by Kim Redford
Vehicles took up much of the parking area, mainly in the section close to Old Town, but Trey slipped into a spot near the front of the school and switched off the engine of his truck.
“Great.” He pointed toward the building with the chili sign. “That’s the cafeteria, and somebody’s already got a sign up.”
“I’m impressed. We’ve gotten such huge support for the benefit.”
“That’s Wildcat Bluff.” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go. We’ve got a benefit to put on.”
While he got out, she tugged her cell phone from a back pocket. Cindi Lou had texted “Break a Leg!” Misty chuckled at the old Broadway phrase for encouragement. She put her phone back and checked to make sure she had keys and lip gloss in her front pockets. Despite her earlier vow, she hadn’t brought a purse since she doubted there’d be a place to put it during the chili cook-off.
Trey opened her door with a big smile on his face. She stepped down into the afternoon’s hot sunshine and dry air. Country Christmas music, children’s high-pitched voices, and the rumble of vehicles drifted over from Old Town.
“All set?” He gave her a quick hug, then gestured toward the school.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
They walked hand in hand into the cafeteria, a large room filled with tables and chairs. In one corner students had decorated a Christmas tree with old-fashioned red-and-green construction paper chains, popcorn strings, and candy canes. Children’s crayon drawings on construction paper of cows wearing green wreaths, horses decked out with red-and-green holly, and wildcats pulling Santa’s sleigh piled high with colorful packages were attached to the walls.
Slade walked out of the kitchen area wearing a large white apron over ripped jeans, tie-dyed T-shirt, and black boots. He gestured them toward the back of the building.
Misty hurried forward, suddenly feeling anxious about the event. What if nobody brought chili entries or came to participate?
“Ran over after I finished up at the café,” Slade said. “Looks like you’ve got a winner on your hands.”
“Really?” She walked up to a row of tables near a wall. At least three dozen Crock- Pots in various shapes and sizes filled the tables. “Folks actually brought chili. What a relief.”
“No way would folks miss out on chili,” Trey said.
“That’s the truth.” Slade chuckled in his deep voice.
Trey cocked his head at Slade. “That Morning Glory’s work?”
Slade glanced down at the red-and-green patterns on his T-shirt. “She swears she was inspired by the Ghosts of Christmas Past. And I had to wear it to ensure the success of our benefit.”
“Pays to stay on Morning Glory’s good side,” Trey said. “She knows what she knows.”
Misty held up her pendant. “She gave this Christmas angel to me.”
“Good thing you’re wearing it,” Slade said, chuckling. “We ought to be in good shape now.”
Trey smiled and nodded in agreement.
Misty walked down the line of entries. People had handwritten or printed out their names with the titles of their entries and taped them on the front of their Crock-Pots. She read aloud from a few of the entries. “Bison Bliss. Turkey Fire. Not-for-the-Faint-of-Heart Venison. Pseudo Possum Pleasure.”
“That’s vegan,” Slade said. “Nobody in their right mind would eat possum.”
“Yep,” Trey agreed. “Nasty, greasy stuff.”
“Sounds like you’ve eaten it,” she teased.
“Word of mouth only,” Trey quickly explained.
“Good entries.” Slade gestured at the pots. “Looks like we’ve got chicken, beef, rabbit, quail, goat, and pork, too.”
“That’s amazing.” She glanced from Trey to Slade. “And we’re going to be tasting all these?”
“That’s the plan,” Trey said.
“Yum,” Slade agreed.
“J.P. Gladstone is a judge,” Misty said. “Slade, you met him at Twin Oaks, didn’t you?”
“Yep. And the fancy wife, too.”
“Hedy’s our other judge.” Misty glanced toward the front door. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
“I checked the kitchen,” Slade said. “Staff’s got minced onions, grated cheddar cheese, sour cream, chopped tomatoes, and shredded iceberg lettuce in the coolers ready to go.”
“That’s great.” Misty walked down the line of tables to the end, where a row of wooden trophies with gold trim sat waiting to be claimed by winners. She picked up one and read, “Wildcat Bluff Chili Cook-Off Winner.”
“Nice job, huh?” Hedy called as she zoomed up to the tables, letting the front door slam behind her.
“Looks wonderful.” Misty set down the trophy. “Everybody really pulled together to make this happen. I’m so appreciative.”
“That’s the way we roll in Wildcat Bluff.” Hedy laughed as she rolled back and forth in her wheelchair to make her point.
Everybody joined her laughter.
“And I’d like to announce that some special someone anonymously donated six animal oxygen kits to fire-rescue,” Hedy said.
Trey and Slade whistled while Misty clapped her hands.
“Misty, don’t guess you’d know anything about that, would you?” Hedy raised an eyebrow in question.
“Only that I’m really happy about it.”
Trey slanted a glance at Misty, and then he grinned big-time.
“Hey!” a deep male voice called as the front door opened and slammed shut. “You didn’t start the chili judging without me, did you?”
Misty waved J.P. forward. “You’re right on time. Where’s Charlene?”
“Where else? Shopping on Main Street.” He guffawed at his own joke as he joined them. He raised a lid, sniffed, and set it down again. “Smells good.”
