A Very Cowboy Christmas

by Kim Redford

  “Thanks. That’s good to know,” Sydney said.

  “What do you want us to do?” Dune asked, putting an arm around Sydney’s shoulders.

  “If y’all are willing, it’d help most if you stayed up here out of the way with the civilians. Kent and Morning Glory are right behind me. Two boosters ought to do the trick,” Slade said.

  Dune nodded in agreement, although he itched to get into the thick of things, but he wasn’t wearing gear, and he didn’t want Sydney reinjuring her feet, particularly before the Christmas events.

  Trey leaned over from the driver’s seat and lifted a hand in greeting. “We’ll let you know if we need something.” And he took off toward the house.

  Kent pulled up next, and Morning Glory stuck her head out the open window. “Mr. December! You surely do know how to inspire the ladies.”

  Dune didn’t say a word, knowing it was useless.

  “I don’t have time to chat now, but that calendar is pure inspiration,” Morning Glory gushed in an excited voice. “I’m already at work on Mr. December’s favorite scent to sell in my store. The ladies are going to love it!”

  “Later!” Kent called from the driver’s side and tore off down to the burning house.

  “Mr. December now has a favorite scent? I bet it’s yummy.” Sydney couldn’t keep the laughter from her voice.

  Dune gave a big sigh, realizing he might never hear the last of Mr. December. At least he could do something useful, if he couldn’t pump water and roll hose to put out the blaze.

  “What’s this about Mr. December?” Sheriff Calhoun asked.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Dune said. “Please let me borrow your flashlight. I can at least go down and walk the perimeter. Maybe the arsonist finally got sloppy.”

  “I better go with you.” Sheriff Calhoun tapped his flashlight against his leg.

  “What about crowd control?” Dune asked, gesturing toward the vehicles that were arriving and parking across the road.

  “We were bound to get a lookie-loo or two or more,” Sheriff Calhoun said, frowning. “I can call in a deputy, but I’m holding off this close to Christmas if it’s not absolutely necessary. They’ll all be working overtime during Christmas in the Country and Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In.”

  “I doubt I’ll find anything.” Dune held out his hand for the flashlight. “I’ll call you if I see something suspicious.”

  “Okay.” Sheriff Calhoun slapped his flashlight onto Dune’s open palm. “If you find evidence, don’t touch it. Call me.” He tapped his front pocket with the outline of a cell phone.

  “Will do.” Dune turned to Sydney. “I won’t be long.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Please don’t take a chance with your feet, because too many people are depending on you for the drive-in.”

  “He’s right,” Hedy agreed. “Stay here and out of the action for once in your life. Anyway, if I’m doing it, you can do it.”

  “Okay, Hedy,” Sydney agreed. “We can help the sheriff with traffic control, if and when he needs it.”

  Dune set off down the gravel drive before anybody else tried to stop him or come with him. When he got as close as was prudent, he stopped and watched his friends pump and roll. They were trained professionals, and they didn’t need help, because they’d already almost completed a containment area with water despite the erratic wind gusts.

  There wouldn’t be much left in the way of evidence inside the house, not once it was reduced to charcoal, so he decided to look in the surrounding yard. He turned on the flashlight and was rewarded with a powerful beam that he focused on the ground in front of him.

  As he walked forward, he crisscrossed the beam back and forth in front of him. He rousted a cottontail rabbit from its hidey-hole, walked into a clingy spiderweb that he hoped was empty, stubbed his boot on a set of rocks that he realized had been carefully arranged long ago to form a flower bed. He checked here and there, but no matter how hard he looked, nothing appeared out of the ordinary for what had once been the abode of family farmers.

  He also stayed well aware of the fire, looking and listening and ready for action. He heard the hiss and sizzle of water fighting fire while weakened wood beams crackled and fell to the ground, sending out hissing sparks. Firefighters moved in and out, back and forth around the burning structure as if they were part of a choreographed dance in which he was excluded from action. Smoke swirled in waves around him, stinging his nose and mouth with an acrid scent as the wind whipped one way and then another.

  As darkness fell, the security light came on and turned everything into an eerie flat gray with little depth or color. But that very oddness made him notice an object that stood out as unnatural against a natural background. He turned his flashlight on a clump of bushes near the barbwire fence at the far edge of the front yard. He saw red metal that definitely didn’t belong there.

  He hurried over, knelt down, turned his light on the object, and saw a gasoline can. It was old, maybe as old as the house, because it had greasy stains streaked across red flaked paint. He leaned closer and sniffed. He caught the pungent scent of fresh gasoline. The can had recently been used, maybe to start the house fire. He felt a huge upwelling of relief. Maybe they’d finally caught a break. And then he saw something else. A crumpled, dirty green-and-white striped towel had been wedged in beside the gas can. Something about the towel nudged at his memory, as if it was familiar, but he dismissed it, because a towel was simply a towel.

  He stood up, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and called the sheriff.

