Montana Dreams

“The fire’s out, we’ve mopped up, but you’ll have a big cleanup.” Jerry gave Milton a pat on his arm. “You make sure Doc Littlejohn takes a look at that tomorrow. Hunter, you’re next.”

“I don’t need patching up.” A few blisters were nothing to worry about. “Did you take a look at Millie?”

“First thing. She refused, too.”

“I’m not surprised.” That woman could take stubbornness to new levels. He’d nearly had heart failure seeing her climb the stack, standing in the rafters surrounded by flames. Not that he didn’t admire her for it. “If we’re done here, I’m heading home.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do.” Milton staggered to his feet. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

“Nearly midnight. Sleep tight, Milt.” Hunter followed the light of the moon to the open barn doors, where the volunteers rolled up the last fire hose. The dank smell of smoke and charred hay overwhelmed him as his boots hit the floor.

A close call. No doubt about it. He wandered down the aisle past vacant stalls to the fall of light from the office door. The wise choice would be to hop in his truck and head home, but he had to check on her. Some habits were hard to break, regardless of how bad they were for you.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.” Nothing was prettier than Millie’s voice soft with affection as she talked into a handheld radio. “Just close your eyes and think of home.”

“But there’s funny noises in the wall.” The boy’s words crackled across the two-way.

“It’s nothing to worry about. Think of being able to play with your friends again. What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get back?” Leaning against the wall, she smiled over at him, gave him an in-a-second look.

He nodded, message received, and stayed in the hallway. He jammed his hands in his pockets, just glad to see she was all right. Well, relatively all right, as she was streaked with soot and her T-shirt riddled with little burn holes. What was she doing refusing medical treatment?

“Then just think about Alexander’s tree house and going back to school with your friends and you’ll fall back to sleep, kiddo.”

The boy’s sigh rasped from the speakers. “I’ll try.”

“Good boy. Call again if you need me.” She set the hand unit on the battered wooden desk. Heaps of paper, junk mail and bills with red past due stamps were piled as high as the cracked computer monitor. Millie shook her head at the mess and focused on him. Big blue eyes full of gratitude. “You. Not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

“Anyone around here would have done the same thing. No biggie.” He didn’t want her feeling beholden to him. That was a recipe for disaster. “Just wanted to check on you before I head out.”

“I’m glad you did. I owe you a huge, ginormous thanks.” She pushed off from the wall. “What you did tonight—”

“Forget it.”

“I can’t. You could have been badly burned. The entire stack could have come down on you.”

“I used the bucket as a shield. Not my first time knocking down a fire.” The air in the room vanished. He pretended it didn’t. “Had a big wildfire last summer. Most neighbors were out fighting it by hand. We stopped it before it got a hold and ripped through every field and barn in the valley.”

“Why am I not surprised? You were on the front line leading the charge, weren’t you?” She eased in, smelling of charred wood, smoke and faintly of lilacs.

Lilacs. That jogged his memory, flashing him back a decade. Easy to remember standing right here in this barn, with the haze of midsummer sunshine and the horses huffing softly in the doorway, waiting to get going with the trail ride. How he’d taken his time, laying his hand against the satin softness of her cheek, his pulse kicking double time, gathering up enough courage to kiss her. His chest squeezed, wringing out an old drop of affection. Affection he’d be a fool to give in to.

“Better go. I’ve got an early morning.”

“It is technically morning. You’re not going anywhere until I take care of those burns.”

“They’re fine.”

“Don’t even try that on me.” She opened a squeaky cabinet and hauled out a flat gray box. “Not sure how up-to-date this is.”

“It looks like World War II surplus.”

“Tell me about it. The cobwebs are a little worrying.” She swiped them off and opened the tin, shoving aside the pile of paper on the desk to make room to set it down. “There are a few cans of pop in the fridge, if you want to get them.”

“Now that does sound good.” He was parched from the inside out. The rumble of the fire truck faded, the men were gone and he and Millie were truly alone. Not sure he was comfortable with that. He yanked open the ancient refrigerator and let the cool wash over him before grabbing two cans from the shelves.

“Here.” He popped the tabs, set Millie’s down next to the first-aid kit and breathed in the sugary scent of grape soda. “Guess Milton won’t mind. We haven’t broken into his stash in ten years.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.