“Guess there’s no reason not to get started judging, is there?” Misty glanced around the more experienced group.
“I’ll get plastic spoons and small cups from the kitchen,” Slade said.
“We’d better all get a bottle of water, too,” Trey added. “It’s gonna be hot.”
“I’ll get the water,” Misty said. “I want to make sure we’ve got corn chips.”
“Looks like the staff filled your list,” Slade said. “But it’s best to check yourself. There’s still time to pick up any missing items.”
As Misty started to enter the kitchen, she thought of the little kitten. While they were having fun and eating great food, he was struggling to stay alive. “Slade, I’ll be there in a moment.”
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and stepped to one side. She hit speed dial for the vet’s office. When she heard Sue Ann’s voice, she spoke in a low tone. “This is Misty Reynolds. I’m checking on the injured kitten I brought in with Trey Duval.”
“Hi, Misty,” Sue Ann said in a cheerful voice. “Thought you’d be at the chili cook-off. By the way, can’t thank you enough for making this benefit possible so all the volunteers and rigs carry animal oxygen kits.”
“I’m not doing much. Fire-rescue really stepped up to the plate.”
“You’re the motivating force.”
“I’m doing my best. I’m getting ready to judge chili right now. First I wanted to check on the kitten.”
“He’s hanging in there. I think he’s going to make it.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news. I’m so relieved for him.” Misty hesitated, and then just blurted out what she wanted to know. “Do you think there’s a chance I could buy the kitten? I’d like to make him part of my life.”
“That’s so kind. I could tell you were attached to him. Tell you what, I’ll check with Slim. I doubt he’d sell—”
“Oh no.”
“But he might give you the kitten since you and Trey rescued the little tyke.”
“Than
ks. I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do. You have a good event. Bye now.”
Misty put her phone back in her pocket as she glanced up. Everyone was watching her. She smiled. “I was just checking up on the kitten hurt in the house fire.”
“How’s he doing?” J.P. asked with sympathy in his voice.
“He’s getting better all the time.” Misty gave everybody a big smile before she headed for the kitchen.
She glanced back over the empty cafeteria. Soon the place would fill with folks ready to eat chili and donate to the cause. She felt a little amazed that she’d been able to do something as important as helping save the lives of animals. And yet, she felt as if her own life had been—if not saved—certainly rescued in Wildcat Bluff. She was happy to give back to the community that had been so generous to her.
Chapter 36
Misty had thought Slade’s chili was extreme until she’d tasted the chili cook-off’s entries. Wildcat Bluff’s residents had outdone themselves in competing for the hottest of the hot. Not only that, but they’d been creative. She’d tasted chili seasoned with jalapeños, tomatillos, onions, garlic, chili powder, and who knew what else in the clear-your-sinuses arsenal of chili verde and five-alarm chili.
Now she felt like a fire-breathing dragon. A single burst of air and she’d probably melt everything in her path. She chuckled at the thought. She took a quick swig of cold water from the bottle she held in her hand. Not that it stopped the burn, but it eased the symptoms.
As the chili cook-off wound down, she stood at the end of the line where folks had helped themselves buffet style. Not much food was left. She’d replenished sweet tea, coffee, and water. Early on folks had swarmed over the chili like ants at a picnic. Now they sat contentedly at tables, eating, drinking, and chatting with each other.
Misty was reluctant to see the benefit end. She’d had a wonderful time. She glanced around the cafeteria. Slade was in the kitchen. Trey had carried out several bags of trash. J.P. had left to find Charlene. And Hedy was off fielding any issues that might arise. Kent, Sydney, Storm, Morning Glory, and Ruby were also working the room, picking up litter, pausing to chat, and making sure the event went as smoothly as possible.
She’d met new people and enjoyed being a chili judge. When she’d handed out the awards, folks had applauded with wild enthusiasm whether they’d won or lost. There’d be photographs of smiling winners in next week’s newspaper. People were even talking about making the chili cook-off an annual event. No doubt about it, the benefit for the Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue animal oxygen kits was a success.
She felt humbled by the outpouring of support by local residents and businesses. Every last bite had been a donation. Large numbers of local folks, along with many out-of-towners, had turned out to pay their five dollars and scarf down the chili and fixings.
She didn’t know how much money had been collected, but she thought there’d be enough to buy plenty of animal oxygen kits with some funds left over for other fire-rescue needs. She felt proud of her small part in making this event happen. Soon animals caught in dangerous situations would stand a much better chance of survival in this county.
All in all, she’d discovered she liked everything about Wildcat Bluff. She could never have imagined that change of heart back in Dallas. Small town. Country folks. Cowboy firefighters. Who knew they lived such wonderful, warm, fulfilling lives? And were such generous people? If she were stranded on a desert island, these were the folks she’d want with her—and in particular a cowboy named Trey.
She felt an itch between her shoulder blades that meant somebody was watching her. She turned around, expecting to see Trey. Instead, J.P. and Charlene walked toward her. Both were turned out in their usual Texas chic. She’d yet to see Charlene in anything other than skirts and high heels. Most people at the event had dressed comfortably casual with cowboy boots.
