Blaze Atop Swallow Hill Lookout
Page 4
“You so purdy, Akbar.”
“Purdier than you, Two-Tall.” He headed back into the shower to get the last of it.
“So not. You’re jealous.”
Akbar wasn’t the least bit jealous. Yes, despite his lean height, Tim was handsome enough to sweep up any ladies he wanted.
But on his own, Akbar did pretty damn well himself. What he didn’t have in height, he made up for with a proper smokejumper’s muscled build. Mixed with his tan-dark Indian complexion, he did fine.
The real fun, of course, was when the two of them went cruising together. The women never knew what to make of the two of them side by side. The contrast kept them off balance enough to open even more doors.
He smiled as he toweled down. It also didn’t hurt that their opening answer to “what do you do” was “I jump out of planes to fight forest fires.”
Worked every damn time. God he loved this job.
# # #
The small town of Hood River, a winding half-an-hour down the mountain from the MHA base camp, was hopping. Mid-June, colleges letting out. Students and the younger set of professors high-tailing it to the Gorge. They packed the bars and breweries and sidewalk cafes. Suddenly every other car on the street had a windsurfing board tied on the roof.
The snooty rich folks were up at the historic Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood itself, not far in the other direction from MHA. Down here it was a younger, thrill seeker set and you could feel the energy.
There were other restaurants in town that might have better pickings, but the Doghouse Inn was MHA tradition and it was a good luck charm—no smokie in his right mind messed with that. This was the bar where all of the MHA crew hung out. It didn’t look like much from the outside, just a worn old brick building beaten by the Gorge’s violent weather. Aged before its time, which had been long ago.
But inside was awesome. A long wooden bar stretched down one side with a half-jillion microbrew taps and a small but well-stocked kitchen at the far end. The dark wood paneling, even on the ceiling, was barely visible beneath thousands of pictures of doghouses sent from patrons all over the world. Miniature dachshunds in ornately decorated shoeboxes, massive Newfoundlands in backyard mansions that could easily house hundreds of their smaller kin, and everything in between. A gigantic Snoopy atop his doghouse in full Red Baron fighting gear dominated the far wall. Rumor said Shulz himself had been here two owners before and drawn it.
Tables were grouped close together, some for standing and drinking, others for sitting and eating.
“Amy, sweetheart!” Two-Tall called out as they entered the bar. The perky redhead came out from behind the bar to receive a hug from Tim. Akbar got one in turn, so he wasn’t complaining. Cute as could be and about his height; her hugs were better than taking most women to bed. Of course, Gerald the cook and the bar’s co-owner was big enough and strong enough to squish either Tim or Akbar if they got even a tiny step out of line with his wife. Gerald was one amazingly lucky man.
Akbar grabbed a Walking Man stout and turned to assess the crowd. A couple of the air jocks were in. Carly and Steve were at a little table for two in the corner, obviously not interested in anyone’s company but each others. Damn, that had happened fast. New guy on the base swept up one of the most beautiful women on the planet. One of these days he’d have to ask Steve how he’d done that. Or maybe not. It looked like they were settling in for the long haul; the big “M” was so not his own first choice.
Carly was also one of the best FBANs in the business. Akbar was a good Fire Behavior Analyst, had to be or he wouldn’t have made it to first stick—lead smokie of the whole MHA crew. But Carly was something else again. He’d always found the Flame Witch, as she was often called, daunting and a bit scary besides; she knew the fire better than it did itself. Steve had latched on to one seriously driven lady. More power to him.
The selection of female tourists was especially good today, but no other smokies in yet. They’d be in soon enough…most of them had groaned awake and said they were coming as he and Two-Tall kicked their hallway doors, but not until they’d been on their way out—he and Tim had first pick. Actually some of the smokies were coming, others had told them quite succinctly where they could go—but hey, jumping into fiery hell is what they did for a living anyway, so no big change there.
A couple of the chopper pilots had nailed down a big table right in the middle of the bustling seating area: Jeannie, Mickey, and Vern. Good “field of fire” in the immediate area.
He and Tim headed over, but Akbar managed to snag the chair closest to the really hot lady with down-her-back curling dark-auburn hair at the next table over—set just right to see her profile easily. Hard shot, sitting there with her parents, but damn she was amazing. And if that was her mom, it said the woman would be good looking for a long time to come.
Two-Tall grimaced at him and Akbar offered him a comfortable “beat out your ass” grin. But this one didn’t feel like that. Maybe it was the whole parental thing. He sat back and kept his mouth shut.
He made sure that Two-Tall could see his interest. That made Tim honor bound to try and cut Akbar out of the running.
# # #
Laura Jenson had spotted them coming into the restaurant. Her dad was only moments behind.
