Burnin' For You: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 3)

by Susan May Warren

  “If we get going now, we can bring help back by tonight,” Gilly said, a hurry up in her voice.

  But Reuben hesitated. He couldn’t help but crouch before Kate, take her hands in his, hold them. Meet her eyes.

  “We’ll be back. I promise.”

  She refused to slow him down.

  Still, Gilly couldn’t tell if Reuben was favoring her or if this was simply his normal pace. Because to her mind, they should have reached the river by now. With the sun past the apex—she could at least figure that out—daylight had a countdown not in their favor.

  “You can go faster,” she said, catching a tree branch Reuben held for her. “And you don’t have to wait for me—I can keep up.”

  He hadn’t said much the first couple of hours. Could be that he was more injured than he let on…or maybe it took all his energy to climb the first ridge and descend. She ached to her core, her knee screaming as they slipped and spilled their way down the ridge. The man seemed to possess an inner Magellan that pointed due east.

  Except, maybe he did, or at least understood how the forest worked, because he stopped every once in a while to sniff the air, check the trees, orient himself to the sun. Listen.

  Apparently, she’d trekked into the woods with Daniel Boone. Or maybe this was Lewis…which left her as Clark? Or Sacajawea.

  Whatever the case, she wasn’t here as a tagalong.

  But it had taken all her energy.

  A slight frown creased his face as he glanced over his shoulder, catching another tree branch out of his way. “I’m moving as fast as is prudent,” he said. “We don’t want to get off course. Besides, the ground is rutted, and if we turn an ankle or get hurt, that won’t help Jed or CJ.”

  He waited until she grabbed the branch then turned back to bushwhacking.

  What he left out, of course, was the fact that she’d started limping—even she could admit it—over the last hour. Her knee burned, and she thought it might be swelling.

  She didn’t remember hitting the yoke, but anything could have happened during the blinding seconds they’d careened and tumbled through the rocky creek bed and out over the cliff.

  It still felt surreal—everything from the tanks sputtering out to the glide into the trees, to crashing, and even CJ and Jed fighting for their lives.

  Cliff, dead where he fell.

  The deep breathing she’d done to help CJ get out of his hyperventilation hadn’t just been for him. She’d had to gather her bearings, let the truth sink in.

  Somehow she’d screwed up. Despite her extensive preflight check, she’d missed something. How could she have left the base with only half-full tanks of fuel?

  She’d killed Cliff, put the rest of her team in jeopardy.

  Reuben stood on a balding boulder in a tiny clearing and Gilly climbed up to join him. The forest fell around them, with shaggy, thin black spruce, peeling white paper birch, lush cedar and hemlock, and towering high above, black cottonwood. Despite the heat of the day, the forest shade had cooled her skin, now simmering under the eye of the sun.

  “The river, according to my memory, should be about a half mile from here. Listen for it,” he said.

  “How do you know that?”

  Gilly shaded her eyes, searched for the spiral of smoke, and found it to the west, a thin wisp. The air didn’t quite smell like fire yet, heady instead with the redolence of pine, cedar, and the loam of decaying needles.

  “I have a photographic memory.”

  “Really?”

  He pointed to a tiny blip on the horizon to the northeast. “There’s the lookout tower.”

  She nodded as if eager, as if her leg didn’t scream in protest. But she refused to be the weak link here.

  To admit that Reuben had been right, that she should have stayed behind.

  “It’s time for me to carry that,” he said, blindsiding her as he reached for the pack.

  “No. I got this.”

  But he put his big, strong, tan, capable hand around the strap, his mouth a tight, thin line. “I am sure you do, Gilly, but I’m done arguing with you. I’m carrying this pack—it’s not only what I’m good at, but plainly, it’s my turn. Let me carry it or I’ll just have to carry you.”

  Her eyes widened for a second. “Over my dead body.”

  “No, I’d carry that, too. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  She wasn’t sure if he might be kidding. But when no smile emerged, she tightened her mouth into a thin line of frustration and released the pack.

  He swung it up onto his thick shoulder like it weighed nothing.

  She felt like she’d released half her body weight. For a moment she thought she might be able to take flight.

  She wanted to when she followed Reuben off the rock, again through the forest, her knee on fire.

  And shoot, she couldn’t help the slightest shard of disappointment in herself when she realized she’d hoped to impress him.

  Now she was simply dead weight, limping along behind him.

  “The answer is, yes. I really do have a photographic memory. It was the only thing that got me through school.”

  “So, you can see something—”

  “And I memorize it instantly, remember exactly what it looks like. It started in second grade when I couldn’t seem to learn to read. I memorized what the words looked like and simply read from that memory.”

  “You didn’t sound the words out?”

  “I couldn’t…they wouldn’t stay in one place.” He held a white pine branch out of the way for her. And, for the first time on their trek, met her eyes. “I’m dyslexic.”

  She caught the branch. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s no big deal.” He charted them around a grouping of birch and along a bouldered area. “When I looked out the window of the plane, I did a mental calculation of the road to the river and then to the lookout tower—it’s something I do every time we fly. It helps keep my mind off… Well—”

  “Your stomach? Motion sickness? That’s why you like to sit in the cockpit.”

