Wildfire on the Skagit (Firehawks Book 9)

by M. L. Buchman

  “These have laminate lenses,” Evan announced loudly enough for all to hear. “Normal sunglasses can shatter if hit wrong, these won’t. Civilian sunglasses go into your leave-behind bags.”

  Zelda, who introduced herself as “wife of the professor and cross-country coach,”—the pixie was the athlete; so much for stereotypes—he pointed toward the stack of Pulaski fire axes. “Each person gets one. You too.” She laughed and headed to the stack of well-used tools and began handing them out.

  Krista had been flipping through the paperwork on each girl, “Three vegetarians. Does raw elk meat count as vegetarian?”

  It earned her a chorus of “Ewws.”

  Krista began handing around MREs to add to their packs.

  “Now that’s just plain cruel,” he whispered when she passed close enough to smell her. He tried to turn off his nose, but it had clearly decided that Krista and heaven smelled much the same.

  “How little you know me, Rook,” and she moved on before he could think up a decent reply. She was right, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. It had been a lack of time and the start of a bad fire season.

  He handed out hunting knives with appropriate warnings about how to handle a long blade and instruction on how to strap the sheath to their thighs. Krista demonstrated how to open an MRE and how the heater worked to cook a meal in the outdoors. By the time she’d talked them through electrolytes and staying hydrated, Evan’s stomach was getting up to a decent grumble.

  He could see a couple of the thinner girls were already suffering from fading attention due to blood sugar crash.

  He started to ask Krista about breaking for lunch when he noticed something was wrong. The girls were covering their ears though he didn’t hear a thing over their talk back and forth. He only had a moment to register that Krista was smiling and looking just over his shoulder—

  An air horn unleashed its unholy howl about two steps behind him.

  Evan yelped in surprise and dove aside, sending bursts of laughter through the assembly. Everyone else had seen what he hadn’t, Betsy coming up close behind him to announce lunch. Usually she just used an old fire engine bell mounted on the doorframe of the kitchen, but when the wind was high or the field was busy, she used an air horn so that anyone still in the bunks, working in the parachute loft, or across the field by the aircraft would know it was mealtime. Not close enough to hurt his ears, but more than enough to scare the crap out of him.

  “Nice,” he looked up at her from where he’d taken cover under one of the tables close by Mac’s feet.

  “Don’t you be busting down my door anymore, Rook,” and she stalked away but couldn’t quite hide the smile. He guessed they were even now. He hoped to god they were.

  Krista offered him a hand up, “Never mess with a Mount Hood Aviation woman, Rook.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Queen Smokie,” he regained his feet and saluted.

  But even as he said it, he knew that one wouldn’t stick either.

  # # #

  Krista hadn’t much chance to see Evan function in the wild, except on a fire. But she couldn’t help but be impressed from the first moment. He wasn’t merely at ease in the instructor position, he was skilled enough that those around him were at ease as well.

  After lunch he took the back-of-the-group position, usually the most dreaded. There were always a couple of the kids who were simply overwhelmed by the true forest, and it would be up to the tail-man to keep them moving along. That took a special understanding right there.

  Krista hiked across the airfield, past the two jump planes, Mark’s Incident Command twin-prop Beechcraft, and aimed for the trailhead behind the row of the six helicopters.

  “Hey, can’t we go in one of those?” “That would be so cool.”

  “We are not that lazy,” Krista told them.

  “I am!” Callie raised her hand.

  “Me too!” several of the others joined in. There had been a lot of surprise when they’d hauled on their packs, each weighing twenty-five pounds. Then Evan had told them that a smokie often carried sixty. With that deep voice and powerful demeanor of his, the girls had quieted much faster than normal. He’d already done better than any of the other smokies and they’d barely started. She and Evan carried significantly more gear, medical gear and radios, but their packs were still lighter than they usually carried to the line.

