Sheila went for the driver’s door, then stopped with her hand on the handle. “Sorry, old habits.” She circled to the passenger side.
Randall had learned that it was easier to just let her drive the work truck, but there were special insurance issues here and he was glad that he didn’t have to force it.
Captain Cantrell came by and slapped an address in his hand. “Remote as hell. None of my engines can make it up there. It’s up to your team to lead. My men are right behind you.”
Randall could see teams of firefighters loading the backs of their four-wheel drive personal vehicles with fire gear and piling aboard. Jess, Candace, and Patsy slid into the back seat of his truck’s cab. It was odd having Sheila in Tori’s usual seat beside him, not that he was complaining.
Jill actually chirped the tires on the other wildland engine as she pulled out ahead of him along with the rest of the Leavenworth Hotshots wintering in Leavenworth. Ten people. Half their normal crew. They’d need Cantrell’s people fast. The problem was that though they were good guys, they were volunteers and would need to be watched like hawks. Along with Sheila…though he’d never found watching her to be a burden.
Together, he and Jill raced the big engines down Highway 2 toward the small town of Dryden.
10
Sheila wasn’t ready for the scale of a wildfire or the scale of the change that washed over her easy-going and affable lover. She barely recognized him. Deep in a valley beyond Dryden, a fire was ripping apart the landscape.
“Goddamn winter hunters,” his unexpected snarl came from deep in his chest.
“What’s wrong with hunters?”
“They’re big on exploding targets. Doesn’t matter that the damned things are outlawed on state forest land; they love seeing the flash and bang during target practice. Then, if they start a fire, the hunters scram so that they don’t get caught and have to pay for the firefight. Not the primary cause of our manmade fires, but it’s climbing.”
“What are the primaries?”
“Campfires and arsonists. But there aren’t any hiking trails back here and arsonists like showier fires than the back hill country. There also hasn’t been any lightning lately, which says numbskull hunters. They were probably bored because the elk are staying in the higher pastures due to the mildness of the season.” Randall sounded seriously pissed. Army-style pissed, something Sheila didn’t know he had in him.
She was already discovering a soft-spot in her head for Randall Jones; this just amped up the developing pile of mush that was her brain. She’d never been mushy about a man or anything else before—except maybe her truck before the roadside bomb dismembered it. Actually, she cared more about him than anything before which was a surprise. If you’d asked her a month ago, she’d have said she was past caring about anything ever again.
They swooped off the end of the gravel road they’d been following into the backcountry and the big truck jounced and jostled as he headed into an area that was a combination of meadow and trees. All conifers—mostly scattered—except low in the valley, where the water would accumulate. They made thick clumps down there. Higher on the dry slopes they spread out, and the brown grasses dominated. The fire was climbing both valley walls simultaneously and sending a plume of smoke soaring upward like a line of JDAM bombs. She kept expecting to feel the shockwave slam into the truck. But the smoke just kept rolling upward in a continuous gray sheet, dark with ash above and bright with flames below.
“Flanks first,” Candace called from the back of the truck as Randall slammed it to a halt over two hundred yards away from the fire. Everyone piled out of the back.
“What are they…” Then Sheila stopped asking. Stay in the truck. Watch and learn, just like in the Army.
The firefighters who piled out of the two trucks spread out in a short line. In moments they were swinging their Pulaski fire axes, digging a line across the meadow. Great clumps of grass and dirt were peeled up. They moved in a fast, coordinated action.
The townie firefighters drove up and were soon put to the same task with varying degrees of effectiveness. Just like a fresh shipment of boot camp privates arriving on the line, the main thing they did was make it really clear how skilled the hotshots were at what they did.
Randall dropped the wildland engine into four-wheel low and continued toward the fire until she thought he was going to drive straight into it. She could see Jill in the other engine driving down into the valley ahead of the fire and climbing back up the other side.
The smoke was thicker here. They were close enough that she could see the fire crawling up the trees like a living thing. It crept through the grass beneath the trees, like an orange serpent until it reached the next tree and then raced upward: a flicker and a snap at first, but soon a rush high into the boughs. He drove along the front as if it was no more than a guardrail on the highway. At the end, he turned along the flank, the truck tipping ten degrees sideways due to the grade.
“Here. Take over the wheel.” Randall slid out the uphill-side door and closed it, even though the truck was still idling forward. By the time she slid across, he had fifty feet of one-inch hose pulled off the back and connected to the on-board pump.
“Just roll ahead slow,” he spoke calmly over the radio.
“Sheila better not be driving my truck,” Candace called back in response from her position on the front line.
Randall shot her a grin and Sheila decided that they’d both ignore her.
Sheila had to flex her hands a few times before she could bring herself to grab onto the steering wheel. Randall walked up to the fire, the flames off the deep grass were as tall as he was. With a casual flick of his wrist, he opened the nozzle and began spraying the fire down.
