Rugged and Restless

by Saylor Bliss

  My laughter echoed across the dispatch office. His words painted the picture so well I felt like I was there.

  “By that time our backup had arrived and we dispensed with the burning pot. It, ah, didn’t fare so well. We were just moving into position to assault the house fire when the garage started popping like popcorn. Seems the grower had been stockpiling small arms and ammunition with the idea of protecting his little farm. Bullets explode when they get hot. We had to take cover, and pretty much watch the house become fully involved, before that ammo stopped burning off. No one got hurt so we all cracked jokes while we waited it out.”

  “What happened with the naked woman? Did you give her your coat?”

  “Me? Heck, no! I wasn’t going to spoil the view. My partner did. He’s always had a chivalrous streak.”

  Cloud snorted and balked, tossing his head in violent up and down motions. The acrid scent of burning grass clung in the air, growing stronger with each step toward home. The horse danced sideways, pulling hard on the reins. Then he half-reared and I nearly slid from the saddle. Leaning forward, I murmured calming nonsense in his ear as I peered along the trail ahead. The barns should have been visible in the distance, but the only thing ahead of me was a writhing black serpent waiting for me to ride into its jaws.

  Fire!

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Christine

  Another paroxysm of coughing tore through my body. My throat was scorched from the smoke I was already breathing. Ash fell like a hot summer snowstorm. Agitated horses raced back and forth along the rear fence of the paddock. Fear-crazed bulls bellowed in the stockyard. The fire was burning at the front of the property, so the animals were frightened, but safe. I turned Cloud loose in the corral next to the stable without unsaddling him. Then I sprinted toward the heaviest smoke.

  The blaze was low and mean. It crept along with an evil sputtering hiss, consuming the dried grasses in front of it. In its wake lay the blackened remains of what an hour earlier had been a lush field of hay nearing harvest.

  The fire pushed its way along the fence with nothing to stop its steady march to the homestead. Justin was using a garden hose to wet down the roof against flurries of sparks being carried on the wind, but if the fire reached the house, he wouldn’t have a chance of stopping it. Gus Hanson and Grant frantically pitched dirt at the base of the flames, beating them back. My jaw dropped when I recognized Wyatt MacKay working alongside them.

  I finally spotted Trav working with the volunteer fire department, expertly moving equipment from the pumper truck, directing the firefighters with an air of command. He pulled more hose and pointed to the hot zone close to the house. One of the younger firefighters grabbed the end of the hose, waiting for the pump to start sending water along the line.

  Snapping to life, I picked up an abandoned shovel and went to work next to Wyatt. It felt like a losing battle right from the start. With every shovelful of the dry dusty earth tossed onto the fire, a flame sputtered out, only to find a finger hold in some of the dry grass a little farther on. I wrinkled my nose against the stench of the heavy smoky air and coughed as it ripped at me already raw throat. If only I had just one drink of water.

  Thrusting the thought of quenching my thirst aside, I resolutely attacked each tendril of fire as it danced on to the next patch of brown vegetation. It was impossible to orient. I was aware only of the onslaught of gluttonous flames and knew I had to drive them back.

  I never noticed the shifting wind until the fire’s tone changed from snapping puppy to snarling wolf. The rusty amber glow swirled into a vortex of smoke and flame, with me in its eye. Promising exquisite torture, the monster fanned me with its hot breath. Greedy licks of orange and yellow stretched toward me, as if eager for a taste of tender flesh. Invisible flames charred the tips of the dried grass at my feet and heat scorched my lips and mouth. If I breathed too deeply, my lungs would be gone in seconds.

  I stood transfixed by the beauty and power of the blazing entity. Smoke stung my eyes and tears blurred my vision. Heat seared along my nerve endings, the pain breaking the fire’s spell. I spun frantically. Which way was out? Pillars of flame blocked my path in every direction. I was in the devil’s domicile, with no idea which direction led to safety and which led my deeper into hell.

  Gasping for each breath, my vision began to film over with a purple-red mist. Thickened blood pounded hard through my carotid arteries, struggling to carry oxygen to my brain. My arms and legs were clunky, hard to move. My neck didn’t have the strength to hold up my head.

