Wild Fire

by Linda I. Shands

  She took a deep breath, opened her bedroom door, and followed the strum of a bass guitar into the main room of the lodge.

  A country song echoed through the speakers. Across the room Colin slipped a CD case back into the holder. The guests stood around talking and sipping hot drinks.

  Ryan and the Wilson kids were hopping up and down in the middle of the dance floor. “Hey Kara, come and dance. Jenny really knows how.” Ryan’s voice carried over the music, and she wanted to clamp her hand over his mouth.

  Everyone stopped talking, and one of the men gave a low whistle. They were all looking at her. The overhead lights were bright. Her face was on fire, and she felt suddenly lightheaded. Oh, God, please don’t let me faint. She couldn’t run back to her room. That would look so . . .

  Dad’s arm circled her shoulders. “You look wonderful, Sugar Bear. Anne saved you a diet Coke. It’s in the fridge.”

  Mom would be proud of you. He didn’t say it, but she could hear it in his voice. Instead of making her sad, she felt happier than she had in months.

  The music changed to a slower song. She looked up and saw Colin walking toward her. He had changed into a colorful, long-sleeved shirt, black Wranglers, and freshly polished boots. When he got closer she could smell his aftershave.

  “Want to show these city folk how to dance?”

  She nodded and took his outstretched hand.

  Colin’s two-step was smooth. “You look nice, Wakara.” He reached up and drew one thin braid over her shoulder. “Like a real Indian princess.”

  She looked for the teasing laughter in his eyes. It wasn’t there. He’s serious. For some reason that made her nervous. She decided to lighten the moment. “I am an Indian princess, Colin Jones. And don’t you forget it.”

  He smiled then, and the rest of the evening was fun. She danced with Dad and Ryan, then three more times with Colin. By midnight she was exhausted but too excited to sleep.

  Dad had hustled Ryan off to bed hours ago. When the guests had all gone back to their cabins, Colin yawned and stretched. “Guess I’d better turn in too. Got some folks who want to ride early tomorrow, and your dad’s going to have a church service at seven o’clock.”

  Kara groaned. “Sunday’s supposed to be my day off. You’d think I’d be able to sleep in.”

  “You can.” Colin’s grin was back. “You can sleep ’til six o’clock instead of five.” He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “You’re a great dancer, Wakara. Thanks.”

  She caught her breath. By the time she thought to say, “Good night, Colin, I had fun too,” he was already out the door.

  Back in her room, she picked up her letter to Tia.

  What a night. Colin is an awesome dancer. Sometimes I think he really likes me. I wish I could figure out how I feel about him.

  All night long, in her dreams, the music played while she and Colin danced. When the alarm went off at six, she wondered if anything about last night had been real.

  At breakfast Colin gobbled his food, then grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. “Gotta get the horses saddled. A few of the men are going fishing upriver, but the rest of the group want to ride.” He was gone before Kara could say good morning.

  Greg tossed his napkin on the table. “I’m outta here. Mark, you ready?”

  The pilot nodded. “Sure, but why the hurry? The ranch isn’t going anywhere.”

  Greg just glared at him and stalked off. He came back with his bulging sports bag and dropped it with a thud at the front door.

  Mark shrugged and downed the last of his coffee. “Great meal, Ms. Lightfoot. You’re the best cook in the state.” He kissed her cheek, and her face darkened in a blush.

  Dad laughed. “Watch out, Mark, she’ll have you fat as a summer hog in no time.”

  “What’s a summer hog? Hey, save some bacon for me!” Ryan scrambled into his chair and snatched the last two pieces off the plate.

  “You’re the summer hog, Ryan Sheridan. Use some manners.”

  Dad interrupted. “It’s all right, Wakara. Everyone else is done.” He watched her with a puzzled look on his face.

  Ryan ignored her as Anne spooned eggs and fried potatoes onto his plate.

  Kara fumed silently. He doesn’t say a word when Greg’s acting like a jerk, but I say one little thing and it’s lecture time.

