by Kieran York
“Let’s roll.” Royce opened the door.
The women worked together getting the horse reined and saddled. Royce tied the colt safely, then looped the rope around the saddle’s horn.
Hertha said, “So far, so good. I hope we can keep control of the colt.”
Royce issued a grin of optimism. “Come on, you are part Ute and a vet, if you can’t do it, who can. What are their names?”
“The mare is named Sugar and the colt is Pansy. When I was working with them earlier, the woman said the kids named them.”
“And so naturally, you offered to stay behind?”
“Royce, the firefighters didn’t want me staying, but I needed to try and get the horses out. I wanted the family away from the smoke. So yes, I stayed. It was important.”
“Yes,” Royce said. “Let’s mount up.”
Once both women were aboard, and their trip began, both horses seemed more secure. Royce, felt the body of her former lover against her own. The woman, the warmth, and their fit together brought an emotion of desire. Royce attempted to blot out the thought. One of Hertha’s arms wound around Royce’s midsection, the other held tightly to the rope leading the colt.
Royce directed Sugar toward the path where they planned to make a break from the smoke and rapidly approaching fire.
As if the horses realized their fates were in the hands of the two women, they took directives. Their steps quickened. The women’s lives rested on the hooves of the horses. Sugar could bolt, bucking the women, and Pansy could break causing an accident to occur.
In the grand scheme of things, Royce thought, we should all learn to depend on one another - animals and people. And all of humanity.
***
Royce felt a slight bucking of Sugar. Both women held tightly. The colt was off to the side of its mother. It appeared to recognize the mare’s fear. “Another quarter mile ought to get us there,” Royce said. Her mellow voice was usually tranquil. It was strained. The smoke had irritated her voice, just as it irritated the sheriff.
“Little Pansy is keeping up.” Hertha’s arm loosened from around Royce’s midsection as the ground began to flatten out.
Passing by trees, Royce cringed. She realized that when next she saw this part of the land, it could be scorched beyond recognition. That would leave a parched mountain soil in place of the beauty. She turned, looking over her shoulder. This endangered forest would be lost. Fire would continue through the ponderosa pine, and meadow. It would eventually be breeched by the river. And only when fuel was eliminated would the raging wildfire end. She silently prayed that the wind would shift back. Then it might burn itself out.
To the south she saw ahead the great mountain Rasp. It was recognizable by its stair steps down the mountains with the division of a small stream. Royce recalled a happier day, when Hertha and she hiked the Rasp terrain.
Hertha told her lover the reason for the name Rasp Mountain. It was derived from her people. From the Ute Nation came the word rasp. Rasp was what they called a musical percussion instrument. It was also called morache. Notched sticks were rubbed together to produce a sound similar to a bear growl. These Native American instruments added resonance. The notches replicated the heavily rutted mountain side. So it became known as Rasp Mountain.
Royce learned a great deal of Ute history in the fifteen years she and Hertha had spent together. Although she initially resented that Hertha seemed to favor her Ute heritage over her Anglo bloodline, she understood. Hertha’s recently deceased Ute mother had been raped by white men when she was young. Hertha was the product of that rape.
As they followed the trail, Royce carefully viewed the area. She felt a sickness from her fear of losing the beauty of this spot. She was glad that the air cleared the farther east they rode. Then Royce spotted the meadow. She glanced up to see the mountains and their rasp splendor. Beyond were the western mountains. The fire that had been skipping above the tree-line had receded. Although the smoke was still billowing, the winds seemed to be reversing.
“We’re going to make it,” Hertha said in her ear.
“Absolutely.”
The women spotted the Crossing as they road through the meadow. At the intersecting cross in the road were the truck and horse trailer, and two firefighting vehicles.
Although the family had probably lost their home, and vehicles, at least their beloved horses had been saved. Flames were wreathing a portion behind the mountains. The secluded area of the meadows was now in danger.
Helping Hertha dismount, Royce felt the vet’s hand. Then as she slid off the horse, Hertha had leaned against her. Royce closed her eyes as their bodies pressed together for a brief moment. When she opened them, she saw the same longing in Hertha’s eyes.