  I was going to die in the devil’s embrace.

  Travis came for me on the gush of artificial rain, pushing back the firestorm, my own personal white knight, rescuing me from the grip of the enraged dragon. I felt his confident touch, as he pulled me into the safety of his embrace. He used his own body as my shelter against the ravenous inferno.

  I followed his guidance with complete trust. His muscles contracted around mine, as he launched both of us into a desperate leap through the blast of heat. We landed with breath-stealing pain and he rolled us over the muddied ground, in the wash of spray from the pumper truck.

  Travis pushed to his feet, hauling me up with him, swiftly pulling me away from the fire. I clung to his arm as coughing wracked my body, nearly knocking me back to my knees. Once I had my bearings, I nodded and stepped away from him.

  “I’m good,” I shouted over the angry howl of the fire. He pointed me toward Justin and gave a little shove, then left me and returned to the battle.

  Through eyes that burned, I watched Travis work. He was a man used to facing down fire. He knew the beast, knew exactly where to hurt it the most. When the wind shifted again, pushing the blaze back toward the path it had already taken, the flames sputtered. Travis and the other firefighters moved in for the kill and the beast was slain.

  A glass of cold liquid was pushed into my hand. I looked up. Justin. Covering my hand with his own, he guided the glass to my lips. Tart lemonade flowed over my sandpaper tongue and nurtured my irritated throat.

  “A little more,” he encouraged after I took one long pull. Only after several sips did he set the glass aside.

  Travis’s father gently wiped my eyes with a bandana soaked in cool water. When I struggled to see what was happening, he simply moved, so I could watch while he continued wiping my face.

  “We’ve got some eye drops in the house that’ll help.” He handed me the bandana and was gone.

  Out of commission because of my own stupidity, all I could do was observe the mopping-up process.

  Wisps of white crept upward from hot spots in the blackened field, and volunteers used shovels to check each smoldering heap for errant sparks.

  Travis assisted with rolling hoses and packing gear, showing an easy camaraderie with the other firefighters. He might say he’d come back to Wyoming because he wanted to run the ranch. He might even believe it. But fighting fire was in his blood. And once it got that far into a person, it wouldn’t easily leave. He was as much in his element fighting the flames, as he was in the saddle. Would he be able to straddle both worlds or would he have to choose one? And if he chose fighting fire over ranching, would I be able to live with his choice?

  When the VFD pulled out of the driveway, Travis turned his attention to the redheaded teenager who hovered near the fence. He spoke to Wyatt for several minutes. Then he shook the boy’s hand and patted him on the back. When the boy began walking toward the road, Travis watched him for a few minutes, before turning to meet the approaching state trooper.

  Justin returned with a small bottle of drops, and I stood motionless while he efficiently flushed my eyes. I blinked with the rush of fluid, grateful when the sting began to ease.

  “Umm, feels good,” I murmured. “Thank you.”

  I permitted myself a last, long look in Travis’s direction before walking to the stable to care for my horse.

  “Another firefighter,” I mumbled under my breath. “I must be crazy.
”

  Travis

  Coated in layers of soot and dirt and sweat, I pulled off another ruined shirt and used it to mop my face on my way to the house. Exhaustion had made me its bitch, but it was so much more than physical weariness that put the drag in my steps. Fury rose again, mingling with despair and angst, in a triple play surge demanding instant outlet. I kicked at a sizeable stone partially embedded in the gravel drive, cursing under my breath when it didn’t budge. Really? I’d just beat back a fire and rock was going to best me? I crouched and with a little effort managed to work the rock out with my fingers. Round and white, it left a matching hole in the ground when I stood, but the minor victory was mine. Too bad no satisfaction came from the win.

  Pausing, I stared into the ruined field. Nothing remained of the hay we would have harvested in the next several weeks. Worse, the blaze had almost made it to the house.

  “Damn you, Bull!” I called as I hurled the white rock into the scorched field. A blackbird sitting on the charred fence squawked its protest and took off in a flutter of black feathers.