  After the guests had finished eating, Kara helped with the dishes. She felt uncomfortable. Dad hadn’t really lectured her. Get over it, Wako. It’s no big deal.

  “I will go to Otter Lake this morning.” Anne handed her another plate.

  Uh-oh. Now she’ll ask to borrow Lily. Kara cringed. She had wanted to ride Lily herself this morning.

  But the cook went on, “Do you like to fish?”

  “What? Oh, sure. There’s some pretty nice trout up there.”

  “I would like company.”

  Kara didn’t know what to say. Was Anne inviting her along? If so, who would ride Lily?

  It was almost like the woman could read her thoughts. “Colin will leave the buckskin for me.”

  “The buckskin? You mean Dakota? What’s Colin riding?”

  Anne grinned. “The Appaloosa. She will learn some manners today, I think.”

  “But Dakota’s huge. And spirited. No one but Colin ever rides him.”

  “He has a kind eye.”

  Kara blinked. Anne was teasing her. Suddenly they both laughed, and the older woman tugged on one of Kara’s slender braids.

  “You are pretty when you smile, Little Moon. Last night you looked beautiful. Many people noticed.”

  Kara shrugged. A lot of good it did. Colin hadn’t even looked at her this morning.

  By ten o’clock the chores were done. The men staying in cabin four had shouldered their fishing poles and headed upriver right after breakfast. The others, including Ryan, had all gone on a trail ride.

  The Wilson boy had been taking lessons and could ride better than they had thought. Colin had put him on one of the older horses and let Ryan tag along on Star.

  Kara hummed some of last night’s music as she saddled Lily for the ride to Otter Lake. With Ryan out of her hair and Anne busy fishing, she’d finally have some time to herself.

  Anne handed her a long, tubelike cardboard case. “Fishing rods,” she explained.

  There were no reels, only a net on a long pole. Kara tied the gear onto Lily’s saddle, then watched as Anne slipped a bridle over Dakota’s ears, grabbed a handful of mane, and leapt onto the horse’s back.

  Kara realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. “You’re riding bareback?”

  “My father never allowed us to burden a horse with a saddle. Without it, horse and rider work together, become as one.” She clucked lightly with her tongue, and the big horse moved calmly toward the trail.

  Kara felt a flash of irritation. Is there anything that woman can’t do? Anne was right. Bareback was easier on the horse. And the rider. Kara had ridden that way often, but only from the pasture to the barn. Anyway, stirrups and a saddle were safer for a trail.

  She followed slowly, enjoying the feel of the sun on her back as they followed the river east, crossed the meadow, and headed into the trees. Thunderheads were already building up over the mountains in the north.

  The storms came almost every day this time of year, but they seldom hit until late afternoon. Luckily, they were always accompanied by rain. Kara still felt skittish when the lightning flashed. She had seen what dry lightning could do. It was that kind of storm that had killed her mother.

  THEY MADE THE HALF-HOUR ride to the lake in silence. Kara tied the horses in a stand of fir trees, then helped Anne carry the gear down the steep, fern-covered slope. The lake was fed by two creeks and an underground spring. It was small, but deep enough to shelter schools of rainbow trout and smallmouth bass.

  They turned over stones at the water’s edge, uncovering hellgrammites—Ryan called them skitter bugs—to use as bait. Then they rigged and set the lines
.

  “Now, we wait.” Anne settled cross-legged on a large, flat rock and began digging through her backpack. She pulled out two books and handed one to Kara.

  “Here is my father’s book about the Yana people. It is yours.”

  “Mine? But why would your father want to give his book away?”

  “My father left it to me, so it is mine to give.”

  Kara studied the cover. It would be great to learn more about the people Anne thought were her ancestors, but could she really accept part of someone else’s inheritance?

  “A gift freely given should at least be considered.”

  Kara blushed and took the book. “Thanks, I’d love to read it.”

  Anne nodded and picked up the book she’d brought for herself. Kara recognized it right away. “Mom had a Bible just like that.”

