Wild Fire

by Linda I. Shands

  Her father grinned and rubbed a hand across his brow into his own head of thick, brown hair. “Do you suppose you could fit me in too? I meant to get over to the barbershop before we came, but . . .” His shrug told her he’d forgotten.

  He’d been forgetting a lot of things since Mom had died, like when it was time to get groceries, or take the cat to the vet, or send Aunt Peg a birthday card. Kara had just naturally taken over those chores, as well as the cooking and cleaning, and caring for Ryan.

  If Mom were here, she would have cut their hair a month ago. Kara turned her head so Dad couldn’t see the angry tears that had sprung into her eyes. When she looked up he was walking away.

  “I’m going to lock up out front,” he called over his shoulder. “You’d better get to bed; Colin and Greg will have the string of horses here by mid-morning, and Mark is flying the new cook in around noon. I need you to show her the ropes.”

  Show her the ropes? Kara groaned. They hadn’t done anything in the kitchen yet except brew a pot of coffee. She’d have to spend the morning taking inventory and making lists, when what she really wanted to do was help Colin and Greg get the horses settled.

  She hurried across the big, wood-paneled dining room and through the cluttered kitchen. The shower room was just a few feet from the back door.

  She stepped under the lukewarm spray, and once again her thoughts turned to Colin. Until April, Colin had been a fishing guide in Alaska. But he does seem to know a lot about horses. He was outgoing and friendly. The guests would take to him right away.

  And then there was the new cook Dad had hired. Who was she? Would she be friendly or bossy? All Kara knew was that her name was Anne Lightfoot and she came from the Indian reservation in Idaho.

  The generator turned off just as Kara finished drying her hair. She pulled on the warm flannel shirt over her pajamas and hurried across the narrow strip of dirt. She locked the back door and headed toward her room.

  Moonlight flooded through the dining room windows, illuminating the front deck. A movement caught her eye, and she stepped closer to the window.

  Dad stood with his back to her, his hands clutching the railing, his head bowed. Was he praying or crying? She hesitated. Should she go out there? She shook her head in answer to her own question. There was no way she could comfort him. No one could.

  When will it stop? When will the pain go away? She wanted to shout and stomp her feet. Instead she hurried to her room, crawled between the cool sheets, and pulled the covers up over her head.

  WHEN THE ALARM WENT OFF at 6:45, Kara groaned. It seemed like she had just closed her eyes. She stuffed her head underneath her pillow to block the light streaming through the uncurtained window.

  Get used to it, girl. When the guests start arriving, you’ll be up at 5:00. She forced herself to fling off the covers. “Yikes, it’s cold!” She reached for the warmups from Aunt Peg. She’d almost left them at home—who needed a sweat suit in summer, right? Right. It’s still 40 degrees out there.

  Breakfast was Pop-Tarts, warmed over the fire Dad had lit in the huge fireplace, and lukewarm apple juice. Then Dad promised Ryan he could help with the corral if he’d sit still for a haircut later. After they left, Kara began taking inventory in the cluttered kitchen.

  She picked up paper as she went, stuffing it in cardboard boxes and setting the trash out behind the supply shed. All the glassware, dishes, and pots and pans needed washing, but they should have enough. So far her list boiled down to food items, paper goods, and extra lightbulbs.

  She looked at her watch. Mark was flying Anne in at noon. Colin and Greg should arrive with the horses shortly before that. If she hustled, maybe she could be down at the barn when they came in.

  The day was warming. She changed into jeans and a seafoam green T-shirt. Sneakers for now—riding shoes later, she promised herself, then she settled on the deck to finish out her list of needed supplies.

  Greg and Colin were late, but the charter flight out of Lariat was right on time. Kara tried to stem her curiosity, but as the small bush plane bumped along the landing strip, she tossed her pad and pencil to a log bench on the deck and followed Ryan down the hill.

  Anne greeted them with a smile. “Wakara,” she said softly, “Little Moon. We will be friends.”

  There wasn’t a hint of doubt in her voice, and Kara nodded. Why had she called her Little Moon? Anne held her gaze for a few seconds more, then focused on Ryan, who was bobbing around behind Kara pointing his finger and making gun sounds.

