He lay down on the couch, indifferent to the soot that covered him. His face grew slack in the lamplight. He was asleep already.
She took a blanket from the linen closet beside his office door and covered him. She’d wanted to know how bad it was, if they were beating the fire or if they would have to leave in the night. Could he sleep so deeply if that were the case? Well, she wouldn’t get any answers now. She wrapped his sandwich and put it back into the refrigerator, then went up to bed.
Several times through the night she woke, smelled the smoke, and went to the window. The glow on the mountain remained. They’d be evacuated if it worsened. She went into the bathroom and counted the remaining hundred-dollar bills in her makeup bag. How far would the money take her, and where would she go? She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn’t have to find out.
When she woke, Noelle looked out at the thick, red sky. The mountainside was lost behind the veil. Her heart jumped. Maybe the fire burned itself out. She rushed to wash and brush her teeth, ignored her hair, and threw on jeans and T-shirt. She went down, but the couch was empty. She found Marta in the kitchen with an older couple from town, baking muffins and scrambling eggs.
“Where’s Rick?”
“Gone back up.” Marta emptied a skillet of eggs into a larger pan from which the few people milling about helped themselves.
Noelle sank into the chair. “Then it’s still burning.”
“The winds picked up last night. We’ve been put on voluntary evacuation.”
No! The fire must have reached the first trigger point, whatever that meant. “Are you going?”
“I have a job to do.” Marta took out a large pan of muffins and set them out on the counter.
“Did Rick say what we should do?”
“They’re directing people from town to shelters. I’m sure you could shuttle down with someone.”
Noelle shook her head. “I mean, how we can help. What can I do?”
“Just what you’ve been doing.” Marta set a muffin before her.
But it didn’t seem like enough. How could handing out Chap Stick make a difference?
“According to the fire fighters, this is not the worst of the fires in the state. They’ve moved some of the Hotshots to Evergreen.”
Noelle pushed up from the table, knowing she had to stay hopeful. “That’s good, isn’t it? If they don’t need them here, it must mean—”
“It’s a matter of degree. Each fire gets a rating, and Evergreen has more valuable real estate in closer proximity to the fire.”
Noelle turned her attention to the smoke-engulfed mountainside. “Did Rick eat? I couldn’t get him to eat last night. He went all day with nothing.”
Marta emptied a third jug, then paused. “He was fasting.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Fasting and prayer avail much.”
Marta might as well be speaking a foreign language. How could going without food help Rick? “That’s absurd. How will he keep up his strength?”
Marta smiled. “‘Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.’”
“Well, he was weary last night, practically fell asleep sitting up.”
Marta didn’t answer, just poured out Styrofoam cups of coffee for the half-dozen volunteer fire fighters who prepared to start their shift. Noelle sighed. She didn’t understand Rick and Marta’s hocus-pocus, but it didn’t matter. If Rick thought sacrifice could save his ranch, more power to him. If only it worked.
She went outside. It was hard to distinguish anything through the smoke fog. Shielding her eyes, she paced the porch before going back inside for another day of handing out supplies and making sandwiches. She wanted to keep watch from the porch, to know that evacuation would not be necessary. But helping was better, and outside her eyes streamed tears.
She kept thinking of the blonde and other women she’d served sandwiches or given bandanas or sunscreen. They were up there equipped with shovels and axes and hoses and training that Noelle had never even considered. The most she wielded was a paintbrush. So no one would consider her heroic. How did that fit her developing image of herself?
She coughed smoke and ash from her lungs. One couldn’t be everything. She just needed to know who she wanted to be. Two men drove up in a maroon extended-cab truck, but they stopped in the yard, not proceeding up the meadow as so many other vehicles had. They climbed out and one sent her a wave. “We’re taking Rick’s horses down.”
She looked from them to the stable and corral that held the animals. Had Rick asked for them to be removed? She started down the stairs. “Does he know?”
“He called for help. We’ll just hitch up his trailer and take them four at a time.”
