Chapter Eighteen

One of the dogs barked. Emily sat up and glanced at her watch. Three a.m. If she were confronted by that vicious sound, she’d be scared to death. The curtains lifted in the breeze and smoke blew in the room. Shivers ran down her spine. Not again. There couldn’t be much left to burn in this small town.

Suddenly both dogs were barking wildly.

Nate’s bedroom door slammed. He pounded on her door.

“Get up! We have a fire!” he shouted.

Emily tumbled from the bed and grabbed her sneakers and clothes. She was half-dressed before she reached the hall. Pulling on her shirt, she ran after Nate. The thick smoke robbed her of breath. She coughed and choked. Nate pulled his shirt over his mouth and gestured for her to do the same. It eased her breathing enough to take in what was happening. They burst onto the deck.

Red and orange lit the sky behind the barn. Black smoke billowed up. The fire alarm shrilled in the barn.

The cottage lights blazed on. Liz appeared with a cell phone in her hand. “I called for the fire department,” she yelled. “Where’s Jack?”

The sound of sirens rose in the distance and grew louder. Liz rushed back inside when the children started to cry. Emily headed toward the cottage to help.

“What’s happening?” Vicki asked. Joining Emily, she pushed her hair into a pony tail then she finished pulling on an old sweater and jeans. “I’ve got to see my patient,” Vicki shouted.

Jack ran from the other side of the barn. He’d let the dogs free and they followed him closely, their noses sniffing the air. They continued barking wildly.

“Find, Mark. Find, Cleo,” he ordered. Their ears straightened and the barking stopped. Mark went from standing to full run in one step. Cleo was two steps behind. They raced into the night. Emily’s throat tightened. The dogs were tracking an arsonist. She had no doubt they’d find him.

“Jack, are you okay? Where is the fire? Do we need to get the horses out?” Nate shouted.

The two men met outside the barn and briefly clasped shoulders. Emily halted next to the pond. She’d be no help with the large animals.

“Fire was around the back,” Jack said breathlessly. “Help me get them into the corral. They’re hard to handle when they’re spooked.”

A minute later the fire chief drove onto the grass, his blue lights flashing like lightning in the night. He had donned his fire-fighting gear and ran with Jack and Nate into the smoke-filled barn. Outside, the smoke was thinning and Emily wiped her eyes dry. The three men struggled to lead the wild-eyed horses into the newly repaired corral. They snorted and plunged to escape the smoke. It took three trips to get them all to safety. Unable to hold the animals, Nate held the gate open, waving them inside.

Suddenly the threatening barking resumed. Down the hill someone screamed. Fear echoed across the fields. The barking increased, but stayed in one place. Emily yelled for Jack.

A shot rang out. One of the dogs yipped and fell silent. Shocked, Emily cried out, hoping they were all right, but knowing one was hurt.

Jack raced toward the barking while a fire engine halted and the men set up the hose. Within minutes they were pumping water from the fire pond. Gurgling and splashing came on the far side of the barn along with shouted directions. In the flashing lights, Emily couldn’t count how many volunteers were fighting the blaze.

Ashes filled the air in the short time before the deputy arrived.

She didn’t notice Nate until he reached her side. Soot smudged his face and uninjured arm.

“Jack is following the arsonist. The dogs were tracking him and we heard a shot. One of the dogs is hurt. That direction,” Nate explained and pointed at the path down the hill. The other dog was growling enough to be heard over the firefighters’ efforts. The deputy hurried toward the sound.

“Don’t hit me,” someone cried. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. He scared me.”

Mark quieted on Jack’s command. Cleo whined.

Emily prayed they were okay. She’d grown to love them both.

A few minutes later the men came out of the shadows. Jack carried the seventy-pound Cleo cradled in his arms like a baby. Blood soaked the shirt he’d tied around her stomach. Tears wet his cheeks. Mark heeled, panting. The deputy held the handcuffed prisoner by the arm.

“Bring Cleo here,” Liz shouted. “I called the vet and he’s on his way.” She tossed a blanket on the ground in front of the cottage and held another to wrap around the injured dog. Sara and John hovered in the open doorway. Sara rubbed her eyes and John sucked his thumb, a habit he’d stopped months ago.

