Wildfire Page 14

  Tessa had always shied away from public displays of emotion. Special notice always made her uncomfortable. She steeled herself, already embarrassed over what the elderly woman would say. Well, well! Amazing that you walked in this door! Or good heavens, why on earth did you decide to come here after all these years?

  If Tessa had ever had a thought of coming back into the fold, running the gauntlet of stares and comments by her old acquaintances had been enough to keep her away.

  Mrs. Sawyer rounded the organ and came down the aisle, a fragile wren of a woman in bright purple slacks and a fuchsia top, with sturdy walking shoes on her delicate feet.

  She pulled to a stop just a foot away from Tessa and looked up at her through thick trifocals. “Hi, dearie. I’ll be done in a few minutes, if you’ve come to pray.” Her eyes twinkled. “I know it must be distracting, with me thumping away on that organ.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “But after all these years, I’ve still got to practice, or I’ll be in real trouble on Sunday mornings.”

  At once charmed and relieved, Tessa smiled in return. “Actually, I wonder if I could have just a couple minutes of your time.”

  The woman’s face lit with pleasure. “Of course! We could sit in the babies’ cry room at the back. The chairs are nice and comfy in there.”

  When they were settled in two of the padded rockers, Tessa pulled her list of names from her shirt pocket and handed it to Mrs. Sawyer. “I’m wondering about some people who lived around here. Do you know if they’re still in the area?”

  “Well, let me see.” She bobbed her head until she zeroed in on the right part of her trifocals, then focused on the list and smiled. “Ahhh. Bill Clark—fine man. Far as I know, he’s in Colorado. Ted Foster moved away years ago. Lowell Haskins is…away. His dad Harvey lives out at the old trailer park. Our Comfort and Care committee ladies tried bringing him food baskets, but he’s a very proud and stubborn man.”

  So far, she hadn’t been wrong on a single thing that Tessa knew already. “What about the Bassetts and the Irwins?”

  Mrs. Sawyer frowned. “I’m pretty sure the elder Bassetts moved to Oklahoma. A couple of the young ones stayed…Lonnie and his brother Trace.”

  “Here in town?”

  “They’re ranch hands, I think, when they’re not stirring up trouble. After their ranch went into foreclosure, that family never really recovered. I doubt they went on to college, but I don’t know for a fact. Now, the Irwins are fine, upstanding folk. The mister runs the grocery store in Salt Grass, so they moved over there a while back. They both ought to be close to retirement by now.” She studied the piece of paper. “Ahh, the Farleys,” she said softly. “Now there was a sad case.”

  She darted a quick look at Tessa, faint color staining her weathered cheeks. “Oh, dear. I mean, sad because of Mr. Farley’s health and all. They moved away, but I never heard where. They had the sweetest little ones—just like stair steps, they were. All redheads like their momma.”

  Probably not the Irwins, then, of the final three. “If I wanted to talk to the Bassetts or the Farleys, would you have any idea where I should start looking?”

  “The post office, maybe. Or the bank. Though these days, no one can say much of anything about anyone. So finding them won’t be easy.” She leaned forward and patted Tessa’s leg. “But pray on it, because God does listen to all of your prayers.”

  Tessa’s silent doubt must have shown on her face, because Mrs. Sawyer smiled. “His answers might not be what we expect, and some answers take longer to be answered—until exactly the right time. He loves His children, dearie. Trust in Him.”

  Tessa had the uncomfortable feeling that they were no longer talking about the Bassetts or the Farleys. But Mrs. Sawyer couldn’t know about Tessa’s past. No one in town did. She’d stayed at the ranch the entire nine months, and then there’d been a brief, graveside service at the family’s private little cemetery up in the foothills.

  But as she walked back to her truck, she felt an unexpected warmth unfurling in her heart.

  Back at the ranch, Tessa did her barn chores, then went to her home office and started jotting notes about her trip to town.

