Irene Radford - Thistle Down

“Yes, of course. What are you wearing? I do hope you aren’t in those musty old pioneer dresses you favor. You need something light and colorful…”

“Mom, I’m dressed as a white swallowtail Pixie, complete with tiara. And Chase looks marvelous as the local sheriff.”

“That’s nice. But did Ted call you? Why aren’t you with the date I arranged for you?”

“Ted did call, and we agreed we’d both be happier dating someone else. I’m with Chase tonight. Ted should be coming with his real girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Mom’s voice fell flat.

“Mom, I followed all of your instructions for the Ball to the letter.” Then she’d tossed most of them and started over from scratch with a less redundant and micromanaged schedule.

“But…”

“Not now, Mom.” Dusty closed the phone with a decisive click.

It rang again. She ignored it after a quick glance at the caller ID.

“Good for you, Dusty,” Chase whispered as he leaned in for a quick kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. Mom will never let go of me until I cut the umbilical cord myself. Until I define myself and not let her and the dead cancer do it for me.”

Chase just grinned and kissed her again.

“Amazing that the food comes out of the kitchens at regular intervals, the musicians play twenty-minute sets and then retire to the punch bowl, and all the guests are behaving themselves,” Chase mused. “All without your mother telling people what to do, when to do it, why they should do it, and how.”

“I diluted the champagne punch to half usual strength,” Dusty whispered. “No one is getting drunk. Mom would never think of that. She insisted we had to follow the 1857 recipe precisely.”

“You forgot the mayor.” Chase frowned.

“You mean the flask?”

“Yeah.”

“Not to worry. Thistle substituted a different one. He’s drinking heavily watered vodka.”

“Good planning. Good party.” Chase raised her fingers to her lips. “I suppose you’ll want a formal courtship, lots of dates, making out in the back of my pickup before I can ask you to marry me.”

“Oh, I want lots of dates. And lots of making out. But you can ask me before all that happens.” She smiled hugely, leaning closer to him, relishing the strength of his arms and the silly grin on his face.

“Later, when this is all over and we both have time to concentrate on the future, I’ll get down on bended knee and ask you properly. Then Monday morning we go buy a ring. Won’t be very big or flashy, but it will be our promise to each other.” He dropped a kiss on her nose.

Her heart swelled until she thought it would burst, spreading her joy to the entire crowd.

“Have either of you seen Dick?” Thistle ran over to them, a deep frown and worry lines making her almond eyes look sharper, her nose longer, and her ears more pointed.

Dusty jumped away from Chase, embarrassed by their public display. “What’s wrong with Dick?”

“Dick’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Chase reassured her, drawing Dusty back within the circle of his arm.

“I’m not so sure. He’s been gone for hours.” Thistle gnawed on her thumb as she stared at the line of trees festooned with tiny lights that added mystery and romance to their dense shadows.

“Has it been that long?” Now Chase looked a bit worried, his muscles clenched where they held Dusty.

“Dick? Where did he go?” Dusty asked. Panic wanted to claim possession of her mind. Not Dick. Dick was always there, ready to protect her, eager to crack jokes, always coming out on top no matter how much trouble he got into-like when he got set back his sophomore year of high school because he partied too much to do his homework. The next year he’d aced all his classes. Or when he quit medical school halfway through because studying interfered with his party time. Maybe that was the excuse, but he really was better suited as a pharmaceutical representative and volunteer EMT.

“I haven’t seen my brother since just after he got here at five,” she said. A lump formed in her stomach. The same kind of lump that used to send her scurrying to the basement. Now she wanted to range all over the park looking for her errant brother.

“He went into The Ten Acre Wood looking for Phelma Jo,” Chase said. He started walking in that direction with Dusty in tow (as if he didn’t dare let go of her or she’d vanish into the cursed basement) and Thistle following close behind.

“There’s Phelma Jo,” Dusty called. “She looks horrible, all rumpled and dirty. Her hair’s a mess and she’s lost a shoe. That really isn’t like Phelma Jo. What’s she doing with that match?” Her heart climbed to her throat and cut off her breath.

“And that’s Hay right behind her. He’s got a chain saw!” Chase dropped her hand and ran as Hay pointedly pulled the ripcord on the cutting tool. His blade bit into the massive trunk of a cedar.

Phelma Jo dropped her match into the dry undergrowth.

A wall of flame shot upward with a roar. Waves of heat spread outward. Shadows twisted into monstrous orange shapes.

Dusty recoiled, throwing an arm across her face.

She smelled gasoline.

Phelma Jo just stood there, entranced by the all-consuming fire.

“Dick!” Dusty yelled. She darted forward, oblivious to the heat, the glare, and the hungry fire. Behind her, 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.