After parking, the sheriff slammed out of her cruiser and joined her deputy. She tugged the handcuffed prisoner into the light from the inn.

“Don’t hurt me,” he whined.

Shock rippled over Emily. Nate groaned when he recognized the fire starter. Arthur Barber wept and rubbed his chubby face.

“You’re under arrest,” Karen stated before she repeated the Miranda Warning. “Do you understand?”

“Why? That dog is mean. It chased me. I had to defend myself. My daddy always said to be careful of mean dogs.”

“Arthur, did you understand me? You need to know your rights,” Karen repeated. Tight- lipped, she held him in place when he pulled away.

“I know about rights,” he mumbled. “We learned them in school.”

Karen grimaced and rubbed one hand over her face. “Where did you get the gun, Arthur?”

He sniffled again. “It’s my daddy’s gun. He left it locked in the desk drawer. I know where he keeps the key.”

Liz joined Jack and Nate next to Cleo. Mark nuzzled his mate and licked her muzzle. She quieted when Jack stroked her gently. Emily waited, aware the shadows hid her presence. Everyone listened to the feeble crying.

“Why did you start the fire?” Karen asked calmly.

“You burn old wood,” he answered, his pudgy face wrinkled in concentration. His hands twisted restlessly. “My daddy made fires with the dead branches. In the fall we had big fires with the old leaves. It’s how you clean the yard.”

Nate bent his head and closed his eyes. Emily knew how he felt. The friendly young man was explaining how he’d been raised by an old-fashioned father. What he had learned was skewed by his simple thinking. Helping his father had been a pleasant chore he’d been rewarded for with love.

The town veterinarian arrived and bent over Cleo. Liz went into the cottage to stay with the children. Emily could hear her crooning a lullaby in hopes they would sleep.

Vicki urged her patient into the cottage before she walked over.

When Nate sat on the deck step, he held Vicki’s hand, seeking comfort. She squeezed his fingers tightly.

“That was a surprise,” she stated. Her green eyes flashed fire when they met. “What should I tell my patient?”

“The scorch marks on the barn are visible. An arsonist set the fire and then shot one of the dogs when they tracked him. He’s safely in custody,” Nate explained. Emily envied their closeness.

“So he’s the one?”

“He admitted he set a dozen or more fires. Luckily no one was hurt. I thought he was a little slow, a mild kid in a man’s body. I have trouble believing this.” He shrugged, but his hand trembled.

After putting Arthur in the cruiser, Karen returned, standing with her legs braced.

“I’m really sorry, Nate. I got hung up with a traffic accident and didn’t get here earlier. This isn’t the worst,” she claimed through tight lips. “The forensics lab in Rutland matched the blue paint on his truck to the scrapes on your bike. He’s the hit-and-run driver.”

Nate’s gut curled with anger and disappointment. “I thought he was a friend. He was always dropping in to the inn. Helping with small chores. I figured he missed his former home and I let him hang around.” He rubbed his sore shoulder while he fought to remain calm. “What will happen to him?”

“I don’t know. He’ll need help. Hopefully the courts will do something.”

Karen waved the waiting deputy to his cruiser and slid behind the wheel of hers.

“I want to go home,” Arthur whimpered in the back seat. He cowered into the corner and rubbed his tearing eyes. “When can I go home?”

“Sorry, Arthur, we’ll be taking you to jail. I’ll call your family and explain.” She put her cruiser in gear and slowly drove away.

Nate’s chest burned at the memory of Art talking about the fish he caught. He rubbed his chin. Pity for the confused young man tightened his throat.

The volunteer firemen rolled the pump engine’s hose and loaded it on the truck. Chief Brunner joined Nate and Emily on the step after opening his jacket. He dripped with sweat. Emily fetched a bottle of water and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said. “We were lucky. Those dogs saved your barn and probably those horses. Art’d piled leaves against the wood siding and poured on lighter fluid. That’s what caused the thick smoke. When you woke, the wood was smoldering. A few more minutes and—poof.”

“Don’t forget your advice to fill the fire pond. The availability of water was key. The volunteers had that hose running in minutes.” Nate held out his hand to shake the chief’s hand. “Thank you.”