Her Baby Dreams (6 page)

“I enjoy the class.” Lance cleared his throat and tapped his hat against his thigh. “You did a good job with that pig the other night.” His eyes lit up a bit as he delivered the compliment. Ashby brightened. Maybe he was going to ask her out.

“Dan got you home okay?”

She nodded. “Thank goodness. I was in terrible shape. He came to my rescue.” Now why did she say that?

Lance looked mildly uncomfortable. “Well, I just wanted to say hello. I'll see you later.”

A little perplexed by the awkward exchange, Ashby watched him walk away. At least she was able to talk to the man without feeling as if she were standing on the deck of a ship in an electrical storm, which was how she felt with Dan.

What was keeping him? Whatever the two men were discussing dragged on, and she began losing her nerve. Maybe she should do this elsewhere.

She was about to leave when the two men strode out of the classroom.

“Hey, Ashby,” Brady said. “Did you need me for something? Sorry about that. Dan's helping me out in the morning and we got carried away talking plans.”

“Oh, that's okay.” She met Dan's gaze and that aggravating electricity surged around them. Especially when he winked at her. “Actually, I needed to speak to Dan.” She wanted to disappear beneath the welcome mat when Brady's knowing smile widened.

“Well, well,” he said. “Why didn't you say so? Glad to have both of you in class this morning.”

Dan's grin mirrored Brady's and he leaned against the wall expectantly. Did he not know how to stand up straight?

The minute the other man left them, Ashby whirled toward Dan, apology forgotten. “What is wrong with you?”

“Me? You said you wanted to see me. What'd I do?”

Narrowing her eyes, she slammed her hands on her hips. “The winking, the flirting. The grinning. It's like a woman can't have a decent conversation with you because you go mucking it up with your—with your obnoxious, condescending behavior.”

Why couldn't
some
men grow up?

He studied her for a long moment as she fought to rein in her uncharacteristic flare of temper. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his voice going mellow, his gaze penetrating all the way into her soul.

She wished he'd stop asking her that question. It always put her off balance. “Nothing,” she snapped, moving away from him.

“Ash, what is the harm in flirting? There certainly isn't anything in it meant to be insulting.”

She fumbled for a plausible reason for her temper tantrum. Steven's betrayal came to mind, but really, Dan meant nothing to her, so why did she let him get to her so? “There's a time and a place for it, and church isn't the place.”

He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, studying her. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

Primed to detail the inappropriateness of the situation, she was disarmed by his acquiescence.

He leaned toward her. “Normally, when someone apologizes, the injured party says something. You know—‘Thank you, kind sir, for the quick and heartfelt apology.' Something of that nature.” He lifted a perfect eyebrow, thick and straight. “C'mon, try it.”

So much for acquiescence. She gave up, shook her head and marched down the sidewalk toward the front of the church. There was just no seriousness to the man at all. He was incorrigible. She'd said it once and she was saying it again. And to think she'd tried to apologize to him!

D
an watched Ashby stalk away, and felt the sting of guilt for having taken it too far. He caught up with her at the door. “Ash, wait. I'm sorry. Really. I'm not normally so—”

She pinned him with fierce eyes, and he blanked out the rest of the sentence. They were standing on the porch. The doors were already closed and he could hear Miss Adela's piano playing signal to everyone it was time to take their seats.

“Not normally so what? Rude, overbearing, full of yourself?”

His jaw tensed. “Well, that's a bit harsh even for you, Ash.”

She looked off into the distance briefly, then back at him with slightly contrite eyes.

“Maybe I overreacted.” She sounded as if she couldn't really believe that's what might have happened. “But are you ever serious about anything?”

“Only if I have to be.” He grinned, hoping to lighten things up, but she didn't appreciate his joke at all. Nope, she turned pinker than she already was.

“Do you think that women don't have enough brains in their heads to carry on a conversation that doesn't start with a wink, a joke or pick-up line?” she asked. “Well, we can, you know.” She yanked open the door and stalked into the packed house.

Stunned by the dressing-down, Dan stood in the doorway, watching her stomp up the center aisle. She took a seat in a crowded pew, making everyone shift like a flank of dominos.

“Maybe you overreacted a whole bunch,” he mumbled, and stepped inside. He took an empty seat in the back row beside Applegate Thornton.

The older man grinned. “She turn ya down agin?” he asked, loudly enough for everyone within four rows to hear.

Dan felt eyes glancing his way. “Something like that,” he grumbled, and picked up a hymnal.

He
talked
to women. He didn't flirt all the time. Besides, flirting usually made women smile.