Royce and Hertha secured the horses inside the trailer. Then they got into the backseat of the truck. The fireman driving them gave updates on the fire. “The family never would have made it,” he reported. “From what they said, they couldn’t even get their horses settled. Doc, you saved the horses, but you took a chance. The family saw the fury of the approaching fire, and figured it was all over for you and their horses.”
Hertha spoke. “I knew I could handle securing them, and getting them out. I hadn’t anticipated the tire going flat. Looking back, I admit, I risked the life of the sheriff.”
Royce glanced away. “We made it. And the horses are safe. I worry about the wildlife. How many elk, deer, and rabbits – the ground life – did we lose. Birds probably found their way out.”
One of the firemen announced, “So far no human life has been lost, but I’m sure there’s a hell of a tally on wildlife. They say we’ve lost hundreds of acres and around fifty structures so far. But the fire is nearly ninety percent contained. This last big break was that the fire didn’t jump and take the Crossing. They say this is some sort of tourist area.”
Hertha inserted, “It is a sacred Ute territory.”
“Well, its danged pretty,” the firefighter exclaimed. “This, over on this side, is part of Timber County, isn’t it, Sheriff?”
“Yes,” Royce answered.
“Dang, Sheriff, you got a busy guardian angel. The wind shifted just in time to save your Rasp Meadow.”
“Blessed this time,” Royce agreed. “But it hurts my heart that my neighboring county has lost so much.”
Naturally, Royce felt the security of her county to be her prime responsibility. Yet she considered all areas, part and parcel, to be in the guardianship of each living human. So much of the earth was treated with irreverence.
When she looked back at Hertha, she saw the lovely woman’s face reflect pain. Of course, Royce amended her thoughts – Hertha was probably thinking the very same thing. For a decade and a half, that is what they’d done. Shared their existence, and their thoughts.
Chapter 2
The Elk County Fairground was filling up quickly with rescued animals. Elk Ridge was the county’s central town. There were firefighters, displaced home owners and ranchers, as well as town residents. Animals, and people, all felt the shock of loss. The probability of destroyed ranches and home sites, made them all skittish. There was the tension of not knowing if the homes that had been left behind would be in ruin when their owners again saw them.
In the pit of Royce’s stomach was that ache of sorrow for them all.
Royce had watched the family rally around their horses. They’d hugged Hertha. When Hertha explain to them that Royce had participated, they also thanked her. As Royce glanced at Hertha, there were so many of the emotions were tied to their past.
When the two women were handed bottled water, they responded with a toast. After a cough, Hertha’s scratchy voice said, “This is the best water I’ve had, maybe ever. My mouth feels parched from the spewing smoke.”
“We were lucky,” Royce replied. Her own throat appreciated the dousing of water.
“Royce, thank you for rescuing me.”
Glancing away, Royce’s head lowered. “We both did our jobs.”
&n
bsp; Hertha’s loveliness was a glow that seemed imprinted on her face. That sheen dwindled at times, as if the disappointment in her golden-bronze eyes had overwhelmed her smile. “I heard that your friend Lyn left last month. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“That was always the plan. It was a wonderful year, and we both knew it would end when she found a more prestigious job. The D.A. is ambitious. And I certainly knew that her appointment would happen sooner than later. Lyn’s a very talented attorney.” Lyn Evans and Royce had shared their lives with one another for the past year. Both of them knew Lyn must move on, and Royce wasn’t going to leave Timber City. They parted with admiration and friendship.
“She sounds lovely.”
“She is lovely,” Royce concurred. With the glimmer of a grin, Royce added, “She’s a wonderful, challenging woman. She never hid her agenda. I accepted that she’d leave. I admired her ambition. And her.”
“Can our parting ever become one of acceptance by you?”
“Hertha, you dumped me. You promised to spend your life with me. There’s a hell of a difference.”
“At the time I had no idea what I was doing. I shouldn’t have hurt you.”