If Rick was moving the horses, did that mean he thought evacuation imminent? Or was he just being cautious? If it came to mandatory evacuation, the fire fighters had said they’d have to leave within one hour. They could never move out all the horses in that time. Surely he was just being his normal methodical self. But he did have a firsthand view of the situation. Maybe it was worse than the smokejumper had led her to believe.
Her heart thumped. No. She would not panic. Maybe she couldn’t face down that dragon. But she could face her own. What was the worst that could happen, a few nights in a shelter? No one would know her, recognize her, report her whereabouts. It was paranoid to think so. This was Colorado, not New York. If her picture had ever made a paper out here, it was news to her.
Noelle strained to see up the meadow. She didn’t expect to see Rick any time soon. Maybe not until the fire was out or he was too tired to keep on. How long would it take? The light hardly changed as the sun climbed the sky. The heat was heavy.
“Excuse me.”
Noelle turned to Mrs. Elam, the guest in cabin two. “Yes?”
“May we check out?”
Noelle looked from her to the mountain where Rick was. Had the woman assumed she was staff? She could get Marta, but a new influx of fire fighters needing breakfast had her passing muffins and coffee and eggs. Noelle nodded. “Sure.” She brought the woman into Rick’s office. A computer sat on the desk, but it was not booted up and she doubted she could access his files. So she’d do it the old-fashioned way. She found a memo pad. “Three days, right?”
“That’s right. We’d reserved for five, but…”
“And how much per night?” Noelle searched for a pen to record the transaction.
“Sixty-five.”
Noelle glanced up. Not even the difference between cabin and room could account for that discrepancy. Sixty-five dollars a night for a mountain cabin was both reasonable and expected. What surprised her was the difference between that and what she paid. She hid her confusion, though, as she tallied on the calculator, then took Mrs. Elam’s check and cabin key. “I’m sorry you couldn’t stay.”
“No controlling Mother Nature. At the least we’ll have a story to tell.”
A story. Rick was up fighting to save his land, and they’d have a story to tell. But of course that’s all it was, not her home. Noelle smiled. “Good-bye.”
Before she’d left the room, the Johnsons came in. “Guess it’s us next.” Mr. Johnson held out his credit card.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how Rick runs that.”
“Oh.” He glanced at his wife. “I suppose we can write a check.”
Mrs. Johnson shrugged.
“Sixty-five a night? Two nights?” Noelle asked.
He nodded as he flipped to the checkbook in his billfold. And she paid roughly thirteen dollars a night for a month at a time. A passed through her. What did Rick mean by charging her so little? She had assumed it was commensurate with the cabins. Not the same, surely, but a fifty-dollar per night discrepancy?
She left both payments and keys on the desk and went back outside. The two family vehicles drove down while a tanker truck cut through the yard and up the mea
dow, leaving dusty tracks in the ground. All the crushed and torched vegetation, the serene beauty decimated. As was her peace. Noelle shook her head, depressed.
But then a sudden gust of wind blew down from the mountain and fear jumped inside her. No. Not down. She hurried to the stable and saddled Aldebaran, one of the horses Rick’s friends had not yet evacuated. By the time they came back for the next four, she’d at least know her fate.
The wind picked up as she rode, and gray sky roiled above her. As she neared the stallions’ corral, still far from the actual fire, she choked, wishing she’d tied on a bandana. She could make out the sound of a helicopter, but she didn’t see it through the smoke.
There was a gash at the mountain’s base, separating the slope from the meadow that led to the ranch and another farther along beneath the actual burn. Those must be the containment lines cut with bulldozer, chain saw, and shovel. The teams had talked about the line last evening. Giving the fire a continuous line of nothing to burn was not easy since it could burn up to two feet underground.
