At least on the fire line, she would feel as if she was giving the fire a decent battle.

  Her face was streaked with soot and perspiration by the time Hal returned.

  “What are you doing? Adelle, you won’t be able to save anything in the house before the fire breaks through the line.”

  “I told you I was going to stay and fight.” She was tired but felt better than she had in months.

  For a few moments, they stared hard at each other.

  “I never knew before what a contrary woman you are,” he said, his eyes saying something entirely different.

  Adelle looked away, embarrassed by the pride she saw in his eyes.

  Someone called Hal’s name as a fire truck emerged from the smoke. Adelle strained to hear what the fireman yelled through his open window as Hal caught hold of the side of the truck.

  “The wind’s changed direction. It’s headed west,” Hal called back to her as he and the truck disappeared again into the smoke. Was it possible that the wind would change direction and turn the fire away from her home?

  Smoke whirled around her like fog as Adelle stumbled back to the house. Exhausted, she sank down on the wet lawn and let her shovel-blistered fingers absorb its coolness.

  The air popped and crackled with the sound of flames but all she could see was a wall of black. The smoke concealed the stand of old cottonwoods that ran along the back of the house to the west.

  Where was the fire now, she wondered. It felt as if it had surrounded her, but she knew that couldn’t be true. Hadn’t Hal said that the wind had changed and the fire was now headed away from her?

  She touched the side of face where the breeze caressed it. Her heart quickened. The wind had shifted yet again.

  It was now coming from the back of the house, through the cottonwoods. The flames had circled back.

  Before she could get to her feet, a blast of fiery heat hit her like the breath of a fire-breathing dragon. The cottonwoods went up like Roman candles. Flames shot through the dark smoke and the timbers exploded, showering hot embers down on Adelle and the farmhouse.

  She leaped up, brushing off the glowing sparks as she scrambled for the hose. In several places the roof sizzled and steamed. In others it had already burst into flames.

  Adelle sent the spray rippling across the roof, but the fire seemed to be everywhere. The intense heat baked her skin as she fling the water back and forth in a desperate attempt to kill the inferno.

  A cottonwood rumbled as if fell, sending a shower of sparks into the air. A limb crashed through the roof of the back porch.

  “Adelle!” Hal jerked at her arm. The hose slipped from her hands. “You have to come with me. We have to get out of here. Adelle, there’s no more time.” Half dragging her, he rushed her to the waiting pickup.

  She could see the fire moving across the grass toward them as Hal pulled away. She stole one last look at the old farmhouse. So many memories. She could almost see William’s face in the living room window. How many times had he stood there looking out at the land?

  Flames skittered across the wet grass, propelled by the incessant wind. A hole in the roof blazed hot orange. Inside the house, the drapes caught fire. Adelle had to look away.

  Hal drove them across a low ravine and up a rise to the foothills bordering the valley.

  “I don’t want to leave you, but I have to,” he said. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll come for you as soon as I can,” he promised as he stepped out of the pickup and into a waiting fire truck.

  She was too tired to answer, even if her throat hadn’t felt as scorched as the blackened land that lay behind them.

  To the squawk of voices coming over the mobile radio, she watched her tears make sooty tracks down her face in the pickup’s side window. Her tears ran like a river making its own course. She let them fall, crying for everything she’d lost and everything she’d gained. Hal. He’d come for her. She felt the terrible ache that had sealed her heart since William’s death slowly slip away.

  And she let it.

  The sound of a fire truck coming up the hillside made her sit up. She couldn’t wait to see Hal’s kind face. Past her own reflection in the glass, she noticed the sun had sunk behind the far hills. It’s waning rays sliced through the smoke to bathe the evening sky in color.

  So much was gone, but before long the fields now blackened and burned would grow tall green grass again. The fire would become a part of the past.

  Adelle turned, expecting to see Hal as the door of the driver’s side of the pickup opened.

