“Quality of rookies these days is sad state of affairs,” Ox offered in his deep voice, sounding more like a Baptist minister than a Russian strongman.
“Shit you guys, you know the NASA line: On Earth…”
Everyone on the DC-3 joined in, “Something is always burning.”
Evan turned to Akbar and held out his hands, palm up. “See?”
“True. True,” Akbar nodded sagely but by the look in his eye, Evan had just made another rookie mistake.
“What?”
Akbar glanced over at Krista who nodded. Then Akbar looked up the plane’s aisle and shouted over the sudden roar of the engines cranking up to launch them down the runway.
“Ox!”
“Yeah, boss!”
“Next week you’ll be promoted to my jump partner for a few days. Rook wants your slot.”
“Hallelujah!” Ox fist pumped.
“What?” Evan had missed something and his jump partner was ecstatic about it.
Akbar simply patted him on the shoulder.
Evan looked at Krista for a clue. She didn’t say a word, but she was grinning like a lunatic. Clearly he’d not only stepped in it, but stepped in it deep.
No amount of hounding Akbar or Krista over the next seven days gained him a single hint.
All Ox, the asshole, offered was a chilling laugh and a darkly muttered, “Doom! Doom!”
# # #
Finally off the fires, Evan got to sleep in a bed. Not with Krista, but he was past caring. The bunk was heaven.
They’d all unloaded, restaged the gear, and crawled into the showers then their bunks. No calls of “Doghouse Inn!” Not many even made it down the buffet line that Betsy somehow managed to drag together despite following the MHA flight crews from camp to camp with her cook tent and supplies in tow.
Three straight weeks on fires equaled severe sleep deprivation.
Evan managed to resurface by midday, sixteen hours later. He felt so much better, except for the permanent kink in his neck from sleeping the whole time in one position.
He went out in front of the bunk house and, blinking at the late morning sunlight like an owl, started doing some stretches.
“Hey, Rook!”
“Hey, Master Sergeant!” Gods but she looked fantastic. “Damn but that smile of yours is a pleasure to wake up to.”
Her smile got even bigger.
“We first up?” The camp was quiet; silent enough for a family of deer to be browsing the other side of the air strip along the line of MHA’s jump planes and helicopters.
“Been up for hours, Rook. You’re about the last one out of the sack. Everyone else is down at the Doghouse for lunch.”
“Sounds great! Let’s go. I could eat a horse or one of those deer; got your bow and arrow handy?” He always lost ten or fifteen pounds each fire season because it was impossible to consume as many calories as he was burning. He felt at least five thousand shy at the moment. Evan started moving in on her wondering if he could get a treat before they ate.
Krista pushed him aside, but not before he got in a nice kiss and a quick feel. “Go see if you can beg breakfast from Betsy.”
Getting some calories and dragging Krista back into the woods on a beautiful summer’s day sounded like a great idea. He headed for the kitchen to see if Betsy had forgiven him for shattering her door.
“And Rook?” she called when he was halfway there.
“Yeah?”
“Eat fast.”
Didn’t have to tell him twice.
# # #
Ten minutes and only a bit of a groveling for forgiveness later, he was back out at one of the picnic tables with a pair of monster burgers, all the trimmings, and a mug of black coffee that had never been near an Army coffee urn. It must be in some manual somewhere that all Army coffee was required to be served well burnt or maybe the urns were simply all set to stun. Betsy used Honduran beans and a smooth Italian roast for MHA’s signature fare. Totally awesome. Another nice MHA bonus.
As for bonuses, Krista sat down across from him as he ate. Not at the same table so that he could play footsie with her, but instead leaning back against the next table over with her feet propped on the other bench of his table. It let him truly admire the woman.
Jeans, sneakers, a black t-shirt with a simple “Smokejumper” stretched wide across. Dark shades hid the blue eyes. Her smile was up to something and he couldn’t wait to find out what it was.
“You make me wonder what I ever saw in other women.”
“Are you like Ox? Want your women pixie sized?”
“Nope,” he bit into his second burger and continued admiring her. “Always liked ‘em long, just never thought about one who could keep up with me.”
“Oh, I’m way ahead of you, Rook.”
“How’s that?”
“Told you to eat fast. Too late now,” and Krista pointed toward the parking lot.
Evan took another bite of his burger and turned to follow where she pointed. Nothing there. He was about to turn back when he picked up the sound of a big diesel engine changing gears, downshifting for the steep final climb up into the parking lot. Truck-sized. No, his Army training adjusted the assessment even as he made it. Bus-sized. Different timbre to the exhaust.
In a dust cloud, a yellow school bus crested the dirt road and swung into the lot. On the side were the words “Hood River High School.” On the display over the windshield it just said “Special.”
“What the—”
“You wanted off the jump line, Rook. You got it.”
The bus wheezed to a halt and the engine rattled to a stop.
“Mount Hood Aviation Smokejumper Camp for girls. We do this every summer.”
He’d known she and Akbar were up to something with how affable they were being about everything, but this was way the hell out of bounds. Ox’s “Hallelujah” was explained and Evan was so screwed.
