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Gold in the Fire
Margaret Daley
As a firefighter, Joshua Markham was used to taking risks.So when unexplained fires started disrupting the quiet town of Sweetwater, he was prepared to stop them - whatever it took. What he wasn't prepared for was Darcy O'Brien, the beautiful woman he found trying to save horses as her family's barn smoldered.After a recent relationship filled with heartache, Joshua wasn't ready for the protective feelings Darcy and her young son evoked in him. Joshua wasn't willing to take risks when it came to love. But he was a man of faith. Could it be mere coincidence that he'd pulled this remarkable woman from a burning barn…and into his life?
What am I doing? Darcy thought. I have no business thinking about Joshua Markham in any terms other than a firefighter and an acquaintance.
She started to switch on the engine and leave before anyone knew they were at the firehouse. Too late. Joshua waved from the door and strode toward her and her son.
“See, he’s expecting us,” Sean said.
Darcy wanted to hide. She felt the heat suffuse her cheeks as the man walked to the truck, a smile of greeting on his face. The first thing she thought about was the dusty jeans she wore and the old, worn shirt. Why hadn’t she changed before coming into town? And why did she care?
Joshua stopped on her side of the truck, his face framed in the window, only a few inches from her. She rolled down the window and forced a smile to her lips. “Is this a bad time to visit?”
Please let it be, she silently added, responding to his heart-melting grin. Her pulse accelerated.
THE LADIES OF SWEETWATER LAKE:
Like a wedding ring, this circle of friends is neverending.
GOLD IN THE FIRE (LI #273)
A MOTHER FOR CINDY (LI #283)
LIGHT IN THE STORM (LI #297)
MARGARET DALEY
feels she has been blessed. She has been married for thirty-three years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun, who married his high school sweetheart in June 2002.
Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for over twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and has participated in many sports with her students.
Gold in the Fire
Margaret Daley
These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.
—1 Peter 1:7
To Laura Marie Altom, a friend who helped me find where I belonged as a writer.
Thank you.
To Paige Wheeler, my agent, who has been a great support.
Thank you.
To Ann Leslie Tuttle and Diane Dietz, my two editors at Love Inspired, who have believed in me.
Thank you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Darcy O’Brien’s hands shook as she brushed her hair behind her ears. She stared down at her fingers, covered with soot, the black reminding her of the charred remains of the barn only yards away. The heat from the fire chased away the early-morning chill. Smoke curled upward from the darkened boards to disappear in the fog that had rolled in to encase her in a gray cocoon. But there was nothing protective and safe about her surroundings.
Eerie. Unearthly. Darcy shivered and hugged her arms to her.
“Ma’am?”
The sound of a deep, husky voice floated to her from the swirls of smoke and fog. Her eyes stung as she searched the yard. Emerging from the shroud of gray a man appeared, dressed in a black jacket with yellow strips and black pants. He removed his fire helmet and cradled it under his arm. Dark brown hair, damp from sweat, lay at odd angles. Black smudges highlighted the hard angles of his face and emphasized the blueness of his eyes. For just a moment Darcy thought of a warrior striding purposefully toward her.
“Yes, may I help you?” she asked, pushing away her fantasy.
“That man over there said you’re the one in charge.” The firefighter tossed his head in the direction of Jake, one of the grooms.
The idea that she was in charge weighed heavily on her shoulders, even though it was only for a few months. She straightened, ignoring the exhaustion that cleaved to every part of her. “Yes, I am.”
The firefighter stuck his hand out. “I’m Joshua Markham. I conduct the arson investigations for the department.”
“Arson?”
The strong feel of his handshake reassured her. For a few seconds she forgot the past couple of hours. Then she remembered pulling the frightened horses to safety, watching the barn go up in flames, the scent of burned wood heavy in the air. But mostly she remembered trying to persuade her father to return to the main house before he collapsed. That had been the hardest task of all.
“Yes, ma’am, it’s definitely a possibility. This is the third barn fire in the past few weeks.”
“Please call me Darcy. ‘Ma’am’ reminds me of my students.”
He moved away from the pile of blackened rubble. Darcy followed. When she looked back toward the barn, all she saw was the swirls of fog. The stench of smoke clung to the air.
“When it’s safe, I’ll bring in my dog. I’ll know more after I can take some samples and check the area out more thoroughly.”
“Dog?” Her mind refused to grasp the implication of what he was saying.
“He’ll be able to locate where the fire originated. We’ll pinpoint what the accelerant was. If it matches the other fires, we’ll know we have a serial arsonist on our hands.”
“Serial arsonist? But why here?”
Joshua shrugged. “There are countless reasons why someone sets a fire. Most are for some kind of personal gain, but occasionally we find a person who just likes to set fires and watch them burn.”
Darcy shuddered. Sweetwater was always such a quiet town, not like where she lived now. Even though there were nearly fifteen thousand people in Sweetwater, she still thought of it as a small, close-knit community.