  Instead it was Red Cooper, one of the firefighter volunteers. She felt a start. From his expression she knew something was wrong.

  “Hal?” she choked out.

  “They took him to the medical clinic,” Red told her. “Smoke inhalation.”

  “Take me to him, please.”

  Smoke rose from the burned grass along the road like graying ghosts. As the charred landscape rushed by, Adelle was haunted by images of Hal. She could see him in his long white apron sorting canned goods at the local store, smiling as he saw her come in. Or driving up in her yard with produce that he swore would go bad by morning, so he thought she might like it.

  Then she imagined him fighting the fire, face blackened, disappearing into the flames and smoke and never coming out again.

  She silently urged the pickup to move faster as she prayed he would make it.

  Hal was lying on a hospital bed in the emergency room, his face washed-clean, his eyes closed. An oxygen mask covered most of his face. An IV bottle hung over his bed, the liquid running down into his arm. Adelle stumbled to his beside.

  He opened his eyes slowly and seemed surprised to see her. “Adelle,” he said, moving aside the oxygen mask to speak. He sounded hoarse and exhausted.

  She fought to control her emotions. Her eyes teared as her heart filled at the sight of him.

  “I heard they contained the fire at the gravel pits.” He coughed, turning his head away. “I’m so sorry we lost your house.”

  She shook her head. “All that matters is that you’re going to be okay.”

  He looked surprised, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe her words, let alone what was in her eyes. “Adelle.”

  She took his hand in both of hers. “Don’t try to talk,” she whispered as she sat down beside his bed. “When I heard you’d been brought here…” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing you again.” Tenderly, she studied his kind face and smiled through her tears.

  He returned her smile and she thought of the fortuneteller’s prediction. Love and happiness. Was it possible?

  Hal squeezed her hand as she carefully replaced the oxygen mask.

  Yes, she thought. It had taken losing almost everything to realize what really mattered.

  Just Like Riding a Bike

  By B.J. Daniels

  Copyright 2011 B.J. Daniels

  Smashwords Edition

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Tom smiled at his brother as they finished their lunch. “Yes, you said dating is just like riding a bike.” Except he hadn’t done either in years.

  “Amy’s been gone for four years,” Johnny said as if Tom didn’t know that. “She wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

  Tom knew that was true, but he also knew there was no one like Amy and for so long she’d been all he could think about.

  “I appreciate your concern,” Tom told his brother. “But trust me, I’ll know when the time is right.”

  What he couldn’t tell his brother was that he was waiting for a sign from Amy. He knew it sounded crazy, but he believed she would tell him when it was time to move on.

  Later that evening, he was sitting on his front porch enjoying the cool breeze when he heard a familiar sound. Squeak, thunk. Squeak, thunk. Squeak thunk.

  It surprised him because he realized he’d been hearing that annoying sound this time every evening for the past week but it hadn’t really registered.

  Now he looked up to see a woman on a bike round the corner and start by his house. She had short reddish-blond hair and when she glanced in his direction there was a wariness in her gaze that he recognized.

  “I can fix that,” he called to her surprising himself.

  She slowed to a stop. “Sorry?”

  “That noise your bike is making.” He motioned for her to wait a minute as he went into his garage and came out with a small can of oil.

  She climbed off the bike, holding it up as he put a little oil on each pedal.

  “There that should do it,” he said. “Try that.”

  She climbed back on and took a couple of quiet rotations on the pedals before braking to look back at him. She seemed surprised.

  “Silence,” she said as she walked the bike back to where he stood. “I didn’t even realize it was making that noise until it stopped. I guess I’ve had too much on my mind. Thank you.”

  “I know that feeling,” he said smiling. She was about his age, slim and attractive, but it was her cautious smile that tugged at his heartstrings. Instinctively he knew this woman understood loss.

  “I’ve been thinking about biking again,” he said into the silence that fell between them. “It’s been years.”

