Fire From the Sky: Trial by Fire

by N. C. Reed

  -

  The trip back to the farm took the convoy far longer than Clay had intended, but it did go without incident, for which he was truly thankful. Ronny had taken the cattle hauler to an isolated corral where the Walters cattle could be quarantined until Teri Hartwell could check them over. Clay really hoped that nothing was wrong with them, especially that bull. Adding that much new blood to their herd would really make things better for the future.

  “How did it go?” he heard Lainie's voice and turned to see her coming toward him, holding a sandwich and a glass of water that she offered him.

  “Thanks,” he took both and took a bit bite of the sandwich. “It went fine,” he told her around the mouthful of ham and cheese. “Took longer than I wanted it to, but otherwise it was good. That girl is something else with those cattle,” he shook his head. “You should have seen it. Treating that huge bull like a puppy dog,” he laughed.

  “Sounds like she made a good second impression on you, Cowboy,” Lainie said.

  “I definitely underestimated her,” he agreed. “Mostly because she was Abby's friend, I guess,” he shrugged. “Anyway, I think she's going to be a better asset to us than I thought. And I think Gordy is starting to warm up to her. Finally.”

  “Good for her,” Lainie nodded. “She's tried hard to get his attention.”

  “I think he hesitates because he thinks she had a crush on me last year,” Clay confided in her about the conversation he had with Gordy.

  “Can't blame him for being cautious,” Lainie said when Clay was finished. “Anyway, I hear we have another problem.”

  “Maybe,” he nodded, finishing his sandwich and draining his glass. “Have to see what the fire does. But if it comes this way, then yeah. It's a problem.”

  -

  Several people had gathered around for the afternoon drone show. The Duo, with help from their minions, had worked out a way to get a better bearing on where the fire was currently located using a fusion of old and new technology.

  Tandi Maseo had taken one drone to the far side of the ranch, about two miles distant. From there he would launch his drone and take a bearing to the fire. Deuce would do the same from the opposite side, placing them about three-and-a-half miles apart. Leanne had printed off a large-scale map and plotted both positions on it. With the headings recorded, they would draw converging lines from each spot following the headings taken, similar to the function that the aging fire towers had once filled. Where the lines crossed would give them a good plot for the location of the fire. It might not be as exact as two fire towers in the old days, but it would be close enough. They would do this again the next morning and afternoon and see if that would give them an idea of where the fire was headed.

  “Ready,” Deuce said as he launched his drone.

  “Bird's flying,” Gordy reported. He and Zach Willis were standing guard for Deuce.

  “Same here,” Mitchell Nolan reported from where he was watching Tandi's back.

  It took a few minutes for the drones to reach their ceiling and for the operators to orient on the fire, but ten minutes later, bordering on the edge of the drones operating limit, both reported headings close to the center of the visible smoke, it being assumed that the heart of the fire would be there or near to it.

  Ten minutes after that Leanne was showing the others the map, which indicated the fire was indeed very near Haleyville, a small unincorporated community about thirty miles due north, north-west.

  “That is a big fire,” Clay murmured, looking at the giant column of smoke.

  “Most definitely,” Abigail agreed, studying the video. “I wish we had thought to take headings for the edges of the fire,” she added after a minute. “Might give us some idea of the size. As it is I'm going to say it's covering five or more square miles. That's . . . just over three thousand acres,” she did some fast calculations in her head.

  “That's pretty big for here?” Jose asked. “Out west that's about average.”

  “Here it's huge,” Abby told him. “Out west, well other than California, there are a lot of areas where the population is small. Here not so much outside greenbelt areas.”

  “Greenbelt?” more than one person asked.

  “Forest land,” she told them. “Areas owned or claimed by state or national forest units. And none of this,” she indicated the map, “is greenbelt territory. This is a major fire. If we were still active, the state would be deploying crews from all over to fight this thing. By now, assuming how many homes are threatened, the governor would be considering calling out the National Guard to help.”

  “And in the new now, there's no one able to fight it,” Clay sighed. “Perfect.”

  “I'm sure people are trying,” Abby agreed. “But you can't fight a fire like that with mops and flaps. You need water and you need plows to circle it. They aren't likely to have either.”

  “So, what do we do now?” Everyone looked at Abigail.

  “There's nothing we can do about that,” she pointed to the spot on the map. “I wish there was, but one plow, no manpower and no water? It would be like spitting on a volcano. Looks good but accomplishes nothing. All we can do is try and be prepared in case the fire is moving our way. Decide where we 'll try and stop it. Assuming we can,” she added softly. “Which is not a given.”

  “What are we talking about doing then?” Clay asked. “Cutting trees, plowing around it, what?”

  “All of the above,” Abigail replied. “The main threat now is the wind. Direction and strength will play a big part in what direction it travels and along with available fuel dictate how fast it travels. If we still had modern forecasting we could check that and get an idea what to expect. Of course, if we still had that, I'd be there with other crews fighting that fire and, well, everyone else would be home.”

  “True,” Jose said. “So…we wait and see what it looks like in the morning then?”

  “All we can do other than prepare here,” Abigail nodded. “I need to get my plow running. Now.”

