Lassoing the Deputy

by Marie Ferrarella

  “It’s not white,” she protested in surprise.

  This was her first preview of the wedding dress. She’d obviously assumed that Miss Joan would be wearing the traditional white wedding gown. Instead, while very pretty, the dress that Olivia was fussing over was street length and beige. A network of lighter beige lace covered a slightly darker-colored layer of satin. Alma anticipated that Miss Joan would look stunning in it.

  “Neither am I,” Miss Joan piped up, then clarified, “if you’re talking about white standing for purity. This isn’t my first time at the dance, you know,” she informed the other women. And with that, she thought she’d brought an end to the subject.

  She should have known better.

  “Why, Miss Joan,” Olivia cried, tongue in cheek, “You’re making us blush.”

  “Ha,” Miss Joan declared. “And that’s meant for the lot of you,” she told them. She was sitting as still as she could while Tina circled around her, curling various sections of her hair until she was satisfied with the outcome. “There shouldn’t be a blusher in the bunch, seeing the men you’ve all picked out to go through life with.”

  The reference made Alma stiffen a little. For her, it acutely brought home the fact that her days with Cash were numbered. He’d said nothing to contradict her assumption—an assumption he actually confirmed—that he was leaving once his grandfather was safely strapped into his seat on the plane bound for Maui.

  “You’re slipping, Miss Joan,” Alma said, trying to sound upbeat. “That doesn’t apply to me.”

  Miss Joan gave her a long, penetrating look. “We’ll talk after I get back with my man from that honeymoon your man is sending us on.”

  It was the woman’s wedding day, so Alma didn’t bother to contradict her again, but in her heart she felt that she’d just witnessed history being made. Miss Joan—the woman who had never been known to be wrong—was wrong in her assessment that she and Cash were a couple and wrong in her assumption that they were going to go through life that way.

  She might love Cash with all her heart—there was no point in denying it—but he would never be her man. That was something she could feel deep down in her gut.

  *

  “WELL, THEY DID IT,” CASH said, equal parts relief and disbelief echoing in his voice.

  The five-piece band Eli had gotten together for the reception was playing something slow and melodic after bringing the walls down with their first four numbers. Before he realized what he was doing, Cash had taken Alma by the hand and led her onto the dance floor that he and Alma’s brothers had labored to finish in time.

  He had his arm around her waist and her hand tucked into his as he pressed it against his chest. They were swaying in time to a song whose title escaped him.

  Not that he was really trying to remember.

  He was still very much focused on the fact that the wedding had actually come off without a hitch. He felt a great deal of pride in having had a hand in that.

  And, he marveled not for the first time, he had never seen his grandfather looking so incredibly happy before. This had to be what he had been like as a young man, Cash surmised. Harry was certainly behaving as if the years had magically melted away from him, leaving in its wake a man in the prime of his life.

  At least for today.

  “Yes, it all went really well, thanks to you,” she reminded him. She saw the protest hovering on his lips and talked quickly to silence it. “If you hadn’t talked her down, Miss Joan would have bolted, taking the next bus out of here.” Her eyes met his. “I think you know that.”

  Cash refused to take credit for that. “She would have come to her senses.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Her eyes hadn’t left his. “Fear makes people do funny things,” she said pointedly.

  Her words echoed in his head for a moment and he looked at her. Was she talking about him, or was there something more to her words?

  “Are you speaking from experience?” Cash asked.

  “No, from observation,” she countered. Alma paused for a moment, taking in a long breath.

  Okay, here we go, opening a door, she told herself. Out loud, she said, “You know you can always tell me anything, right?”

  “Yes, I know.” Swaying with her like this was beginning to unravel him. He was grateful that they were out in front of everyone so he couldn’t act on his emotions. “I also know that I can be quiet around you, that neither one of us has to say a word and it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels comfortable,” he concluded.

  That was his way of telling her to back off, Alma thought.

  Since this was Miss Joan and Harry’s wedding day, she had no choice but to do exactly that for now. She wouldn’t say anything that might escalate into a scene and ruin this day for two people she cared about.

  But this wasn’t the end of it.

  She had no intentions of backing off and giving up. Her plan was the complete opposite. She intended to keep at him until he finally let her into his inner sanctum and she could help him get over whatever it was that he needed to put behind him. She didn’t care how long it took or what she had to do, but she was determined to bring Cash back to the land of the living.

  Another slow song began a beat after the last one ended. The band was probably tired, but she didn’t care. It gave her an excuse to stay in his arms a little longer and there was no place she would rather have been.

  Well, maybe one other place, but he was included in that, too, she thought with a secret smile.

  As a counterbeat to the music, a distant rumble resounded.

  Picking her head up from his shoulder, Alma looked in the direction the thunder had come from. They’d been on the verge of a storm all day and although they still dearly needed rain, Alma had kept her fingers crossed that if it was coming, the rain would hold off until after the reception.

