by Kayt C Peck
“So are you, Terry.”
“I’ve never felt this comfortable with anyone this quickly.”
Pookie leaned close. “Just meant to be. That’s all.”
First kiss on a staircase. There was no hurry to it. Pookie wasn’t sure whether she started the kiss or if Terry did. It just happened, as natural as putting one foot in front of the other after making the decision to walk. There was more tenderness than passion to it, but it sealed a bond of the heart that would not likely be broken quickly nor easily.
The kiss ended abruptly as the door at the top of the stairs opened. Kathleen looked down on the pair, showing brief surprise at the embrace she interrupted.
“There you are,” Kathleen said. “We were starting to wonder.”
Judy peered over Kathleen’s shoulder, looking toward the two young women as they sat on the stairs. “Pook, looks to me like you found a nice place for a romantic dinner.”
Kathleen cleared her throat. “The party’s about to break up. Why don’t you come inside and help clean up?”
Kathleen turned and re-entered the room, but Judy reached into a back pocked and pulled out a pencil and a small pad of paper. She trotted down the stairs and handed them to Pookie.
“Just in case you need to write down phone numbers or emails or anything,” Judy said. She turned and trotted up the stairs without waiting for an answer.
Terry smiled at Pookie. “Looks like your ‘moms’ approve.”
Pookie didn’t look up. She was too busy writing her email address and the number of the house phone at the ranch.
Chapter Ten
First Steps
The community house was full even without a potluck dinner to draw folks. Ted Rome, Dulson’s city fire chief, stood at the front of the room, waiting for the conversation to settle as the people of the loosely knit Coldwater community greeted and visited with neighbors they usually only saw once every month or two.
The term neighbor means something different in a ranching community. The Kenton homestead was five miles from the Proctor place, but they were considered close neighbors, extension of family actually. Neighbors living twenty miles away still knew they were a part of Coldwater, and when they met up at the cattle auction, county fair, or the produce aisle at the grocery store, they greeted each other with a familiarity rarely found in any square block of a city suburb. Meetings at the Coldwater Community House offered a sense of belonging to people who largely lived a solitary existence centered around family, land, and livestock. Anyone driving through might laugh if they heard someone say they were in the Coldwater Community. Understandable considering all there was to be seen was a relatively small grain elevator and an old one-room schoolhouse saved from oblivion by conversion to a meeting place for a people who lived far and wide in sparsely populated ranching country. Unseen or not, the Coldwater Community lived with an intense sense of belonging for those who called it home. Never more so than when they had a shared mission, especially one as vital as a fire department.
Judy, Kathleen, and Pookie arrived before the crowd. To enter they used the front door key everybody knew was hidden under a rock by the step. Immediately, they begin setting up rows of folding chairs for a meeting instead of the usual tables and chairs used for the monthly potlucks. Kathleen started coffee, and Pookie set out cups, creamer, and sugar while Judy rummaged in the storeroom for the chalk and erasers left over from the days when the building had actually been a school.
I wonder if we could sell this at an antique store, Judy thought as she finally found chalk in an age-delicate cardboard box. She gently lifted the box to look on the bottom. Written there was “Binney and Smith, Co., Easton, Pennsylvania, 1910.” Judy carefully placed the box back on the shelf and extracted a single piece of chalk, still intact after over a century. The box was half-full. She didn’t think one more piece gone would matter. She found a slightly moth eaten eraser nearby and headed back into the main room with her treasures.
The three of them greeted Chief Rome when he arrived twenty minutes before the scheduled meeting time. It took all four of them to carry in heavy cardboard cartons he’d brought in the backseat of the Explorer that served as his command vehicle. He had them stack the boxes next to where he planned to stand. He cut the tape closing the top of the uppermost box. When Pookie tried to look inside, he put his hand over the box and said, “Later.” Rome used the ancient but still useable chalkboard to write an agenda for the evening. There were only three items:
1. Election of officers and incorporation
2. Update on station construction and equipment
3. Training
At least thirty people filled the room, ten more than the usual potluck attendance. Kathleen used the same digital camera dedicated to illustrate articles. She snapped photos, capturing random shots, recording a historic moment for the people of Coldwater. The Kentons arrived, Harold still walking with a cane but standing proud, and they sat with Judy, Kathleen, and Pookie, the two households filling an entire row.