Girls began climbing off the bus. High school ones that even at this distance he could see were armed with smart phones and attitude.
“What’s this got to do with getting a break?”
Krista was on her feet. “Akbar never said a word about getting a break. C’mon, Rook. Time to meet our students.” She slapped him hard enough on the shoulder that he almost inhaled the final bite of his burger.
Evan took a slug of his coffee and grabbed a fistful of French fries before tossing the rest in a garbage can and hustling after Krista. He pulled up alongside her just before she reached the kids.
“How many hours?” he whispered around a mouthful of fries and almost choked himself.
Krista just flashed that killer smile at him and turned away to face the twenty-plus girls and two parent chaperones who had piled off the bus. All sizes and shapes, shy and confident, chic and scruffy.
“Hey, girls,” Krista waved merrily. “Welcome to Mount Hood Aviation’s smokejumper and helibase. Hope you like the outdoors because we’ve got three days of fun planned for you.”
“Thr—” was all Evan managed. He really did choke this time.
Krista thumped him on the back, hard enough that he almost spit the last of his fries on the kids.
“I’m Krista.”
She aimed a thumb in his direction as he struggled to recover his composure.
“You can just call him Rook.”
# # #
Krista had started the whole camp idea three years before. She’d thought about how much she loved the outdoors and even though Concrete, Washington was a town of less than a thousand in the middle of the Cascade Mountains, almost none of the girls got out in nature.
Boys went into the woods: deer hunting with their dads, trouble hunting with their buddies.
Girls didn’t do squat. A dozen years ago, they were still expected to do bake sales and car washes t
o support the sports teams. She hadn’t done anything about it then, but now she could.
The kids down in Hood River lived in an outdoor paradise but rarely thought beyond the windsurfing in the Columbia Gorge. When she floated the idea, she’d been given full support by MHA. She and Akbar had designed the camp and it was now a major hit with the high school girls.
While they were unloading their gear from the bus, Evan pulled her aside.
“What the—” he clamped down on the curse word and glanced over toward the school bus.
“Takes two to run the exercises safely,” she offered in her sweetest voice.
His look of abject panic was simply too splendid and she couldn’t stop goosing it.
“We take them out wilderness hiking and camping. Clear some line, teach them chainsaw technique. Then run them through the basic parachute trainer. Helicopter ride at the end if there are any helos not out on a fire. This year I even got them coupons for a free tandem parachute jump just south of Portland in case anyone wants to go. Two nights camping wild with the girls; it’ll be great.”
“Those are teenage girls.” He sounded horrified.
“They are, Rook. I found out that some of them pay better attention if we have a macho smokejumper in the mix.”
“Is this what Ox was being so damned happy about all week?”
“Ox was going to help this year, but you volunteered.”
“I didn’t— Well, crap, I didn’t mean to.”
“You want some together time, this is where I’m going to be.” Krista suddenly cared about his answer to that. Which was unexpected. Since when did she care what a guy did or didn’t do?
But before she could really worry at that, he grinned at her.
“Okay, that sold me. But I still think I was shanghaied.”
“You were, Rook,” and Krista couldn’t stop the happy feeling inside that bubbled up at his easy acceptance.
“Can we at least—”
“Nope!” Damn but he was fun to mess with. “You don’t get off the hook that easy. Rook is how you’ve been introduced, Rook is what you’re stuck with.”
He rolled his eyes at her, but followed her forward cheerfully enough when she waved everyone over toward the picnic tables.
# # #
“All electronics: cell phones, watches, music players, tablets,” Krista told the round-eyed girls. “They all go in the bag.”
Evan was handing out drawstring bags with blank name tags to the girls who sat scattered among Betsy’s picnic tables.
“You gotta be kidding me!” More than one protested.
Evan did his best not to laugh in the girls’ faces. “Your next charger is three days away,” he spoke up in support of Krista. “And on a fire, we’re pretty remote, so there are almost never cell towers.”
“Solar charger, duh!” Two girls held up small panels. “Gotta have my music.”
“Those go in the bag too,” Krista informed them. “Nature is providing the soundtrack.”
“Everything you want to have with you,” Evan pointed to a line of rucksacks, “you have to carry in your own backpack for the next three days.”
That certainly changed the dynamic. Within minutes, extra shoes, makeup, a couple of hairdryers, e-readers and books, and a surprising volume of extra clothes had all been transferred into the drawstring bags. It was hard for a guy to keep a straight face while watching such antics, so he did his best to look elsewhere.
Looking at Krista wasn’t doing him the least bit of good. She was clearly used to this and enjoying his fish-out-of-water state far too much; something he’d definitely be paying her back for later. Looking at Krista also made him think other thoughts. He’d never understood those guys who liked younger women. Sure, they were great to look at, so perfect in youth. But the contrast of a woman like Krista, strong, confident, mature, and attractive as all hell put the girls to shame. Except these weren’t girls, these were young women.
Evan had never been comfortable around teenage girls, well, not since he’d been chasing them as a teen himself. Now he couldn’t help but see parts of his younger sister in each one and had to force that away and out of his mind.
