Gold in the Fire. Margaret Daley
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Joshua plowed his hand through his damp hair. “Well, not exactly. I just don’t want to be responsible for causing your father further grief. But questions will have to be asked—and answered.”
“Then you can ask me. As of last week, I’m acting as the manager of this farm until my father gets back on his feet.” If she said it enough times, perhaps it would be true.
“I’ll be back later with my camera and Arnold. I’ll know more after I take a look around.” He put his helmet on. “Good day.”
Frustration churned in her stomach as she watched the firefighter walk away, the thick fog and smoke swallowing him until all she saw was a gray wall. Another shiver rippled down her spine. What in the world had she gotten herself into? A serial arsonist?
Normally this was her favorite time of day, when the sun was just peeking over the horizon, the sky lit with color, the birds chirping in the nearby trees. Even when it was foggy, there was a certain appeal to dawn, a mystery waiting to be uncovered. But now there was a real mystery. Who would want to set fires to barns filled with horses?
A pounding behind her eyes hammered at her temples. Her father raised jumpers and hunters. People from all over the country came to him. His reputation as a breeder had always been paramount to him—at times to the exclusion of even his family.
Darcy closed her eyes for a few seconds and tried to compose her shattered nerves. There was so much she had to do. She didn’t know where to begin. Finally she decided she had to check on her father first, to make sure he was following his doctor’s orders, before she could even take the time to assimilate this latest news.
She started up the road that led to the main house, white painted fences on either side of the asphalt. Somewhere out in those fields were some of their prize brood-mares. But the fog that adhered to the ground obscured her view. She would need to make sure all the horses were accounted for—after she saw her father and reassured herself that he was all right.
She entered the house through the back door. Lizzy Johnson, the petite housekeeper, stood at the stove, shaking her head while she prepared French toast. A strand of gray hair fell forward on her forehead. With a heavy sigh, she brushed it back in place.
“What’s wrong, Lizzy?”
“One thing. Shamus. He insists on eating a proper breakfast. He wanted eggs, bacon and toast. He’s getting French toast. I figure that’s better than a plate full of cholesterol-high eggs fried in bacon grease.”
The frustration in Lizzy’s voice matched her own feelings. Darcy knew how difficult her father could be. He didn’t like change, and the new diet his doctor wanted him on was definitely a change.
“I’ll have a word with Dad. Is he in his room resting?”
Lizzy arched a brow. “Resting? No, he’s dressed and ready to go back down to the barn.”
“But he promised me—” Darcy swallowed the rest of her sentence. It was hopeless. Her father didn’t know how to take it easy or to follow orders. Why had she thought she would be able to help her father recover when he had never slowed down for anything in the past, not even when her mother had died? He’d put in almost a full day of work the day of the funeral.
“Child, he’s in the dining room drinking his coffee. Praise the Lord, decaf. But it was a battle to get him to drink that instead of regular coffee. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it down at the barn.” Lizzy flipped over the pieces of bread, her gaze clouding. “How bad is it?”
“Bad. The barn is completely gone. Thankfully no one was hurt, but we lost one mare in foal. The rest of the horses we managed to save. Now I have to handle finding places to stable seventeen mares until we can rebuild the barn.” Darcy thought back to what Joshua Markham had said about a serial arsonist. What if the other barns were in danger?
“And a father who won’t listen to his doctor’s advice.”
“Yes, that, too.”
“Here, I suspect you could use some of this. Just keep it away from your father.” Lizzy passed her a glass pot full of a dark brown brew. “This has lots of caffeine.”
“Thanks. I can always count on you, Lizzy,” Darcy murmured as she made her way into the dining room.
Pausing halfway down the long, cherry-wood table that seated twelve, she put the pot on a thick place mat. Then, instead of sitting, she gripped the back of a brocade-covered chair, leaning into it for support.
Her father glanced up from reading the newspaper. “I thought you were Lizzy with the breakfast she insists I eat. What’s taking her so long? Never mind—I’m sure she’s not hurrying because she doesn’t think I should go down to the barn.”
“You shouldn’t, Dad. I can take care of everything. Did you rest at all?”
He frowned. “Rest when one of my barns is burning? What do you think?”
“When did you come back to the house?”
He looked away, busying himself with taking several sips of his coffee.
“Dad?”
“Thirty minutes ago.” His sharp eyes returned to her face. “Did you really think I would go back to the house and sleep? I thought you knew me better than that.”
Darcy took in the tired lines etched into his weathered face, an ashen cast to it. She noticed the slump to his shoulders and the slight trembling as he brought the cup to his lips. He was barely holding himself together, and she didn’t know how to make him stop and rest before he— She wouldn’t think about what could happen to him if he didn’t do what the doctor said. Their relationship might not be a strong one, but he was her father and she cared.
“Dad, there isn’t anything you can do now. I can take care of stabling the mares and seeing to the mess. That’s why I came home to help you.”
“When I agreed to you coming home to help, it wasn’t for something like this. I could have lost a third of my breeding stock last night.”
Her grip on the chair tightened until pain shot up her arms. “I’m capable of handling it.”
“This is my life.” He thumped his chest. “I need to see to it.”
Darcy pulled out the chair and sat before she collapsed. The long night was finally catching up with her, and she felt the lack of sleep in every fiber of her being.
“If you don’t take care of yourself and follow the doctor’s orders, there will be no life to see to.”
“You don’t mince words.”
“You’ve always taught me to tell it like it is. You’ve been home from the hospital only a few days. You aren’t supposed to deal with anything stressful, especially something like what happened last night.”
He leaned forward, clasping the edge of the table. “Don’t you understand, not knowing is more stressful than seeing to my job.”
“I came up here to check on you, then I intend to return to make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll report back to you as soon as I deal with stabling the mares. I’ll keep you informed as if you’re right there.” The tightness in her throat threatened to cut off her words. She swallowed several times and continued. “Please let me do this for you.” Please, for once in your life, need me.
For several moments he stared at her. Then suddenly he slumped back in the chair and dropped his head. “You win. This time. But I don’t intend to stay in my room for long. Just as soon as I feel a little better, I’ll be down at the barn.”
The weak thread to his words, the fact that he’d backed down, underscored how sick her father really was. He would never admit more than he had, but she knew he was definitely feeling the effects of being up most of the night.
“Then you’ll go rest and wait for me to come see