  Sofia appeared at the door a moment later, wiping her hands on her apron. “There’s a fax for Josh coming through, so don’t answer the phone if it rings. It’s some lady magazine editor from New York.”

  “Editor?” Surprised, Tessa rocked back in her chair. Josh had mentioned some sort of photo assignment. Did that actually involve editors?

  Sofia shrugged. “She said she tried to call his cell phone, but there was no answer.”

  “Probably because he’s out of range.”

  “She asked about faxing something called a ‘rough draft,’ plus papers he needs to sign and send right back. I told her our fax number.”

  The phone started ringing, and after four rings the fax machine on the credenza kicked in. It sputtered and froze up for a second, then slowly chugged out three sheets of paper before jamming on the fourth.

  Typical.

  It was her third machine in less than a year, and so far the service contract she’d bought with the original unit was proving to be the best investment she’d made in ages. But that didn’t help the fact that once something was partly delivered, it wasn’t possible to hit a button and print it all over again.

  “Good luck,” Sofia said dryly. “That looks like a gonner to me.”

  And it was. Tessa gently tugged, tried opening the machine and pushing on the rollers, prying a letter opener between the gears, but ultimately, she was only able to retrieve a shredded, ink-smeared piece of paper.

  She hesitated. “I hate to read any of this, but Josh won’t be back for a couple hours. Maybe there’s a letterhead with a phone number, so I could call her,” she murmured. “What do you think?”

  “You’d think they’d be closed by now, New York time. But maybe she’s still near the machine and can re-send it, so Josh can take care of it first thing in the morning.” Sofia backed out of the door and disappeared down the hallway. “I’ll have supper ready at seven o’clock” she called out. “Then I need to go sit with Gus for awhile at the care center.”

  Tessa smiled, thinking about the long conversation she and Josh had enjoyed last night. He was still the only man who’d ever made her heart beat faster, and despite her earlier doubts, he was still a kind and thoughtful guy. Maybe he’d even decide to move out West someday…and then, who knew where that might lead, in time?

  Tessa gingerly turned over the three intact fax papers, fixing her attention only at the top border.

  Green Earth magazine.

  And sure enough, a woman’s name, address and phone number were listed under the company letterhead.

  Tessa hesitated, feeling a flash of uneasiness at interfering. She started to dial, then stopped. The phone rang a minute later.

  “Snow Canyon Ranch? Sylvia Meiers, here. I’m just checking to make sure my fax went through okay. Is Josh Bryant available?”

  “He’s out. This is Tessa McAllister.”

  “Ahh.” The woman’s voice filled with pleasure. “You’re the young woman who has been helping him, right? He sent the article and photo files this afternoon, and I’ll have to say, I think the article is dynamite.”

  Tessa forgot to breathe for a moment. “Article?”

  “We’ve wanted to run a photo essay on the Wyoming Rockies situation for a long time, and your cooperation was invaluable.”

  Invaluable? “Um…the last page didn’t come through.”

  “Ahhh…and that was the page he needs to sign. I’ll send it again. You’re welcome to read this draft of the article, by the way. He’s a fine writer, and I think you’ll be very pleased.”

  After hanging up, Tessa took a closer look at the documents in her hand, and the title said it all. The Negative Impact of Grazing Rights on Public Land in Wyoming.

  Her heart sank as she forced herself to read the rest.

  I
t had been a hot topic of debate for decades, sharply dividing local politicians, ranchers and environmentalists. And now Josh had sharply criticized the ranchers as carelessly destroying the priceless heritage of the land; the habitat of its native plants and animals.

  And right below Josh’s name was an acknowledgment of her assistance with researching the article.

  A sick feeling worked its way through her stomach, tying it into knots. Josh had never said a word about anything beyond taking photographs. He’d promised to provide a fair and balanced view.

  In all these weeks, there’d been not one word of anything more.