She was surprised at how easily the flames died. It took her a while to see why. Randall ignored the black area that had already been burned. He concentrated only on the burning line which was truly not very wide. Whenever he reached a tree burning along the line, he’d spray it for an extra moment to kill the fire, but never slowed.
As she became oriented to his world, she learned more of what to watch. In the rearview mirror, she saw a patch still smoking. She tapped the horn and pointed back when Randall looked at her. He slashed the spray at the smoke, thoroughly inundating it, then continued ahead without breaking stride.
He was so clearly in his element. She appreciated the casual skill with which he and the others of WUI had dealt with everything. But watching him have the same attitude toward an active fire was a real sight to see. He might not be Army, but that didn’t stop her from feeling better just for being in his presence.
Over the next hour they traveled a couple of times down to the stream at the bottom of the valley and pumped aboard another five-hundred gallons.
“It’s a surreal place. We call it The Black,” Randall explained as he rode easily in the passenger seat while she climbed the engine back up the slope through the burned-out char to the fire line. “Part of the natural life cycle in this kind of environment. The grass and the trees know what to do; we’re the problem. There are power lines over that ridge,” he pointed one way. “And homes over that one,” he pointed the other. “So we have to kill it off even though it’s just a baby fire.”
“Just a baby?”
“I half think the Captain must have been bored to call us out on this one. Maybe he knew Candace was getting antsy; she’s always happiest when she’s fighting a fire. Doesn’t matter. We’ll kill it in plenty of time for dinner.”
11
Once they had the flanks doused, Randall drove the truck around to the head, trading with Sheila because he figured he shouldn’t flaunt in Candace’s face who’d actually been driving all morning.
The crew had been busy and had a long line sliced through the soil. The trench ran twenty feet wide and from his flank, all the way down to the creek, and well up the other sid
e.
“Spray the line behind us,” Candace instructed when he pulled up. The look she gave him said that switching drivers hadn’t fooled her for a second no matter how hard Sheila tried to look innocent in the passenger seat.
“Sure,” Randall eyed the grassy slope beyond the trench. “Just as soon as you get these amateurs to move their vehicles.”
Candace looked over her shoulder and swore. His path was blocked by a tangled array of the volunteer firefighters parked far too close to the line. It only took moments before she had firefighters racing off the line to move their vehicles. Totally overestimating the danger, the volunteers then drove five-hundred yards away. It would take them a while to trudge their way back.
“Better light the backfire soon,” he nodded toward the nearly empty line now manned by only a half dozen hotshots along its half-mile length.
The fire head wasn’t more than a few hundred feet away and was going to arrive at the line before the stray volunteers did.
A backfire had to be lit right now on the fire-side of the trench they’d cut. Unable to cross the trench, it would slowly burn up the fuels back toward the main fire, robbing it of heat before it hit the line.
“Shit!” Candace got on the radio to the other hotshots and raced off to start the fire.
“Darn it!” Jill’s voice came over the radio. She really was too sweet, though with Sheila beside him he was no longer wishing she had a twin sister.
“What?” Candace’s voice was harsh, in no mood for additional problems as she sprinted to gather up her own fire torch to ignite the line.
“I’m in the creek,” Jill called. “Stuck trying to get back to your side.”
Randall looked down the slope and saw the big red engine down in the bottom of the valley. The fire was still running hot through the trees, headed her way. This first fireline was only to get the fire off the slopes. The second battle would be down in the those trees, so there was nothing set up there yet to protect her.
He slammed into gear and raced down the hill toward her, barely remembering to warn Sheila to hang on before he slammed over a foot-thick fallen tree.
“I stuck it good,” Jill called out as he drove up. She already had a length of chain hooked up to her front bumper, but the slope was steep and he wouldn’t have a lot of extra power to pull her free while trying to climb. Hopefully it would be enough because she was wheel deep in creek water and the fire was on the move.
He backed down as close as he dared, already feeling the first of the fire’s heat through the window. Jill shot him a thumbs up as soon as she had the chain hooked up and raced back to her truck.
They eased into first gear together, but it wasn’t budging. The fire wasn’t going to give him time to unhook, circle around, and try pulling her back the other way.
Sheila cursed from beside him and then was gone with a slam of her door.
He didn’t have time to deal with whatever snit-fit she was having. In the rearview mirror he kept an eye on Jill in the stuck fire engine’s driver’s seat as they tried once more to dislodge it without success.
The warmth of the fire was now up to a hot summer’s day and climbing fast. Even with both engines pumping, the flames would be too big to fight directly.
Then, shortly before he was going to call her to abandon her engine, he saw Sheila stalk up to Jill’s driver-side door. She yanked it open and, with little ceremony, shoved Jill over into the passenger seat.
“Give me five feet of slack,” her terse command snapped over the radio.
Randall glanced once at the flames. He should call for them to abandon the engine. There would barely be time to undo the chain and get the hell out.