Chief Rome stood, but did not speak. The hum of multiple conversations continued all around him, but he stayed silent even as the minutes ticked past the scheduled starting time. He searched the room, his face expectant, as though he were waiting for something. After a time, Joe Bob Johnston stood from his front row seat and turned to face his neighbors. Conversation dwindled to a halt, as much from the power of his quiet presence as anything else.
“Well folks,” Joe Bob said, his voice deep and gruff. “I guess you all know why we’re here. That fire last spring damn near took one of our own home to Heaven, and we been lucky. That was the only one so far this year. The news says it’s the worst fire season on record for the High Plains.”
Harold stood, slowly. “I can’t tell you all how grateful I am that the community has been so supportive of me and my family while I was in the hospital and while I’ve been recuperating. I--” Harold’s voice trembled with emotion. He cleared his throat, “I now know just what fire can do. We got to have this fire department, for all our sakes.”
Harold returned to his chair and Joe Bob turned to face Chief Rome.
“Chief, we’re all grateful for your help. Without it, we’d be pretty lost. Do you mind getting this meeting going?” Joe Bob said as he returned to his own seat.
“I’m honored you’ve asked me to help you start a fire company. Truth is, for years, I’ve been asking the County to increase the number of rural departments. There’s just too much country for the Dulson Fire Department to cover it all. I’m grateful to all of you for being willing to take on the job.”
Joe Bob remained seated, but held above his head rolled blueprints. “Thanks to the Chief here, we already have our plans for a fire station. It’s already been approved by the state fire marshal’s office and the county commissioners. Bob Hanks, my boss, has set aside the money to build it. All we need is a fire company to staff it.”
Chief Rome cleared his throat before speaking. “A fire station’s worth nothing without firefighters, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First step to start a company means we need officers. They’ll be responsible for incorporating the company so that there is a legal entity we can use to authorize building of a fire station.”
“What kind of officers?” Martha Kenton asked.
“A chief for sure and a deputy chief or a captain. You’ll need at least one captain or lieutenant, and there has to be a secretary and treasurer.”
“What about you, Harold? You’d make a fine chief,” a man at the back of room said.
Harold turned in his seat to look at the man. “Let me heal up enough to be a good ranch hand again before I go taking on firefighting.”
“Amen to that,” Martha said.
“You know, Judy and I were the ones with the idea of a fire department,” Brad said.
Judy leaned close to him. “Hush up, will you? You’re going to get us drafted into something big.”
“No offense, Brad, but the chief might
need to be someone with a few more birthdays than you. A young buck like you would be better as deputy chief or captain, the ones who actually do most of the hard work of fighting fire.”
Pookie spoke in a clear voice, and the room went quiet. “Joe Bob, he’s our chief.” Joe Bob turned to look at the young woman, and she gazed directly at him, unwavering. “I’d trust you, and I’d follow you,” she said.
“Young lady, I’m honored, but I don’t know anything about firefighting,” Joe Bob responded.
“None of us do,” Judy said. “And Pookie’s right. I’ve known you most of my life, and you got…well...wisdom. I’d follow you too.”
“I nominate Joe Bob Johnston as chief,” Curley Thompson called.
“I second,” another man said.