But trenching was the best hope for containment. Rain the best hope for extinguishment, and wind the worst condition for spreading the fire, especially when directed toward the ranch. And it was steady now, blowing into her face, blowing toward Juniper Falls. Rick’s pickup was parked on the near side of the gash, but she didn’t see him. The wind strengthened, and she drew close enough to see the flames flare up with each gust.
Something wet struck her cheek, and she raised her face to the sky. Had clouds moved in above the smoke? A thunderstorm? Another drop touched her forehead, then more. Had the wind brought rain? Rain! More drops fell. Oh, let it be enough!
Fervently she wished for the clouds to burst open as they had that day with Rick at the corral, to drown the flames as it had drowned the yard. Rick had warned her of flash floods, but now she hoped for nothing less. No fire could withstand that, could it?
The rain came in earnest as she turned the horse about. She down the slope, the horse’s hooves splashing water, the wind blowing cold spray. Before she reached the ranch it was a downpour as powerful as the other. She stopped the mare in the yard and held her face to the sky.
Circling on the horse, she let the water run down her throat, stream from her hair. She spread her arms wide and caught the pelting drops in her cupped palms. Oh, come, come; keep coming.
The heavy drops became pellets that stung, then tiny balls of ice. She hurried Aldebaran into the stable, then opened the gates and shooed the other horses into shelter. When she had them in their stalls, she gave them fodder. If this storm was enough, no more animals would need to be moved.
The hail struck the roof with the staccato raps of a million tiny drums. She looked out to see the stones bouncing like grasshoppers in the yard. The gravel was covered in white, piling up like snow. She didn’t know if hail was effective against fire, but any precipitation had to be better than none. Then she thought of all the firefighters without shelter from the beating pellets. At least the stones were not large.
She snatched Rick’s poncho, held it over her head, and ran for the house, bursting in upon Marta. “It’s raining! It’s hailing!”
“I know. Thanks be to God.” Marta was kneeling beside the couch, scrubbing the soot from where Rick had slept. How could she clean now? Noelle wanted to snatch her up from her knees and drag her into the yard, to show her, to soak her, to make her see. Then she noticed Marta’s lips moving as she worked. She was not on her knees to scrub only. She was thanking God.
Noelle looked down at the puddle she had made on the floor. Silently she grabbed a cloth from the kitchen and swabbed it up. She glanced at the clock. Two-thirty. Then the hail turned again to rain. There was hope. Surely there was hope. Would Rick think his prayers and fasting had brought the rain? Was it possible they had?
She climbed the stairs to her room and stripped off her soaked clothes. Rubbing herself dry, she imagined Rick with rain pouring off his hat brim, soaking him to the bone. Had he, too, thrown wide his arms and exulted? She put on a dry blouse and denim shorts.
Marta tapped her door and called, “Noelle, you have a phone call.”
Noelle froze, heart pounding, euphoria seeping from her in a rush. A phone call? Who would call? Who knew where she was? A thought paralyzed her. Could he find her?
“Noelle?”
She couldn’t answer. Fear snaked around her throat and squeezed.
Marta knocked again.
“Yes … I’ll be there in a moment.” Noelle forced the words. If it was, she would race back upstairs and—She imagined herself throwing things into her tote and leaving. No. She would not leave! Not now, when they’d beaten the fire.
She finished zipping her shorts, then forced herself to open the door and went down. Her fingers were cold on the receiver. “Hello?”
“What’s with having all the excitement without me?”
She almost cried with relief. Morgan. “You mean the fire?”
“I saw it on the news. Juniper Falls is on the tube, if you can believe it, though you didn’t get top billing—hardly more than a blurb and a single helicopter shot—not when major real estate is burning up near Evergreen.”
“I guess not.” Noelle cleared the strain from her throat.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough. Rick’s up fighting it. But it’s raining now. Oh, Morgan, it’s pouring like you wouldn’t believe.” She saw through the window that the rain continued.
“Well, that’s good. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Now that her heart had resumed a normal beat.
His voice softened. “I wish I was there.”
“You’d have been pressed into service.”