  In the meantime, she’d been swept away, foolishly misled into believing that he truly cared for her, while she’d been falling in love with him in return. And he’d only been using her.

  How could she have been so blind—the second time around?

  “We did everything you said. Everything. Now where’s the money?”

  The person standing in the shadows met the man’s glare with one of equal intensity. “You really didn’t succeed now, did you? That ranch is still in business. She’s alive and well. You’ve been thinking way too small.”

  “But—”

  “You knew the deal before we started.”

  “I ain’t risking the death penalty.”

  His business partner laughed, though it was an eerie, keening sound, without a trace of humor. “You won’t. No one will ever figure it out, or have any idea that you were involved. And when it’s all over, you’ll have more cash in your pocket that you could possibly spend. Understood?”

  The money. He’d lost sight of the reward, and all it could do. He relaxed, and smiled with satisfaction. “Understood.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Josh unsaddled Jasper and turned him out into the pasture. Six months ago, the idea of spending seven hours in the saddle to count cattle and verify their good health was as far from his thoughts as flying to the moon. Yet here he was, dusty, tired, saddle sore, and he couldn’t remember when he’d felt more fulfilled, or happier.

  Though maybe that feeling had more to do with Tessa than a couple hundred head of cattle.

  Which made his next task more daunting, more difficult than anything he’d done in a long while. When he got back to his cabin, he was going to pack, load up his motorcycle, and leave this ranch behind.

  He wanted nothing more than to stay, but Tessa deserved better. A man worthy of her, who hadn’t messed up his personal life over and over. A man who could truly love her without reservation. After Lara, he wasn’t sure if he could ever fully commit to someone again. And how fair was that?

  What had he ever done, but leave heartbreak in his wake?

  “Y-you’re leaving? Tonight?” Tessa glanced between the Harley and Josh. The lids on the big fiberglass saddlebags were open, filled to the brim with his clothes. His helmet was resting on the seat, on top of a red and black leather bomber jacket.

  She’d been hurt and angry and ready for a confrontation when he returned this evening. She hadn’t expected to find him packed and ready to go, without a word.

  Then again, it shouldn’t be a surprise.

  He’d kept his reasons for being here a secret, and now his article was done. Why would he stay another minute? It didn’t matter to him that its publication would do her irreparable harm. It didn’t matter that she’d come to care for him once again.

  She held out the faxes. “These came for you this afternoon. Your editor said she tried calling your cell phone, then looked up our ranch number on the Internet when you didn’t return her calls. Imagine my surprise when she thanked me for helping you with your article—something I didn’t even know existed, because you only admitted to taking photographs—and promised you would be providing a fair and honest view.”

  He hesitated for a split second, then accepted the documents without looking at them. “I don’t blame you for being upset.”

  “‘Upset’ isn’t quite the right word. Surprised. Betrayed. Used. Wait a minute—devastated works best. I’m not exactly sure how I ‘helped’ you, by the way. Did you just need a place to stay, or was it something more?” She threw her hands up in disgust. “Have you been ferreting out bits of information all along, to support your theories? Watching, and waiting to catch us doing something wrong?”

  He flinched. “I always try to make local contacts who can help with information for an article, that’s all. For both sides of the issue. But that wasn’t how I ended up at your ranch.”

  “You just picked our place out of the blue?” she asked, incredulous.

  “You rescued me, Tessa. Remember? You brought me home from the hospital.”

  “It seems mighty convenient that you happened to come to this precise part of the Rockies.”

  “Sylvia wanted me to do a photo essay on the effects of domestic animals on fragile government land.” A faint smile touched his lips, though his eyes were filled with sadness. “I did decide on this part of the mountains because of you. You used to talk about the Wolf Creek area, and after doing some research, I figured it would be perfect. But I figured you’d graduated from college and gone on to a career. Even after I learned you had a business here, I thought you probably had someone else running it.”

  “Right.”

  “I never meant to hurt you, Tessa. This was my last assignment, and I just wanted to get it done and be free of my contract—the sooner the better.”

