“I’m trained for emergencies, and plenty of people pack heat out here.” She grabbed her purse, then turned. “I’m taking the car. You’ll be okay hanging out here until one of us can come get you, won’t you?”
“We’re fine.” He clasped his father’s hand and bowed his head as she parted the curtains to leave. Hurrying to the parking garage, she contemplated the differences among the three brothers. Trey owned his faith. It was clear in his eyes, his countenance, and the folded hands in prayer. Nick tolerated the idea of faith because he was a father and that’s what fathers were supposed to do. Colt fought the idea of handing over his hard-won control to anything or anyone, a true questioner. Three brothers with similar lives, yet so different. Was that normal?
She didn’t know. Her mother had lost several babies, born too soon, leaving her an only child.
She took solace in her faith and comfort in God’s forgiveness.
Fifteen minutes later, when she approached the dark, smoke-filled town of Gray’s Glen, prayer was the first thing she reached for. She wanted that for Colt. Something bigger than man and money to fall back on.
She parked the car in the convenience-store lot above the business district, shoved her hands into gloves, and pulled her hat snug over her head. She might not be able to fight a fire, but she could help with crowd control and public safety. She locked the car door, pocketed the keys, then raced toward the fire.
“Aim that hose there! No left, go left!” The fire chief barked a continuous stream of orders.
Two hose companies from surrounding towns made it into the burn zone, but tree fall blocked others from getting into Gray’s Glen. That meant regular people helped fight the wind-fed fire until more help arrived. Downed trees, branches, and live wires would make access difficult, but Rye sent word that they were focusing on clearing the lower road into town. Until they were successful, it was the people of Gray’s Glen versus a raging inferno. And the people weren’t winning.
“Colt! I need you over here!”
Colt followed Todd Johnson’s voice through the wind-driven smoke. The volunteer firefighter pointed to a pumper set up near adjacent buildings. “Open it full throttle and soak ’em.”
Colt took his place behind two rugged firefighters to help steady the heavy hose. Smoke belched from the burning church. The ornate stained-glass windows he’d admired that morning were gone, all gone. Wind-whipped flames jumped through the air and set a churchyard tree on fire. Within seconds the majestic spruce was engulfed, and the spectacle of the dangerous evergreen torch pushed everyone back to a safer distance as crews sprayed water on the flaming tree.
“Pumper two, pumper two, redirect on church!”
The order came through the firefighter, and the men in front of Colt worked a cooperative pivot to aim their hose at the engulfed church while the crew on the opposite side focused on the tree.
Rancid air surrounded the volunteers. By rights, every one of these people should be in protective masks, but there were none. The extratropical windstorm lunging their way wasn’t cutting them any slack. As of yet, not a drop of rain accompanied the wind.
“We’ve got people in the second house on Chelan Pass!” A firefighter barked the information across the static-filled radio as Colt peered toward his father’s rental properties on Chelan Pass. The smoke was too thick for him to see anything. “Who’s on Chelan Pass? Evacuate! Second house, evacuate!” The wind had shifted direction into a full swirl mode. Flaming embers landed on houses facing the rear of the fully engulfed church.
As a wind shift lifted the smoke around Colt, the church roof made a painful, agonizing groan. And then the tall arched roof crashed to the ground.
Gone. The church he attended with his mother, her hand holding his, now gone. Something inside—his heart maybe—ached to see it.
He shifted his gaze deliberately, fighting the pain. Gripping the hose, he retrained his attention on his father’s rentals, just behind and above the church. When the wind cleared the smoke momentarily, a familiar figure raced past the low-level floodlights and up the steps of the second house on Chelan Pass.
Angelina.
What was she doing here?
He didn’t have to ask the question. He knew the answer. And from what he’d gleaned about her so far, he shouldn’t be surprised. But the thought of her in danger made him want to abandon the hose and race after her.
“Pumper two. We’re back in. Redirect to the perimeter housing.”