Stubborn female. He'd come to church to worship the Lord, but as the service got started he was having a hard time getting his mind off the hardheaded woman six rows up. She acted like he'd brought down the entire women's movement with a simple wink! She'd really rubbed him the wrong way with her accusations.

He was lost in thought, really getting wound up when, suddenly, Brady stood up and hurried out of his pew. In his hand, he held the emergency beeper that he wore on his belt, and as he walked out the door he had Dan's full attention.

Because of the small size of Mule Hollow, Brady was not only the sheriff, but the main contact for all emergency situations. Everyone pitched in when there was a need, and as Brady disappeared, Dan kept one eye on the door, knowing he'd come back and recruit help if the situation called for it.

Though he'd slipped out quietly, the whole congregation was distracted from the song they were singing by the realization of what his departure meant. A small-town emergency could be anything from a cow stuck in a tank to an eighteen-wheeler turned over at the crossroads. Fires and illnesses topped the list of things that could happen.

Almost as soon as Brady walked out the door, he was back. Grim-faced, he strode inside, meeting Dan's gaze straight on.

A feeling of foreboding rippled through Dan as he stepped out of the pew and walked forward. “What is it, Brady?”

The music came to a complete halt, and everyone in the small sanctuary went silent.

“It's your place, Dan. It's on fire.”

 

It was pretty useless to try to keep a small town away from a fire, so Sheriff Brady didn't try. Ashby watched as Dan took off for his truck. Clint Matlock, Bob Jacobs and the other men who made up the Mule Hollow volunteer fire department were right behind him as they raced back to town to grab their gear and Mule Hollow's one and only fire truck. It was an older model loaded with a large water tank. In the country, fire hydrants weren't around to connect to, and when the water ran out, a fire won.

Ashby knew as well as anyone that if the blaze had been burning long, the situation was grim. With the time it took to get to the truck, then out to Dan's place, the crew had little likelihood of saving whatever was on fire. The most they could hope was to stop it from becoming a hazard to surrounding homes and livestock.

Prayer flowed ceaselessly from Ashby's lips as she followed the procession the eight miles to Dan's. She was less than thrilled with the man, but she hated that this was happening to him.

It was plain to see by the heavy dark smoke billowing into the blue sky that the fire was big. Ashby prayed harder as the miles flew by—that God would protect Dan's animals and those who were going to be fighting the flames, Dan in particular.

Guilt assailed her. She might have been a bit rough on him earlier, but she knew that if Dan's barn was on fire and there were any animals in danger, he would rush into the flames to save them.

Ahead of them, Brady turned into Dan's drive. Seconds later, Ashby and the caravan from church careened over the cattle guard, turning into the pasture off the lane. They had to leave the gravel driveway open so that the fire truck would have access.

Ashby's heart sank as she clambered out of her car. Black smoke billowed from Dan's home and flames were starting to break through the roof in several places. Everyone ran across the grass, hoping to be of help in any way possible. The men were shouting instructions, and the women, Norma Sue and Esther Mae in particular, were passing them on in a chain. Ashby heard everything going on around her as if from a distance, like the static of several radio stations fighting to be heard. Her attention was focused ahead of her, on Dan's home and the smoke rolling out of the open front door.

Struggling to catch her breath, she felt her heart pound in her ears as she stumbled to a halt near the back of Sheriff Brady's truck. She scanned the area, coughing. Where was Dan?

Nowhere in sight. Her eyes locked on the open door and she felt as if she was going to be sick. The house was burning with terrifying intensity. Was Dan inside?

With a sinking heart, she realized Brady must think so, because he was strapping on his oxygen tank as he headed toward the doorway.

Ashby couldn't believe what was happening. The fire truck could be heard approaching.
Hurry,
she prayed over and over. As she watched, a section of roof caved in, and she screamed. Burning ash and debris scattered, catching the dry grass on fire everywhere it landed. She knew as well as anyone the danger if the sparks were left unattended. But all she could think about was that somewhere inside the flaming house, Dan had disappeared. And Brady was going in after him.

Like worker ants, people raced to dowse the flames licking across the yard before they could get out of hand. But Ashby couldn't pull herself away from where she stood, crazy with fear. The fire truck finally rumbled across the cattle guard, and she felt some relief, knowing it was here. But it was too late for the house.

Suddenly, before Brady could make it inside, Dan staggered out the door, barely visible in the black smoke. Brady grabbed him just as he was collapsing. And that's when Ashby moved, knowing they were still in danger. First she grabbed the picture frame Dan was clutching, then she scooted beneath his arm and helped Brady get him to clean air.

He was coughing so hard she thought he would break in two as they reached the truck. Brady yanked the tailgate down, told him to sit, and gave him oxygen.

“Watch him, Ashby. And don't let him do any more stupid stunts. The ambulance is on its way.”

