Page 102 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses

Kate watched helplessly as Tanner paused before the saloon’s crimson doors, pressed a palm flat against one, then nodded with apparent relief, and disappeared inside. “Oh, no. No, Tanner.” Her chin bumped her chest, tears making sticky tracks down her face.

Someone pulled her to the side as a line of men formed a loose brigade and began hurling buckets of water against the Four Leaf’s whitewashed front. “Ma’am, the Colonel tole me to keep woman and children back. Got the water wagon ready, passing pails, just like the Colonel ordered.”

She laughed and scrubbed her cheeks. “He’s not a colonel. A newspaperman. Tanner’s a...newspaperman.” There. She’d said the word. Out loud. With pride. A newspaperman—she loved a newspaperman. And he had disappeared inside a building with flames chewing through the roof. “I’ve got to go,” she said and shoved hard at the arm circling her.

The arm around her tightened, a bony elbow digging into her ribs. “Easy, now. I know he ain’t no colonel, but he looks a darn sight like a colonel I once knew. Back in ‘15. Battle of Orleans. Colonel by the name of Perkins. From Baton Rouge. Or was it Natchez?”

The front window of the saloon exploded in a shower of glass. The men closest to the building jumped back, shielding their faces. One screamed in pain and clutched his hand, blood dripping between his clenched fingers. Kate twisted her head and drilled her keeper with the harshest glare she could summon. “Get your hands off me, right now, or I’m going to break your skinny damned arm. Do you understand?”

Her keeper’s brows reared. “Ma’am?” His hold loosened.

“Let...me...go.” She smacked her fist against his shoulder.

“Goddern crazy woman,” he said as she struggled to break free.

“Let her go, Jose. I’ll handle this.”

Adam. Kate sagged, her eyes filling with relieved tears.

“She hit me, Chase!”

“I said, I’ll handle it.”

“Adam! Dear God, Tanner’s in there.” She took a furious step toward the saloon, then Adam wrenched her off her feet. Unlike the old man’s, this hold she could not break even if she tried. Heart pounding, stomach churning, she glanced over her shoulder. “Adam, please.”

A violent splinter of wood, the sound of the Four Leaf Clover losing the battle to remain standing if she guessed correctly, halted their conversation.

“How long?” Adam’s gaze jumped from her face to the saloon.

“Five minutes. At the most.”

He nodded. “I’m going in.” With a curse, he halted, reached out and shook her. Hard. “Dammit, Kate, go over by the water wagon. And stay. We need as many people as we can get to work the brigade. Charlie’s rounding up more men. If we can, we’ll keep this blessed town from burning down around our ears. No fire rig, for the love of Christ. I knew I should have bought one and been done with it.”

After shoving her toward the group bellowing orders and passing buckets, he plunged into the roaring hell that was the saloon.

The doors swung wildly behind him, then one clattered to the boardwalk.

Kate lifted her skirts and rushed to the water wagon, merely an oversized barrel on wheels. Glass cracked beneath her slippers, and she grasped the wagon for support. The smell of charred wood and whiskey filled the air, filled her mouth with a sour, biting taste she wondered if she would ever forget. She inserted herself in the line, ignoring the startled looks she received, vowing to do anything to help Tanner get out of there.

Anything.

When he did, because he would, she would do all the things she’d promised God as she watched Tanner race into a burning building. Honor her mother, her sister. Have more patience. Attend Mass twice a week. Curse less often.

Or, had she promised not to curse at all?

She passed a bucket to the next person in line, water seeping through her skirt and her slippers. The saloon’s roof was now engulfed in flames. As she recorded the destruction, a section at the north edge crumpled in a furious cough of sparks.

Blinking back tears, she grasped another bucket and hoisted it high.

Please, please protect him.

* * *

Cowboy-lover went limp in Tanner’s arms, her blond head flopping against his shoulder. Stumbling past a sea of splintered chairs and overturned tables, Tanner collided with another body. He blinked, sending tears down his face and further blurring his vision.

“Tanner?”

“Adam?” Tanner tried, but could not speak above a hoarse whisper—not loud enough to be heard above the furor of igniting wood. He swallowed, tasting cinders and hell. “One more in here.” He shook his head—there wasn’t time to do more—and shoved Cowboy-lover into Adam’s arms. Thankfully, his friend relieved him of the burden.