  Krista let them stop and gather round her. She patted the nose of Firehawk 03, one of the three big converted Black Hawk helicopters, gloss black with a racing-car-flame paint job. They were amazing warhorses that had deeply changed the raw power MHA could bring to the fight.

  “I’ll tell you a secret though,” Krista lowered her voice to entice them closer.

  All of the girls leaned forward in anticipation.

  “Our senior pilot, two others, and both of our mechanics are women.”

  “Whoa!” That woke a real buzz among them.

  “I should point out,” Evan raised his voice to cut through the excitement. “Three of the pilots, both of the jump plane pilots, and our Incident Commander are all guys.”

  “Pure luck,” Krista raised her voice.

  “Yeah!” “Pipe down in the cheap seats back there.”

  By Evan’s easy smile, she could see that he too appreciated their responses as if she needed another reason to like him. They’d barely started and already the world of possibilities were opening up before these girls.

  Her only problem with Evan had been that they weren’t getting any of the alone time that her body was craving.

  But now she was starting to wonder if that was the least of her problems.

  She was also discovering the man behind the body and liking everything she found there…really liking it, which wasn’t any version of Krista that she was familiar with.

  She turned and led the girls off the far end of the airfield and into the Mount Hood National Forest along an old fireroad, leaving Evan to bring up the rear.

  # # #

  The first hour went pretty smoothly. These girls were tough and Evan was impressed.

  Ash and Reena were real standouts, as he’d expect from their cross-country background, but most of the others were pushing right along with them.

  Krista started teaching them wildlife: black squirrels, Steller’s jays, a turkey vulture who inspected them from high above a small clearing, as well as how to tell the tree species apart. They were eating that up too.

  He intentionally lagged behind so that the girls didn’t feel pressured. If it had been his ODA out on a run or a fire team of actual rookies in testing, he’d be hounding their heels, pushing them to keep up. He wanted these girls to enjoy the experience. By moving a little slower, he gave them permission to move at a more sedate pace than the one Krista set.

  He wasn’t too surprised when Mallory ended up at the back of the pack. He cast a glance forward just to make sure one of the chaperones was in easy range, just in case the group’s beauty queen had something on her mind that he didn’t want to deal with.

  But still he wasn’t ready for the question when it came.

  “Are you a soldier?”

  Mallory’s beauty pageant face didn’t have the prerequisite smile anywhere to be seen. Instead, he was facing the frail girl he’d spotted behind the studied veneer.

  “I was. I guess it still shows.”

  She nodded, “I recognized the training when you were fooling around with Krista.”

  “Do you have someone who’s in?”

  She folded her arms tightly as they walked as if she was chilled rather than sweating on the warm summer day. She finally managed a tight nod and a whisper soft, “I did.”

  Oh crap!

  There was all sorts of counseling for vets having a hard time—even the ones like him who didn’t want it. But so little for their families.

 
He was trying to think of how to ask the next question, when redheaded Meaghan—who’d been at the tail end of the main group—dropped to one knee and studied something alongside the trail.

  He and Mallory caught up to her quickly.

  “What’s that?” Meaghan was at the side of the trail by a spot that hadn’t been trampled by the other’s passage.

  “Deer scat,” Evan picked up branch to flick aside a few of the leaves that partially covered the pile; glad for the subject change.

  Chicken? Beautiful girl with hard questions. Damn straight he was chicken!

  “Small brown pellet poop from such a big animal always seemed weird to me.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he tried to gauge Mallory’s condition. She looked okay, just…hard.

  “It’s only about twice the size of what a rabbit leaves behind. But bunny poop is always round. Deer, elk, and moose are oblong with no pinch off. At least three days old by the color.” He poked a couple with his stick and they powdered. “More like a week by how dry they are.”

  “You know a lot about poop,” Meaghan eyed him with amusement. But there was something else going on there that he wasn’t sure how to read. She’d already known it was deer scat, but he played along.

