Prairie Fire

by Kayt C Peck

  “This would be awesome for breaking ice on the water troughs in the winter,” Judy mumbled to herself as she pulled one from the box, barely noticing the envelope that fell to the floor as she did so. Bet I could go online and order some for the ranch, she thought.

  Judy played with the tool for several minutes, figuring out the locking mechanism and rotating it from shovel then pick then perpendicular so that both were accessible. In the videos, that configuration had been especially helpful when “scratching line,” the technique by which firefighters created a firebreak ahead of the flames, digging a shallow trench down to dirt. When a creeping ground fire reached the trench, it went no further. Despite her pleasure in the new toy, Judy was still anxious to return to the ranch and helping Pookie. She put the tool back in the box and stooped to pick up the envelope that had dropped.

  That’s odd, she thought. Judy had expected a packing slip. Instead, it was a plain white envelope with “Guy Guyette” written sloppily on the outside. She picked it up, surprised at its thickness … a least a half inch. As she raised it to put it back in the box, a shaft of sunlight from a nearby window fell on the envelope. Through the plain, white paper, Judy clearly saw the face of Benjamin Franklin.

  “Shit,” Judy said. She stood for several seconds, staring, shocked, at the envelope in her hand. She took a deep breath before testing the flap on the envelope, seeing how securely it was glued shut. One end was loose, and she gently raised the flap, striving to see inside without opening the envelope. Her fears were confirmed. It was a stack of paper currency. Judy speculated they would all bear Benjamin’s portrait.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” she mumbled as everything became clear to her—why Guy Guyette was so intent on helping start rural fire departments, why he was so well practiced at taking charge.

  “He’s a crook. He gets paid to make us buy stuff from companies that pay kickbacks,” Judy said loudly, knowing no one would hear but needing to express her anger and frustration. She threw the envelope back in the box as if it was something filthy. Her hand shook as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Ted Rome’s cell number was on her speed dial.

  “Rome here,” the city fire chief answered.

  “Ted, I don’t know what the hell to do,” Judy said.

  There was a pause. “You got my attention. What’s wrong?” Ted said.

  “We got wildland tools and gear in this morning. I opened one of the boxes, one with a big red star written on it. There was an envelope inside with Guy’s name on it. Ted, it’s full of cash.”

  “God damn son-of-a-bitch,” Ted hissed.

  “I said the same thing.”

  “Did you open the envelope?”

  “No. Didn’t have to. Wasn’t even trying to look inside, but the hundred-dollar bill on top shows through the paper. When I saw that, I lifted the flap just a bit, enough to know there’s a stack of bills a half-inch thick.”

  “Anyone with you?” Ted asked.

  “Nope.” Judy took a deep breath, realizing where he was going. “No witnesses.”

  There was a pause. Judy envisioned Ted chewing on his mustache, the way he always did when trying to think through a problem.

  “Take pictures…the envelope and the labels on the box…the red star too. Can you seal the box back up where it doesn’t look like you opened it?”

  Judy walked to the supply cabinet, pulled it open, and saw a roll of clear packing tape inside. “I think so,” she answered.

  “Do it, then get the hell out of there. If he figures out that someone knows, the man could be dangerous.”

  “That thought had already occurred to me,” Judy said.

  “I’ll call the sheriff and the DA. Oh, and Judy?”

  “Yes?”

  “I told Joe Bob yesterday, we already got Guy. He falsified the report on that first fire when you and Pookie saved the Johnson place. I’ve notified the State Fire Marshall’s office, and it’s likely he’ll be banned from firefighting any place in the state, but that doesn’t matter now. He won’t be fighting any fires from jail. Now get to it and get out of there.”

  “I’m on it,” Judy said. She disconnected the call then used her phone to take pictures of the envelope with Guy’s name on it, pulled back the flap as best she could without opening it and got a shot of the stack of bills. Then she replaced the envelope, closed the box and carefully put new packing tape exactly over the tape she’d already cut. Someone would need to look closely to notice the two layers of tape. She replaced the tape in the cabinet, hastily closing the door as she heard the sound of someone activating the combination lock to the personnel door. She walked rapidly away from the cabinet and toward the door, opening it to a surprised Guy Guyette before he had a chance to finish the combination sequence.

