Page 17 of One Wild Texas Night
“Betsy comes today to clean, so leave the dishes. Let’s head out to your ranch and then go to Persimmon so you can buy some duds.”
“That will be a welcome relief,” she said. “I dread seeing my house, but there were some metal containers that had important things, so I want to see how they fared and maybe pick them up.”
“They could be too hot to move yet. I can get some guys to go get them if I can’t get them into the pickup. We’ll see,” he said, doubtful she had anything that made it through the fire. “It may still be smoldering, and we need to be careful because some areas are probably still burning and can just flare right back up.”
“I’ll make it quick. I don’t think it’ll take long to look.”
He nodded, looking at her thick braid and wondering how she would look with her hair loose. He realized he was lost in thoughts about running his hands through the thick red hair, seeing it splayed against his pillow, and he turned away, shooing her out of the kitchen. He had a feeling if he didn’t, they might not get to town this morning.
* * *
They drove across land that still smoldered, and occasionally they passed a small fire, flames still flaring where there was something left to burn. Some structures were either completely gone or were partially burned and still standing but looking ready to collapse.
“Damn, it looks like a war zone. Are you sure you want to keep going?”
“Yes, please. I had two boxes I used for safes. I want to get those. There’s money and papers I need.”
“Okay. Make this fast. Fires are unpredictable.”
“I’ll hurry,” she answered and lapsed back into silence. He knew she was hurting and this drive to her ranch wasn’t going to do her any good that he could see, but if she could salvage something, he would help. He glanced at his watch, because they weren’t going to stay long. He’d bring her back if necessary, but he didn’t like being here and felt certain they shouldn’t be breathing the fumes.
When they entered her ranch, the damage was extensive. Her barn, outbuildings, employees’ houses—all were in smoldering ruins. And then her house came into view, and he heard her groan and he hurt for her. There was nothing left of her house except mounds of ashes, burned wood that looked as if a breeze would crumble it. He knew how he would feel if it was his home.
He pulled close and got out of his pickup as she went ahead, handing her a bandanna that she put over her mouth. He had given her gloves and had a pair for himself, because he could glimpse little flares of flickering flames under the rubbish. They both wore boots. He hoped she would hurry, because it wasn’t a good place to be.
“Do you want me to put the containers I find into my pickup?”
“If possible, yes. If it takes two to move something, just let me know.”
He walked through the rubble. There were metal containers, some too big for her to handle, one that took both of them. She called him to another one.
“I need this one. This is the main one. It’s got money and papers,” she said, and he looked down at a large metal box with handles on both ends and a dent in the lid. Recognizing the box, he stared at it. “I’ll be damned,” he said without realizing he had spoken out loud.
“Turn this over,” he told her, taking hold of one of the handles, because he knew it was heavy and would take both of them to turn and get it into his pickup. Anger washed over him as he bent to roll it over.
Jake looked at dents and scrapes across one part of the bottom. It was covered in ashes and burned black bits of wood. He swept his arm across it and brushed it off, peering at letters that someone had tried to scratch over while his heartbeat quickened, and his anger increased.
Just as he suspected. This big metal box had belonged to his dad.
Six
“What are you doing?” she asked. “This has money in it and some of my important papers. This is the main container. My dad kept papers in it and guns. He left it for me. I want to take it with us.”
Anger made Jake hot, and he looked up at her. “This metal box used to belong to us. My dad’s name is scratched in the bottom side. He kept money in it until it was stolen,” he said, feeling a deep flash of anger, because her dad and brothers must have been the thieves who robbed his dad. Suddenly he was caught up once again in the feud with her family, remembering that his dad always claimed Claire’s father and brothers had been behind the theft.
“This can’t be yours,” she said, a note of impatience in her voice. “This belonged to my dad. He had it before I went to college. He said it was my grandfather’s.”
“I think not,” Jake said, trying to brush off more debris. “Someone has tried to scratch over a name. We’ll take this and clean it up, but I know this box. The corner was dented like that when we had it because a couple of guys who worked for my dad dropped an anvil on it.”
As Jake’s anger intensified, he remembered times he’d fought with her brothers. He remembered the things her dad had done when her family owned the ranch. Fences cut, livestock stolen—her family was smart enough to never keep the livestock, but his father always thought her dad and brothers rustled cattle and sold them, moving them quickly so they wouldn’t get caught.
He thought they did it to be ornery, not for the money at all.
“This is my family’s box. Underneath all those scratches, I’ll bet I find the name Reed,” he said. “Help me lift it.” She glared at him as she grabbed a handle and they hoisted it into his pickup.
“Let’s get the rest of these metal containers,” he said, hurrying through the debris and coughing from the fumes. Anger rocked him, and he could remember other incidents of vandalism that had happened years earlier to their ranch, things his dad had blamed on the Blakes. Jake needed to get himself away from Claire and remember the feud, because he might not be able to trust her any more than he trusted her dad or her brothers. She was a Blake just as much as the rest of her family. She might be far more like them than she admitted. He didn’t want to get tangled up emotionally with some woman who had the same blood in her veins as her dad and those thugs that were her two older brothers.
Angry and grim, he worked in silence, gathering up three more containers. “Let’s go. We’ll come back for more, if need be. No one else is going to come get this stuff. Not out here. Let’s get out of here and go where we can breathe fresh air. I promised to take you to Persimmon, but we’re going back to the ranch first to wash this stuff off.”
