voices raised and sirens wailed in the distance.
“Dick!” She had to find her brother.
Chase caught her by the wings. The fabric straps dug into her shoulders and beneath her breasts as she struggled to go to her brother.
“You can’t go!” Chase said, putting himself protectively between her and the fire.
“But he’s lost in there, possibly hurt.” She struggled some more, knowing her puny strength was useless against his determination.
“Let the professionals do it. The fire department is on its way.”
“But it’s Dick, my brother, your best friend,” she sobbed.
“I know, but I also know that if you go looking for him now, I’ll be mourning you both. I can’t do that.”
Thistle surged forward. “Don’t you dare hurt my trees!” she yelled at Hay.
He turned on her, a sneer turning his once handsome face into an ugly mask. Pointed ears and chin turned him into a gargoyle. He brandished the roaring chain saw like a weapon.
Dusty gasped at the pure evil that seemed to roll off him like the waves of heat rising from the flames.
“Did someone call me?” Dick staggered out of the forest, his heavy western boots trampling and subduing the embers where he stepped. He rubbed his head rhythmically and kept his eyes nearly closed. He’d lost his hat.
Chase’s heart returned to a normal rate. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so relieved in his life.
More embers sprang to fiery life around his friend.
“Dick!” Thistle and Dusty screamed at the same moment.
He looked up and stumbled sideways into Hay, knocking him flat. The chain saw ground to a halt where it dug into the turf.
The fire edged deeper into the woods, ignoring the freshly watered lawn.
Chase pounced on Hay. One foot in the middle of his back, catching his flailing right hand with his own. “Got you now, Haywood Wheatland. I’m placing you under arrest for willful destruction of a city park, threatening an officer of the law, kidnap, arson, and I’ll think of a few other charges along the way.” He slapped handcuffs around the wrist he held and reached for the other hand. “You have the right to remain silent…”
“You can’t hold me! I’ll shrink and fly away,” Hay laughed. Then he closed his eyes and screwed up his face in fierce concentration. The flames cast eerie lights on the planes and angles of his cheeks and pointy ears.
“Aren’t you forgetting your own mythology?” Thistle sneered at him. She placed a foot on his shoulder, keeping him down. “Those are iron handcuffs. They negate your magic. You’re stuck in that body.”
“Huh?”
Chase completed his arrest ritual, making sure the cuffs fit tightly. No chance the tricky con man would find a way to wiggle free.
Dusty grabbed Dick by the arm, leading him away from the spreading flames. She shook him cautiously. “Are you okay?”
“I will be, when I can get some ice. Phelma Jo packs quite a wallop. Where is she, by the way? I think she’s been drugged.”
Chase turned to where she stood staring straight ahead, heedless of the flames that licked at her trouser legs. He threw Hay’s hands down and lunged forward in his best football tackle.
Dusty beat him to it. She crashed into Phelma Jo, knocking them both sideways, rolling onto the lush grass, until the flames gave up their fight for life and fuel.
Chase helped Dusty up, a little roughly, as he bent to inspect Phelma Jo’s injuries. “Medic! ” he yelled when he found second-degree burns on her ankles and hands.
Strangely, she remained silent, staring vacantly into the distance.
Dick joined him.
“Take care of her. You’ve got the EMT training,” Chase ordered.
“The wind has shifted,” Thistle announced. It’s coming from the east.
“Damn. That will spread the fire downhill, toward town.” Chase looked up, taking a tally of where everyone was and how much help they’d be. “We’re gonna need more fire trucks.” He pulled out his walkie-talkie and barked orders into it.
“The cliff is full of poison oak,” Dusty cried. “The smoke is toxic! ”
Chase looked at Hay and Phelma Jo in bewilderment. “I’ve got to get these two locked up. But I need to be on the front lines of this fire.”
“The pioneer jailhouse!” Thistle cried,pointing to the ramshackle shed whose wall planks sank two feet below ground level.
“That place won’t hold a fly,” Chase snorted.
“But it will hold Hay. Between the iron in the cuffs and being half underground, he’ll be powerless.”
“And Phelma Jo is really out of it,” Dusty reminded him, standing up.
Phelma Jo continued to lie on the ground unmoving, humming something.
“She hasn’t moved. Dick, will she be all right?”
“Can’t say for sure. But she’s acting like he gave her flunitrazepam.” He tore Phelma Jo’s pant leg from ankle to knee, exposing more raw skin.
“What’s that?” Thistle asked.
“Commonly called Rohypnol or ruffies. A date rape drug that has hypnotic qualities,” Dick said, not looking up from his work.
“Just looks like a normal magic trance to me,” Thistle shrugged.
“Try explaining that to Judge Pepperidge,” Chase said, hauling a strangely silent and subdued Haywood toward the primitive shed. “Okay, let’s get this guy locked up. Phelma Jo goes in the first ambulance. Dick, find a paramedic among the fire crews for that knot on your head. It’s bleeding. Dusty, start organizing people to head downtown and meet the blaze with hoses and shovels as it comes down the cliff. We need the pumper trucks up here.”
“Will do!” she saluted him and ran off to the mass of people huddling away from the fire, doing a lot of talking but not much else.
“Don’t just stand there. Get out the hoses! Ladies, spray the sides of the buildings and the roof. This is my museum, and I’m not going to let it burn because you can’t make a decision. Gentlemen, into town and start wetting down as many of the buildings backing up to the cliff as you can.”
She sounded calm and determined, like a mother hen.
Bill Tremaine jumped to obey her commands, Pamela Shiregrove not far behind him.
He couldn’t help smiling. The old Dusty, shy and frightened of life was gone for good, because Thistle had taught her to embrace life rather than hide from it.
He heard Thistle call from the distance:
“I’ll get the Pixies to rescue who they can from the woods. The barrier came down with the flames.” She dashed off barefoot, nearly floating over the grass.
Epilogue
THISTLE BLEW HER WHISTLE, letting the shrill sound open a way for her voice. “Get a move on, buster. If you gotta gawk at the fire, park the damn rig and walk back so you can help! ” She waved the driver of the big black SUV around Memorial Fountain and away from the bustle at the edge of the fire.
Another blast on the whistle and she moved another line of traffic forward. Then she danced through the pool of the fountain, letting her bare feet send slops of water onto the street. The hem of her purple party dress dragged behind her. She stood face-to-face with yet another driver, leaning out his window rather than moving out of the way.