  When I raised my eyes from the dusty gravel drive, I locked onto Christine’s face. Flinging the shirt aside, I started walking, quickening my steps, the need to reach her driving my pace. It had been a new experience for me to feel so torn between duty and emotion. I hadn’t liked it.

  We met at the top of the drive. A half-step between us and I opened my arms. With a tiny cry, Christine entered the embrace, rubbing her cheek over my bare chest. Her silky hair caressed sensitive skin, sending me into an impossible spiral of erotic demand to affirm life.

  But as her arms encircled my waist, my world righted itself.

  “I knew you were on the other side of the fire,” I whispered into her hair. “I didn’t think I’d get to you in time. When I saw flames all around you—”

  Abruptly I pulled back and stared into her face. Streaks of soot were difficult to distinguish from smudges of dirt. Her hair now lay in loose disarray about her bare shoulders, bits of leaves and grass caught in the tangles. “You look like you just fought a fire.” Tenderly I extricated a dry twig from just above her ear and cast it aside. “I’ve never seen you more beautiful.”

  “I couldn’t find my way out,” she said shakily. “All I could see was more fire and smoke. It’s like the fire was alive.”

  “That’s one of the first things they teach you at the academy,” I said. “Fire is alive. It breathes. It moves. Sometimes it even seems to think.”

  “For a minute I felt like—” She shook her head. “Never mind. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “Like you were under a spell?”

  She nodded slowly, her eyes wide.

  I rubbed my thumb over her cheek, wiping away a smudge of soot, glad the skin beneath was unmarred. “That’s common. Lots of good firefighters get trapped. You can’t fight a fire without getting to know it, but getting intimate with fire is —risky.”

  “Yeah…” She stiffened and frowned, then shook her head and snuggled close.

  Closing my eyes, I nuzzled her neck and breathed in the acrid smell of smoke mingling with Christine’s scent. She’d come damn close to losing her life. I’d been in situations where I’d barely made it out of burning buildings, been forced to stand by helplessly while friends had lost their lives. I’d seen prairie fires form tornados in the blink of an eye, watched them dance over the ground.

  Seeing the fire form a twister around Christine had nearly killed me. I’d been certain she was gone. Only by some miracle had we gotten out of that conflagration relatively unharmed.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Christine

  With my arms locked around his waist, I caressed his chest with my cheek. His skin was warm and a strong aroma of smoke lingered, but his heart pulsed beneath my cheek. He was alive. I shivered and squeezed him tighter, then looked up at him.

  “How did the fire start?”

  He stared at the lost field for a few beats before meeting her gaze. “It was arson. They found a cigarette lighter next to a can of gasoline and some Black Mountain beer cans loaded with fertilizer and cotton.” His bark of laughter contained no trace of humor. “The Wyoming version of a Molotov cocktail.”

  “It wasn’t random, was it?” I asked softly.

  He pulled back, trouble clouding his eyes. His terse headshake and grim expression said it all. “We should talk, Christine. There’re some things you need to know. You almost died today because you’re involved with me.”

  I blinked. Involved? What kind of piss-ant lukewarm word was that? I looked down at her soot-covered shirt. “Okay. Let me see if I can clean up a little first.” I regarded him critically. “You could use a spray-down yourself.”

  Needing the contact, I laid my hands on Travis’s shoulders then traced twin paths downward toward his hands.

  He hissed a breath through clenched teeth.

  “What is it?” Carefully, I turned both arms over, gasping at the gaping jagged gash on the back of his left upper arm that began at his shoulder and ran almost to his elbow. The skin around it had blistered and reddened. The outer edges of the wound were black.

  “Got caught by a piece of burning fence.” I winced, as I ran a finger alongside the injury. “A rookie mistake.”

  “You need an emergency room.” Travis shook his head.

  “It’ll be okay.”

  I tilted my head and sent him a sideways stare while we walked. “Really? Have you seen it?”

  Awkwardly, he tried to look at the back of his arm. “Can’t see it, but I don’t feel it—Hey!” He dodged my questing fingers, only half playful as he slapped at me with his other hand. “—unless someone touches it.”