  The sky had cooperated only for the actual wedding ceremony, clearing up long enough for the bride to walk down the makeshift aisle to the even more makeshift altar where Harry, resplendent in the tuxedo Cash had bought for him, stood waiting for her and beaming brighter than a lighthouse beacon.

  Reference to that effect were actually Miss Joan’s first words to her husband-to-be when she reached the flower-laced altar.

  “Stop grinning like some damn village idiot, Harry,” she’d hissed.

  “Can’t help it,” he’d answered loud enough for half the gathering to hear. “I’ve never seen you looking this beautiful before.”

  She made the same dismissive noise she’d made in her bedroom that morning, but it was obvious to anyone who was watching that Harry’s compliment pleased her beyond all words.

  Alma scanned the sky now. Twilight slowly spread its cloak around the town. “That doesn’t sound promising,” she said.

  “Hasn’t rained here so far this summer,” Cash pointed out. “Odds are it probably won’t now.”

  “You know it hasn’t rained here?” she asked.

  He could tell what she was thinking. That she’d just assumed he’d divorced himself from everything that had to do with Forever.

  “No law against my following the local weather reports,” he told her.

  “Just surprised that you would, that’s all,” she admitted. “Seeing as how you haven’t been back even once in all this time.”

  “Couldn’t,” he replied, avoiding her eyes. “Too much work to do.”

  “In ten years, you couldn’t find even a few days?” she asked incredulously. That certainly didn’t seem possible. Nobody worked that hard, not without some serious consequences.

  So much for quietly dropping the subject. Cash looked at her. In the background, the song the band was playing was softly fading away.

  “Seriously?” he asked her. “You want to fight now? Here?”

  “I’m not fighting,” Alma contradicted, trying very hard not to let her temper climb. “I’m just asking a question.”

  The song over, he released her. Alma obviously waited for
an answer. Cash blew out an impatient breath.

  “All right, then, I’ll answer that question. I couldn’t find the time because I was laying down the groundwork for my future—or thought I was,” he said with frustration.

  She didn’t quite understand the tension in his voice. What wasn’t he saying? “But you weren’t?” she asked.

  It was far too complicated to get into now even if he wanted to—and he didn’t. All he wanted to do was just enjoy this last bit of time alone with her. Tomorrow, he’d be gone. He had to be.

  If he stayed, it was simply a matter of time before he made love with Alma again—and again. And his feelings about that hadn’t changed. It wouldn’t be fair to her. He wasn’t free to love her the way she deserved to be loved: completely and honestly.

  He had no right to be happy and he had no right to bring her down with him, so the only solution was for him to leave. But he didn’t want to talk about any of that, not now. He wanted to pretend, for a few hours longer, that everything would work itself out.

  “Put your head against my chest, shut up and dance,” he instructed as the band began to play again. It was a country song about having regrets. He couldn’t help thinking how appropriate that was.

  Deciding to lighten the mood and table the discussion for now, Alma said, “You had me at ‘put your head against my chest,’ but you nearly lost me at ‘shut up.’ The dance part is weighing in a little more on the first side,” she said.

  Cash laughed shortly as he shook his head. “You are definitely one of a kind, Alma Rodriguez.” His arm closed around her waist and he brought her closer to him. His body heated accordingly. He didn’t care. Tomorrow this would be in the past. And so would she.

  He blocked the ache that was taking root in his heart. “Sometimes I forget just how really unique you are.”

  “There’s a remedy for that,” she quipped.

  He held her to him, moving in time to the tempo. “We’ll discuss that later,” he promised, knowing that for them, there would be no later. She would thank him for that—in another forty years or so.

  As the band continued to play, Cash closed his eyes and let himself go. Just for the smallest moment, he allowed himself to pretend that he had never left Forever. That he hadn’t become a criminal lawyer with an incredible track record for winning cases, but had stayed right where he was, becoming a rancher. That he spent each day breaking in quarter horses and battling Mother Nature. It was a damn sight better than having to battle his conscience.

  Because there was no winning in that case.

  Thunder rumbled, more loudly this time, causing the band to momentarily stop playing. It was obvious that they were debating running for shelter with their instruments, just in case.

  One beat after the thunder crashed, the sky suddenly lit up, looking as bright as day as a long, jagged bolt of lightning creased its brow, touching down not more than a couple of miles away from where they were standing.

  “That was almost too close for comfort,” Alma said as the band hesitantly began to play again.

  Alma had just laid her head against his chest again and begun to sway once more to the music when she felt Cash suddenly stiffening.

  Puzzled, she raised her head and looked at him quizzically.

  “My guess is so’s that,” he said, confusing her even more.

  He was pointing to something over her head and off in the distance. When she turned to look, she saw exactly what he was referring to.

  A thick column of black smoke, pushed ever upward by orange-yellow flames, was reaching into the very same sky that the lightning had brightened only moments ago.

  And then someone cried something that everyone lived in fear of every day.

  “Fire!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The mood at the reception transformed from joyous to alarmed and anxious. Everyone knew the threat of an uncontained fire. There wasn’t a person among them who hadn’t either gone through the devastation that a fire generated or knew someone who had.