  “You got something for me?” Sheriff Calhoun answered his cell.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I think you’d better come take a look. And I’d bring a couple of big evidence bags.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  While he waited, Dune looked at the burning house that appeared to be crumpling in on itself with the roof down in the basement, the windows busted or blown out, and the walls simply gone. No doubt about it, fire was fast, so firefighters had to be faster. A containment perimeter had been established now around the structure, so no flames had escaped to nearby pastures. For the moment, all was safe thanks to his friends and colleagues.

  As Sheriff Calhoun approached, the firefighters glanced up and saw Dune with his flashlight trained on something in the bushes. He gave them a thumbs-up, and they responded in kind before they turned back to the fire. He was glad to be part of their team. He suddenly realized that Wildcat Bluff had gotten under his skin in more ways than one. For him, it’d simply started to be home.

  When the sheriff reached him, Dune pointed with the flashlight down at the bushes.

  “Is that a gas can?” Sheriff Calhoun asked as he knelt down to get a closer look.

  “Yes. And it recently had fresh gasoline inside.”

  “Can we be that lucky?”

  “I hope so. After all this time, it’s hard to believe, but maybe so. There’s a towel, too.”

  “A towel makes sense. It was probably used to dry spilled gas on hands or clothes or whatever.”

  “Yeah,” Dune agreed.

  “Hold the light steady.” Sheriff Calhoun put on rubber gloves, reached under the bushes, and gently pulled out the gas can. “It looks old, but serviceable—no cracks or holes or rust.”

  “Why would the arsonist leave it?”

  Sheriff Calhoun carefully put the can in an evidence bag and sealed it. “No idea, unless this was his last stop and he figured the fire would spread and burn any evidence on the can and destroy the towel.”

  “The good news would be that this was the last fire,” Dune said thoughtfully.

  “The better news would be if there’s useable evidence on this can and the towel.” Sheriff Calhoun picked up the towel and bagged it, too.

  “Both would be good,” Dune agreed.


  “Let’s go,” Sheriff Calhoun said, standing up. “I called in a deputy. He’ll take over here while I get these items to the lab.”

  “Sounds good.” Dune glanced up at Sydney where she stood near the Cadillac.

  “Fire’s under control,” Sheriff Calhoun added. “I sent Hedy, Bert, and Bert Two home to get some rest. Lookie-loos are gone. I suggest you persuade Sydney to go home and get some sleep. We’ve got those Christmas events coming up on us fast.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need any more help here?” Dune walked with the sheriff back up to the gravel entryway.

  “Not a bit of it. Trey and Slade will stay to watch what’s left of the fire. Kent and Morning Glory will be on their way home soon, too.”

  “If you’re sure, then I’m going to get Sydney and go home.”

  “Sydney, huh?” Sheriff Calhoun said with a chuckle. “You’re some lucky guy.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  As Dune headed for Sydney’s Cadillac, he did feel lucky—as if he was the luckiest guy in Wildcat Bluff County or, better yet, the luckiest guy in Texas.

  Chapter 33

  Sydney had a lot on her mind, not the least of which was Dune Barrett, as she drove toward Cougar Ranch. She could feel his presence riding shotgun like banked embers ready to ignite. And that was the way she wanted him, all hot and growly and ready for trouble.

  She hadn’t felt like trouble in a long time, but maybe he was right about her. She’d banked her trouble in the way he’d banked his fire. Once the two of them came together, they’d nurtured each other’s flames till they caught fire. Now they were at a place where they fished or cut bait. Truth be told, she didn’t even know how long he’d be in Wildcat Bluff. Could she pin her hopes on somebody who might be here today and gone tomorrow? And yet—no matter what—she wanted to continue building their combined fire till it reached a rip-roaring blaze.

  She exhaled sharply, pushing down her thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for trouble. Now was the time for congratulations all the way around. Firefighters had controlled another fire for the Holloways and obtained evidence this time. The calendar was published and distributed to local merchants. Storm was better and working on her goat-tying skills. Hedy and Bert had finally committed to each other. So much was going so well that she didn’t dare push her luck, although she had high hopes for Christmas.

  And that brought her up to their holiday festivals. In about a week, visitors would start checking into the hotel and motels across Wildcat Bluff. Twin Oaks, the most popular bed-and-breakfast in the county, had a standing waiting list for Christmas. She still needed to drop off calendars to her friend Ruby Jobson, since she’d be hosting local holiday parties, as well as guests, at her estate.

  Sydney didn’t need to be concerned about Christmas in Old Town, since it was a popular event. Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In was still a question mark in everyone’s mind. She’d coordinated with Wildcat Bluff to schedule nonconflicting events such as a morning Christmas parade in Sure-Shot with vintage automobiles and equestrians, all-day vendors inside the drive-in with the auto show, and dusk-till-dawn classic holiday films.

  In addition, she’d set up promotion with online sites, newspapers, rodeos, radio stations, and other targeted platforms. Even so, she felt as if she’d forgotten something, but she’d felt like that for months. Maybe she’d feel that way till it was all said and done. She simply had to accept the fact that once the events got under way, almost everything was out of her control. At that point in time, she’d simply count on individuals and groups knowing and doing their part in the Christmas pageantry.

  Still, was she really down to a single week? She’d been so distracted by so much for so long that only now did reality hit her. She still had more to do, but she was almost out of time.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Dune said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “You’re way too quiet.”