  “What you doing here?” he demanded.

  “UPS called me. They had a delivery, and they couldn’t get hold of you,” Judy answered.

  “Even a fire chief gets to turn the phone off sometimes,” he answered defensively. He pushed past Judy, entering the station. His face lit up when he saw the stack of boxes, and then his expression became clouded as he glanced at Judy.

  “You didn’t open anything, did you?” he asked.

  “I started to, but I figured you’d be pissed,” she lied. She was surprised that there was no sense of guilt at the lie. Dad would understand, she thought.

  “Damn right. I don’t need you amateurs messing with my inventory,” Guy said.

  “Whatever, Guy,” Judy said with a sigh. She turned to leave the station, closing the door solidly behind her. She stood in the fresh air, taking deep breathes, willing her heart rate to slow down.

  Judy walked quickly to her truck and jumped inside, hastily pulling out of the driveway and onto the road to the safety of home.

  aaAA

  Guy felt great. He’d run the bitch off. Now she knew who was boss. He turned his attention to the stack of boxes, smiling with anticipation. He pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt and walked straight toward the box with the red star. His old buddy Sam always used the same code to mark the box intended just for him. Guy thought of it as the Cracker Jack box, the one with the prize inside.

  A slight motion in his peripheral vision caught Guy’s attention, and he turned his head to see the door to the supply cabinet swing open. Damn bitch didn’t close it right, he thought. That’s when he noticed the packing tape. It wasn’t where he’d left it.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Crisis

  Judy’s hands quivered as she removed them from the steering wheel. She’d parked her truck in its usual spot beside the workshop, and she could see the flash of the welder from within the dark cavern of the big building. She sat for several minutes, collecting her composure. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in my life, she thought. The dogs, Somegood and Useless, waited patiently beside the driver door of Judy’s truck, their tails wagging and tongues lolling. Judy smiled at the dogs and felt her mood improve drastically. She stepped from the truck, threw a stick for the collie to chase and knelt to ruffle the mutt, Useless’, ragged fur, burying her face in the comforting smell of dog.

  “Nothing like a four-legged friend to quiet the soul,” Judy said to the dog. Somegood returned, stick in mouth, and she dedicated a hand to each dog, providing the pets they begged to receive.

  Judy decided she needed to steady her hands as well as her heart and mind before she handled hot metal and the delicate procedure of the welder. Instead of going into the workshop, Judy turned her steps across the yard to the corrals. Dogs were just fine for comfort, but nothing could match the smell and feel of Jackson, the gelding who had been her partner in pasture and pen for eight years. Judy climbed the fence, not bothering to open a gate. Jackson came directly to her, the other horses milling around the big pen. The gelding put his head over her shoulder, and Judy wrapped her arms around his neck. He nickered softly. Judy felt certain horses were magical. Jackson knew she was there for comfort, not for work o
r a pleasure ride. Judy’s hands steadied and the tension in her gut and heart eased. She ran her hands over her beloved horse, taking time to check him closely for anything that needed attention, including lifting each of his feet to check for any wounds or anomalies. After a thorough check of her primary mount, she turned her attention to the other horses – Big Tom, her late father’s horse, Kathleen’s paint gelding, and Dan, the gentle gelding that was Pookie’s mount now. She crossed to the far side of the lot, taking time to check each animal, enjoying the feel and smell of healthy horses. She didn’t hear the kitchen door to the house open and close as Kathleen walked across the farm yard toward the horse pen.

  Kathleen had watched from the kitchen window. She’d seen Judy with the dogs and the horses. From their years together, Kathleen knew Judy was troubled, recognizing the signs. She left the computer running, the article she was editing half-finished, and walked toward her lover, willing—no, needing to be present for Judy. When she reached the barn, Kathleen paused, watching and waiting, knowing the horses could give Judy what she needed in this moment. Kathleen leaned against the barn, watching, her heart filled with a love so intense it was an ache. She cherished this moment, watching the woman she loved more than anything or anyone. She stayed behind the barn instead of stepping inside the horse pen, blocked from the view of anyone parked down the county road.