  “For me too. My sister keeps telling me I need to get out of the house. That it would do me good.” She looked away as if embarrassed by revealing so much and he saw her left hand resting on the handlebars and the fading white line where her wedding band had been.

  “Sounds like my brother who’s been encouraging me to… bike again.”

  “You too?” She smiled then, her face lighting up at the knowledge she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry, I’m Sarah. Sarah Branson. It was kind of you to fix my bike for me.”

  “Tom Cross,” he said wiping his hand on his jeans before taking hers. Her hand was small and cool in his and jumpstarted something in him that had been lying dormant.

  “I moved in a week ago.” She looked a little embarrassed. “But then I guess you knew that since I’ve been going by your house every evening. I found this old bike in the garage when I bought the house and thought…” She shook her head. “I guess I just felt the need to get moving.”

  He nodded, feeling the same need stir in him.

  “Well, thank you again,” she said and he stood back as she climbed on the bike and pedaled quietly down the street.

  He watched her go for a few moments before heading back to his garage to put his oil can away.

  As he was wondering if he would have noticed her if her bike pedals hadn’t squeaked, he saw his old ten-speed in a dark corner of the garage.

  It was as if Amy was there with him in the dim light of the garage, nudging him to get moving again and he realized he’d been ignoring her nudges for some time now.

  He reached for his bike, telling himself that after all this time he’d make a fool of himself his first time out.

  Even as he climbed on, he wasn’t sure he was ready for this. Down the street, he saw Sarah in the distance. He wobbled a little as he started pedaling, thinking she must have too.

  But then he got his balance and began to pick up speed. Maybe he could still do this after all.

  Tom pedaled faster, feeling the cool breeze on his face. As he caught up with Sarah, he just hoped his brother was right about dating being like riding a bike.

  A Little Good Advice

  By B.J. Daniels

  Copyright 2011 B.J. Daniels

  Smashwords Edition

  I work my way through the crowd, trying to get three seats in Grandma Carlton’s favorite spot – next to the rodeo arena railing so she can see the cowboys. She trails along, stopping to talk to people. It doesn’t make any difference to her whether she knows them or not. But it drives Bill crazy.

  “You have to do something about your grandmother,” he says behind me. We’ve had this conversation before. He thinks someone is going to kidnap her. I can’t see anyone kidnapping Gram who wouldn’t regret it instantly.

  “She’s just friendly,” I say over my shoulder. She’s always been like this and I can’t see her changing at 75.

  “Kylie,” Bill says as I find three seats and sit down, “Can’t we at least sit somewhere decent?”

  “This is the best view in the house,” Gram says as she plunks herself down between us, making Bill move over a seat. Her eyes might be failing her, but there’s nothing wrong with her hearing. Or that familiar streak of mischief.

  I throw her a look, half pleading, half warning. She’d insisted we bring her to this local rodeo tonight, knowing Bill and I had other plans.

  “I can’t miss this rodeo,” she said. “Please Kylie. Whatever Bill has planned, I’m sure it can wait until another night.

  I wasn’t so sure about that. I saw Bill slip a ring-sized jewelry box into his jacket pocket earlier. I know he wants to go have a nice late dinner later.

  I’ve been expecting this night for an awfully long time. I made Gram promise she would be good tonight, no cracks about Bill. But already I can see that gleam in her eye. She’s up to something.

  “I hope we didn’t miss the bronc riding,” Gram says, ignoring my warning look.

  She’s been excited all night and I suspect it has nothing to do with whatever Bill is planning after the rodeo.

  The problem is that Gram has this notion about love. “One day you’ll be walking down the street or sitting somewhere, and you’ll look up and see him,” Gram has said for as long as I can remember. “Something in your heart will fill up like a balloon and you’ll know: this is the man for you.”

  That’s the way it happened with her and Grandpa, and no one can convince her it isn’t that way for everyone.