Ashby nodded, meeting Dan's red eyes over the rim of the oxygen mask. To her surprise, he winked!

Brady squeezed her shoulder. “There's bottled water in the pickup. Would you get him some? And call me if you need me.”

Ashby nodded again and went for the water as Brady hurried off. She snatched a bottle out of the twenty-four pack in Brady's back seat. Obviously, he stayed prepared for trouble.

Dan was still coughing as she set the picture on the tailgate beside him. He took the water from her, and after a few swallows his coughs eased a little.

“Had to get—”

“Don't talk,” Ashby said, gently pushing the hand holding the oxygen mask back up to his face. He watched her as he took a breath.

Foolish man. She glanced at the picture. It was of him several years younger, and a woman who looked enough like him that it had to be his mother. Ashby felt the prick of tears. He'd risked his life for a picture of his mother. Her heart melted.

She met his gaze. Behind the mask she could perceive a faint smile. “Your mother?” she asked, though she knew the answer.

He nodded. “Important,” he wheezed between coughs. “She died.”

Ashby looked toward the house as emotion took over and tears slid down her cheeks. He'd gone into a raging fire to save a photo of his dead mother.

She wanted to tell him it was stupid to have risked his life for a picture. But she couldn't.

The ambulance pulled into the yard and she swiped the dampness off her cheeks, catching him watching her as she waved the emergency vehicle over.

He touched her arm. “Don't cry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just stuff.” His eyes, red from the smoke, held her gaze. He'd just lost everything and
he
was comforting
her.
Before she could react, the EMTs were there, telling her to step aside.

She did, though she hovered close. For the first time since she'd known Dan Dawson, she let herself admit her curiosity about him.

 

And so that was that, Dan thought, standing near the heap of ashes that had been his home up until four hours ago. Parts of the house remained standing, charred and smoldering. The roof was caved in, and what was left inside…if the fire hadn't destroyed it, the water had. It was almost easier to look at the ashes than at the smutty residue that fire and water left on the few things that remained: pots and pans, framed pictures, the images behind the glass spoiled by the smoke and water that had seeped through the edges.

He thanked the Lord for giving him time to save the picture of him and his mom. That was all he had left of her now. If he'd arrived five minutes later, he wouldn't have been able to make the mad dash into the house to snatch the framed eight-by-ten off the wall in the den.

Brady hadn't given him a dressing-down for the stunt, and Dan was sure the only reason was that he knew it wouldn't have done any good. The sheriff had tried to get him to go to the hospital, but Dan had refused. That hadn't made the EMTs or Ashby happy.

He thought of the tears he'd seen in her eyes, and his chest grew tighter than it already was. Her tender heart had touched him.

The growing mental list of what needed to be done quickly pushed his thoughts away from Ashby. But until the adjuster came out there wasn't much he could actually do. First thing tomorrow, he intended to have copies of the photo made, and to put one in a safe-deposit box. His mother had been a special lady, and the thought of not being able to show his some-day children a picture of their grandmother was unbearable.

He'd never known a stronger woman than his mother. She'd risked everything for him, her only child, even her life…. Her grandchildren would need to see a picture of her, and thanks to the Lord's timing, they would…that is,
if
he ever had any.

“Man, I'm really sorry,” Clint said, coming to stand beside him. “This is a cryin' shame. Did I hear Brady tell you it was a faulty lamp cord?”

“Can you believe it? Plugged into the outlet beside my bed.” Dan met his friend's sympathetic eyes and pulled a smile up despite the situation. “At least no one was hurt.”

“Well, there is that. Though you took a big risk. You feeling okay?”

Dan nodded.

“I wish there had been more we could do,” Clint added.

Dan knew he was in shock to an extent, and that tomorrow he might feel differently, but…“It's just stuff, Clint. I've never been big on creature comforts, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, I agree with you on that.” He glanced toward Lacy, who was chatting with a group of women. “As long as I walked out of something like this with Lacy alive, that's all that would matter to me.”

Dan nodded. “You've got your priorities straight.”

“Look, I was serious about coming to stay at the house for as long as you need to.”

Dan had received so many offers they were all a blur, but this time he accepted. “Thanks, buddy, I'll take you up on it tonight. I'll figure something else out tomorrow. Now, help me get everyone to go on home. I know they all want to pitch in but there's nothing anyone can do now.”

It took them a little while to get the townsfolk to listen, but eventually they all walked back out to their cars and headed home for the evening. Dan got hugs from all the women and plenty of back slaps from the guys. They were good people.

He watched everyone leave, promising that he was going to go out to Clint's right after everyone left. But even though he loved them all dearly, he was glad to see them go. He needed a few moments alone.