“Where are the children now?”
“Staying with my aunt and cousin.” She smiled. “It takes two of them of handle the kiddos.”
Royce nodded. “They’re well?”
“They are. I’m working on adding discipline to their ritual. It hasn’t been an easy year.”
“No.” The sheriff felt embittered by her past with Hertha. She also felt guilt. “Well, I wish you the best in life.”
Hertha was silent. It was a solemn quietness.
Royce saw where Tanner had parked her vehicle. She went directly to her Ford Police Interceptor SUV. As she reached for the door handle, she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to see Deputy Tanner Morris. “Hey, Sheriff, I was worried about you. Are you okay?”
“I am. I’m fine. It was a little frightening, but we made it.” She watched Tanner look away. “Are you ready to check out for the day? I’ve got reports to catch up on.” Royce calculated, the drive back to Timber City was about half an hour, but after a very long day, it would seem much longer.
“A couple of the fellas here asked if I could stay back and work until dark. I could bunk here and help tomorrow, too.”
Royce smiled. “Sure. It looks like you’re enjoying hanging out with the firefighters. I’ll take the vehicle, and maybe you can catch a ride home tomorrow with one of the Timber County firefighters.” She realized Tanner was smitten with the job of firefighting. “And maybe tomorrow we can talk about things.”
“Yes.” Tanner Morris looked away. “I’ve enjoyed helping. Reminds me of my Marine days. The comradery.”
“I know you’ve been an exemplary firefighting assistant for the past couple days. Tanner, you’re also a terrific deputy. But if you’d like to apply for either the Timber County or the Elk County Fire Departments, I won’t stand in your way. In fact, I’ll recommend you.”
“You would?”
She hadn’t mentioned before that she knew he was and perhaps would always suffer from a case of PTSD from having endured the horrors of war. She could see it in his face, and hear it in his voice, even when he was at target practice.
“Tanner, I know that you’ve got difficulties to overcome. I’ll be with you to help in any way I can. But you know that it might be easier if you didn’t need to work around firearms.”
“I’ve been wanting to talk with you about it.” His head sagged downward. “I didn’t know how.”
“Whatever the department can do, we’re going to do. If you want to get help, we’ll get you help. I’ve got your back. So the decision is yours.”
“Royce, I think I’d be much happier in firefighting. But I’ve only been a deputy for a year. Wouldn’t that work against me?”
“No, not at all. I’d give you a splendid recommendation. And you’ve impressed both departments while you’ve been here. It would be far better if you changed to what you really want now, than invest several years and then decide you want to change. If you want to try it, you have my blessing. As long as I’m the sheriff in Timber County, there will always be a badge for you, if you reconsider.”
He nodded. Royce realized his decision had been made in the last few minutes. She was glad she’d spoken up. She wanted the young man’s happiness. She knew he would be a wonderful addition to either Timber or Elk County Sheriff’s Department or the Fire Department. For the same reason he had made a loyal, brave soldier - he wanted to be of service.
***
Royce was tempted to first stop by the Sheriff’s Department’s office. However, she had pledged to Gwen Ives that she would give an update to the editor of The Timber City Times. Gwen and her longtime companion, Nadine Atwell, had run the community newspaper for over forty years. They were not only Madison family friends; they were also Sapphic.
Gwen looked up from papers on her desk. The woman in her mid-sixties had been working as publisher of the newspaper for her entire adulthood. Her brown eyes could spark, and scold – just as her editorials did. Neatly trimmed, salt and pepper hair surrounded her thin face. Expressive, that face perfectly displayed her emotions of the moment. The afternoon had obviously been difficult. She snapped, “I heard you were in the thick of the fire.”
Royce lowered her exhausted body into the rocking chair that was across the desk from Gwen. “I should have called earlier, but I needed to unwind. There were some tense moments. The fire was doing a whirlwind impression. It kept jumping the lines. Either someone on your tech staff called, or you talked with Hertha.”
“Hertha called. It was nice of you to rush in to assist her.”