  I tugged him over to his car by his good arm and angled the rearview mirror upward. Without a word, I gently steered his injured arm so he could see its reflection.

  He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Gus has some first aid training. He can patch me up. Won’t be the first time.”

  “Can he give you a tetanus shot, too?”

  “I’m up to date.” I felt my heart give a little squeeze and realized I would do anything for Travis. Even tap into expertise I’d hoped to never use again.

  I groaned, hoping I wasn’t about to make a huge mistake. “Lord, save me from stubborn men. Come on, I’ve had some training. I can patch you up.” I led him to the front porch, where his father and brother waited, grumbling under her breath, “Just don’t expect me to shoot you up with cow antibiotics.”

  “Not at all,” he answered smoothly. “Horse pills will do just fine.”

  His soft chuckle soothed the tension from my nerves.

  Like most ranches, first aid on the Hawk MC ran somewhat more sophisticated than the average suburban American household. I wasn’t surprised when Grant produced a disposable irrigation and suture kit with surgical wash, topical anesthetic spray, and latex gloves.

  Seated at the kitchen table, Travis was breathing in short gasps. Fine lines fanned from the corners of his eyes. Beneath streaks of soot, his skin appeared a little pale.

  “I wish I could give you a shot of lidocaine.” Over Travis’s head, I directed a pointed look at Grant. “There’s no way to do this without causing some pain.”

  Either Grant had excellent intuition or he had honed the power of telepathy. Without further direction from me, he stepped next to Travis and offered himself as a brace.

  Still, I hesitated. “Just do it,” Travis said through gritted teeth. “I’ve had worse.”

  No doubt he could tell some horrific stories. And I would listen, if he did tell them. But at the moment I only sighed, seeking out some inner strength. “Maybe you have, but I wasn’t the one hurting you then.”

  Astonishing even myself, I kept my hands steady as I irrigated and debrided his injury. After trimming away some of the charred flesh, I carefully sutured the deepest part of the gaping wound.

  A low moan emerged from deep in his throat when I touched the burned area. But other than rep
ositioning himself more firmly against his brother, he didn’t move.

  “Okay,” I murmured. “It’s actually good you felt that. Less chance there’s nerve damage. I don’t think the burns are full thickness. But there’s not enough skin left here to hold. We’ll have to put a good dressing on you and watch it for infection. It’ll leave a big scar.”

  “I wasn’t planning on entering any beauty contests,” he ground out.

  “I was more worried about the scar impairing movement,” I snapped as I applied antiseptic salve, then a layered gauze dressing. “You should see a doctor.”

  At my nod, Grant released his brother.

  I peeled off the latex gloves and pulled Travis’s hand into my own. I checked the circulation in each finger then finished by taking his pulse. It was a little quick, but steady and strong. Finally, I studied his face. He was pale, but his eyes were clear and his pupils matched.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like a crazy woman just did embroidery on my arm,” Travis said, emphasizing each word.

  “Where did you learn to do all that, Christine?” asked Grant. Maintaining my calm with effort, I shrugged. “I was an EMT in another lifetime, while I was in nursing school.”

  “You’re a nurse?” asked Grant.

  I shook my head. “No, I dropped out.”

  “Our little bartender has skills. Guess we should keep her.” Grant chuckled and sent his brother a suggestive wink.

  “Get your own girl,” mumbled Travis.

  “Why’d you quit?” Grant collected the 4x4s I’d used to clean the skin around Travis’s arm and dumped them into a plastic bag.

  Air backed up in my lungs, but I puffed my cheeks and forced out a long, slow breath. “Sometimes stuff happens and life doesn’t quite work out the way you thought it would.” Please don’t ask any more questions. I angled away from Grant but found myself up against Travis’s broad, bare chest. His right arm closed around me. I didn’t care that he was sweaty and dirty and smelled of smoke. Slipping my arms around his waist seemed the most natural move in the world. Sighing, I leaned my forehead against his warm chest and hung on. Another fireman…