  “My mind’s running ninety to nothing.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s been busy.”

  “But everything happens in a week!”

  “I told you I’d help, and I will.”

  She clenched the steering wheel with both hands.

  “We’ve done a good job. Everything will work out fine.” He turned toward her in his seat. “Look at the calendar. That came off without a hitch, didn’t it?”

  “It did turn out well.” She couldn’t keep from chuckling as she remembered Mr. December fending off the ladies.

  He joined her laughter. “For you, yes. For me, not so much.”

  “You can’t complain about being a hit at the beauty station.”

  “Oh, yes I can.”

  “For a moment there, I thought you might wield that ballpoint pen like a sword.”

  “Truth of the matter, I thought about it.”

  She laughed harder.

  “Go ahead and laugh at me if it’ll ease your tension.” He scooted closer to her across the bench seat.

  She glanced at him, then back at the road, feeling her laughter die away to be replaced by sudden heat. “Laughter’s good, but I know something you do that’s even better.”

  “To ease tension?”

  “That and—”

  “I never did get lucky today, did I?”

  “It seems as if we talked about it a long time ago.”

  “I didn’t forget.”

  “We’re almost at your place.” She came to Cougar Ranch, turned off Wildcat Road, and drove over the cattle guard.

  “You could come inside.”

  “It’s late.”

  “I could show you my Sydney lingerie collection.”

  She smiled at his words as she followed the lane toward the cowboy cabins, feeling torn between going straight home to get a good night’s sleep and following him inside where they could start their own personal fire.

  “I could relax you.”

  “A hot bath would do the trick, too.” She came to a stop beside his dually, trying to set trouble aside to be the practical cowgirl.

  “You owe me a bra.” He leaned over, clasped her thigh, and slowly massaged upward.

  “I do pay my debts, don’t I?” She shivered at his touch, feeling hot and cold all over.

  “Far as I know, that’s always been the case.” He pushed back her hair and pressed a hot kiss below her ear. “I need you tonight.”

  She sighed, knowing she couldn’t resist him—didn’t want to resist him. “I need you, too.”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  She nodded, not needing to say anything else, and turned off Celeste’s engine. As she picked up her purse, Dune got out of the car, walked around to her side, and opened the door with a gentlemanly flourish.

  “Right this way.” He gestured toward his cabin.

  She stood up, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and walked up to the front door.

  “Not locked,” he said behind her.

  She turned the knob, stepped across the threshold, and felt the tension of the long day melt from her shoulders.

  “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  “It’s so cozy,” she said as she glanced around the room bathed only in soft, white light from a single lamp.

  “Small, you mean?”

  “Cozy and comfortable and just right.”

  “I liked it fine till you made me want more.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the easy chair.

  “What do you mean?” She walked over to his dresser, only a few steps in the enclosed space, and turned back to him.

  “I mean,” he said, stalking over to her, “I want to be with you.”

  “We’ve been together almost every day.”

  “Good, but not good enough.” He reached out to her, then dropped his hand. “I’m trying not to go too fast with you, but I can’t help it.”

>   “Fast?”

  He picked up her green slip from the dresser and held it in his hands. “I don’t want just a slip.” He tossed it down and picked up her red panties. “I don’t even want the bra you’re wearing right now.”

  “I don’t understand.” She didn’t know what he wanted from her, but he was making her feel uneasy.

  “None of it’s enough, not anymore.” He tossed her panties back on the dresser. “I want the place where you keep all your underwear. And I want my stuff beside your stuff in the dresser, in the closet, in the nightstand.”

  “Oh.” She caught her breath at the impact of what he was telling her. “That is serious.”

  He reached down, clasped her hands, and lifted them to his mouth. He gently kissed one palm and then the other as he looked into her eyes. “Sydney, I’m serious about you.”

  “I’m getting a little on the serious side myself.”

  “Good. I’m not pressuring you. I just want you to know I’m here for the long haul. I’m looking at Wildcat Bluff as my home.”

  “You’re staying here?” She could hardly believe his words. He wanted to be here. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to get serious. She felt her heart speed up with excitement.

  “If you’re here, I’m here.”

  She swallowed hard, feeling words escape her in the intensity of the moment.

  “If I’m completely off base, tell me, but—”

  “Shhh.” She put a fingertip to his lips. “I think we’re way past words.”

  He gave her a slow smile, revealing his crooked front tooth, as his blue eyes turned dark with desire. “In that case, I changed my mind.”

  “About what?”

  “I want your bra.”

  She smiled as she put a hand to her top button and slowly unbuttoned all the way down her sweater till her white retro bra was exposed to his view. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

  He groaned as he quickly pulled the soft material apart, down her arms, and tossed her sweater aside. And then he simply stood there and looked at her for a long moment. “You’re so beautiful.”

  She didn’t need any more words. She simply wanted to show him how she felt about him, so that there’d be no misunderstandings between them. She longed to share her pillow with him, put his stuff beside her stuff, park Celeste beside his dually, and share the remote controls. But most of all, she wanted to share their heat.