  “Pow, Pow. I gotcha, ya dirty scum.”

  Kara rolled her eyes. “Ryan, cut it out.” She smiled an apology in Anne’s direction and dragged Ryan in front of her. “Too many John Wayne movies.”

  Anne nodded. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and bent to look in his eyes. “You are Ryan, fast and brave.”

  Ryan would not leave her side after that. He dogged their footsteps all afternoon while Kara was trying to show the new cook around the kitchen and storage shed.

  They were so busy, she forgot to listen for the horses. When Colin stuck his head through the door, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Hey, Wakara, what’s up? I thought you’d be waiting at the barn with a pail of grain. That horse of yours is wild! Kept trying to push ahead. I think she knew you were at the end of the trail.”

  Kara grinned. “I’m sure she remembered that trail. It was her favorite last summer.”

  She introduced him to Anne, then looked around the kitchen. “Sorry, I can’t get away right now. Give Lily a treat for me, will you? I’ll be down to brush her later.”

  “No problem.”

  He turned to Ryan. “Where ya been, kid?” He said with an exaggerated drawl. “I been lookin’ all over for ya. What are ya doing in the kitchen with a bunch of women when ya could be outside helping me break in this new rope?”

  Ryan frowned and looked up at Anne. Kara knew he was torn between his fascination with the new cook and his desire to be with Colin. She was just about to order him out, when Anne smiled and nodded toward the door.

  “You will go,” she said. “A stiff rope must be bent to be useful.”

  The boy’s eyes brightened. He hitched up his jeans and swaggered after Colin. More John Wayne. Kara had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

  “A boy of six needs the company of men as much as he needs a mother,” Anne murmured as she bent to inspect the oven in the butane gas stove. “Not so much, a girl just turned fifteen.”

  Kara felt her face flaming and realized she had been staring after Colin.

  She quickly changed the subject. “That thing must be at least fifty years old, but it works, and you don’t have to rely on electricity. Dad doesn’t like to run the generator much during the day. He said he’d fill the butane tank this afternoon.”

  Anne smiled, reached for the cleanser and a brush, and began scrubbing.

  For a few minutes Kara stood and watched, thinking about what she’d write to Tia: Dad said she was in her forties. She looks a lot younger to me. A little on the chunky side, and she’s even shorter than I am! Her hair’s mostly gray, but she wears it loose down her back with narrow braids on the sides. I wonder if mine would look good like that.

  Kara silently admired Anne’s outfit—a purple shirt tucked into black stretch jeans. Her clothes had a crisp, just-ironed look.

  She looked down at her own ratty tennis shoes, faded jeans, and dirt-smudged T-shirt. When she raised her head Anne was watching her.

  “A white fringed blouse and short denim skirt, I think.”

  Kara noticed the stove was now free of grease. Anne had cleaned the entire thing while she just stood there. Way to go, Wako. Her cheeks felt hot. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “For the dance on Saturday,” Anne replied. “The hostess must look her best.”

  “The dance . . . ?” Of course. The first guests would arrive Friday, and Dad had scheduled entertainment for Saturday night. Colin was expected to play
his guitar and run the portable CD player. She was supposed to lead the line dancing. The thought of standing up in front of all those people made her want to throw up.

  Anne’s hand settled softly on her shoulder. “You will do fine.”

  She said it in such a positive tone, Kara almost believed her.

  “I will settle my room now. Your horse has waited long enough, I think.”

  Kara didn’t wait for a second invitation. She grabbed her boots and sprinted toward the barn.

  Lily’s nicker was muffled by a mouthful of hay. The feeder was full. So was the five-gallon water bucket. Someone had spread straw over the hard-packed dirt inside the stall.

  She grabbed a brush from the tack box and slid open the stall door. Ryan skidded to a halt beside her. “Colin made Star a bed too. And one for Dakota. The others have to sleep outside.”

  Lily started and Kara spoke softly, “Easy, girl.” She turned to Ryan. “Slow down. You know you’re not supposed to run in here.” He hung his head and she relented. “Don’t worry about the other horses; they like to be outside, remember?”