He laughed. “Yeah, better Rick than me.”
Was there anything Morgan cared enough about to fight for, as Rick had fought for his land?
“Hey, I’m getting a call. Ciao.”
As she hung up, the shaking started. Of all the stupid times to panic. She held herself in her arms. It was nothing more than Morgan’s curiosity. But the call could have meant too much. She closed her eyes.
“Are you all right?” It was the smokejumper she’d spoken with the day before. Others of her team came into the kitchen behind her.
Noelle nodded. “Is it out?”
“Only cleanup now.” She brushed dripping hair back with her forearm. “Then we’re out of here.”
The woman took a bottle of water from the counter and drained it. “If the rain keeps on, it’ll do our job for us. Oh, how we pray for rain.”
There it was again. Prayer. Had it brought the rain? Why would start the fire, then send the rain? Just to prove He could? What was she thinking? Imagining some white-robed, hoary man on a throne tossing fire bolts, then pouring buckets to quench what he started.
“Oh,” the woman said, “I met your husband.”
“I beg your pardon?” Her shaking increased.
“Rick.” The smokejumper refilled her bottle and took a swallow. “Right before I came down.”
Noelle expelled her breath. “He’s not my husband.” She pushed the platter of sandwiches toward the woman, trying to sound normal. She could stanch this attack if she tried. There was no need for panic, not now. “I’m boarding here at the ranch.”
“Oh. Well, thanks for the sandwich.” The woman paused. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.” But she wasn’t fine. The shaking intensified, and she had to get outside, even if she only went as far as the porch. Rain gushed from the downspouts at either end of the porch, and she stood breathing deeply until the shaking stopped. Water soaked the yard where nearly all the hail had dissolved. A truck sloshed down and stopped to let the fire fighters take a pit stop.
“Is it over?” she asked them.
A tall man swiped water from his walrus mustache. “Not over, but a heck of a lot closer than before.”
Noelle bit her lip with another rush of gratitude ins
ide. Yes. It was going to be all right. Juniper Falls might be on the news, but she was safe, hidden away on this ranch that had been threatened but hadn’t succumbed. She stayed out in the storm for the next several hours; then the rain slackened and ceased, leaving ragged strips of cloud. The yard was a rutted mess, but she praised the rain anyway. The smoke had been washed from the air, though the rain scent was tainted with soaked charcoal. Yet even that much was a relief. She closed her eyes and let the quiet settle over her.
Then she heard a pickup and looked up the meadow. Her heart jumped. She gripped the rail as Rick parked his truck and climbed out, soaked and grimy. His gaze caught hers with an expression she’d not seen before, a look of pure triumph. Her heart raced. Yes, they had triumphed, had beaten the forces of nature.
He climbed up the stairs with more spring in his step than she could imagine. Two days of grueling labor and little sleep. But it was as Marta said. He had renewed his strength. Somehow.
Noelle hurried to him, almost reached for him. Her heart danced at what he’d done. His muscled body was outlined by the soaked T-shirt, victory in his face. If anyone had power over the mountain, over the fire, it was this man.
She gripped her hands together. “Is it out?”
“There are still hot spots, but the rain was a godsend.” His smile was totally without guile.
Godsend. He truly believed his God had sent the rain. Rick’s strength and tenacity, and that of the others, had been unfailing. Yet that wasn’t what he credited. They couldn’t bring the rain. And if it hadn’t rained, would their strength and effort have been enough?
He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and looked up at the house. He was quiet a long time. “Sure makes you appreciate what you have.”
She sighed. His ranch was safe, and so was he. But now she saw through the triumph to his exhaustion. “You must be worn out.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll be a lot better after a shower.” The rain had turned the soot to grime, black circles of it beneath his eyes and lines between his fingers. “I’ll just see to the horses first. Are they still here?”
“Except for the stallions, one gelding, and four mares that your friends moved out. But I’ve already stabled and foddered the others.”
A Rush of Wings Page 18