Fast.
Down that path lay the ultimate black hole of his life.
He started trying to catalog them.
They’d be less scary that way.
There was the really fit blond wearing the nametag Ash, obviously the top athlete of the group, quiet and focused.
Callie who was like a short, brunette Krista, solid and with a ready laugh.
Mallory, easily the prettiest of them all, was as concerned with her clothes and looks (one of the hairdryers came out of her gear) as with her status among the other girls. She also had a fragility that she was struggling to keep hidden behind a carefully studied perfection and a somber expression.
A fragility that was all too familiar and he looked away quickly.
Reena with the thick Mexican dark curls was another athlete—Ash’s dark twin. They clearly hung together.
He could already see the groupings, but they were more bonded as a whole than he expected. No queen bee bent on controlling and manipulating those around her which surprised him.
“So, what’s the common theme here?” the words were out before he realized that maybe showing his ignorance this early on wasn’t the best idea.
“We’re all amazing, Rook!” Callie called out. “Is that really your name?”
“Means ‘rookie,’ space case. He’s a newbie,” a black girl tagged as Nikkya responded.
Evan couldn’t even find the voice to protest as the other girls laughed and joined in. The dynamics in his high school had been harsh and intensely cliquish. You were either in or out; and if you were “out,” like his sister Francine, the gods themselves couldn’t help you.
We’re all amazing? Did they have any idea how…amazing that simple statement made them? He actually hoped not. Wouldn’t it be incredible if they went out into the world actually believing that about themselves? Look out, boys, he mentally warned his younger gender mates.
“Outdoors Club,” Ash said matter-of-factly. She’d had nothing to repack, had brought exactly what was on the list. So while the others fussed, she’d been doing leg stretches with her heel propped up on one of the picnic tables. Reena joined her, doing the same.
“What do you guys do when you aren’t hanging out with smokejumpers?” That earned him a couple of appraising looks. His time in bars had taught him plenty about the power that the word “smokejumper” had over women, but it was weird to see it already manifested in several of the young girls. He made a mental note to stick close to Krista for self-defense.
“Trail runs,” Callie pointed toward Ash and Reena and groaned as did several others in the group. “They’re the queens of cross-country and keep trying to get us to go along. So not.”
“Hey, Lee goes with us.”
“I do, but I’d rather ride a bicycle any day,” a tall girl with black hair down her back said. Her powerful legs displayed by her tight leggings said that cycling was indeed her sport.
“Windsurf,” Meaghan piped up, a lively redhead. That received near universal smiles of acknowledgement from the others. Evan suspected that she was notoriously rabid about her preferred sport.
They continued around and Evan could start to see the pattern. They were the outdoorsy set from their school, but they approached it as if it was foreign land. They did things outdoors, but none of them had ever camped further out than a state park. Definitely none had loaded up a pack and gone tramping out into the wild with a bivy bag and a week’s supply of food.
He’d done that all the time as a kid. He’d never really thought about why, it was simply where he was most comfortable. Why? Now that he thought about it, it was totally obvious: to get as far away from his dysfunctional, al
coholic, back-biting parents as possible.
He had incorporated wilderness survival techniques deep into his skill set long before the Green Berets had started filling in the blanks. He hadn’t ever hunted with bow and arrow like Krista, but he’d been a dead shot with his .30-30 Winchester 94 with a peep sight by freshman year of high school. Mostly target shooting, but he’d often lived wild for weeks at a time with little more than a tarp and his beloved rifle. When the Special Forces had given him a telescopic sight, he’d become one of the top shooters in his whole company.
None of these girls had done that. He wanted to take them out and show them. Teach them that there was more to the outdoors than mandated sports. You could live quite comfortably out there if you needed to, even in modern times.
Krista knew that.
Maybe he was beginning to understand what she was trying to do here…but he’d still rather have gotten her off alone somewhere.
Not gonna happen, Ev, so dig in.
He gathered up a stack of hardhats and plopped one down on Callie’s head.
“Hey!”
“Branch!” He called, then smacked her hat hard with another of the hats. The loud Klonk! grabbed everyone’s attention. “Hurt much?” Evan did his best to make it a sneer as if she’d be a weakling to admit anything.
“Only my ears,” Callie grinned up at him from under the brim.
“Someone yells branch, don’t look up or you’ll get it in the face,” he nodded to her that she’d done good. “Fit the straps. The forehead band should be just snug enough that it doesn’t come off if you’re nodding in answer to a question. The chin strap loose enough that you can shout without choking yourself. Once you have it adjusted, you can tie it to the outside of your pack for later.” And he began handing them out to the rest of the girls.
The two adults had hung in the background watching the goings on. He almost handed a bag of sunglasses to the woman to distribute—petite enough that she was definitely Ox’s type. Catching himself on the verge of reinforcing stereotypes that he guessed Krista was fighting against, he handed them to the guy, Mac by his nametag, who looked like a gym teacher. “English lit,” he introduced himself with a good strong handshake which Evan returned.
Wildfire on the Skagit (Firehawks Book 9) Page 7