  “Occupational hazard. You want to recognize bear poop when you see it. Or wolf. We don’t get wolves around here, but I’ve certainly jumped fires with them close by. They won’t attack a human unless they’re panicked; fire does that to them though, especially if they have young in a threatened den.”

  “Cool!” And then Meaghan rose to her feet so that she landed between Evan and Mallory. Was the redhead the one who would be causing him trouble? Had she used the excuse of deer scat to horn in on a misperception of why Mallory had slowed down to be with him?

  Then she looped an arm through Mallory’s. “C’mon, Mal. Let’s hunt up more poop for him to tell us about,” and led her ahead into the gap between him and the main group. But they weren’t looking at the trail. He got the impression that Mallory wasn’t looking at much of anything as Meaghan guided her around ruts and over fallen branches.

  Another shift in what he was seeing. Meaghan had known Mallory was having a hard time with something, so she was being a friend, trying to make it easier. Of course. A fellow student would know the whole story.

  Watching them together, taking care of each other, reminded him of wildfire teams and Special Forces ODAs…and not at all of Evan James Greene.

  Because the one time it really truly mattered, he had totally failed.

  # # #

  Krista had pushed them steadily through the afternoon with only short breaks. It took four hours to reach the clearing she’d chosen for camp. It would have been an easy hike for any of these girls with the shape they were in…if they hadn’t been loaded with twenty-five pounds apiece. She wanted them to hurt a little, but not too much.

  “Great! Now, drop your packs and grab gloves and your Pulaski. Tina, stop using your sunglasses to keep your hair in place and pull them down.”

  She soon had them organized in the center of the clearing and was giving them techniques for cutting a line and how to use the hoe side of the Pulaski to cut through and peel back sod. Once that was peeled back, she showed them how to judge organic and inorganic layers.

  “Clear me a circle. Mineral soils only for a six-foot diameter circle. Then peel back the top layer of organics for another four feet all around. Go.”

  That was when she noticed that Evan wasn’t there. He was standing at the entry to the clearing, still wearing his full pack. She knew that look now; didn’t know the root of it, but couldn’t miss it. It hung like a personal shroud of darkness, looming over his head.

  Krista double checked that the girls and the two chaperones were doing okay. And they were; chatting together, figuring out how to work closely together to achieve a common end.

  She strode over to Evan, half afraid he would bolt and run back to camp.

  He offered her a nod of recognition, but there was none of the heat coming off him like there had been all morning.

  She simply scooped his arm in one of hers, spun him about, and walked him right back into the woods. She didn’t stop until they were around the first curve in the trail and couldn’t be seen or easily overheard.

  “Evan.”

  “Yeah?” He didn’t even know he was in some kind of weird space, but his eyes weren’t focusing on her.

  “If I were to shout fire, would you be okay?”

  “Sure, I’d—” then he shook himself like a wet dog and rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh crap! I’m sorry, Krista. Yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t even know I’d—”

  He didn’t finish, but she knew he’d gone back to the dark place down inside him. That he’d gone there despite the supercharge of the young women’s excitement practically making the air around them vibrate worried her.

  “Straight up, Evan. Do I need to send you back?”

  That brought his attention into sharp focus. “No, Krista. Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

  “My girls are safe around you?”

  “I swear. The only person not safe around me is me.”

  “I’ve got about three minutes before they’ll be getting themselves into trouble.” Hopefully they’d be following last year’s pattern and not the year before’s. “Convince me.”

  “They,” she watched him swallow hard. “They remind me too much of the past.”

  “This isn’t Afghanistan, Evan.”

  “I understand that. This also isn’t emergency leave from Afghanistan to arrive too late at my little sister’s hospital bedside.”

  “Oh god, Evan, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry,” Krista hugged him despite the awkwardness of the heavy pack he still wore.

  He remained stiff, burying his face against her shoulder for one long moment before standing back from her embrace.

  “How did she die?” Krista barely managed a whisper.