“Don’t think. Do it!”
Randall smiled to himself as he eased off the chain. That sounded just like his Sheila.
She began rocking the truck back and forth in the creek. The slick rocks gave her little purchase, but she was getting some motion as she slammed back and forth between drive and reverse.
“On five. Give me everything you’ve got, Randall.”
He shoved in the clutch, shifted into first, and revved the engine. It had better work on five because by ten the fire would overrun both of them.
Sheila counted down her increasing rocking motion.
Her shout of “Now!” came just a halfway between a rear swing and a forward one.
Anticipating her, he came off the clutch hard and slammed down on the gas.
The five feet of slack jerked out of the chain, jarring him hard against his seatbelt.
He kept his foot down and the big diesel groaned with power.
As if the creek didn’t want to let go, the other engine emerged a foot at a time, sheeting water to the sides.
There was a moment when their momentum hung in the balance as grass and mud sprayed off their spinning tires, but his front pair found some traction on good soil and it was enough to drag them both forward and up the slope.
He checked the rearview and watched as a burning tree crashed down where the engine had been stuck just moments before.
12
That felt good,” Sheila couldn’t stop saying it. “That felt soooo good.”
“Hey!” Randall complained. “You’re only supposed to be saying that about me.”
Sheila grabbed Randall and shoved his back against the rear wall of the fire station. He stopped complaining when she kissed him. The joy that coursed through her ran deep and hot and she poured it into the kiss.
His strong arms clamped tight around her just as they had that first night she’d climbed into his bed. Except now it wasn’t about being held—it was all about who was holding her.
“You don’t feel good, Randall,” she nibbled at his neck making him squirm. “You feel incredible!”
He laughed at her crow of delight.
“Will you two cut it out?” Candace stuck her head out the back door of the equipment bay. “We can hear you right through the wall.”
“Nope,” Sheila had no intention of stopping with Randall any time soon.
Candace looked at her watch. “I figure you have one hour to get home, shower, and get back here after picking up the pies at Sam’s place. Get a move on, I don’t like my pies or my hotshots to be late.” And she slammed the door.
Randall laughed and tried to pull her back into a kiss, but she held off.
Her mental processes really weren’t slow. They didn’t feel slow anyway. Maybe that was all part of the issue. But she’d heard something that…
“Did Candace just say ‘hotshots’? Plural?”
Randall sobered and turned to study the closed door.
Then she felt his shrug.
“Could be…”
13
The shower was fun as always.
Sheila almost felt shy sharing it with the firefighter that Randall had turned into, but shy had never been a thing between them. Still, now that she knew the hard-core firefighter that lurked beneath his easy-going demeanor, it was like she was with someone else. Someone even better than she’d thought she was with, which was astonishing as she’d been counting herself damned lucky of late.
And Randall got her to smile as they went into the Bavarian Bakery to pick up the pies for dinner; the place was such classic German kitsch. But the sample cinnamon rugelach they’d split had been splendidly authentic.
It was so different walking through town now than it had been a month ago. It didn’t matter that the snow was artificial; the town glittered with tiny ice crystals. The polka band was in full swing as were the chaotic crowds of children. She managed to dodge all collisions this time, so there would be no test of their reaction to her—something she still wasn’t ready for.
“Damn, I keep forgetting to buy twinkle lights.”
He hesitated in front of the Christmas store window, and she
didn’t even cringe.
“When I told my sister that I was in love, she said I should get some twinkle lights for the bedroom,” he set off walking again.
“When you told your sister…what?” Sheila ground to a halt. In love? Some chattering tourist couple slammed into her from behind and bounced off.
Randall simply smiled at her. “I think making love to you by the light of twinkle lights would be a very good thing.”
“No. What’s that other thing you said?”
“See? I told you there weren’t any issues with your reaction time,” he kissed her on the nose and then kept walking toward the fire station with his armful of pie boxes.
Sheila wasn’t used to having to scramble to keep up with a man.
Luke came out of a side street not a dozen steps ahead. There were some things that she definitely wasn’t going to discuss in front of him.
Or at all.
And the crowd built from there.
Or was she?
By the time they reached the fire station, more firefighters and families had joined them. They all greeted her by name, made her feel welcome. Sheila realized that she knew all of their names as well. Had eaten at several of their houses. Knew most of the kids’ names too. When did that happen?
With no privacy, she could only puzzle at Randall’s statement. The problem was that the more she did, the less strange it became. She cared for Randall. She really did. Is that what love felt like? If it was, how in hell was she supposed to know.
It was halfway through the dinner before she was able to track down Candace and ask her what that “hotshots” comment had meant.
“One of the main things I look for when I’m building my hotshot team is what you showed today.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re not afraid of fire. You keep thinking even when it’s right on top of you. Damned hard to test that without a real fire.”
The Ides of Matt 2016 Page 29
