Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(59)

Even if she was new to Painted Barrel, she would have been able to find the restaurant. Fire trucks and police cars were up and down Main Street, and she saw a familiar police officer directing traffic away from the smoking mess at the end of the street. Holly parked one street over at the feed store and picked up Pumpkin, rubbing the dog’s round little head as she walked the block over to her place of work.

It was strange to head downtown, to see the cheerful Christmas decorations lining the street and the wreaths hanging from light posts, the trees covered with big plastic ornaments, and smell the smoke on the wind. Another police car zipped past, one from a nearby town, and she watched as it headed in the same direction as all the others.

Holly was numb all over again as she moved toward the building that had once been her place of employment. The scent of smoke was overwhelming here. Like most of Painted Barrel’s downtown, Wade’s saloon had been established in the downstairs of an old-fashioned building. The upstairs had always been used for storage as long as she’d worked there, the entire bottom floor converted to the dining area, bar, and kitchen. A wooden sign had hung over the doorway like an old-timey placard announcing the location.

Today, it was nothing but scorch marks. Holly clutched Pumpkin tighter as she approached. The old, weathered building was half-gone, the upstairs nothing but a husk. All the windows of the restaurant were gone, and inside Holly could see nothing but ash and smoking tables. The bar was there, but it looked like just a charred heap of wood, and the bottles of alcohol that normally lined the mirror behind the bar were all smashed. Christmas garlands were melted into sad drips along the sagging, burnt porch of the saloon.

It was a nightmare.

She tried to stand out of the way as firemen moved in and out of the wreckage. People were standing on the street, watching, and she knew most of their faces. The postman was there. The dry cleaner. The owner of the bakery. Hannah at the inn. She didn’t talk to anyone, though. She couldn’t. There was a knot in her throat that felt like it was as big as a boulder.

Because as she stared at the shell of her workplace, Holly couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen to her now.

“Holly!”

A familiar voice called her, and she turned to look. Wade and Bonnie, the other waitress that worked at Wade’s, were standing below a Christmas wreath hanging from one of the light poles. Holly crossed the street to join them. She hugged them both, her little dog licking Wade’s tear-stained face with so much excitement that she let Wade hold Pumpkin for a minute. He looked like he needed the emotional support more than she did. She was relieved to see both of them, but a hint of worry hit her as she studied their faces. “Where’s Silas?” He was the cook that worked at the back of the restaurant. “Is he okay?”

Wade nodded, clutching Pumpkin against his wide chest. “He breathed some smoke so they took him to Casper to stay overnight at the hospital.”

“Oh god. I’ll bake him some cookies.” Holly bit her lip. Silas was a lovely, kind elderly man with a wife and a grown daughter who lived in the next town over. “And you two are okay?”

Wade nodded as Bonnie patted him on the shoulder. “It was just all so fast. I didn’t have time to do more than grab the previous day’s receipts and get out.”

“What happened?” It felt rude to ask, but she had to know.

“Wiring,” Bonnie said. “You know how we’re always joking that the microwave makes a noise like it’s dying? Turns out it was. Something sparked behind it and the next thing we knew, the whole back wall went up.”

And the microwave was steps away from the fryer, with all that oil. Ugh. Holly swallowed hard. “I’m just glad you’re both okay. What can I do to help?”

Wade shook his head. “Not a lot to do. It’s gonna take months to rebuild.” Fresh tears started down his face.

Oh god. Months. “Maybe to-go orders?” Holly suggested. “We could drive them around . . .”

“The place is still smoking, Holly,” Bonnie chided her, putting a hand on Wade’s back. “It’s going to take him days just to handle all the claims. Let’s give him a chance to catch his breath, all right?”

“Of course.” Holly felt awful. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

“I know. I know.” Wade gave her a teary smile. “When I have things figured out, you and Bonnie—and Silas—will be the first ones I call, I promise. For now . . .” He gestured at the restaurant and a fresh plume of smoke drifted into the air.

“Right. Of course. Well, if you need anything, Wade, you call me. You know I’m here for you.” It felt useless to say such things, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“I . . . I can’t pay you this week,” Wade said, handing back her dog and swiping at his eyes. “I grabbed the till but there was nothing in it. We hadn’t opened yet.”

“Oh,” Holly breathed. “Of course not.” She knew that there would be only a little money in the till in the morning, just enough to make change. The real money came at night, when people went to the bar, and when they tipped. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can apply for unemployment or something. It’ll be fine.”

Bonnie nodded, rubbing Wade’s back again. Her face was pinched, and Holly knew she was worried, too. Bonnie was a single mom with three young kids. She counted on her check, and she needed that income just as bad as Holly did.