  Evan closed his eyes and faced off into the woods as if wishing he could transport himself somewhere…anywhere else. His voice when it finally came out was hoarse, dark.

  “She went out into the woods and put .30-30 slug into her brain from my Winchester 94 deer rifle. She missed, partly. Some kids found her. I buried the damn gun with her; the only two things I ever loved.” Then he opened his eyes and looked back at her, the pain pulled back behind a wall so deep that she couldn’t believe he’d let her see behind it. “I think Mallory needs to talk to me. I can’t leave until I know for sure that she’s okay. I have to stay.”

  Krista didn’t know what to do with such a good man. She could feel the heat of tears burning behind her eyes. She cried easily enough, usually from laughter at a good joke well played. This was different. His pain ripped at her gut. Unable to bear it, she pulled him into her arms again and held the injured boy who’d become a man. A man who would face his own deepest pain to help a girl he’d only met hours before.

  In that moment, the world shifted beneath Krista’s feet, the forest floor bucking and heaving against any hint of balance she’d previously known. She didn’t know what the feeling was, but it rocked through her until there was no place in the world more steady than holding Evan Greene close.

  Krista finally managed to step back, could hear the rising voices behind her that meant she needed to return soon, but couldn’t quite make herself let go of him completely—unsure she’d be able to walk if she did. Afraid he might disappear like a wraith if she looked away for even a moment.

  “Just give me a minute, Krista. Then I’ll roll into camp just fine.”

  She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. She kissed him hard. Not with the fire’s heat that she’d been so looking forward to, but with everything her heart was feeling. He kissed her back then sent her on her way with a slap on the butt that was endearing rather than making her want to fl
atten him.

  Krista waited until she was halfway around the curve, out of sight from both Evan and the campsite. There she stopped a moment to wipe at her eyes and have a good sniffle.

  This better not be what she thought it was, but she more than half suspected she was head-over-heels gone on the quiet soldier. No time to think about it now. She wiped her eyes again to little effect.

  Enough!

  Happy face!

  She slid her sunglasses into place and trotted around the curve and back into camp. The girls were just starting to mill around, wondering what to do next.

  “Hey, now that’s a great spot for a fire. Only one problem.”

  “What?” “C’mon, we did great, didn’t we?”

  “The problem,” Krista announced over their complaints, “is that we have a great firepit…and no firewood. I think that it’s time we learned what the axe side of your Pulaski is for. Let’s go chop some wood.”

  As she got the girls organized to head into the woods, she glanced back at the trail. She was half afraid that Evan wouldn’t be able to face his demons and might just have turned around and headed back to camp, or worse, be gone permanently before she returned.

  Instead he stood there, once again at the threshold of shadow a single step from the sunny clearing. Thumbs hooked in pack straps, sunglasses in place, he looked every inch the amazing smokejumper, top soldier, and gorgeous man.

  As she moved about the clearing, she could feel his eyes tracking her. And it was one of the best feelings of her life.

  Chapter 8

  It was evening and the last of the girls were out of the woods.

  He did a running headcount that was so instinctive to his training that it wasn’t conscious, it simply clicked over to “all accounted for” when the last girl had walked in with Krista. He noticed that the chaperones Mac and Zelda were lingering for a moment back in the shadows as a single outline.

  Made him think of getting close to Krista, preferably when he wasn’t on the verge of barfing up some memory.

  She’d treated him okay despite his revelation. He’d never told that to anyone, not even his Green Beret buddies when he’d returned after a five-day emergency leave that had been two days of travel, one of visiting the morgue and dealing with Francine’s possessions, and two of arrangements for a funeral only he attended. He hadn’t told his parents when or where, because even if they were sober enough to hold their tongues they would have been unwilling to “be associated with such a thing.” And he knew Francine wouldn’t have wanted them there. They’d disowned him when he went military instead of some professorship, like it had served them so well.