Misty unlocked her SUV door early the next morning. The Gladstones’ van was already gone. She guessed they were driving pretty far afield in search of vintage keepsakes. Interesting couple. Not quite her cup of tea, but she supposed others would be impressed with them, as well as their business.
She set her to-go cup of Ruby’s delicious-smelling coffee in the cup holder and a blueberry muffin on the center console. She plopped her handbag down on the passenger seat and set her phone beside the muffin, almost expecting it to ring. But that was just her wanting to hear Trey’s seductive voice again, and who knew when he might call, if ever. He certainly hadn’t contacted her during the night or this morning.
Anyway, today he wasn’t on her agenda. She wore comfortable jeans, a knit top, and running shoes since she had her sights set on reconnoitering the county and talking with folks in town. She particularly wanted to see what was left of the burned Texas Timber Christmas tree farm. Trey had been a big help as a tour guide when she’d driven him into town, and now she had better background knowledge from a local viewpoint.
She glanced around at the beautiful estate, morning sunlight bathing the pine trees and buildings in a golden glow. Still hot and dry with no letup in sight. If somebody had their sights set on causing trouble, between the weather and holiday distraction, there was no better time than the present. Texas Timber obviously understood that fact only too well.
As she ate her delicious muffin, she thought about her research. She’d been too tired the night before to follow up on her plan, so she’d looked into water issues this morning. She’d found several interesting articles online. Turned out North Texas cities, as well as Oklahoma City and Southwest Oklahoma, all wanted the Kiamichi River Basin water in Southeast Oklahoma. That happened to be the homeland of the Choctaw Nation and the Chickasaw Nation, so they were now involved in trying to preserve their water rights. Lawsuits had been filed. Studies were being done. But as far as Misty could tell, that situation didn’t affect Wildcat Bluff County. What might affect the county was the feds blustering about taking more private ranchland along the Red River with access to that water. But for the moment, she didn’t see how any of those issues could affect Texas Timber, although she’d keep them on a list as potential problems.
She took several sips of coffee and felt good to go. She backed up, drove out under the Twin Oaks sign, and made a right turn. She’d already programmed the GPS in her vehicle, so she simply punched the screen to call up the directions for her location. She pretty much had in mind where she was going, but she didn’t want to take a chance on getting lost on backcountry lanes.
Soon she turned onto Wildcat Road and headed south back toward Dallas. She passed ranches and farms with cattle or horses grazing in pastures and big, round rolls of golden, baled hay baking in the sun. She could see where streams, maybe dried up now, meandered across the landscape by the trees that grew along their low banks. A pickup came hurtling toward her on the other side of the road and the driver raised the first finger of his right hand on the steering wheel in a neighborly greeting. She returned the favor, being reminded that good manners were vitally important in the countryside.
She turned onto a two-lane road that had well-maintained barbwire fence running along either side. She looked out over sun-bleached grasses and leafless trees. Everything looked as dry as a tinderbox just waiting to be set off by accident or intention. Small groups of red cattle congregated under big green live oaks, already getting under shade from the glaring sun overhead.
She came to a cross lane and turned left down the smaller but still good asphalt road. Up ahead she could see blackened land. She felt a tightening in her chest and her breath caught in her throat. Not now, surely not now. At least she had her inhaler with her. Why had she ever thought it’d be a good idea to investigate a fire? But she hadn’t thought she’d be dealing with live fires, only the aftermath of a fire. And she hadn’t had trouble with her phobia in years, so she couldn’t have anticipated the extent of her reaction.
She turned up the AC and took a deep breath, feeling her anxiety slowly settle down. That’s right. This fire was long over and had nothing to do with her. In her mind, she repeated her special words, “Be here now. Safe and sound. Be here now,” and she felt better, reminding herself that she had fought a blazing fire yesterday and won. This was nothing compared to that.