  She heard Colin before she saw him. “Ouch. That’s the third time today I’ve banged my head. We’ve got to get more light in here.”

  The huge wooden barn was at least a hundred years old. Solid log beams supported the hayloft, but the wide loading doors weren’t quite as sturdy, and Dad had nailed them shut last summer. Now they stored hay and grain on a platform down below and used the small side door as an entrance. Not great for the horses, but once inside, the stall aisle was roomy, with a line of saddling stations on one side and rows of saddles and tack on the other.

  The housing stalls where Lily, Star, and Colin’s buckskin, Dakota, stayed were at the far end of the aisle.

  “I got a light.” Ryan took off in the direction of the voice. Colin had just come around the corner when Kara saw a flash and smelled sulphur.

  Her skin tingled in a rush of fear, then anger. She was halfway down the aisle before she saw the match was out. Colin had a grip on Ryan’s shoulder. When he saw Kara coming, he stretched out his arm as if to keep her away. “It’s okay, Wakara. I’ve got the matches. Nothing happened.”

  “That’s not the point!” She could hear the fire in her own voice. Cool it. Yelling will just make it worse.

  Ryan was already sniffling as Colin handed the book of matches to Kara.

  “Where did you get these?” Her voice was calm, but she couldn’t keep out the edge of anger. How would Mom have handled this?

  Ryan’s voice was strained. “From the drawer in the kitchen. I’m putting together a survival kit. You got to have matches in a survival kit.”

  Colin’s mouth twitched, and Kara flashed him a warning with her eyes. “In the kit, Ryan Sheridan, not in your pocket. You could have burned down the barn. You know better than to play with matches. Go get washed up for dinner.”

  Real tears flowed down his cheeks. “But I gotta brush Star. Colin said I could.”

  Kara took a deep breath. Just who’s in charge here anyway?

  Colin spoke up. “Better mind your sister. I’ll brush Star tonight.”

  Ryan started to argue, then hunched his shoulders and hurried out of the barn.

  Kara stuffed the matches in her pocket, spun around, and headed back to Lily’s stall. She bent to pick up the grooming brush. When she straightened she felt Colin’s hand on her arm.

  “You okay?”

  Kara forced herself to relax. “Sure, I’m fine. He just could have burned us out is all. What makes me mad is he knows better.”

  Colin grinned. “I remember when I was six . . .” He squeezed her arm. “Don’t worry, you’ll get through it.”

  Easy for you to say. Kara felt an odd mixture of frustration and gratitude over his concern. She moved away, ducked under the stall guard, and began to run the brush over Lily’s neck and back. The mare turned her head and nuzzled Kara’s shoulder. Kara buried her face in the sweet-smelling mane. “Oh, Lily, what would I do without you? You’re the only one who understands.”

  THE NEXT MORNING KARA WALKED with Dad down the hill to the hangar where they kept the Cessna. She waved at Greg and Colin who were setting the last of the poles on the new corral. Colin waved back, but Greg acted like he didn’t see her.

  What’s wrong with him? He’d been like that since after the funeral, and nothing anyone said or did seemed to make a difference. He did his work and was civil when he had to be, but she wondered if she’d ever get her older brother back.

  She handed Dad a thick envelope. “Would you take this letter to Tia for me?”

  “Sure, Sugar Bear.” He kissed the top of her head. “I have to go by the house. Greg said they delivered the new radio, but he couldn’t bring it in on horseback.”

  She watched him back the Cessna out of the hangar and taxi across the bumpy dirt to the harder surface of the runway. She shuddered as she watched the plane leave the ground, bank to the right, and disappear over the top of the ridge.

  What would she do if he didn’t come back? She didn’t want to think about it. She turned away and nearly collided with Ryan.

  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be helping Anne.”

  Ryan frowned. “I wanted to say good-bye to Daddy.” His eyes darkened, and he slid his hand into hers. “He’s coming back, isn’t he, Kara?”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and kept her voice light. “Of course he is, silly. He’ll be back before you know it. Tell you what. Let’s stop by the barn and take Star and Lily some peppermint.”

