Big Daddy Firemen (Big Cedar Daddies Book 2)

“Son of a bitch!” Austin yelled.

The men were out of the truck and had the hose ready. Instead of just instantly spraying the flaming structure, they surveyed the scene first, looking for the best point of attack.

Miller’s General Store.

At least, it used to be. The place had been closed down for fifty years. No one had done anything with the property, though there’d been talks of renovating it and turning it into a restaurant or boutique to attract tourists.

That wouldn’t ever happen. Because now the old building was just a stark but rapidly crumbling silhouette against the blazing inferno. Flames leapt and danced, their fierce orange and red tongues licking at the sky, consuming the structure with relentless hunger.

The sound of the crackling fire and snapping wood filled the air, along with that tell-tale charred stench fires always brought. Austin breathed a heavy sigh, the sight of the destruction weighing on him. The town, and its history, meant something to him. He hated to watch a piece of it literally go up in smoke.

That thick, black smoke billowed upwards, blotting out the sun and casting an eerie shadow over the scene. The heat was intense, radiating outward in waves that distorted the air and made it difficult to breathe. Up until approaching the fire, the morning had actually been quite cool and crisp.

Now, feet away from the inferno, it felt hotter than July.

“Let’s get this thing out,” Walker yelled.

Austin nodded, aimed the hose, and nodded again, indicating it was time. Water jetted from the end, dousing the spot he stared at and instantly calming the fire. Right there, at least. Elsewhere, it was still burning intensely.

Walker and Cane went around the building, trying to gauge the scene better and ensure no one was inside.

A front window shattered with explosive force, sending shards of glass cascading to the ground. Somewhere inside, wooden beams groaned and cracked, succumbing to the fire’s unyielding assault. The walls began to buckle and collapse, each crash echoing the building’s demise. It was a scene of raw, untamed destruction, and a tragic end to a piece of history. Everything that building had seen and held, the decades it had stood, were all reduced to smoldering ruins.

But it didn’t take long for the fire to be extinguished. And, thankfully, it didn’t get the chance to spread to the trees just ten yards behind it or to any of the other buildings down the street.

Some Big Cedar citizens had gathered on the scene.

“You need any help?” Sheriff Quinn Hardin asked.

“Nah. It’s all good. Just putting out a few lingering hot spots now,” Austin told him. He continued working the hose, shooting water anywhere he deemed might be a trouble spot.

“It was obvious the place was empty,” Walker chimed in as he walked back around to the building’s front. “But we still swept it to make sure. Thankfully, no one was hurt.” He looked at the wrecked ruins and shook his head. “But a piece of Big Cedar history is gone. That thing stood for over a hundred years! Wasn’t it built back in 1910 or something like that?”

“Yep,” Quinn confirmed. “Not far removed from this area’s Wild West Days.” He shook his head, as well. “Damn shame to see it go down.”

Cane craned his neck to look at deeper into the charred remains and then said, “Miller family still own this thing?”

“Yeah. Some distant grandkid,” Quinn said. “Lives in California or something and hasn’t even laid eyes on it. They won’t miss it. Like I said, damn shame it’s gone. And it’s a damn shame they weren’t willing to sell and let someone redevelop it. Could’ve been something nice.”

More townsfolk started pouring onto the scene, with Theo and his wife and Little, Grace, among the ones hurrying toward the building.

“Damn. The old Miller place,” Theo said, a look of disgust on his face.

Theo was a tall, strong Black man with close-cropped hair still cut in the style of the Marines he’d spent twenty years serving. He seemed to have muscles on top of muscles and was quite an opposing figure—especially to all those terrorists he’d hunted down back in his military days.

To the folks in Big Cedar, though, he was one of the town’s most involved citizens and an all-around nice guy.

And to the petite Grace, he was the best Daddy ever.

They were quite a pair, a study in opposites. While Theo was huge, Grace outright tiny when beside him. She had short, blond hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, and a constantly chipper attitude.

“Man,” Theo said. “This just sucks.”

“Sort of how we feel, too,” Quinn said.

“I just brought Little Grace in for some breakfast over at the café,” Theo said, jerking his head behind him, toward the direction of Marsha’s eatery just down the way.

Marsha—a woman of 61 years—stood on the porch, watching the commotion. She was too far away for anyone at the scene of the fire to read the look on her face, but by her posture, it was pretty clear she felt just like everyone else did: saddened by such a historic loss.

Theo kept talking. “But when we saw what was going on, I redirected. Y’all sure you don’t need a hand?”

“Not much to do now,” Cane said. “But thank you. It was easy to get under control. Thankfully.”

“We’ll sift through the rubble once it cools down and do a little investigating,” Walker added.

“You think this was intentional?” Quinn asked, the lawman tensing at the implication of a possible crime.

“Not sure. I doubt it,” Walker said. “But power hasn’t been on in this place for decades. So we can rule out faulty wiring pretty easily. And…” He made a show of looking up at the sky. “Bright and sunny. No lightning. Something started this blaze, and I want to know what it was.”

“Oh man,” Quinn sighed. “I’ll put up some crime-scene tape and section this thing off.”

“Much obliged,” Walker said.

Nearby, still working the hose, Austin had heard it all. Walker was pretty quick to dismiss the notion that the fire was intentionally set, and he understood why. It was Big Cedar. Smalltown, Oklahoma. Folks didn’t just go around setting fires around there. It was all about helping your neighbors, mom’s apple pie, and that sort of stuff. They got tourists through there, but hardly any of them caused trouble.

Though the town had experienced some trouble some months prior, back when Quinn’s now-wife arrived on the scene. Alyssa had been running from some folks in Arkansas.

Some bad, mean folks who were probably as vindictive as they were shady.

Could they be back, stirring up trouble?

Or was it someone else?

Of course, there was a chance the fire had not been intentional at all. Old buildings burned sometimes. True, there had to be a first spark caused by something, but with all that rotting wood, they were tinderboxes, and it didn’t take much to light ‘em up.

It could have been an unhoused individual who drifted through there and had been taking shelter. There were no signs of anyone inside—thank God—so they could’ve moved on before the fire grew out of hand. But it wasn’t uncommon for people to seek a roof over their head and start a small fire to keep warm—especially on cold nights.

Or it might have been a complete accident. Someone drove by and tossed out a cigarette that rolled up against the building and conditions were just right.

Perhaps no one was involved at all. Who knew what had been stored in that old place, just sitting there waiting for combustion.

Hopefully, an investigation would tell.

Austin’s gut, though, was already saying this was no accident. Something deep down told him that fire had been intentionally set.

As he finished dousing the last portions with more water, just to be on the safe side, that suspicion grew until it was clawing at his insides, gnawing away at him.

He just hoped he was wrong. But he’d been in the firefighting game for some time. He’d honed his instincts.

Unfortunately for this case, those instincts were rarely wrong.

He said a silent prayer, hoping more trouble hadn’t come to Big Cedar.