  -

  “Nothing,” Abigail said as she let the starter go. “It's like the glow plugs aren't working at all.”

  “I can hear that myself,” Jake fought to keep the testiness from his voice. It as well after midnight. He had been working nonstop on the fire plow for over twelve hours now, taking only minor breaks to eat one sandwich and occasionally go to the restroom. He was tired, sore, and frustrated.

  “Could it be the bad wire?” Abigail asked, sliding down from the operator deck.

  “I suppose it could,” Jake admitted. “But if it is then it's only going bad when it's hooked up. I checked it earlier and the glow plug lit up. It's just not getting enough compression somewhere. Part of it is almost certainly how it sat up over the winter.”

  “That wasn't my fault,” Abigail said almost defensively.

  “I'm not casting blame anywhere,” Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I'm stating facts, that's all. These engines need to be turned over on a regular basis or they get hard to start. You should know that as well as anyone by now,” he reminded her.

  “There was no way for me to-”

  “I already said I'm not blaming you!” Jake snapped. “Stop projecting your attitude on to me, Little Sanders Girl. I'm telling you straight facts. If the state had let this thing sit idle for six months without turning it over then I'd be overhauling it in my shop about now. As it is we 'll be lucky to get it going and if and when we do, it's going to run rougher than a corn cob in an outhouse. Now you can see blame in that all you want, but I'm just telling you what is. This ain't a new engine or a new dozer. The heads are worn and the compression is lower than a new one and some of the seals are almost certainly gone bad so what compression there is will probably be trying to leak out through them. Without the glow plugs all heating there's almost no way this thing is going to start with the nights still hitting the upper twenties to mid-thirties for lows.”

  Abigail's face reddened at the dressing down but
she held her tongue, realizing she was the one in the wrong. Jake had worked all day trying to get the machine to run. It wasn't his fault.

  “Let’s call it a night,” she said rather than snap back. “We're both give out and it's been a long ass day. We 'll start again after we've had some sleep and a good breakfast.”

  “Works for me,” he nodded shortly and left immediately, on his way to the shower in the building where he and his daughter shared an apartment. Abigail cleaned their work area before heading home herself.

  Tomorrow would be better.

  -

  After the drone flight was over Gordy had gone home. He and the others in his group had had a very long day and he was tired. And if today had been any indicator, the next few days might be hectic if the fire came their way.

  Thirty minutes later he was sitting in his room reading, hair still wet from a shower. Reading helped him relax as he waited for supper time. He had just leaned back in his desk chair when he heard a knock at his door.

  “It's open,” he called out, expecting his mother. It thus caught him by surprise when Samantha Walters opened his door and stood just inside.

  “Gordy, do you have a gun safe?” she asked him.

  “Uh, yeah,” he recovered quickly, setting his book aside after marking his place.

  “Is there room in it for my things?” she asked shyly.

  “Well, probably,” he nodded, moving to his closet and opening the door. She followed him into the room, gun case in hand along with the leather bag she had taken at the last minute from her family's safe room.

  Gordy placed her shotgun and rifle in his gun safe, giving her the combination in case she needed in to get her weapons at some point.

  “I really appreciate that,” she told him sincerely. “And…could you put this in there as well?” she hefted the bag. “It needs to be somewhere under lock and key if possible.”

  “No problem,” he took the heavy bag and placed it on the top shelf inside the safe. As he shoved the bag further back a flash of color caught his eye as something fell and clattered on the floor. Gordy bent to retrieve it and gave a low whistle as he found himself holding a one-ounce gold coin. He looked to Samantha with raised eyebrows.

  “That whole bag full of these?” he asked even as he stuffed the coin back into the bag and folded the open top beneath the weight.

  “Not entirely,” she told him. “There are some silver coins there too, and I have another bag of what’s called junk silver with my things. Quarters, dimes and some half-dollars. I left another bag and a few gold coins for my parents in case they ever find their way home.”

  “Maybe they will,” he tried to sound encouraging. “I hope so anyway.”

  “Thanks,” she smiled at him but it was weak. As if she knew he was humoring her.

  “You're pretty handy with cattle,” Gordy decided to change the subject. He mentally shook his head at the first thing he said. Prettiest girl for twenty miles or better was standing in his bedroom and he was talking about how good she was handling livestock.

  As it turned out however, it was a good move, as Samantha's countenance immediately brightened, starting with her smile.

  “Thanks,” she beamed at him. “I guess it helps that I've worked around cattle all my life. Most people don't realize it by looking at me,” she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

  “They might be surprised but it's because you're so handy,” Gordy told her. “You handled that bull so easy it was ridiculous.”

  “Lance? That was nothing,” she waved the idea aside with her hand. “I practically raised him from a baby. Bottle fed him at times because his dam wasn't the best mother. I've literally known him all his life.”

  “That would explain why he was so happy to see you,” Gordy laughed lightly. “He looked like a puppy once he realized who you were.”

  “Poor baby,” Sam shook her head. “Thank goodness dad had put that hay in there a few days before things went bad. He normally doesn't put an entire bale in there with him, but he was in a hurry so he dumped a round bale in there in the rack and just left it. Hadn't been for that he would probably have starved. I imagine a lot of our cattle did starve,” she added bleakly.