  “All right!” Ryan dropped her hand and raced toward the barn.

  “Don’t you dare go into that stall until I get there,” she yelled, but he had already disappeared through the narrow door.

  Kara stopped at the tack box to pick out a grooming brush. By the time she caught up with him, Ryan had Star’s halter almost on, but the straps were twisted. The little gelding was tossing his head up and down.

  “One of these days you’re going to get hurt because you won’t listen.”

  “I did too listen. I’m not in the stall.”

  She shook her head. It was true. He had opened only the top doors and was perched on the railing trying to wrestle Star into the halter and keep his balance at the same time. He’d be better off inside the stall. She was about to lift him down and retrieve the tangled halter when a figure stepped out of the shadows.

  “Hey, kid, you gotta grow some to be a bronc rider.” Colin steadied the tottering boy with one hand and gentled Star with the other.

  Kara watched him help Ryan with the halter, his large hands guiding the boy’s smaller ones. No wonder Ryan likes him, she thought. Colin has a lot more patience than I do.

  “Need help with Lily?”

  Even in the murky light, Kara could see the grin in Colin’s eyes. She hoped he couldn’t see her blush. “No thanks,” she said casually, “I’ll manage.”

  They groomed the horses, gave them each a peppermint treat, and turned them out to pasture.

  Kara looked at her watch. “Oh no, it’s almost eleven and I promised I’d help Anne finish cleaning the kitchen.” She expected Ryan to howl about leaving the horses, but Colin intervened again.

  “I’d be much obliged, Miz Sheridan, if Ryan could stay and help me mend the fence.” He lowered his eyes, twisted his hat in his hands, and pasted on a goofy grin.

  Kara didn’t know if she wanted to thank him or sock him in the jaw. Miz Sheridan. Right. Sometimes he acted even younger than Ryan.

  “Just see that he gets back to the lodge in time for lunch.”

  Great. Now I sound like Mom.

  All she wanted was to escape before she made a bigger fool out of herself, but she forced herself to walk instead of run. Why did Colin make her act so weird? She’d never been this uptight around a guy before.

  By late afternoon, the kitchen was spotless, the dining tables were set, and wood smoke trailed from the chimney. The musty smell had been
replaced with the aroma of thick beef stew and fresh-brewed coffee.

  Kara saw the pleasure in her father’s eyes when he entered the room, both arms loaded with supplies.

  “Whooee,” he said, and whistled. “This place has never looked so good.”

  She felt a prickle of irritation. Mom had done a pretty good job of keeping things clean. She’d been a great cook too.

  Greg and Colin followed him through the door carrying a large cardboard box. “This thing’s heavy,” Greg growled. “Where do you want it?”

  “The radio.” Dad answered Kara’s unspoken question. “Put it in the storeroom off the kitchen for now. We’ll get it set up tonight.”

  Kara rushed to hold the door while her brother and Colin lowered the heavy instrument to the floor.

  Colin pulled a wrinkled bandanna from his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his face. “Whew, that thing better work. I’d sure hate to have to haul it back.”

  While they helped unload supplies, Anne poured cups of steaming coffee and handed them around. Dad disappeared again, then came back with a stack of boxes.

  He cleared his throat and handed them to Kara. “Anne said you needed these.” He looked uncomfortable. “I hope they fit.”

  Kara swallowed hard and opened the boxes. Along with a silky white blouse and light blue denim skirt were a pair of soft, white doeskin boots with rounded toes and decorative fringe along the sides.

  “Dad! They’re gorgeous. It’s exactly what I would have chosen. How did you know?”

  He laughed. “Thank Anne. She described what she thought you’d like and wrote down the sizes.”

  “But how could she know?” She looked into the kitchen. The guys were still unloading groceries, but the cook was nowhere in sight.

  Kara didn’t waste any more time thinking about it. “I want to try these on.”

  She put her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him hard. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered. “Be right back.”

  Everything fit. Including the boots. They slid smoothly over her calves and felt soft as velvet against her skin. How could Anne have known? Mom would have known. But she’s not Mom.