  Like me and Bill. We met in the produce aisle at the corner grocery. He showed me how to pick a ripe melon. I thought he had nice hands. We ran into each other a couple more times, once in the meat department and another time when we were returning our carts.

  He asked me to go to a chamber music concert. I don’t really like chamber music, but he seemed nice.

  If it’s true and opposites attract, then that’s me and Bill. I grew up on a ranch. He’s from the big city. He likes the opera and the symphony. I was raised on rodeo.

  At least my mother appreciates him.

  “Bill is a catch,” she always tells Gram.

  Gram just smiles and says, “Remember, Kylie, don’t go fishing unless you want to fry fish for dinner.”

  That’s another thing that drives Bill crazy. Gram and her sayings. She calls them “a little good advice.”

  Bill told her once that they didn’t make sense. She just smiled and said that with a little luck, they would someday.

  “This seat smells of manure,” Bill complains now.

  “You know what they say,” Gram says distractedly. “If life gives you manure, plant tomatoes.” She’s not paying any attention to the barrel racers.

  Instead, she’s craning her neck toward the bronc riding chutes where a handful of cowboys are waiting. Bill looks at me and groans.

  “Would you get Gram and me some popcorn?” I suggest, needing to warn Gram not to spoil this night for me.

  “All right, what are you up to?” I ask Gram the moment Bill’s out of earshot.

  She gives me an innocent look, but I’ve seen it before—the night she insisted Bill and I take her to the symphony to broaden her horizons. She fell asleep just minutes into the performance and snored so loudly we had to leave.

  On the way out, I caught her chuckling to herself.

  “There’s someone I want you to meet,” she says now.

  This isn’t the first time she’s tried to fix me up with someone. “It’s too late, Gram. I’m going to marry Bill.”

  “Sure you are, sweetheart,” she says, patting my hand, her attention drawn again to the bronc riding chutes.

  Bill brings back the popcorn. He doesn’t look happy. I wonder if he’s ever going to ask me to marry him the way things are going.

  The bareback riding begins. Gram’s on the edge of her seat, peering over the fence.

  “Now here’s a cowboy who’s got some rough stock to ride,” the announcer drawls. “In chute three, it’s Ty Walker on a bronc called Plumb Crazy.”

  “You remember Ty, don’t you, dear?” Gram says.

  “That scrawny kid whose family used to work the Bartlett place?”

  She just smiles. She’s always had this notion that I belonged with a cowboy.

  Ty and Plumb Crazy fly out of the chute. The bronc lives up to his name, bucking like crazy.

  I get just a glimpse of Ty Walker. Black Stetson hat. Lots of long-legged denim. His hat takes flight and hits the dirt, but Ty sticks to the bronc.

  The horn sounds indicating that Ty has ridden Plumb Crazy the eight seconds for a score. Gram is up on her feet cheering.

  When it’s over, Ty stoops to pick up his Stetson and heads toward us. He isn’t scrawny anymore. No, all that childish length has filled into broad shoulders and slim hips on long, muscular legs that his jeans can’t hide.

  “You brought me luck, Grandma Carlton,” Ty says, climbing up the fence to plant a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

  Gram giggles like a schoolgirl. I’d forgotten how thick Ty’s sandy blond hair was. I recalled his green eyes, but I didn’t remember them being the clear deep green of a tropical sea.

  “You remember my granddaughter?” Gram says.

  Ty shifts his gaze to mine and smiles. It’s just a smile. I’ve seen dimples like that before. Just not in this handsome face.

  “Oh yes, I remember Kylie,” he says, those eyes taking on an intensity that stops my heart dead, then sets it off galloping more crazy than that bronc he just rode.

  I try to smile, but suddenly the air in the arena seems too warm, too close. I can hear the sounds of the rodeo. They’re just a long way off.

  I hear Gram cough, then pinch my arm before she asks Bill to please get her a Coke. He grumbles. “You want one too, Kylie, since I’m going?”