From the slightly garbled request, Colt knew they hadn’t been able to save the tree. A quick glance confirmed it. The tree was nothing more than a smoldering caricature of its original self. In minutes, the seventy-foot evergreen had been consumed.
“We’ve still got people on Chelan Pass. Send evacuation crews now!” Todd barked the order into the radio. “We’ve got active fire on Chelan Pass. Active fire on Chelan Pass!”
The twisting wind had carried more than small embers in the last thirty seconds. It took a section of flaming plywood, torn loose by the roof’s demise, and sent it flying onto the porch roof of the second house on Chelan Pass—the house Angelina had just entered.
His heart fought a war within his chest. Had anyone else seen her go into the house? Could anyone spare a man to follow up? Where were the crews from the surrounding towns?
“What do we need most?” a voice behind him asked. “Dad’s in good hands, and a cop gave me a ride back to town.”
Colt turned. Trey was at his side. At that moment, his pesky, God-loving, music-crooning younger brother looked like a gift from God himself. “Take my place. We’ve got trouble on Chelan Pass,” he yelled over the roar of wind and flames. The flood of water pulsing through the thick, heavy hose matched the push of blood through his veins. “I’ll be back.”
Trey stepped in behind him and grabbed hold. The minute Colt felt the weight of the hose lessen, he darted for the narrow neighborhood street cutting diagonally away from the church. He raced up the steps of the now-burning house. The porch roof flamed above him, the wood-seeking fire and gusting wind a formidable pair. He pushed through the door, calling Angelina’s name.
Nothing.
He had no flashlight, but his cell phone did. He swiped it on, yelling as he raced through the bottom four rooms of the dark house, the bright, narrow beam flicking from spot to spot.
Still nothing.
He pounded up the stairs, and as he turned left at the top, Angelina appeared in front of him. “¡Gracias, a Dios! Take this one!” She thrust a small boy at him, then raced back into the room she’d just exited. She came back in quick seconds, pressing a screeching, bawling girl against her chest. “Go!”
He went. They barreled down the stairs as the fire broke through the front wall. The little boy screamed in terror and gripped Colt’s chest fiercely. The girl hadn’t stopped shrieking, but when thick, waving flames licked the walls surrounding the nearest exit, the child went strangely silent. Colt glanced back. Intense fear claimed her face while dancing flames shifted light and shadow.
As they ran down the porch steps, the right-hand support gave way. The thrust of energy nearly knocked Colt off his feet. He turned, grabbed hold of Angelina’s arm, and led them left, away from the flames.
A pumper rounded the corner from the northwest, followed by another. Firefighters jumped down, a mad scramble of organized activity as the roar of burning wood and radioed commands filled the normally quiet air of the sweet, small town.
“I want my mommy.” The little boy in his arms whispered the plea as fire hungrily consumed their home. “I just want my mommy.”
Colt looked at Angelina. She shook her head. She hadn’t found anyone else in the house, but who would leave two small children unattended? He couldn’t imagine such a thing. Tears streamed down the children’s cheeks. Part of him wanted to cry along with them. Parents who couldn’t take the time to be parents shouldn’t have kids. He unzipped his barn coat, hugged the boy close, and pulled the edges of his ja
cket around him. “The evacuation site is the middle school. Let’s get these guys there. You wanna trade up, Ange?” He looked at the little girl in her arms. “My guy’s smaller.”
“We’re good.” Angelina cuddled the crying girl against her. The child’s tears inspired a sheen of moisture in Angelina’s eyes. She didn’t cave, though, and as she held the little girl close, she began crooning an old-time lullaby. They walked through the garish scene of burning buildings and flashing lights toward the only building with light—the generator-powered middle school.
His heart started beating an almost normal rhythm about halfway there. Angelina was safe. The children were safe. Behind them, in spite of the firefighters’ efforts, the house was destroyed within the brief minutes of their walk through town.
Somehow, someway, Angelina and Trey had shown up at just the right time, and they had barely gotten the children out before it was too late. Was it the hand of God or coincidence or old-fashioned “everybody puts their hand to the plow” in times of need?
