by Silver James
Growing up on the ranch, he paid attention to the weather and its effects on operations. Last spring, they’d had record rains, followed by one of the driest summers and falls on the record books. Rain in the spring meant lots of green growing things. Summer and fall droughts meant dead things in the fields just ripe for catching fire. Driving along, he noticed all the red cedars and acres of dried grass filling the fields and pastures stretching along the section line road he followed to get to the well site. An early hard frost, especially after a summer and fall with little rainfall, made for a prime fire season. Except it was late November—an unseasonably hot and dry November.
Drilling an oil well was dangerous business under the best of circumstances. The scars on his legs were a testament to that. He and Cord had both been injured on a rig. Cord had almost died. Coop would have but for Cord’s intervention. Since coming out of the hospital and off physical therapy, he’d made it his mission to make sure every well site and field office was as safe as possible. Given his childhood brush with a tornado, that included contingencies based on whatever the local weather could throw at them.
The site appeared on his right and he slowed to turn onto the access road they’d cut into the rancher’s field. His truck rattled over the cattle guard and he eyed the site. The immediate area had been cleared and graveled. A retention pond held water and an overflow pond was lined and ready for drilling mud once they got to that point. The rig was in place, as were the propane and diesel tanks for fuel. A familiar figure stepped out of the doghouse—the control center for the rig.
Deja vu, Coop thought. Tom Bradley had been the toolpusher on the rig where he and Cord had been hurt. He’d worked with the man several times over the ensuing years and seldom thought back to that incident. Why, on this day, his head was tripping down memory lane, he couldn’t say.
“Hey, boss,” Tom called as Coop stepped down from his truck.
They spent the next fifteen minutes touring the area while Coop made note of what had been accomplished and what still needed to be done to get the site up to BarEx, and Oklahoma Corporation Commission standards. A breeze kicked up and a hint of smoke piggybacked on it. November was not the time to burn the alfalfa fields—not that any farmer or rancher would this year, due to the arid conditions. He slowly turned in a circle but didn’t see any obvious smoke in the area. He noted both the tractor and the bulldozer that had been used for site prep. He might just leave those in place, at least until the area got some rain. Heavy equipment always came in handy during fire season.
Another vehicle, also bearing the BarEx logo, pulled through the gate. Good. That would be the field geologist. They could get down to business and drill some core samples. Yessir, this was just what he needed—fresh air, a rig site and a job to do. No room for women in his head now. That was his plan, anyway.
* * *
Britt stared at the rack of maternity clothes, her mouth turned down in a frown. She was not ready to give up her jeans and Henleys, or her boots. At the same time, the idea of buying jeans two or three sizes larger than normal was so not registering on her cool meter. Eventually, she’d have to admit to her bosses that she wasn’t putting on weight, she was pregnant. She hated to do that for myriad reasons, mainly that the powers that be might take her out of the field. Sure, she could relegate her research to the computer lab, relying on others to feed raw data to her to analyze, but that wasn’t how she wanted to do things. The way she looked at it, as long as her ob-gyn cleared her for duty, she should be able to do what she loved—chase storms and other weather phenomena.
Before she could convince herself to try on a pair of mom jeans, her phone trilled with the station’s alert. She opened her text program and read the information. A small fire had cropped up southwest of Oklahoma City. Winds were out of the south but a weather front caused by an area of high pressure was due to sweep through the state in a matter of hours, bringing with it high winds and low humidity. Given the overgrowth from the wet spring, any fire had the potential to escalate into a disaster.
She hung the jeans back on the rack, and with her phone to her ear, headed for the parking lot. “This is Britt,” she said when her call was answered.
“National Weather Service just issued a red flag fire warning for western Oklahoma. I’ve got crews up near Woodward where a couple of fires are flaring. Can you cover the one southwest of us? It’s nothing yet but the potential is there.”
“Sure. Where’s Leo?”
