Page 1 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
Chapter 1
Steve Springfield had been a Borne firefighter for less than five minutes when the missing-person call came in.
“Grab some of the spare gear and let’s go,” the chief told him. “Search and Rescue will meet us there.”
Steve was moving toward the equipment room before the chief even finished speaking. As he yanked on his borrowed bunker gear, a trickle of adrenaline warmed his blood. This was what he lived for. It’d been too long since he’d headed to a scene without a sense of dread weighing him down. The past couple of years had held too many tragedies and betrayals.
Borne would be different. He’d be able to go back to helping people, rather than cleaning up after it was too late.
Pushing away memories of his past two towns, Steve jammed his feet into a pair of boots and headed for the rescue. Swinging up into the passenger side of the cab, he turned to the chief, who was firing up the engine. The radio lit up as various people called in, giving their ETAs, and Steve grimaced slightly. He had a lot of names to learn. Starting over for the second time in less than two years wasn’t much fun.
“Who’s lost?” he asked. He’d deal with this call and then worry about the rest. Someone was missing, and that took priority.
“Camille Brandt, our local eccentric artist,” the chief said, easing the rescue out of the station and into the swirling snow.
“Camille? She still lives in Borne?” Steve was surprised. He’d figured that the dreamy, shy girl he remembered would’ve escaped the small Colorado town as soon as possible to live in New York or California or some artists’ paradise. As much as Steve loved his childhood home, Borne wasn’t kind to those who marched to their own beat.
The chief gave him a quick sideways glance before refocusing on the road. Although the snow wasn’t too treacherous yet, a strong north wind had picked up, tossing the inch of powder around and messing with visibility. “You knew her growing up?”
“Yeah.” That didn’t feel like the complete truth, though, so he added, “Sort of. She was three years younger than me, but I saw her around. Borne High School’s pretty small.”
The chief gave a laugh. “True.”
“You didn’t go there, did you?” As Steve asked the question, he looked out the window, noting what had changed and what had stayed the same since his last visit home. A few houses had been painted, and what used to be a taco shop now sold coffee. Other than that, it was still the Borne he’d always known.
“Nope.” The chief turned onto a side street, careful not to bump a car parked at the curb. “Moved here fifteen years ago.” A wry expression crossed his face. “Still a newcomer, according to most people.”
Steve gave an amused grunt. That was Borne, all right. “Who reported Camille missing?”
“Mrs. Lin, Camille’s neighbor,” the chief said as he rolled up to the curb in front of Camille’s grandma’s house.No, Steve mentally corrected himself,Camille’s house. The older woman had died a decade or so ago.
Reaching for his door handle, Steve said, “Hopefully, she’s just at a friend’s house, safe and warm.”
The chief snorted as he opened his door. “Friend’s house? I thought you said you knew Camille.”
Before Steve could ask what he meant by that, the chief slammed the door shut. Climbing out of the cab, Steve ducked his chin into the collar of the borrowed bunker coat as the wind spat a handful of sharp snow pellets against his exposed neck. If Camille really was in need of rescue, they had to find her soon. It’d be dark in a couple of hours, and the weather would only get worse.
Jogging across the street, Steve caught up with the chief on Mrs. Lin’s doorstep just seconds before she opened the door.
“Well, come in, come in,” she fussed, stepping back so they could both enter. “You’re letting the heat out.”
Steve closed the door behind them, but Mrs. Lin didn’t look any happier. Then again, he’d never seen her look happy about much of anything.
“Steve Springfield?” she asked, and he gave her a nod of greeting. “Does this mean you’re finally back for good then? ’Bout time you stopped traipsing around the world and came home. Your poor parents will finally be able to relax and enjoy their retirement.”
Steve set his molars to keep from telling Mrs. Lin that rather than “traipsing around the world,” he’d only been a few hours’ drive up into the mountains, that his “poor” parents were happily basking in the New Mexico sun, and that none of that was really her business anyway.
The chief must’ve guessed some of what Steve wanted to say, because he cleared his throat and flicked an amused glance at him. “Mrs. Lin, what time did you see Camille leave?”
“Like I already told the dispatcher, it was at ten forty-eight yesterday morning. I know that because I was on the elliptical downstairs, watching out the front window. I always go a full sixty minutes, from ten to eleven, and the display showed forty-eight minutes. Camille walked outside—without locking her door, even though I keep telling her she’s going to be brutally murdered if she’s not careful—and went into the woods across the street.”
“You haven’t seen her return?” the chief asked, scribbling in his small flip notebook.
“She hasn’t gotten back yet.” Mrs. Lin’s tone was certain. “She’s been gone for a day and a half. Her car hasn’t moved. I even checked the snow for footprints by the garage and on the front walk. She’s still out there, probably freezing to death, unless she’s been kidnapped to be sold into sex slavery.”
Steve blinked. “Doubt there’s much of a risk of that around here.”
“You’ve been gone for years,” Mrs. Lin scolded. “Things have changed in Borne. It’s not the sleepy little town you left.”