His mother would have given God credit. After coexisting with thousands of people in New York and knowing almost none of them, Colt put credence in the third option. Western folks stuck together.
But that meant it was coincidental timing that got Trey here in time and put Angelina on site at the critical moment when movement was spotted at the endangered house. Colt had experienced enough in life to believe things didn’t “just happen.” The circumstances that put two tiny lives in their arms caused him to consider the whole God thing might just be at work.
Whichever it was, Colt was mighty grateful for the outcome.
“Bring them in!” Annie McMurty pulled the heavy doors shut behind them as they stepped into the school’s front entrance. She motioned toward the big gymnasium to their right. “We’ve got the emergency supplies set up in here. The Red Cross is on its way to help.” The boy lifted his head from Colt’s shoulder to look at Annie. Annie drew back in surprise. “Oh my word, Angelina, these are the MacDonald kids. They’re Tim and Maura’s youngest, but…” Her voice trailed in question, then stopped. She righted her shoulders and led them across the room to a quieter corner. “I’ll get word to Grandma and Grandpa that Jason and Mandy are here.”
“Thank you, Annie,” Colt said.
Colt read the silent message that passed between the two women. Where were the children’s parents? Why were they alone? Had Angelina somehow missed them in the dark house?
Annie reached out and stroked the little boy’s hair. “Jason, are you hungry? Thirsty?”
Eyes wide, the little boy shook his head, popped a thumb into his mouth, and was sound asleep against Colt’s chest within minutes.
“Mandy? How about you, honey?” Angelina leaned down to see the little girl’s face.
The girl ducked her head against Angelina’s jacket as Annie moved away to make the phone call.
An EMT came their way. He crouched in front of Colt and Angelina. “I need to check these guys for smoke inhalation.”
Colt pulled the sleeping boy closer. “No need. We got them out before the house was engulfed.”
“Doesn’t matter. Where there’s fire, there’s smoke, even if you don’t see it. And protocol. Gotta follow it, Colt, although I expect that still isn’t your strong suit.”
Colt looked closer at the EMT and recognized a high school classmate. “Brian?”
The EMT nodded. “I saw the escape. I’m mighty glad you guys didn’t hesitate or we’d have had a different kind of ending.” He turned to the little girl. “I’ll get vitals on this one first.” He smiled at the girl, reached over to check her pulse, and got a mouthful of sharp teeth on his hand as a result.
“Ow!” Brian snatched his hand away. “She bit me!” He sat back, none too happy, and stared at the girl.
She scowled right back at him. “Mommy doesn’t want strangers to touch me. Go away.”
Brian wordlessly questioned Angelina. “Your choice,” she said quietly. “How badly do you need those vitals?”
“Not as badly as I need all ten fingers,” Brian said. “You’ll need to watch her carefully and let me know if her condition changes—even slightly.” He reached down and gently took the sleeping boy’s pulse while the older sister shot daggers at him with her eyes. “No smoke in the house when you entered?”
Angelina shook her head. “Not at first. I saw movement at a window and realized we had someone in there.”
“So, sweetheart.” Brian squatted low to face the little girl.
“Mandy,” she told him, but she didn’t look any too interested in carrying on a conversation with him or anyone else.
“Mandy,” Brian said.
Colt had to hand it to him. He kept his voice even despite the healthy teeth marks she’d left in his hand. “What were you and Jason doing when the fire broke out?”
She puzzled on that, then made a face. “I don’t know when it broke out, but when I saw the bright lights, we sneaked over to the window to look. And then I saw it.”
“Why did you have to sneak?” Angelina asked softly. “Were you supposed to stay away from the window?”
Mandy hung her head. “Mommy said we were supposed to stay in bed. But when the red and blue lights started flashing, I got up. And then Jason got up. And then we went to the window and looked out.” She lifted her head, her eyes round, remembering. “And then someone started knocking on our door saying, “Everyone out! Everyone out, now!” and I grabbed Jason’s hand and we ran upstairs and hid under Mommy’s bed. I didn’t want the stranger to get us, and Jason doesn’t know about being careful because he’s little. I’m big.”
