crowd dispersed. Camille didn’t think Miller had won any votes. Still, the audacity of trying to blame the fire on Ty infuriated her. Half the businesses in town had a lantern of some type hanging outside their door. They provided light for people walking down the boardwalk in the evenings and served as a beacon when the stores were open.
Camille decided to stroll to the end of the street to see if Harvey Miller’s business had a lamp outside the door. Sure enough, it did. Closer inspection revealed that it wasn’t fastened to the wall as securely as it should have been. It wouldn’t take much of a bump to knock it down.
Her ire rose with every step back to the Gazette. She stormed into the office, ready for battle.
Mr. Hill took one look at her and laid down his pen. “What has you so riled up?”
“Harvey Miller.” She jerked the long hatpin from her hat and plucked the fancy creation of spring silk flowers from her head. Poking the pin back in it, she set it on the corner of her desk. “He’s trying to blame Ty for the fire.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“He says Ty was negligent by having a lantern hanging from the eaves. He was spouting off about how Ty could have burned down the whole town.”
A gleam lit the old newsman’s eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Write an editorial. Point out the absurdity of his accusations. Miller’s whole campaign is based on smearing Ty.”
“Good point. You should mention that.” Hill leaned back in his chair, obviously enjoying their exchange and her fervor.
“He doesn’t have any good ideas for improving Willow Grove.”
“Close the saloons.”
“True.” Camille paced around the room. “That would be an improvement, but half the other businesses would go under without the ranch trade. I doubt he could get the city council to go along with it.” She sat down in the chair behind her desk. “It seems to me that a man needs more than one issue to campaign on.”
“He should, but it’s not too unusual. I don’t think Ty has anything to worry about from Miller. Ty has done an excellent job as mayor and folks know it.”
“Would it be wrong for me to write something?”
“No. I think we’re in agreement about who is the best candidate. We’d be remiss if we didn’t bring Miller to task on his mudslinging. Things haven’t been done that way in the past around here. I think most folks don’t want it to continue.”
She spent a good part of the day composing her editorial, scribbling thoughts that seemed perfect until she re-read them. After tossing out sentences, even paragraphs, she decided it was the best she could do. Still, she read it through one last time.
With less than three weeks left until the election, mayoral candidate Harvey Miller can’t seem to climb out of the mud. Though he slings it left and right, he only sinks deeper into the mire. In his latest tirade, he had the audacity to blame his opponent, Mayor Ty McKinnon, for Monday’s fire. He proclaimed to the small crowd gathered around his impromptu stage—someone else’s wagon—that McKinnon’s negligence caused the fire and could have burned down the whole town.
What was this grave negligence on the mayor’s part? He had a lantern hanging from the eaves of the livery to illuminate the way into the wagon yard. Normally, no person or vehicle would come close to it. It took the unusual circumstances of a large wagon load of buffalo bones with a wayward rib at the top to do the damage.
It is true that two other businesses were destroyed in the blaze. The losses at the Silver Dollar Saloon were covered by insurance. McKinnon is completely taking care of all costs incurred by Mr. Schroeder, the tailor. This was agreed upon right after the fire, long before Miller declared that McKinnon should be held liable.
Though Miller wanted his listeners to think he was concerned about the victims of Monday night’s fire, it was obvious that he merely wanted McKinnon to pay for the damages. He held no sympathy for McKinnon in the total destruction of his livery.
Instead Miller declared that the mayor did not care for the people of Willow Grove, that he only wanted to take over the town. How did he reach this preposterous conclusion? He pointed to McKinnon’s successful businesses as proof that the mayor was only interested in himself.
This reporter is fairly n
ew to the town, but I have been told by numerous people that the McKinnon Livery was a much-welcomed addition. It was obvious this morning by the overflow of vehicles from the remaining wagon yard that it is needed. I personally can attest to the benefit of the stage line, since that is how I came to Willow Grove. But Miller believes that neither of these enterprises have anything to do with serving the people of Willow Grove.
Which begs the question—how does Harvey Miller propose to serve Willow Grove if he is elected mayor? As far as I can tell, he has campaigned on one issue, closing the saloons. But if he were successful at that, would he simply sit back and do nothing else to improve our city? Perhaps Miller spends all his time and energy attacking his opponent because he has nothing of substance to offer Willow Grove.
As for the safety of our town, the lantern mount hanging outside the door of Miller’s business is badly in need of repair. No wayward buffalo bone would be required to dislodge it from its precarious perch. A tall cowboy or a lady with a parasol would do.
She handed it to Mr. Hill, waiting impatiently as he read through it.
“Good job.” He handed it back to her. “Give it to Brian to set the type. Then we’ll sit back and see if it does any good. I don’t expect Miller to come up with any new ideas. He doesn’t have the intellect for it.” He grinned and leaned back in the chair. “If nothing else, it will give folks something to chew on. Might even sell a few extra papers.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Friday evening, the editorial was the talk of the town when Ty and Camille took the kids to the train depot to welcome Cade and Jessie home.
As Ty had anticipated, Cade inspected him carefully, then gave him a big hug. “You just about scared the daylights out of us with that telegram,” he said gruffly. “I was all set to come home the next morning until we heard back from Quint.”
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