“Gwen, it was nothing like that. I answered a call, and certainly didn’t know it was her until we were almost there.”
“She told me about it. Royce…”
“I don’t even want to hear it,” she interrupted. “She’s there. I’m here.”
“Alone.”
“Yes, happily alone. I do miss Lyn. We were both busy with our jobs, but she was around.”
“You still have feelings, maybe? For Lyn or Hertha?”
“Of course. I have good feelings for Lyn. And not so good memories of Hertha.”
“Want to decipher that?”
“I loved Lyn. Our parting was sad, but I trusted her from the beginning. Hertha was someone who left me behind.”
Gwen’s lips pursed. “Hell’s bells, Royce. Can’t you have empathy for what Hertha was facing a year ago? You two had some great innings. You shared fifteen years. You’re wailing about the past. I think you’re propping up your ego by ignoring her.”
“Look, I came over here to update you on the fire. One of your correspondents obviously emailed you photos, and told you what was happening. Hertha caught you up on the latest in my life. But don’t read too much into it.” Royce scrubbed her hand over her face, rubbing her brow. “And it wasn’t a dalliance with Lyn. She means something to me.”
Gwen stiffened as she began speaking, then stopped. “Oh, Nick said to tell you that Chance is over at the High Country Animal Hospital with Carrie. Chance didn’t eat breakfast, and Nick just wanted her checked.”
“Catch you later,” Royce hollered back. She immediately rushed out and ran across the street to the animal hospital. Royce burst into the clinic. Carrie Donovan was the young veterinarian Hertha had mentored over the years. She then hired Carrie. Carrie smoothed back her long, light brown hair when Royce entered. Her freckled face and huge blue eyes were reassuring. “Carrie, is Chance okay?”
Carrie was leaning against the counter. Peering into the mouth of a squirming cocker spaniel puppy, she greeted the sheriff with a nod. “Hi, Royce. She’s fine.” Through the door from the backroom galloped Chance. “She heard me say your name,” Carrie said with a chuckle.
Kneeling, Royce took the force of Chance’s rush, and hugged her German shepherd tightly. “What’s
wrong with her?” Royce examined the German shepherd. Small for her breed, Chance was just over twenty inches at her withers, and weighed around fifty pounds. With the German shepherd traditional long muzzle, her strong jaw line was proud, without looking fierce. Traits of her intelligence were visible in her alert eyes. Her light colored coat glistened.
Carrie’s words were with a teasing scold, “Sheriff, she’s just fine now that you’re here. She was suffering from abandonment and a very spoiled rotten nature. She wanted to be with you – she is now – and she’s perfectly fine.”
“Chance, girl. I did miss you today.” Royce ruffled the nearly two-year old dog’s ears.
“Nick brought her down from Crystal to make sure she wasn’t sick. I told him I’d watch her. She’s a terrific dog. You picked a winner, Sheriff.”
“She selected me, actually.” Royce grinned. “You’re sure she’s okay?”
“She didn’t want you leaving her, that’s all. Gwen mentioned how naughty she was in K-9 training. Chance was very moody all day. She’s a pouter. And now look at her.”
Chance’s tail was slapping back and forth. Her beautiful body was nearly folding in on itself as she tried to get nearer Royce. “Chance, I’m taking you with me from here on.”
Carrie put the puppy in a kennel. She then placed Chance’s bowl of food in front of the dog. “Here’s her dinner bowl. Let’s see if she’ll eat now that you’re here.” Carrie stood back with her hands on her hips. “Well, look at that. Chance is gobbling it down. Shoveling it down.”
The women traded glances, then laughed. “Thanks, Carrie. I’m sorry she was a spoiled rotten little deputy. It was a rough day, and I’m glad she didn’t go with me. I was in some pretty smoke-filled places.”
“So I heard. Hertha said it was dense.”
“Hertha’s safe and she’s probably home with her family tonight. The kids, professor – happy family.” Royce’s shrug was accompanied by a heavy sigh.
Carrie became serious. Her frown was intensely drawn. “Royce, she didn’t tell you?”