“So you didn’t hide from the fire, you hid from the stranger.” Her version made sense to Colt.
She sighed. “Well, I was way scared of the fire, then of the guy, then the fire again. I just wanted my mommy to come home.”
Annie returned. “Mom is on her way. She said the kids were asleep when she left to drop her older daughter off for her shift at the diner on County Road 4, and when she started back to town, a downed tree made her take the long way around. By that time the fire had started in the church and the roads were all blocked off. She sounds scared.”
“She should,” Colt began, but Angelina held up a warning hand.
“Single mothers don’t always have the choices others take for granted,” Angelina said.
Colt read her meaning and grunted reluctant assent. Leaving two sleeping children home alone for a ten-minute run to the diner and back probably didn’t seem like such a big deal under normal circumstances, but normal had turned deadly in the space of minutes today.
A short time later when Maura MacDonald charged through the south-facing doors, the anguished look on her face helped defuse Colt’s anger. Yes, she’d made a grievous mistake, but she’d learned her lesson—the hard way.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.” Red-eyed, she cuddled Mandy while Jason slept soundly snuggled in Colt’s arms. “With Tim deployed, I do double duty. But that’s no excuse for leaving them while I took Nicki to work. What was I thinking?” Tears flowed again.
Angelina’s expression was one of compassion. “You were probably thinking that it would be nice to get six straight hours of sleep now and again. Annie said you worked the overnight at the hospital last night.”
“Being tired is no excuse for being stupid when it comes to the safety of my children.” Maura swiped a hand to her face. “Tim is going to be so upset by all this.”
“Maybe.” Colt touched Jason’s soft hair. “But he’s mostly going to be glad you’re all okay. The kids are fine; houses can be rebuilt.” He stood and handed the toddler off to Annie. “I’ve got to get back out there. When it’s time to rebuild, we’ll be there to help, Mrs. MacDonald. You have my word on it.”
Angelina tugged on her coat, hat, and gloves as they walked to the door together. Colt held it open, and when she stepped through, he slipped an arm around her shoulders, p
ulling her close. It didn’t feel nearly close enough because he was pretty sure his heart nearly stopped beating when she ducked into that burning building less than an hour before. “I could have lost you tonight.”
“Colt.”
He pulled her into the shadow of a small spruce grove. He knew they didn’t have much time, but she needed to understand the depth of his emotion, and he had every intention of telling her. “I stood there, holding that hose, knowing I couldn’t let it go, and watched you run into a burning house. For the first time in a long time, I had to put my trust in something other than myself.”
“I’m trained to do dangerous things,” she began.
“Yes. But not when I’m watching.”
Amusement softened her mouth. Her very pretty, kissable mouth. Close. So close…He shifted his arm to hold her a little tighter, but she was still too far away for his liking.
“I had to hurry, so I did.” She searched his face and seemed to take comfort in what she saw. “I knew you’d come. When I saw that porch roof flaming and smelled the smoke curling beneath the windows, I knew you’d be there. And you were.”
He hugged her close, the feel of her knit hat and soft hair pressed against his neck. And then he had no choice, none whatsoever. He shifted back slightly. Her eyes met his, and he didn’t hesitate or wonder if he should ask permission. He dipped his head and caught her mouth in a sweet, slow kiss, a kiss he’d been waiting for all his life.
Time stopped.
It couldn’t stop, not really, because they were needed back at the fires, but it seemed to stop, as if to block out all the old and ugly as long as he was kissing Angelina. When he finally broke the kiss, he kept her close, wanting to protect her and keep her safe from harm.
Of course she’d probably shoot him for saying that, so he kept it to himself, letting actions speak louder than words.
“We have to go,” she said.
“I know.” He released her, but not before he pressed soft kisses to her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead. “I know.”
Back in the Saddle Page 16