  He glanced at her. Gave her a one-sided smile. “Actually, not really. This is my second plane crash. The thought of going down literally makes me ill. I have a well-founded fear of flying.”

  “Your second crash?”

  She used the trees to brace herself as they climbed down a tumble of rocks. And, for a second, caught up to him.

  He still wore the bandanna Hannah had given him around his head, his dark hair spiking out from it. The nearly black, dried blood caked the edge, saturated one area. He hadn’t shaved lately—maybe for a few days—and his whiskers lay rich and thick on his chin, dirt and a little blood scrubbed in, maybe from when he’d pulled Jed from the plane.

  He didn’t look like a man who would let his fears manhandle him. But then, she’d done a superb job of fleeing her fears for the past decade or more, so…

  “I know. Rotten luck, huh? Except last time, it was just me and Dad, out in the cold for a few hours waiting for my brothers to find us.” He turned and for a second acted like he was going to offer her his hand as she climbed up a rather large boulder, then thought again.

  But he watched, as if a sentry, as she scrabbled up, hoisting herself onto the boulder, then scooting up behind him the rest of the way.

  See. She was just fine, thank you.

  “Where did you crash?” They stood on another overlook, and yes, in the air, she smelled water, although she heard nothing of the rushing she’d expect with a river.

  He pointed—indicating she should keep moving—down into the dark forest, and she headed toward it, down the rock, sliding on her backside.

  Her knee burned, and water edged her eyes. She landed on her good leg, bracing herself on boulders, then started down the trail ahead of him.

  He said nothing, and she couldn’t tell if he was debating intervention, or the answer to her question. Then, “We crashed on the ranch, in one of the far pastures. We were flying low, counting cattle, and
we got caught in the crosswind of an approaching blizzard. We tried to land, and I did a ground loop.”

  “I nearly did that once—my wing caught the ground and spun the plane.”

  “In my case, it cartwheeled.”

  The way he said it… “Rube, were you the one flying the plane?”

  Silence and she glanced back at him. He walked, head down, thumbs hooked into the strap of his utility bag.

  “Wow. Was anyone hurt?”

  “I broke both my legs.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. I was in a cast to my waist for about six months. Missed my senior prom, didn’t graduate with my class. Didn’t play college football.”

  He was so matter of fact about it, no emotion, but she had this strange urge to stop, to maybe put her arms around him.

  Except that would be as awkward as their little trip on the dance floor.

  She still hadn’t quite figured out how to get past that.

  “So, if you’re so afraid of flying, why are you a smokejumper?”

  “Because fear’s not going to win. I love being a smokejumper and yeah, I’m not keen on flying, but I so rarely crash…”

  She looked back at him again, and he was grinning.

  And her heart did this strange little flip in her chest. Her entire body turned warm.

  Juliet’s words thrummed in her mind. That’s a hot cake if I’ve ever seen one.

  She looked away, nearly stumbled, caught herself on a tree.

  “Okay, really—how bad is your knee?”

  Shoot. She righted herself, kept walking. Up ahead, the forest seemed to clear out, and now she could hear water. “Not bad,” she snapped. “I’ll be fine.”

  So much for their little spark—her tone put them back where they should be. Two teammates trying to find help.

  Reuben said nothing for too long as they walked, and his silence drove into her, settled into her bones.

  Maybe she should have tempered her tone.

  Juliet was right—she should stop trying so hard to prove herself.

  Gilly pushed through a knot of bushy pines and stopped, Reuben nearly banging into her. She stood on the edge of a gorge, a drop of sixty or so feet into a gently running river.

  “Pete Creek, if I remember my map,” he said, looking down.

  She had a feeling he did.

  What he’d left out was the fact that they’d have to rappel.

  “So, now what?” she asked, already scrutinizing the cliff. As she looked over the edge, her hands began to sweat.

  “We’ll have to climb down,” Reuben said.

  Oh no.

  She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. She could do this. Really.

  “My letdown rope and descender are in my bag,” he said. “You go first, and I’ll belay you.”

  “You don’t have to belay me.” Her voice contained more confidence than it should.

  “It’s a far drop.”

  She glanced up at him and affected a frown, ignoring the silent scream of terror inside. “I can descend without help, Rube.”

  He raised a hand. “Down, girl. I’m just...are you a rock climber?”

  And there it was—the noose that she’d stuck her head into. She shook her head. “I...I trained to be a smokejumper.”

  He just blinked at her.

  “A few years ago—about a year after Kate spent the summer in Alaska. I was a hotshot and wanted more.” She shrugged. “It didn’t work out.”

  Understatement of the decade, but he didn’t have to know the details.

  Like her irrational, insane fear of heights.

  A fear that didn’t seem to touch her behind the controls of a plane. But get her in a parachute, about to jump out… Or on a sixty-foot ledge.

  For the team. She could do this. Would do this.

  She reached for the rope he’d pulled out of his bag. “I’ll find a tree.