  “I wouldn't be so sure,” Gordy told her. “Your family was well known for having cattle, and someone took every scrap of food from your house. I'd wager that the cows that are gone were mostly ate.”

  “Almost as big a waste as them dying of starvation,” she lamented. “Those cows were priceless as champion blood breeding stock. Irreplaceable with things the way they are now. At least we managed to save some of them. I'd hate for so many years of work to be completely lost.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My family has spent the better part of three decades trying to breed the perfect cow,” she told him, sitting down on his bed without seemingly thinking about it. Gordy tried not to notice and sat back down in his chair. “Breed out genetic defects, breed in better quality meat, you probably know the pros and cons as well as I do.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “We've tried to eliminate defective stock in our operation too. My grandfather started trying that when he began to take on more of the ranch work from the Old Man. My dad didn't show that much interest really but it's what I lived for,” he chuckled. “All I wanted was to get a degree in agribusiness and come back here and run this place. Looks like I might get half that.”

  “Well, what's left of my cattle will help, so there's that,” she shrugged again. “And I can help too,” she added. “I loved working our ranch with my dad. I planned to come back too. I was studying Animal Science at MSTU instead of attending Vandy, where my mom works, because they didn't offer anything quite like that. Planned to use that to help continue our work on the Great Bovine.”

  “Great Bovine?” Gordy has to ask.

  “Our version of the Great Pumpkin,” she laughed. “It was something my dad started when I was a little girl. Anyway. Once Teri makes sure my cows are just malnourished and otherwise okay, assuming they are, then we can start again. I have to have something to do, right?”

  “I think you 'll find plenty to do now that your true talents are coming to light,” Gordy promised. “I imagine your days of babysitting are coming to an end, to be honest.”

  “I don't mind doing it,” she shrugged yet again. “It's fun. But I'd rather be outside, working the ranch.”

  “Me too,” he agreed. “We got a lot in common, don't we?” he asked aloud. “We both hunt, both enjoy our family business. I noticed you have a bow.”

  “Love to shoot it,” Samantha nodded, pleased that Gordy was noticing her finally. “I hunt turkey with mine.”

  “Wow,” Gordy whistled. “I hunt deer and pig, but I've never thought to hunt turkey with it. That has to be a challenge.”

  “Not if you're good,” she winked at him and he laughed out loud.

  “It's still an hour until supper at least,” Gordy looked at the clock. “Want to go have a look at your cattle?”

  “Sure!”

  -

  After supper neither Gordy nor Samantha was keen to let their new common ground get away and the two wound up heading back outside as Gordy gave Samantha the 'nickel tour' of the actual operating area of the Sanders ranch.

  “How many head do you guys run?” she asked as the two walked toward the nearer barn.

  “Depends on what time of year it is,” he replied. “We sell calves twice a year usually, but every so often we keep half the calves and raise them to replace aging cows that are part of the herd. In a normal year we'd have around eight hundred fifty head, give or take, and seven bulls. The breeding program is one of the most difficult parts of working so many head.”

  “Don't I know it,” she nodded her agreement. “We ran about two hundred fifty head of breeding stock, give or take like you said, not counting what we would have for sale. Other than Lance we had two older bulls and one younger. I know the younger one was running in one of the main pastures but
I didn't see him when the others came up. And there was no sign of the older two at all. If Lance hadn't been where he was I'd probably have lost him, too.”

  “There may have been others that just didn't answer the bell you know,” Gordy pointed out.

  “I know, but if there are they're probably starving and just as malnourished as the group we found. And I won't be able to go and get them. They 'll end up being eaten or taken by dogs or just starving to death. Such a waste.”

  “What are you two doing out here so late?” Abigail's voice came from the dark. Samantha jumped at the sound of another voice but Gordy just turned to look at her.

  “What's up Abs?” he asked.

  “I asked you that,” she replied, stopping at arm’s length. “What are you two doing out here?”

  “Just getting a look around,” Gordy said. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “After midnight.”

  “What?” Samantha exclaimed. “That late?”

  “Time flies when you're having fun,” Gordy chuckled.

  “What have you two been up to?” Abigail kept at it.

  “Showing Samantha the layout,” Gordy repeated, more or less. “She brought forty-two head of cattle from her ranch today plus a good bull. And she's way better with cattle than you are,” he needled a bit. “Once her cattle clear quarantine we 'll be integrating them into the herd, or at least adding them to the ranch, so I was showing her around the set up.”

  “Sam the Cowgirl,” Abigail teased. “Well, her folks are known as top rate cattle producers, so it shouldn't be a surprise she'd be good at it. As for better than me? Who cares. You two can have them all so far as I'm concerned. I use my time doing other stuff,” she laughed.

  “I notice you don't turn down a good steak when we have it,” Gordy told her.

  “That's what cows are for little brother,” she laughed again. “I'm going to wash this grime off and get some sleep. Jake and I will have to get back at it in a few hours.” She started for the house.

  “How's that coming?” Gordy asked, meaning the work on the plow.