  “Why?” The sudden shadows in his eyes made her wish she hadn’t asked.

  “I saw too much death. Our own soldiers. Innocent civilians. The…” He closed his eyes briefly. “The children. Suffering that never seemed to end. And for what? Did the losses make a difference—or weren’t they just a needless tragedy?” He swallowed hard. “Then our own Humvee was hit, just days before we were to leave for the States—and Lara became one of those statistics. I tried to pull her free in time, but the whole vehicle exploded in a ball of flame. I…saw her die.”

  “Oh, Josh.” Tessa fought the impulse to enfold him in a comforting embrace.

  “I plan to donate the money from this Wyoming assignment to Lara’s memorial, and then I’ll leave that type of photojournalism behind. I just can’t face covering any more violence, for a while, so now I’m considering a teaching position at a college in Boston. Though,” he smiled, “after the motorcycle accident, and having a chance to spend time with you, I haven’t been in a rush to go back east. But now, it’s time.”

  “Well, it sure looks like you’re in a hurry now.” She glanced at his motorcycle, wondering how she could’ve ever imagined he might stay, then she stepped back. “By all means, don’t let me stand in your way.”

  Tessa prowled through the house, unable to settle down with a book or a movie or the endless paperwork waiting on her desk. It was too early for bed. She knew sleep would elude her anyway.

  A dozen thoughts started spinning through her brain in dizzying succession.

  Where was Josh now? Had he made it to Rock Springs? Was he already on the interstate going east?

  Mrs. Sawyer’s comments on Tessa’s list of suspects had matched what she’d discovered already. But of more interest was the fact that the Bassetts were still living in the area…and the uncomfortable reminder about the Farleys, who’d had four little redheads who were made homeless by Claire’s greed.

  There could be many other suspects, too, once Tessa had a chance to delve further into the past. But who could’ve been hurt badly enough to want retribution so many years later? And why had they waited this long?

  And then she remembered the jeers of classmates when she was in third grade. The stiff greetings of shopkeepers in town, and the whispers that were always just loud enough for her to hear.

  And the family photos in the bank that had inexplicably disappeared.

  And suddenly it all made sense.

  The lane out to the highway was a mile long; the longest mile of Josh’s life.

  It was right to leave.

&n
bsp; It felt terribly wrong.

  And only sheer strength of will kept him from turning back.

  At the highway, he slipped off his helmet to adjust the strap and caught the acrid smell of smoke. Faint at first, then stronger, riding on the fitful wind.

  He looked over his shoulder toward the ranch and saw it a quarter-mile back—the pulsing, threatening glow of fire speeding through the tinder-dry underbrush. It engulfed one pine tree after another, racing up the trunks and exploding, raining fire and ash, and sending flames in every direction.

  And the wind was all wrong—heading straight for the ranch.

  Tessa.

  He made a sharp u-turn. Paused long enough to dial 911 on his cell phone. Then he roared back to the ranch and prayed every inch of the way.

  NINETEEN

  One minute, the deepening dusk was soft and quiet, save for the distant bawling of a mother cow. The next, the windows of the house reflected an eerie, orange glow sweeping across the horizon.

  Fire.

  Tessa jerked on her boots, grabbed her truck keys, and raced out onto the porch, cell phone in hand. A wall of fire glowed through the trees, menacing and powerful.

  With a cry, she raced for the barn and opened the back door, then began opening the stall doors and chasing the horses out into the pasture. Smoke rolled down the aisle, sending them into a panic as they shoved past each other and escaped, whinnying and snorting.

  Hobo and Elvis appeared out of nowhere, nipping at their heels and instinctively herding them along. When the last horse was freed, Tessa spun around and raced into the roiling smoke to the next building over, where there were four training horses. Her eyes were watering and her lungs were burning, burning, burning with every breath as she and the dogs drove those horses out into the pasture, too.