by Kristi Rose
All he needed was the go-ahead from Tinsdale before he could make his move. He checked his phone often, fearing he might miss a message since he'd put it in silent mode.
Thunder shook the earth, and Fort counted between the sound and the flash of lightning. Two seconds. The storm was upon them. He stood, moved so he was positioned facing the door, and pressed himself against a tree, hidden in the shadows. He supposed that was a silver lining from the storm.
He was given the go-ahead by Tinsdale and stepped out of the woods.
He walked briskly to the cabin. He was ready for this to be over. He banged on the door with the side of his fist. “Sheriff's Department,” he called out.
He heard someone swear inside.
He went to bang on the door a second time when thunder boomed so close Fort thought it might be on top of him. Immediately following was a loud crack, much like the sound of a shotgun discharging, and Fort hit the ground.
Someone inside the cabin yelled.
The small hairs on Fort’s neck and arms stood on end. The ground trembled beneath him and lighting cracked across the sky.
The cabin door was flung open and Conway ran out. He jumped over Fort and kept going straight to his truck.
Shocked, it took Fort a second to process what had happened. He sprang up, then ran into the cabin as Witty was peeling out.
No one was inside, but the back portion of the roof was on fire, as was the back wall, the bedroom engulfed in yellow flames. Fort ran to the kitchen. Under the sink was a fire extinguisher. He jerked it out, then ripped the plug out while running back to the fire. Flames were already nipping at the living room walls. Smoke filled the air and burned his eyes. Every breath ended in a cough, and his lungs screamed in pain. Covering his mouth with his sleeve offered no relief. There was no point in trying to save the cabin, half was already gone.
Fort did a quick sweep for people and escaped out the front door, gasping as he drew in fresh air. The sky split open. The storm that had been rushing toward him had arrived, and the cold drops of the rain were refreshing. He skirted the perimeter, spraying the grass that was on fire, working his way to the far back of the cabin where disaster waited for him. The fire had spread ten feet from the house, and a handful of trees were engulfed. Fort sprayed what he could, but the fire was jumping across the land, the conditions primed. The severely dry land was kindling. What rain falling would do little to bank the fire once the fire grew larger, and that was moments away. It would take hurricane level rains to control it. He whipped out his phone and called the fire department, ignoring an incoming call from Cori only because of the urgency of his situation. He made a mental to note to call her first chance to make sure everything with her was okay.
Flames licked at the walls of the cabin, burning it to the ground. His cabin. Going up in smoke. Another ten minutes, and it would be nothing more than ash and timber. A loud crack echoed through the space, and a large evergreen split, falling on what was left of the cabin.
After calling in the fire, Fort called Deke and warned him. Then, with a hurried pace toward his truck, he called Tinsdale to fill him in. Once off the phone, Fort ran the remaining distance to his truck. The rapid growing pace of the fire was frightening, and no amount of rain unless it was a flood, would extinguish it now.
In his truck, he called his stepfather with the warning and Mrs. Z since both homes lay in the path. The information now with them, the telephone tree would be activated. He also knew the fire department would have sounded the alarm.
As fate would have it, and heaven knows they needed a little help from the universe right about now, Witty was on the side of the road with a flat tire.
Fort came to a screeching stop behind him and jumped from the truck. Witty was leaning against the hood, head in his hands. He jumped when he heard Fort.
“Where were you going so fast back there, Conrad?”
“Listen here, Deputy—”
“No, you listen here. Did you start that fire?” Fort thought he knew the answer, but wanted to see how Witty would respond.
“Hell no. That was lightning. Hit that cabin with such force the whole place shook. Fire just appeared. Scared the bejesus out of me.”
“So you ran instead of trying to put it out.” Fort pointed over his shoulder where gray plumes of smoke filled the sky. It was then he noticed matching plumes on the other side of town. “Shit,” he said. There was no time.
He grabbed Witty by the shoulder and spun him around. “I'm taking you in.”
“I told you I didn’t start the fire,” Witty cried and tried to struggle, but the attempt felt halfhearted. Fort slapped a cuff on quickly then steered him toward his truck. “I'm arresting you for trespassing and destruction of property.” He read him his Miranda Rights.
“I told you I didn't start that fire, and I was told I could stay there by Deke.”
“You really going with that seeing as how we're gonna be seeing Deke in about five minutes?” Fort helped Witty into the truck and buckled him in. Witty's lips were pressed tightly into a thin line, his eyes averted.
“All right then,” Fort said, slamming the door. When he got into the driver’s seat, he waited until they were cruising above the speed limit before continuing the conversation. “It was a real gamble to come here pretending to be a campaign manager when the guy you're working for is a deputy. Must be something real important to make you do that.” He glanced in the rearview mirror.
Witty's mouth opened then closed, returning to his tight-lipped stance.