  Maybe…maybe that little twist of fate would be enough.

  Judy finally turned toward Kathleen, feeling the gaze of her lover more than seeing or hearing her presence. Judy’s expression gave Kathleen’s heart a pleasantly painful twist. It was a moment she may well have remembered all her life even if…even if she hadn’t experienced what followed.

  As Judy walked, she glanced down at dirt at her feet, spotting an old horseshoe, nails still in the slots, sticking half out of the ground. So that’s where that went, Judy thought, remembering when Big Tom threw a shoe last winter. She bent to pull it from the ground.

  That would be enough, but just barely.

  There seemed no pause, between the crack of a distant rifle shot and the searing pain that tore through Judy’s back and shoulder. The force of impact slammed her face down into the ground. Despite the pain, she was instantly up, half-running, half-crawling toward the fence and the safe cover of the barn.

  “Judy!” Kathleen cried, jumping on the fence rails, starting the climb toward her lover.

  “Get back!” Judy yelled.

  A second shot rang out, and a bullet caught Judy in the leg, flipping her onto her side. She was close to the fence, and Kathleen dropped to her knees, reaching through the rails and pulling Judy toward her with every ounce of strength she possessed. Judy lay flat, and Kathleen pulled Judy under the bottom rail and behind the barn as a third shot scattered splinters of wood from the barn wall beside them.

  “Judy!” Kathleen held her lover close, oblivious to the blood that now soaked her shirt from the long, shallow wound along Judy’s back. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Guy. I caught him. He’s taking bribes.” Judy’s body shook. A sheen of sweat already covered her face. Fuck! That hurts, she thought.

  “What’s going on?” Pookie yelled from the door of the workshop.

  “Get in the shop!” Judy tried to yell, but her voice was a weak imitation of what she hoped to achieve.

  Kathleen leaned Judy against the barn, stood, and cupped her hands into a megaphone. “Get inside! Close and lock the shop and call the sheriff. Judy’s been shot.”

  “What?” Pookie responded, starting toward her mentors.

  “Get in the shop!” Kathleen yelled again, in a voice not to be disobeyed.

  Pookie reversed direction, and the two women watched as the girl pushed the power button beside the shop entrance and the huge door began the trip downward. Keep her safe, Judy prayed as she watched Pookie disappear behind the relative safety of the metal door.

  Kathleen pulled her fire radio from her belt and keyed the talk button. “Calling all Coldwater personnel. This is Coldwater Seven. Coldwater Four has been shot. Repeat, Coldwater Four has been shot. We need the sheriff and an ambulance.” She released the key, and she and Judy listened. There was static and an indistinct voice, words totally unrecognizable.

  “The bastard turned off the repeater,” Judy said.

  Kathleen pulled her cell phone from her pocket, looking at the screen, seeing what she feared. “No signal,” she said. “We’re too far from the signal booster in the house.”

  Judy looked up at Kathleen. “We’re on our own.”

  “Do you think he’ll come after us?” Kathleen asked.

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Judy shook her head, fighting off unconsciousness. With the arm on her uninjured side, Judy reached for Kathleen’s hand. “Help me up. We’ve got to get in the barn.”

  With Judy leaning heavily on Kathleen, they shuffled toward the large wooden doors of the old barn Judy’s grandfather had built. When Judy tried to pull open the latch and grasp the door, Kathleen pushed her aside, and Judy leaned against the barn as Kathleen dragged one side of the double barn door open just enough for them to slip inside. Judy walked unsteadily inside, dragging the injured leg. Once they were both inside, Kathleen pulled the door closed. Judy grabbed an ancient pitchfork from where it leaned near the door. With help from Kathleen’s steadying hands, she shoved the handle of the fork through the interior handles of the door.

  “’Tain’t much, but it will have to do,” Judy said.