“If it’s arson, there’ll be a thorough investigation.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be looking into all the reasons why someone would set a fire. That includes personal gain.”
For a moment her mind went blank. Stunned, she couldn’t think of a reply.
“Just thought I’d let you know.”
“Why?”
“I know your father had a heart attack a few weeks ago. Shamus Flanaghan is a respected member of our community. I don’t think he had anything to do with this, but I still have to check out the possibility.”
“And you want me to cushion the blow?”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Yes, ma—Darcy. I would appreciate it.”
“So in other words, you want me to help you with your investigation.”
Joshua plowed his hand through his damp hair. “Well, not exactly. I just don’t want to be responsible for causing your father further grief. But questions will have to be asked—and answered.”
“Then you can ask me. As of last week, I’m acting as the manager of this farm until my father gets back on his feet.” If she said it enough times, perhaps it would be true.
“I’ll be back later with my camera and Arnold. I’ll know more after I take a look around.” He put his helmet on. “Good day.”
Frustration churned in her stomach as she watched the firefighter walk away, the thick fog and smoke swallowing him until all she saw was a gray wall. Another shiver rippled down her spine. What in the world had she gotten herself into? A serial arsonist?
Normally this was her favorite time of day, when the sun was just peeking over the horizon, the sky lit with color, the birds chirping in the nearby trees. Even when it was foggy, there was a certain appeal to dawn, a mystery waiting to be uncovered. But now there was a real mystery. Who would want to set fires to barns filled with horses?
A pounding behind her eyes hammered at her temples. Her father raised jumpers and hunters. People from all over the country came to him. His reputation as a breeder had always been paramount to him—at times to the exclusion of even his family.
Darcy closed her eyes for a few seconds and tried to compose her shattered nerves. There was so much she had to do. She didn’t know where to begin. Finally she decided she had to check on her father first, to make sure he was following his doctor’s orders, before she could even take the time to assimilate this latest news.
She started up the road that led to the main house, white painted fences on either side of the asphalt. Somewhere out in those fields were some of their prize brood-mares. But the fog that adhered to the ground obscured her view. She would need to make sure all the horses were accounted for—after she saw her father and reassured herself that he was all right.
She entered the house through the back door. Lizzy Johnson, the petite housekeeper, stood at the stove, shaking her head while she prepared French toast. A strand of gray hair fell forward on her forehead. With a heavy sigh, she brushed it back in place.
“What’s wrong, Lizzy?”
“One thing. Shamus. He insists on eating a proper breakfast. He wanted eggs, bacon and toast. He’s getting French toast. I figure that’s better than a plate full of cholesterol-high eggs fried in bacon grease.”
The frustration in Lizzy’s voice matched her own feelings. Darcy knew how difficult her father could be. He didn’t like change, and the new diet his doctor wanted him on was definitely a change.
“I’ll have a word with Dad. Is he in his room resting?”
Lizzy arched a brow. “Resting? No, he’s dressed and ready to go back down to the barn.”
“But he promised me—” Darcy swallowed the rest of her sentence. It was hopeless. Her father didn’t know how to take it easy or to follow orders. Why had she thought she would be able to help her father recover when he had never slowed down for anything in the past, not even when her mother had died? He’d put in almost a full day of work the day of the funeral.
“Child, he’s in the dining room drinking his coffee. Praise the Lord, decaf. But it was a battle to get him to drink that instead of regular coffee. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it down at the barn.” Lizzy flipped over the pieces of bread, her gaze clouding. “How bad is it?”
“Bad. The barn is completely gone. Thankfully no one was hurt, but we lost one mare in foal. The rest of the horses we managed to save. Now I have to handle finding places to stable seventeen mares until we can rebuild the barn.” Darcy thought back to what Joshua Markham had said about a serial arsonist. What if the other barns were in danger?
“And a father who won’t listen to his doctor’s advice.”
“Yes, that, too.”
“Here, I suspect you could use some of this. Just keep it away from your father.” Lizzy passed her a glass pot full of a dark brown brew. “This has lots of caffeine.”
“Thanks. I can always count on you, Lizzy,” Darcy murmured as she made her way into the dining room.
Pausing halfway down the long, cherry-wood table that seated twelve, she put the pot on a thick place mat. Then, instead of sitting, she gripped the back of a brocade-covered chair, leaning into it for support.
Her father glanced up from reading the newspaper. “I thought you were Lizzy with the breakfast she insists I eat. What’s taking her so long? Never mind—I’m sure she’s not hurrying because she doesn’t think I should go down to the barn.”
“You shouldn’t, Dad. I can take care of everything. Did you rest at all?”
He frowned. “Rest when one of my barns is burning? What do you think?”
“When did you come back to the house?”
He looked away, busying himself with taking several sips of his coffee.
“Dad?”