“We know you're here rustling cattle, Witty. We've got the evidence, and it stacks up high against you. When I get you back to the station, I'm gonna run your prints. I'm betting that'll give me a whole treasure trove of information. Nails in the coffin for you. Right now, I've got an arm’s-length list of crimes to charge you with and one is gonna stick. Back to the pokey for you.” Witty's gaze shot to Fort's. He knew that would get the man's attention. He'd taken a stab at Witty’s previous jail time, but the man's expression confirmed his suspicions.
“What do you want?”
“I want the name of the man in charge of this ring. I'm willing to pretend you didn't cooperate at all if it helps you save face. But your cooperation will go a long way.” If he was going to name Cori's dad, it would be best if Witty said it now when she wasn't around to hear. He figured if there was bad news, it would be best coming from him.
Witty jerked his head in frantic disagreement. “He'll kill me anyway.”
“He can't reach you in jail.”
Witty's laugh was a short, brittle sound. “Jail. That's where he'll have it done. No.” Witty wagged his head adamantly. “No.”
They took the turn into town on squealing tires, Fort only slowing when he was close to the station. The truck hadn't come to a complete stop when he threw it into park and cut the engine. The town was empty. Businesses were closed. Many, it looked, done so hastily as their signs still read OPEN.
He jerked Witty from the truck and hustled him to the station. “Think fast, Witty. Time for you is running out regardless. If you think this person can reach you in prison, then you're a dead man anyway. Might as well do something right for a change. A good deed. Maybe it'll lighten the dark smudge on your soul.”
Inside, Cricket and Cori were waiting. They brought him up to speed on what had happened out by the springs.
“And Brody was there,” Cori said. “He shot at us.”
Fort saw red. He wanted Brody something fierce. Fort turned to Witty, gathering his shirt in his fist and lifting, Witty going up on his toes. “Tell me where to find him!”
Witty met Fort's gaze with a panic-filled one of his own. “I already told you. He'll kill me.”
Disgusted with Witty for being a coward and not having a definitive answer as to whether Cori's father was directly involved or not, Fort took out his frustration on Witty and shoved him into a cell without processing. He'd get to it. Right now, there were bigger issues.
Cori gasped and brought her hands to her mouth.
Fort took her in his arms. “We don't have time to be sad or scared right now. People need to be evacuated.”
“I'll go get Mrs. Z,” Cori volunteered.
Fort held her tighter. “It's too dangerous. I'll go.”
“You need to help with the fire. I'm going if I have to steal a car.”
He set his jaw, searching her face. “Take my truck and bring her to Ma's. They will take care of her if they have to evacuate. Be very careful. You're gonna have to drive past the fires. If it’s close to the road or has jumped the road, turn back. You understand?”
Cori nodded.
“If you get cut off after picking her up, drive out of here. Go someplace safe. Got it?”
She nodded again.
He pressed a desperate and firm kiss to her lips, holding her for all he was worth, wishing he didn't have to let go.
26
The fire raged uncontained for three days, sweeping across the dry land all the way to the foothills before they managed to bring some control to the situation. The devastation spread across more than twenty thousand acres. Mr. Phillips’ barn, Mrs. Z, and the Tinsdales lost everything, home and herd. Fort and his family managed to save the structures and house but lost over sixty percent of their herd. As did the other handful of ranches caught in the fire's path including the Williams'.
The following week, Cori captured a photo of Fort's stepfather, Paul, the backdrop the charred land, a cow with severe burns at his feet. He'd just put the animal down, his gun smoking. He had knelt beside the heifer, his hand on the animal, his face, wet with tears, to the sky. The photo was not an original since the scene played out across the county as ranchers were called to perform the gruesome task repeatedly. It was the only humane thing to do.
Each night she and Fort would fall into bed, too exhausted to do more than hold each other, Cori often crying quietly against his shoulder. Deke had formally withdrawn from the election, citing how busy his insurance company would be getting everyone back on their feet. That left Fort set up to be the next sheriff and really no purpose for Cori to stick around other than to help out. Which she did every chance she got. Once things calmed down, she and Fort would need to have the exit-strategy conversation, but she was in no rush.
Wolf Creek, once a beautiful and scenic town with shades of blues, greens, yellows, and purples, was now barren and stark. Its color, black and gray, was accentuated by the sharp contrast of the baby blue sky.
Yet, for all the grief and loss, Cori had never seen a town rally like this one, neighbor helping neighbor. When she wasn't feeding animals on Fort's family's ranch, she was feeding them on someone else's while they were out looking for cattle. She mucked stalls, covered dispatch at the Sheriff's department, and worked alongside Cricket to get the paper out. Additionally, she and Cricket, alongside Mrs. Z, Mrs. Williams, and Ms. Saira, cooked copious amounts of food and delivered the dishes to those ranchers who spent all day in the field, or to the high school gym were many of the now homeless were temporarily sheltered.
It was a week after she submitted her photo, with Paul's permission, that she found out she'd won. The victory was bittersweet. She'd rather the circumstances that led up to the winning photo not have happened. Especially when the fire marshal ruled the fire at the cabin had indeed been caused lightning, but the one by the spring was caused by a human.