  In the relative calm, Kathleen pulled off her t-shirt and pressed it firmly against Judy’s back. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Happens when you get shot,” Judy responded.

  Kathleen punched Judy lightly on the arm “Damn you! This is no time for jokes.”

  “Cheers me up.” Judy tried to look over her shoulder toward her wound. “How bad is it?”

  Kathleen lifted the t-shirt bandage and tore away some of Judy’s shirt so she could see better. “It’s not deep, but you’ll need stitches. Now the leg,” Kathleen leaned down but hadn’t time to take a good look before they heard a pickup, engine reviving hard, as it pulled into the yard. The sound of tires on dirt and gravel was unmistakable as the truck ground to a halt. The two women watched through one of the wide cracks in the old wood boards of the barn. Guy Guyette jumped from his truck, leaving the driver door open. He held a semi-automatic rifle, a powerful scope mounted on top.

  “Where are you, bitch?” he yelled, waving the rifle in the air.

  They stepped away from the wall, concerned that Guy might see their shapes. Judy glanced down at the dirt floor, noting the drops of blood she’d left behind.

  “Damn, he’ll see the blood trail,” she said.

  “What do we do?” Kathleen asked.

  “Pookie will have called the sheriff by now. Help is on the way. We just need to hold him off,” Judy answered. Judy looked around the barn, spotting a pile of ancient burlap feed sacks. She shuffled toward them.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’ve got to stop the blood trail,” Judy said. “Can’t hide until we do that.”

  “Those are filthy,” Kathleen said, pointing toward the sacks.

  “If I get an infection, we’ll deal with that later.”

  Working rapidly, the two women piled feed sacks on Judy’s wounds, using Judy’s pocketknife to cut sacks into strips to secure the impromptu bandages. Even as they worked, both women looked around the barn, trying to plan their next step. Kathleen looked toward the rickety ladder to the hayloft.

  “Can you make it up that?” she asked.

  “I’ll have to,” Judy answered.

  The barn doors rattled, but the pitchfork handle held. “I know you’re in there,” Guy yelled. “Come out and we’ll make this quick and relatively painless.”

  “Yeah, right,” Judy whispered.

  Judy went up the ladder faster than she thought possible, almost oblivious to the pain as she used injured muscles and nerves
. Kathleen was right behind her. As they worked together to pull up the ladder, they heard the barn doors rattle as Guy threw his weight against them. They had just settled into a layer of loose hay, deep and fresh when the wood of the century-old pitchfork gave way, and the doors swung open. Guy stumbled inside, the rifle still in his hand. He swung the firearm into the ready position, holding with both hands, his finger on the trigger.

  “No use hiding, and once you’re gone, no one will know what I do.”

  Judy leaned close to Kathleen, whispering close to her ear. “He doesn’t know you’re with me.” Kathleen nodded agreement.

  Judy realized that pulling up the ladder had an additional benefit. Guy hadn’t even looked up, not realizing there had been a way for her to reach the loft.

  “You women,” Guy spat contemptuously. “Always ruining everything, especially you women who think you’re men. It’s not right. Not natural.” Guy looked into each of the three stalls, once used for horses. He looked behind barrels and boxes, decades of stored junk. “Felt good to shoot you, you know. You’d be dead if you hadn’t bent over just as I made my first shot.”

  As they lay still, Judy noticed the second ladder, the one at the back of the loft that went down into the abandoned tack room. Judy clutched Kathleen’s wrist, gaining her attention and motioning toward the ladder; she leaned close to whisper again.

  “If he realizes we’re up here, go for the ladder,” she said. “I’ll keep him occupied while you sneak around behind him.”

  Kathleen nodded agreement. She leaned close to whisper back. “Help will be here soon.”

  Guy continued to circle around the barn. The two women watched as best they could while staying hidden. The man spotted the old door to the tack room, kicking it open and looking inside. Almost immediately, they heard the creak of the ladder.

  “Shit!” Judy said. “Plan B.”

  “What’s that?” Kathleen asked.