Almost in unison, the entire room called, “Aye,” and the new Coldwater Volunteer Fire Department had taken their first official action. Chief Rome turned the meeting over to a slightly stunned Joe Bob, and the other officers slipped into place with ease. Brad became deputy chief, Judy lieutenant, Kathleen treasurer, and Martha secretary. Chief Rome explained the process the officers must now undertake to incorporate the company and assured them he would be there to advise through the entire process. Joe Bob taped some of the blueprints to the blackboard, and there were a number of questions from ranchers and farmers experienced in the construction of barns and workshops. They learned in short order that fire stations had additional requirements, including water reservoirs, fire hydrants, and overhead plumping for rapid filling of fire truck reservoirs. The station would have bays for three trucks; Chief Rome advised them that they had already located a used Class A pumper the City of Lubbock was willing to loan to the company, and Texas State Forestry would donate a used fast attack wildland truck.
“As soon as we get you incorporated, you’ll start getting your allocation from the state, and we can begin equipping your station with SCBAs, radios, bunker and wildland gear, and all the other things you’ll need to fight fire,” Chief Rome explained.
“What’s an SCBA?” Judy asked.
“Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus,” Rome answered.
Joe Bob looked at the blackboard, focusing on the last item on the agenda. He turned to Chief Rome. “Well, Ted, I may be chairing this meeting, but you have the answers. What do we need to do about training?”
Chief Rome opened the mysterious cardboard box and pulled out two heavy manuals. “If your officers agree, I’ve already gotten approval from the fire academy for me to supervise the training of your company to the standards for Firefighter I.”
Joe Bob turned to the room at large. “Do I hear a motion?”
“So moved,” Juanda Thompson said.
“And I second,” Curley added. He grinned widely, obviously pleased with his role in making things happen.
A round of “Ayes,” and a basic training plan was in place. Chief Rome passed out forms for those who wished to train, and as the forms were returned, he gave each one a copy of a training manual and a workbook.
Once everyone had settled back in their seats, Chief Rome turned back to the chalkboard and drew a triangle. Above the top corner, he wrote “Oxygen.” On another corner, he wrote “Fuel,” and on the third, he wrote “Heat.”
“This is the fire triangle,” Chief Rome said. “For you to have fire, all three elements must be present. Part of firefighting involves determining which of the three is easiest to remove. But the new texts talk about the fire tetrahedron.”
“What the hell is a tetrahedron?” Curley asked.
“Something that’s always looking for a tetra-she-dron,” Brad responded. He looked to Judy. “Course I guess there could be two tetra-she-drons.” He grunted only slightly as Judy’s elbow dug into his rib cage.
Chief Rome sighed and twirled the chalk between his fingers. “I can tell you all have the makings of a fine fire company.”
“Smart-alecks?” Brad asked.
“Humor,” the Chief said. “It’s the only thing that keeps you sane sometimes.”
“Brad’s always good for a laugh,” Judy said.
“Or a groan,” Kathleen added.
The chief used the chalk to mark a fourth dot on the board. He drew lines from the triangle to form an even pyramid – a tetrahedron. Beside the fourth point, he wrote Chemical Reaction. “It’s possible to have all three of the components of fire, but it takes a chemical reaction to ignite them.”
It was a start, but there was still so much to learn.
aaAA
Judy wished they’d fed the horses before the meeting. It was dark when they pulled into the yard. Judy dropped Kathleen off at the house, and Pookie stayed with her in the truck as Judy drove across the yard toward the corrals. Judy left the truck running and the headlights on, illuminating the small haystack beside the pens. As they walked toward the hay, a strange sound disrupted the night, a buzz that jarred the nerves.
“What’s that?” Pookie asked.
Judy’s answer was to grab the young woman by the back of her shirt to pull her unceremoniously toward the running truck.
“What the hey!” Pookie demanded.
Judy pulled a flashlight from the pocket on the driver’s side door, and used the light to search the ground near the hay.
“There it is,” Judy said.
Caught in the beam of light, a prairie rattler buzzed angrily.
“Jesus! I nearly stepped on it,” Pookie said.