“He’s here at the station. Swing by to pick him up then head toward Chickasha.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
Thirty minutes later, she was headed southwest on the H. E. Bailey Turnpike. Leo, settled into the passenger seat, fiddled with the onboard cameras and instruments that would take weather measurements. Neither of them talked. Once Leo was satisfied with all the electronics, he tested communication channels with the station. They were a go if anything newsworthy broke. The horizon in front of them looked clear. The sky to the north showed a thin line of high cirrus clouds, the only sign the dry front was colliding with the hot, humid air. Thunderstorms would be preferable to low humidity even if it meant a chance of lightning.
She’d covered storms of every ilk, a few earthquakes, floods, but wildfires? Fires scared the bejeebers out of her. Once a fire got started, it could create its own weather system, if it was big enough. She’d seen “fire-nadoes” and other phenomena, including pyrocumulus clouds created when what were normally cute, puffy cumulus clouds turned into Hulk clouds generated by the hot air and smoke from wildfires. They formed when a wildfire burned so hot, it generated an updraft. There was nothing cute or puffy about those suckers. They could literally rain fire and lightning down.
Leo spotted the haze first—a line of dark smoke stretching across the top of a hill. She got off the turnpike at the first available exit and headed toward it.
“You know what they say, where there’s smoke—”
She took her eyes off the road just long enough to shoot him a withering glare. “Don’t even,” she threatened.
“Ah, c’mon, Britt. You know it begs to be said. In fact, I’ll buy you a steak dinner at Cattleman’s if you say it on air.”
“No.”
“Chicken.”
“Poultry has nothing to do with it. I like my job and prefer to keep it.”
“You’re totally gonna say it.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Totally are.” He snickered. “And if you don’t, you know Dave will.”
“Dave’s the head meteorologist. He can say whatever he wants.”
“Don’t you want to move up the food chain?”
She pressed the brake to slow the truck for a stop sign and turned to stare at her partner as they rolled to a stop. “Are you kidding me? Why in the world would you think I’d want to be stuck in the newsroom?”
“Um...because it’s a real job?”
“I have a real job.”
“Storm chasing is not a real job. Not unless you do it for the Weather Channel. Or one of the universities. Or the government.”
She rolled her eyes and moved through the intersection. “I’m also an adjunct professor.”
“Oh, and that’s a real job? No tenure, lower division classes, no teaching assistant.”
The road dipped toward a creek bed and they rattled over a one-lane wooden bridge. Topping out on the next hill, Britt hit the brakes. The truck slid to a grinding halt on the red dirt road. Pastures dotted with cedar trees spread out before them. Dry cedar went up like Roman candles when fire hit. To see so many trees scattered across the prairie was a scary sight. Cattle grazed restlessly in a field. Beyond them, to the east, she could just make out the top of a drilling rig—the only part not hidden by another hill. To the west, the voracious fire marched northward, gobbling up the prairie, leaving mounds of smoldering buffalo grass and fla
ming cedar trees in its wake.
Britt threw the truck into Park, opened her laptop, and started calibrating instruments and analyzing data, all while keeping one eye on the clouds scudding inexorably their way. She grabbed her cell phone and called into the station. The news was not good—not for the rancher who owned that herd of cattle, and not for the crew on the oil rig. She used the running board of her truck as a lookout post, scanning the area for a house. The nearest place that looked inhabited was at least five miles away. In this part of Oklahoma, that wasn’t unusual. This was farm and ranch country. If push came to shove—
The scanner and her and Leo’s phones all went off. She answered the call while listening to the scanner—a radio call dispatching several fire departments to the grass fire.
“You got Britt,” she said into her cell.
“And you got Ria. Dave’s coming in and will be looking for live updates. Your GPS puts you near the Grady County fire. Have you got a shot? We’ll take you first.”
“I can be set up in a few. Will you keep me posted on the front’s ETA?”