  The moment the cry of “fire” was heard, approximately one-third of the people there ceased being wedding guests and became active members of Forever’s all-volunteer fire department.

  Like so many other small towns around the country, Forever couldn’t support an official fire department. Instead, the town relied on volunteers, residents of Forever who gave up one to two days a month to train how to fight fires as conscientiously as any professional firefighter. They did it so that if the need actually arose, they would be prepared.

  Rick Santiago did double duty, serving as both the sheriff of the town and the fire chief.

  The new bride and groom were as horrified and concerned as everyone else about the possible consequences of the blaze they saw.

  “We need to do something,” Miss Joan cried, clasping Harry’s hand.

  Overhearing, Cash said, “What you need to do is go to the airport and get on that plane so you can start your honeymoon.”

  “We can’t leave at a time like this,” Harry protested.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be handled,” Alma assured the couple. She saw the stubborn look that entered Miss Joan’s eyes. “Dad, could you do everyone a really big favor and drive these two kids to the airport before their good intentions get them in trouble?”

  Miguel nodded. “I can do that. C’mon, you two,” he said, placing himself between the couple and taking each by the elbow. “When she starts to talk like that, there’s no winning with her,” he said with feeling. “So don’t even try.”

  Relieved that all three would be out of harm’s way, Alma turned back to what was going on.

  Rick had stepped up and was calling for the others who volunteered regularly with him.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” he shouted above the din of anxious, concerned voices. “We’ve got to get down to the fire station and get rolling before that fire starts to spread.”

  As Alma started to run toward the front of the house and the cars that were parked there, Cash suddenly grabbed her arm.

  He had a bad feeling about this. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  She would have thought that was self-evident. “With Rick and the others. To fight the fire,” she added when he continued to stare at her.

  “But it’s not safe,” Cash protested.

  There was no arguing that, she thought, but this wasn’t exactly the time to start weighing the pros and cons.

  “I’m part of the volunteer fire department,” she told Cash. “All the deputies are.” She could see that came as a complete surprise to him. Didn’t he remember what things were like when he lived here? Forever had never had a town-funded fire department. “You’re not in Los Angeles, Cash. We don’t have a regular fire department, remember?” She pulled her arm free of his grip. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to go.”

  He might have let go of her arm, but now Cash was running right alongside her. It was her turn to ask, “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going with you,” he answered simply as they reached the front.

  She stopped and turned toward him, her body blocking his ability to go any farther. “Cash, I appreciate your concern, really,” she said tactfully, “but I’ve had training. You haven’t.”

  “I’ll wing it,” he said, unfazed.

  The way he saw it, if Alma was determined to get into harm’s way, he was just as determined to be there and watch over her as best he could. Being a deputy in a sleepy-eyed town was one thing, but little town or not, fighting a fire was really dangerous.

  At the front of the house Rick, Joe and the town doctor, their most recent volunteer to join up, were dividing up the group, each taking as many people in their cars as they could.

  When he saw Cash coming with Alma, Rick abruptly stopped shouting orders. Coming over to them, it was obvious by his expression that he was questioning Cash’s intentions.

  Cash answered his question before it was asked. “I’m coming with you,” he told the she
riff. “There’s got to be something I can do to help.”

  “Always glad to have another able-bodied citizen along,” Rick said, emphasizing the word citizen.

  Cash didn’t seem to notice as he climbed into Rick’s car, but Alma did.

  *

  THE FIRE STATION, WHERE the volunteers periodically trained, was located on the outskirts of town. Along with training manuals and a makeshift dummy building where they set small fires to practice on, the station also housed a freshly repainted fire truck that had once been used to fight fires in Austin.

  Through his connections Rick had managed to buy the old truck for a song. It had been deemed outmoded and was being shipped out to meet its demise in a junkyard. The truck was in truly bad condition but Rick had become an optimist along the way and he’d had the truck shipped back to Forever. When it arrived, he’d turned the barely running vehicle over to Forever’s only resident mechanic, Mick Henley. Mick performed a miracle or two, raised the truck from the dead and turned it into their first line of defense when it came to fighting the fires that perennially plagued the region.

  Rick drove the truck to the site of the fire. As many of the volunteers as could fit piled into the truck. The rest followed in their own vehicles, or hitched a ride with a friend.

  They didn’t have far to go.

  Lightning had struck Silas Varner’s Hardware Store and the two houses that were on either side of it. The houses belonged to Varner, as well. He lived in one and his widower son, Steve, lived in the other with his little boys. Like his father, Steve put in long hours at the hardware store.

  The store was already half-consumed by the flames, and the houses, both two-story and several decades old, appeared destined for the same fate.

  After bringing the truck to a grinding halt, Rick was the first one on the ground. He began ordering everyone to their posts.

  Because the county water district had refitted all the pipelines beneath the town eighteen months ago, getting water to the source of the fire was not a problem. But whether or not the fire could be put out in time to save anything still remained to be seen.