“Those two are walking like they just climbed off their first-ever horseback ride.”
She had to laugh, they did. So stiff and awkward they barely managed to move upright. They didn’t look like first-time windsurfers, aching from the unexpected workout. They’d also walked in like they thought they were two gifts to god, which was even funnier. She turned away to avoid laughing in their faces. Guys who thought like that rarely appreciated getting a reality check.
A couple minutes later, at a nod from her dad, she did a careful sideways glance. Sure enough, they’d joined in with a group of friends who were seated at the next table behind her. The short one, shorter than she was by four or five inches, sat to one side. He was doing the old stare without staring routine, as if she were so naïve as to not recognize it. His ridiculously tall companion sat around the next turn of the table to her other side.
Then the tall one raised his voice enough to be heard easily over her dad’s story about the latest goings-on at the local drone manufacturer. His company was the first one to be certified by the FAA for limited testing on wildfire and search-and-rescue overflights. She wanted to hear about it, but the tall guy had a deep voice that carried as if he were barrel-chested rather than pencil thin.
“Hell of fire, wasn’t it? Where do you think we’ll be jumping next?”
Smokies. Well, maybe they had some right to arrogance, but it didn’t gain any ground with her.
“Please make it a small one,” a woman who Laura couldn’t see right behind her chimed in. “I wouldn’t mind getting to sleep at least a couple times this summer if I’m gonna be flying you guys around.”
Laura tried to listen to her dad, but the patter behind her was picking up speed.
Another guy, “Yeah, know what you mean, Jeannie. I caught myself flying along trying to figure out how to fit crows and Stellar jays with little belly tanks to douse the flames. Maybe get a turkey vulture with a Type I heavy load classification.”
“At least you weren’t knocked down,” Jeannie again. Laura liked her voice; she sounded fun. “Damn tree took out my rotor. They got it aloft, but maintenance hasn’t signed it off for fire yet. They better have it done before the next call.” A woman who knew no fear—or at least knew about getting back up on the horse.
A woman who flew choppers; that was kind of cool actually. Laura had thought about smokejumping, but not very hard. She enjoyed being down in the forest too much. She’d been born and bred to be a guide. And her job at Timberline Lodge let her do a lot of that.
Dad was working on the search-and-rescue testing. Said they could find a human body
heat signature, even in deep trees.
“Hey,” Laura finally managed to drag her attention wholly back to her parents. “If you guys need somewhere to test them, I’d love to play. As the Lodge’s activities director, I’m down rivers, out on lakes, and leading mountain hikes on most days. All with tourists. And you know how much trouble they get into.”
Mom laughed, she knew exactly what her daughter meant. Laura had come by the trade right down the matrilineal line. Grandma had been a fishing and hunting tour guide out of Nome, Alaska back when a woman had to go to Alaska to do more than be a teacher or nurse. Mom had done the same until she met a man from the lower forty-eight who promised they could ride horses almost year-round in Oregon. Laura had practically grown up on horseback, leading group rides deep into the Oregon Wilderness first with her mom and, by the time she was in her mid-teens, on her own.
They chatted about the newest drone technology for a while.
The guy with the big, deep voice finally faded away, one less guy to worry about hitting on her. But out of her peripheral vision, she could still see the other guy, the short one with the tan-dark skin, tight curly black hair, and shoulders like Atlas.
He’d teased the tall guy as they sat down and then gone silent. Not quite watching her; the same way she was not quite watching him.
Her dad missed what was going on, but her mom’s smile was definitely giving her shit about it.
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More information at: www.mlbuchman.com
Copyright 2015 Matthew Lieber Buchman
Published by Buchman Bookworks
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This book, or parts thereof,
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Cover images:
White Point Lookout
© Oregon Dept of Forestry | Flickr (cc)
Couple with Bicycles Watching Sunset at River © Maryia Bahutskaya
| Dreamstime.com
Other works by M.L. Buchman
Firehawks (romantic suspense)
Pure Heat
Wildfire at Dawn
Full Blaze
Wildfire at Larch Creek
Wildfire on the Skagit
Hot Point
The Night Stalkers (romantic suspense)
The Night Is Mine
I Own the Dawn
Daniel’s Christmas
Wait Until Dark
Frank’s Independence Day
Peter’s Christmas
Take Over at Midnight
Light Up the Night
Bring On the Dusk
Target of the Heart
Angelo’s Hearth (romance)
Where Dreams are Born
Where Dreams Reside
Maria’s Christmas Table
Where Dreams Unfold
Where Dreams Are Written
Dead Chef (thriller)
Swap Out!
One Chef!
Two Chef!
Dieties Anonymous (fantasy)
Cookbook from Hell: Reheated
Saviors 101
Other SF/F Titles
Nara
Monk’s Maze