“For my BFF? Of course I will.” Britt could hear the laughter in Ria’s voice.
“Whatever. I’ve got cattle and a drilling rig that might be in the path if the fire changes directions.”
“Got ya covered, babe. I’ll put you on the Gentner when Dave’s ready to go live.”
Continuing to call the COMEX communications system a Gentner, the name for an outdated setup, was a station-wide inside joke from the old days.
“I’ll go find us a vantage point so the viewers have something to look at.”
Ten minutes and a change of position later, she was on-air reporting on the growing grass fire that Leo filmed. The fire was headed away from the cattle and the rig. There were no structures in its immediate path. So long as the strong winds remained blowing from the south, the rancher would lose grazing land but that was all. Sure beat the alternative.
Then Britt sensed the wind shift from south to west. This was bad. A straight front causing a quick directional change wouldn’t be a big deal, simply pushing the flames back on the area that had already been burned. But this slow transition was bad. Very bad. The outer edge of the fire had fresh fuel as the wind shifted, spreading it even wider and in a new direction. She leaned across the seat toward the passenger window. “Leo!”
The door opened and the big man climbed in. “Go!”
She didn’t wait for him to buckle up. She gunned the truck’s engine and they took off down the bumpy road at a speed that wasn’t safe under the conditions. She braked, skidding as she jerked the steering wheel to guide the vehicle past the gate leading to the drilling rig. A variety of work trucks and equipment was parked in a graveled area adjoining the rig. She recognized the large white pickup with the now-familiar Barron Exploration logo on the doors. She and Leo jumped out of her vehicle. The tall figure jogging down the metal steps from the drilling rig floor came as no surprise, but his appearance held a heaping helping of annoyance.
“Why me!”
Eight
As Britt tumbled out of her vehicle, Cooper caught what she said. The inflection in her voice indicated both a question and an exclamation, which pretty much summed up the way he felt. He glanced at the large Black man who clambered out of the passenger side. Part of his brain recognized the former football player, but the majority of his focus was on the little spitfire lifting her chin in an attempt to face him down.
“Wha—” The man clipped off what he was about to say as Cooper strode up, stopping in front of Britt.
Hands fisted on his hips, he let his eyes slide up and down her body. She was every bit as sexy as he’d tried to forget. The darn woman haunted his dreams. “Private property, Girl Wonder.”
“Won’t be any property at all in about ten minutes unless the wind changes.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder.
He squinted into the sun and realized what had been smudges of smoke on the horizon were now a solid line of roiling black.
“The wind shifted but not all the way. That fire is headed here. You need to evacuate.”
Evacuate? He glanced around. The rig was brand-new, a ten-million-dollar investment. He wouldn’t lose it without a fight. “We’re set up for fire suppression.”
“Don’t be stupid, Cooper,” she argued.
“I’m not stupid, Britt. Get the hell out while you can. We both know what can happen. We have a fire break and the retention pond is full. I have pumps and hoses and a bulldozer to clear more brush if necessary.”
That’s when he heard the lowing of the cattle. A small herd was bunching up against the metal fence they’d used to supplement the barbed wire fencing used by the rancher whose land they’d leased for the well. He turned on his heel and took off for the rig where the crew had gathered. He issued orders. A few who claimed prior experience with cattle ran for the fence. The rest split up, some going to move vehicles, the rest to set up the pumps and roll out fire hoses. Cooper headed to the bulldozer.
He climbed into the cab and fired up the diesel engine. Black smoke sputtered from the vertical exhaust pipe as the motor coughed several times before it caught and ran smoothly. As he drove the rumbling machine past Britt’s vehicle, he yelled, “Get out, Britt.”
The fool woman didn’t. She gave her cameraman a shooing motion with one hand while she jumped into the driver’s seat and moved her truck to set up in a slightly safer spot. Idiot woman. Bad enough he had to keep the crew safe but now Britt and...Leo. Leo Blevins. He finally put a name to the face.