“Glad you didn’t,” Judy said. She reached inside the pickup cab once again, opening a pocket on the front of the seat cover and extracting a pump-action .410 shotgun. “Here, hold the light and shine it on the snake,” Judy said, handing Pookie the flashlight. She pumped a shell into the chamber and sent the snake to rattler heaven. Inside the corrals, the horses snorted and shied.
The light waivered as Pookie’s hand shook.
“That was really loud,” Pookie said.
“A four-ten is the smallest of the shotguns, but all shotguns are pretty loud,” Judy responded.
Pookie stared at the snake, mesmerized. “Would I have died if it bit me?”
“Maybe…for sure you would have been darned sick and maybe lost a foot or a leg.”
“I’ve…I’ve never seen anything shot before. I don’t like guns much.”
“Pook, if I see a rattler out in the pasture, I leave it, but we can’t have them around the barn. If they den up here, it’s a constant threat to the livestock and us. We’ll start looking for a bull snake to turn loose in the barn. They keep the rattlers away.”
“I…I know rattlesnakes are dangerous, but I just don’t like guns much. Had no idea that was in your truck.”
“I keep the chamber empty so it’s safer for traveling. It’s the same one dad kept in his truck. Never been used on anything but a rattlesnake.” Judy took off her hat and scratched her head. “Pookie, if you’re going to live on a ranch, you at least need to know enough about firearms to be safe. Tomorrow…tomorrow I’d like to teach you some basics, mainly safety.”
They both turned toward the house as they heard the back door open.
“You two okay?” Kathleen yelled.
“Just fine, honey. I shot a rattlesnake,” Judy answered.
In the dark, they heard the back door open and close as Kathleen went back inside.
Pookie pulled her gaze from the snake and looked at Judy. “Okay, you can teach me.” She looked at the snake. “If I see one of those again, I have to know what to do.”
“That’s a girl. Now, would you get a shovel out of the back of the truck? Even dead, that snake’s still dangerous. We need to bury it.”
Judy put the shotgun back in the truck and Pookie went for the shovel.
Chapter Eleven
New Developments
Pookie’s black motorcycle boots were somewhat worse for wear since beginning her new career as a cowhand. She scrubbed every bit of cow and horse manure from every nook and cranny on the boots then applied a thick layer of
polish and rubbed until the leather surface was as mirror shiny. She could have used the boots as the reflective surface as she applied makeup. She could have but didn’t. Instead, she disappeared for nearly two hours into the guest bathroom, scrubbing herself as thoroughly as she’d scrubbed her boots, and then re-bluing her hair and applying her full contingent of makeup, including black eyeliner and lipstick, items she had not used since her arrival on the Proctor Ranch.
“What the hell is she doing in there?” Judy asked, looking up from the re-run of Gunsmoke she and Kathleen were watching to pass the time as they awaited the arrival of their guests.
Kathleen laughed and snuggled closer to Judy on the loveseat. “What do you think she’s doing? Have you forgotten that Terry Morris is coming with April and Sophia?”
“I know she likes the girl, but dang, Terry won’t be impressed if Pookie scrubs off all her skin.”
“Hmmmmm, seems like I remember some well-polished boots and freshly starched shirt and jeans the first time we went out to dinner,” Kathleen responded.
Judy laughed and kissed Kathleen on the top of her head. “That’s true. I even dug out some of the old makeup I used when I worked in the city.”
“You did?” Kathleen said, surprised. “I’m sorry, honey. I couldn’t tell.”
“That’s because it had all dried up or turned to dust. It went in the trash.”
Kathleen’s laugh was deep in her throat. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I was already in love with you. Mascara wouldn’t have made a bit of difference.”
“I saw it on you, but it didn’t matter. I was already drowning in those brown eyes of yours.”
The kiss was long and slow. As it continued, they shifted positions, miraculously increasing the intimacy of their already cozy embrace. When Kathleen unsnapped the top two snaps of Judy’s western shirt, her hand slipped comfortably inside shirt and bra, teasing at an already erect nipple. Judy moaned softly, reluctantly ending the kiss.
