The Right Cowboy. Rebecca Winters
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While Wyatt took the turnoff for the ranch, Cole’s mind relived their history that went back to his senior year in high school when they’d fallen madly in love. But circumstances beyond his control had separated them. She’d stopped returning his letters and phone calls. She’d even changed her phone number.
When he did visit his father periodically during those years, he knew she wanted nothing to do with him. Until he was home for good, he couldn’t do anything about their situation.
Cole had only been back in Wyoming five days. His first responsibility lay with his family’s longtime friend and foreman, Sam Speakuna, and his wife, Louise. They were Arapahoes from the Northern Arapahoe reservation who’d come to work for his father early on. Over the years they’d spent part of the time in their apartment on the Hawkins’ ranch, and commuted to Lander where they had a home and could be with their family.
All the time Cole had been away, those two had shouldered the full responsibility of the ranch house and the crew of two wranglers who handled their herd of forty head of beef cattle. They were like family to him at this point. Now it was time to discuss their future and the future of the Hawkins’ small cattle ranch.
After a meeting with Fire Chief Owen Powell, who’d received Cole’s credentials from Colorado, he took him on board immediately. After his father’s funeral, Cole had talked to Chief Powell about the possibility of his coming on board when his time in Colorado was over.
The chief was overjoyed at the prospect, telling him Whitebark could never have enough firefighters. Cole knew that was true. It helped to know he would have a place in the department. It wasn’t just the extra income, but that sense of belonging he needed to feel after being away so long.
His own father had combined firefighting and ranching. Now that Cole was back, he’d honored his father’s wishes to follow in his footsteps and do his part for the community, too. But he’d hardly had a chance to catch his breath before the pager had awakened him tonight.
The Circle R lay outside Whitebark at the other end of town. Cole had been there many times before in the past saying good-night to Tamsin. He could have found it blindfolded. Tonight he could see flames shooting up in the sky from the barn before they even drove in.
When they arrived, Cole heard quiet pandemonium and horses squealing. A mob of ranch hands had assembled. They were rescuing the animals and leading them toward the paddock in the distance. His eyes searched frantically for Tamsin but saw no sign of her or her parents. Maybe she wasn’t even here.
While the guys on the ladder truck were working the hoses, the captain signaled Wyatt to go to the other end of the barn. As they drove around, Cole whistled. “Somebody left an old wooden work ladder against that window. My gut tells me an arsonist has been at work.”
“I think you’re right.”
The second Wyatt parked the truck, they both jumped out and started pumping water. Their job was to put out any new spots of flames shooting up through the boards. Black smoke was curling out from the seams.
After a few minutes, everything looked under control from their side. They turned off the pump and racked the hoses before driving around to the front of the barn. A couple of the crew were inside looking for hot spots.
Captain Durrant worked as incident commander. He and another fire department official walked over to him and Wyatt. “It’s good to have you aboard, Cole.”
“I’m glad to be here, sir.”
“Call me Jeff. This is Commissioner Rich, head of the arson squad.”
The older man nodded to Cole. “Did you see anything that caught your attention around the other side?”
“There’s an old work ladder propped by the window. We figured the arsonist used it to either get in, or climb up on the roof and make a hole to whip up the speed and intensity of blaze. Evidently he didn’t have time to hide it.”
“Good.” The commissioner eyed Wyatt. “Do you have anything else to add?”
“Yes. The black smoke indicates an accelerant was used. I couldn’t smell it around the side, but I can smell gasoline fumes here.” The barn had become an unusable disaster.
“There’s been a series of ranch fires that have broken out in Sublette County over the last three months,” the older man informed them. “Not all have been the same and we haven’t been able to solve the logic of them yet, but every bit of information helps. Thanks for the creditable information. It ties in with the forensics evidence on these other cases that an accelerant was used.”
After he walked away to do his own inspection, Cole turned to the captain. “I used to know the people who live here. Where are they?”
“Howard Rayburn and his wife are out of town. Apparently their dog started barking and woke up the other members of the family. They’re probably with the horses. I believe their son-in-law, Lyle Witcom, called 911.”
Cole reeled. “Did you say son-in-law?”
“Yes. He’s married to one of their daughters.”
Maybe his information about Tamsin had been wrong. Please God, let it be her younger sister, Sally. The very thought of it being the woman who’d always had a stranglehold on his heart shook him to the core of his being.
Before he lost his grip, he said, “Their horses are going to need a new home until this barn is rebuilt. The barn on my ranch has room for six more horses. I could drive home and bring my rig to transport them.”
“I have no idea what arrangements they plan to make, but I’ll let them know of your generous offer.”
Before Cole could say anything else, another member of the crew called to Jeff, diverting his attention. Cole turned to Wyatt. “While we walk around the barn again to find more hot spots, tell me which Rayburn sister is married. Do you know?”
Wyatt eyed him curiously. “It’s Sally. She married Lyle Witcom last year.”
With that news Cole was able to breathe again. Everything about this unexpected night had him so tied up in knots he was losing his concentration.
They started another inspection. After twenty minutes they finished examining the exterior of the barn, looking for any evidence that could help identify the arsonist.
“If this guy loves to set fires to watch things burn up for the hell of it, he got careless here.”
“Something must have frightened him off,” Cole murmured. “If there’ve been a lot of fires lately, I’m thinking this freak has a definite agenda and that means he needs help to coordinate these raids. I’d be willing to bet he’s doing this with a bunch of guys out for some kind of revenge.”
Wyatt flashed him a glance. “For what reason?”
“Fire bugs don’t need much to go on a rampage. I saw it over in Colorado. The motive in that case had to do with a group trying to intimidate a legislator on the marijuana issue. They were caught and brought up on criminal charges, but not before a lot of damage was done to his property and he spent time in the hospital.”