Brody. She knew it had been him. Instinct told her so. What she needed to know was if her father had a hand in it, if he was still running his business from behind bars, ranchers across the nation his target. Cori being in Wolf Creek would be a coincidence, having made sure not to tell her mother where she as going. If that was the case, then she thought perhaps it was a sign from the universe that she was meant to stop him. Why else would she be privy to this information?
Cori stared out Saira's kitchen window, amazed at the tiny flecks of green peeking up through the charred ground, the resilience of the people and the land, and felt the huge weight of guilt press down upon her. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if her father was involved. If he'd attempted to destroy another small town. How would she look people in the eye if that was the case? She would not spend another decade trying to right his misdeeds. To do so would break her.
“Cori,” Saira said next to her.
Cori brought her attention back to the kitchen. “Sorry. I was thinking.”
Saira smiled softly. “Must have been something deep. You look heartbroken.”
“I was just thinking about what everyone here has lost.” She blinked in effort to hold back the tears.
“It'll be hard, but we'll all rebuild. Or move on to other things. Like Mrs. Z. She's going to love living in town and have less to worry about. She's been lonely out there.”
Cori nodded. “I hope you're right.”
“I'm always right,” Saira said. “Now, go put on a dress or something pretty. We're going to town.”
“Are we taking this food to the gym? Do we have extra to take to Hannah?” Hannah had gone into labor the day of the fires and, thankfully, had been out of town. Even though the Jacobson's hadn't lost anything in the fire, the exhausted mom with two demanding infant boys was on the meal rotation.
Saira shook her head while pushing Cori from the kitchen. “Hurry or we'll be late.”
“For what?” Cori called over her shoulder to no avail. She'd been shoved out the door, and it had been closed soundly behind her. She changed into a long peasant shirt and her cowboy boots. Then helped Saira finish loading the dishes into the backseat of the truck.
The sun was setting on what looked to be a beautiful night. A layer of golden yellow beams rose from the horizon with a slate blue sky resting above it. When they arrived in town, Saira parked near the newspaper.
“Do me a favor and go collect Fort. Meet us by the gazebo. We've all been working hard and need something good tonight,” Saira said.
Cori nodded and slipped from the truck. She walked the block and half to Fort's building. Maybe now she should bring up their situation, much as she dreaded it. After all the town had just been through, it wouldn't be fair to keep pretending that she and Fort were each other's true love, particularly when only half of that statement was true.
When she entered the Sheriff's Department she found Fort, Deke, Sheriff Tinsdale, and the fire marshal sitting at a round table at the far end of the room. None of them heard her come in, and she was about to announce her presence when what the fire marshal was saying caught her attention.
“Yeah, there's no doubt that the spring’s fire was deliberate. The bottle that was used to start it has been processed. Looks like he stuffed kindling into it and lit it. Set the darned thing against a tree.”
Someone swore softly.
“The fingerprints off the bottle provided a hit to one Michael Brody.” He handed the group a picture. Cori wished she could see it, but instinct told her she knew who it was. Michael Brody and Brody Fant were the same people. She didn't need a picture to confirm that.
“Do you have any leads?” Fort asked.
The fire marshal said, “Right now, he's in the wind. Last place we have him tracked was a State penitentiary in Texas. He went to visit a”—he looked at the paper—“Mr. Charles Walters. This make sense to anyone?”
Cori gasped. “No. Not again,” she cried.
Fort spun in his chair. When he saw her, he leapt to his feet. “Cori, you don't know anything yet. None of us do. Don't make this into anything.”
She brushed away tears. Was there anywhere she
could go where her father wouldn't show up? “Really? Do you really think that's true? Look at me and tell me you think he's not involved in this.”
Fort sighed, and she could read the pity in his eyes. She didn't know what was worse, his pity or the town of Brewster’s derision. Either way, they both sucked.
“That's what I thought,” she said and spun on her heel. She didn't bother to close the door behind her. She was halfway across the parking lot to the square when she heard him call her name. She kept her focus forward, a plan forming with each step. She would bring justice to Wolf Creek if it was the last thing she did.
Fort caught up with her just as she stepped up onto the grass of the square. He grabbed her elbow and forced her to walk alongside him. “Slow down for a second,” he said.
“No, I can't.”
“Babe.” He sounded exasperated.
They were walking around the far side of the gazebo when the park lights suddenly went on to show a large portion of the townsfolk had gathered.
“Surprise!” they said in unison.
A banner reaching from one side of the gazebo to the next swung in the breeze. It read Cori and Fort and had tomorrow's date.
Fort and Cori stopped short.
“What's this?” Fort asked and gestured to the banner.
Tables set in rows were covered with lavender tablecloths, flowers, and dishes upon dishes of food.
“Oh, no,” Cori said, then covered her mouth in mortification.
“This is your rehearsal dinner,” Mrs. Z called from within the crowd.
“We figured after the fire, this town could use something to look forward to, and what better than y'all's wedding?” Saira said.