“What a fabulous event.” Charlene smiled with plump, crimson lips. “Just had to stop by and tell you so.”
“Thank you. Glad you could join us.” Misty glanced at J.P. “And you made a great judge. I needed your expertise in making decisions.”
“I’ve whipped up a batch of chili or two in my time.”
“He’s being modest,” Charlene said. “He’s won numerous awards for his chili.”
“Guess it’s a good thing for the winners you didn’t enter the contest,” Misty teased with a smile.
“Lots of fine competition,” J.P. said modestly.
“Well, we’re heading out,” Charlene added, “so just wanted to thank you.”
“Appreciate your support.” Misty wished she’d been able to warm to the couple, but there was just something about them that left her cold.
“Glad to help out.” J.P. turned to go.
Charlene hesitated, then stepped closer. “I was just wondering. Did you ever hear how that fire got started?”
“The Texas Timber tree farm?”
“I guess that’s the one.”
“Doubt they’ll ever know for sure.” Misty glanced from one to the other, wondering at their interest. But the fire had probably been the talk of the town.
“That’s the way of fires,” J.P. said.
Misty nodded. “See you back at Twin Oaks.”
As the couple walked away, Misty still felt as if she were missing something about them. She glanced down at Charlene’s shoes. High heels. Misty felt her breath catch in her throat as she thought back to Trey’s pasture and the heel imprints. What about the tissue with a smear of what she now realized looked like Charlene’s shade of crimson lipstick? No, surely not. They were simply a nice couple on an antique buying trip. And then she had another thought. At Christmastime? Wouldn’t they be selling, not buying? Now that she’d turned her mind in their direction, she realized somebody staying at the B&B could have easily picked the lock and searched her room. And they drove a van that could be used to haul accelerant instead of collectibles. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
Maybe she’d eaten too much chili to think straight, but she couldn’t deny the long list of coincidences. Had the corporate saboteurs been right under her nose this entire time? Yet she had no actual proof and the official investigation could take weeks if not months to complete and then it might not help much. But she felt excited, as if she’d finally taken a major step in solving the crimes. First, she wanted to run her idea by Trey.
There wasn’t much more she needed to do here. The cafeteria staff would finish up. She emptied her water bottle in one long gulp and tossed it in the trash. She glanced around for Trey. And there he was. She felt her heart speed up at the sight of her very own good-looking cowboy firefighter.
“Hey,” Trey called. “You ready for our hayride?”
As she looked at him, she felt sudden longing in her heart for a little girl with long, dark hair dancing in cowgirl boots.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter 37
After they said their good-byes, Trey tucked Misty’s hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her outside. Night had fallen and a big yellow moon rode across the heavens as if ready to illuminate the way for Santa Claus and his reindeer. Blue lights twinkled in the trees, country music drifted from Old Town, and the scent of evergreens filled the soft evening breeze.
Mystical and magical, as always. Yet Trey had never enjoyed the season more, despite the fires and cut fence. He glanced at Misty. He knew who’d made this Christmas special for him. He pulled her closer against his side as they walked down the sidewalk. She smelled like chili and hot peppers. He figured he smelled the same way. And it was a tantalizing aroma. He wondered if she’d taste as hot as she looked at this very moment. Later he’d find out.
He nodded to people heading to their cars, Old Town, or the waiting hayride vehicles. Folks were getting in and out of pickups in the parking lot. They t
alked and laughed as they enjoyed Christmas in the Country.
On the far side of the parking lot, a long line of two-wheel flatbed trailers hooked up to ATVs waited for hayriders. He and his friends had built wood fences with two-by-fours, painted them red and green, and attached them to the trailers. They’d placed sweet-smelling, square-baled hay along the interior sides. Folks could sit on the hay bales, lean against the fence, and see everything along the hayride route. Christmas lights twinkled in sparkling red and green along the flatbed fences.
Trey could hardly wait to take Misty on a hayride. She’d love the special route and he’d love having her with him.
“Come over here,” Misty whispered, tugging on his arm. “I want to tell you something.”
Surprised, he let her lead him under an oak tree with spreading limbs that was away from the revelers.
“I had an idea about the saboteurs.” She spoke softly so as not to be overheard by anyone.
He leaned closer, anxious to hear what she had to say.
“J.P. and Charlene Gladstone.”
“What!” His initial surprise turned to the realization that her idea was a distinct possibility. “Why do you think it’s them?”
She began ticking off the points on her fingers. “They drive a van that could hide any number of dangerous items like gasoline in cans. They’re staying in a nearby location at Twin Oaks. They’re buying instead of selling during the holidays. And Charlene wears red lipstick and high heels. Those heels may be a fashion choice, but some women wear heels so much their tendons become shortened so they can’t wear a low heel.”
“I didn’t know that.” He nodded thoughtfully as his mind raced down the possibilities.
“Sad fact about high heels. Still, it might explain why she’d wear them in a pasture, if she was there.”
“Pretty slim evidence.” He played devil’s advocate to push her theory.
“I know. But tonight there was something smug about them that set off alarm bells.”