  His hand on hers stopped her. “I didn’t know you wanted to be a smokejumper,” he said quietly.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not—”

  “Easy. If I hadn’t just seen you do it, I wouldn’t have imagined someone your size could pass the requisite 90 minute, 110-pound pack test. That’s tough.”

  She glanced at him. “I made it through the pack test just fine. It just...wasn’t for me.”

  Her throat burned with the lie, and she turned away, hating that she’d nearly let him see—well, too much.

  She rooted through the gear bag, found webbing, and secured it around a nearby, sturdy cottonwood. Then she connected the carabiner and fitted the rope through it.

  He came over to her. “Throw down enough line to hit the bottom. I’ll set up a retrievable system.”

  She threaded out enough line to touch the river, then handed him the slack. He clipped it into the carabiner and set up the belay system so they could retrieve their rope once they reached the bottom.

  He tucked the rope slack into the letdown bag. “We’ll throw this down, and when we reach the bottom, we’ll simply tug on it and the knot will release.”

  “Nifty,” she said, still eyeing the drop. She wiped her palms on her pants again.

  Reuben made a loop, fitted the descender into it, tested the tension.

  Then he handed her the harness. “You go first.”

  “No.” She shook her head, trying to keep her voice cool. “I got this. You go first.”

  He frowned but seemed to consider it. “Okay, maybe that’s best. Then I can catch you should—”

  “You will not catch me! I can rappel just fine.”

  She might have put too much oomph into her words, because he recoiled, tilted his head as if surprised.

  “Ho-kay.” He climbed into his jump harness and clipped himself into the rope. Re-shouldered the pack and walked to the edge of the cliff. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go first?”

  “Just go.”

  He made a face and put on his gloves. He backed out and leaned over the edge, letting his feet find position.

  Then he looked up and met her eyes.

  Smiled.

  It was the smile that drew her to the edge of the cliff to watch him descend.

  As if he might be a billy goat, born to scale the rocks. He flew down the rope, letting it slide through his braking hand, barely slowing until he hit the river.

  He stepped into water up to his shins.

  She’d always known Reuben was a strong man, the kind who knew his way around the wilderness. Seeing it in action stirred up a new feeling.

  They just might make it out, save the rest of their crew.

  If she could get over the edge and down the cliff.

  He unstrapped his harness, stepped out of it, took off his gloves, and shoved them into the elastic straps on the harness. Then he knotted the rope around the figure eight rappeller, gave the rope a tug, and let it go. Gilly brought it up hand over hand.

  He was a big man—when she stepped into the harness, it could wrap around her twice. She had to cinch down the legs and waist almost to nothing to make it fit. But she removed the slack from the rope, donned the gloves, and then reached for the excess rope.

  “Coming down!”

  She threw the pouch containing the excess rope over the side, watching to make sure it landed. He caught it, but let it dangle.

  If he pulled on the rope in the pouch, the knot would give, releasing the tension, and she’d plummet to the bottom.

  She swallowed down the swirl in her gut—

  “Just take it nice and slow. One step at a time!”

  Gilly wanted to ignore him, to shout down that she could handle this, but the words glued inside.

  Don’t look down. She remembered her training—those first few days in the letdown area, learning how to get out of a tree. Kate was such a master, she’d taught that part of the course this summer when she took over the new recruits.

  Maybe Gilly could have done with a refresher. She leaned back, her hands slick inside the gloves, trying not to let
her stomach rebel. She let the rope hold her, her entire weight sinking into the harness, burning her legs, her waist, with the pull. She shuffled her feet down the side of the cliff, her backside out.

  Reuben had made it look so easy.

  Her feet scraped against the rock, one foothold slipping.

  “Just go slow—”

  “I am going slow!”

  “Fine. Well, if you fall, I’ll catch you.”

  He wasn’t serious, was he? Because the last thing—

  Her feet slipped again, and pebbles washed down the face of the cliff.

  “Rock!”

  “Thanks for that,” he said.

  And now she was sweating. Rivulets of heat ran down her back, her arms shook with the strain of holding herself, and her knee decided to stop working. To top it off, her braking hand was shoved up too tight behind her, almost in a submissive position.

  “I’m coming up to get you—”

  “Stay where you are! I’m fine!”

  “Pull yourself up with your guide hand, just a little. It will release your brake— Whoa!”

  She’d been following his instructions and suddenly her brake hand gave way, and she slid down the cliff face, falling forwards, slamming her face against the rock.

  She bounced off and put up her knees as she fell another five feet. Her brake hand lodged at her waist, barely holding her, wrenched and burning.

  Her knees dug into the side of the rock, the jagged granite tearing through her pants.

  She could admit it—maybe she should have let him belay her.

  Don’t scream. Because then, yeah, Reuben would probably start climbing up the forty-some feet...

  She tried to breathe as she glanced below, but her lungs were closing up—

  “Gilly! Listen to me!”

  Reuben stood below her, his arms out as if he really might try and catch her, his feet braced, his expression calm. But his eyes held just enough worry to betray him.

  “There are a couple of footholds just below you. Put your feet down, get yourself settled.”

  His low voice held no edge of panic, and she leaned into it, taking long, even breaths as she lowered one foot, found the ledge, then the other. She let her weight settle on her feet.