He shoved them out of his mind and concentrated on doing what he could to keep them all alive. Chances of a rural fire district crew getting to them were between slim and none. It was up to him, and once they were all safe? He and the Girl Wonder were going to have a serious knock-down drag-out about her tendency to risk her life. The old joke “we have to stop meeting like this” wasn’t funny anymore.
* * *
Britt watched the big yellow bulldozer knock down a section of the metal rail fence. The cattle weren’t frightened at all by the yellow monster belching black smoke. They poured through the gap like some scene from an old Western movie. Four men from the derrick crew waved their arms and more or less herded the cattle toward the large artificial pond. It was filled to the brim with water and she suddenly figured out what the men were doing. If the fire came through the site, they’d drive the cattle into the pond and then jump in themselves. Not ideal but that plan definitely beat the alternative.
Coop was through the gap in the fence now and using the dozer’s bucket to scrape up the prairie grass and other vegetation in swaths the length of the site. Back and forth he went as the flames licked ever closer. Leo filmed everything as Britt spoke to Dave, who had their scene live on air. The smoke was getting thicker, and she fought the urge to cough with every inhalation. For a quick moment, she worried about any health affects the bad air might have on her baby, but she had a job to do.
A wall of flames roared no more than ten feet away from the dozer when Cooper turned the machine and headed back through the fence gap. He drove straight to her truck, killed the engine and jumped down. Without so much as a word, he grabbed her around the waist, hoisted her up and ran to the pond, Leo keeping pace.
The crew gathered at the edge of the pond. The cattle had already been herded into the water and the humans were just waiting to see what happened next. There was a lot of dirt and gravel between them and the fire and the hose crews had wet down all the vehicles, the fuel tanks and the rig itself.
“Why didn’t you get out of here?” Cooper growled. He actually growled at her, his voice low and rough, and the tone sent a frisson of sexual heat through her. She really needed to have a heart-to-heart with her libido and adrenal gland. Getting turned on in the face of danger was so not cool on so many levels she couldn’t count them.
“My
job,” she managed to answer.
His eyes narrowed on her as his lip curled and he looked away to mouth something probably profane without speaking it out loud. His hand squeezed her hip, and that’s when she realized he hadn’t turned her loose, only set her on her feet.
Heat and smoke blasted them as a gust of wind hit. The fire was now large enough to generate its own mini-weather front. A fire tornado danced along the leading edge as they were seared again by hot air. The men all had their T-shirts pulled up over their noses and faces. Britt used her arm to cover hers. Note to self, she thought. Start wearing a T-shirt. Leo had his own T-shirt pulled up over his mouth but his eye remained glued to the eyepiece of his camera.
Her phone kept ringing but she was too mesmerized by the fire coming inexorably closer to answer it. She jumped when water hit them. Two guys remained on one of the fire hoses hooked up to a pump in the pond. They were spraying down people as well as vehicles now. It hurt to breathe, even using her arm as a filter against the smoke. The air was hot and she felt like a steak on a grill, despite the impromptu shower. Another blast of scorching heat hit them. A couple of the crew hit the pond. Almost ready to join them, she didn’t get the chance to make the decision on her own.
* * *
Cooper reacted out of instinct. He pushed Britt into the water at the same time he ordered the crew in. He was about to shove Leo in, camera and all, when the big man set the camera down, lens still facing the fire, and then took a running leap into the water, hitting the surface with a belly flop. Coop was right behind him. Britt had just struggled to her feet and was as spitting mad as a wet cat. He didn’t give her a chance to chew him out. He grabbed her and took her down with him. He’d heard her gasp as they went under and he really hoped she’d taken a deep breath before they did. Of course, he could always give her mouth-to-mouth. He smiled and wanted to laugh despite the gravity of their situation. For a man who was not an adrenaline junkie, hanging around with Britt was becoming not only hazardous to his health and welfare but somewhat addictive too.