  Anne rubbed her fingers across the frayed edges of the soft, red leather. “It is my favorite. Small enough to carry anywhere.” She grinned. “Worship and fishing keep good company.”

  Kara couldn’t help but grin back. “Riding too. Sometimes I pray while I’m riding Lily. When I’m alone, in the woods or by the river, God always seems so close.”

  “Do you know Jesus, Wakara?”

  The question felt like a slap. “Of course I do! I accepted Him when I was Ryan’s age.” She realized she was shouting, but the older woman ignored her tone of voice.

  “And He is close only in the woods?”

  She shrugged. “Well, yeah. I guess lately, not even then.”

  Anne just looked at her, waiting, and she stumbled on. “Actually, He hasn’t been around much at all since He let my mother die. And you know what? I really don’t care!” She swiped at the tears flooding her eyes, then spun around and walked quickly up the footpath that led around the lake.

  The path twisted and climbed. She stumbled over a tree root, caught herself, then stopped to catch her breath. Yes, you do care, and you know it. Her conscience nagged. And anyway, it’s not Anne’s fault. She asks you one simple question and you explode.

  “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered. “I’ve been acting like a total jerk. And I don’t even know why.”

  The wind picked up, raining pine needles over her shoulders and hair. Thunder boomed in the distance. She broke into a jog just as lightning flashed across the darkening sky. When she reached the spot where she’d left Anne, the woman wasn’t there.

  For a moment Kara panicked. Would Anne go off and leave her?

  Lily whinnied. Kara climbed the steep bank and found Anne waiting. She had stored the gear and was already on Dakota’s back, holding Lily’s reins.

  Rain dripped in big, fat drops down the back of her shirt. Once again she let Dakota take the lead. He set a fast pace, but by the time they got home she was soaked to the skin.

  For the rest of the day, she felt as snarly as a bear in a bees’ nest. She helped clean a dozen plump rainbow trout, brushed and fed Lily, then dragged herself up the hill to the lodge. She was supposed to change and set the tables for dinner, but by the time she got to the kitchen her stomach was doing flips.

  It didn’t help when she caught Ryan sneaking out of the storage room. “Hold it, Kiddo.” He tried to make a run for it, but she stepped in front of him. “What were you doing in there? If you were messing with that radio again, Dad’s going to have your hide.”

  He glared at her. “Dad showed me how. I was just practicing.”

  “Who did you call?” she demanded.

  “Nobody.” His eyes watered. “Let me go, or I’ll tell Dad you’re being mean.”

  He pushed past her, head high, fists clenched at his sides. Kara watched him march out of the room and felt like crying herself.

  What’s going on around here? Everything’s falling apart. Ryan had been more than a pest lately. He’d been a total pain, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Dad had enough problems without having to deal with a bratty six-year-old. That was supposed to be her responsibility, but lately it was like nothing she did was right.

  Anne came in with a dishpan full of fish from the freezer. “We will grill trout tonight. With what we caught today, there is enough.”

  Just the thought of fish made Kara’s stomach churn. She dashed through the kitchen door and into the bath shed. When she returned, she was shaking all over.

  Anne felt her forehead. “Ouch! You are hotter than my oven. Can you walk to your room?”

  Kara nodded, but she wasn’t at all sure she could make it without being sick again.

  When she finally lay down, the room began to spin. Someone laid a cool cloth across her head. She opened her eyes. Anne was there with an empty pail and a pan of water. The woman lifted her head gently and slid another damp cloth behind her neck.

  “Sleep now. I will be back.”

  This time the dream was more frightening than ever.

  Mom was running through the smoke, heading back into the fire, but this time Kara followed. She ran and ran, calling out until she thought her lungs would burst from the heat and smoke. Mom had disappeared. Kara dropped to her knees. The ground beneath her turned to soggy ashes. From a distance she could hear Mom calling her, but when she tried to move she just sank deeper into the mire.

  “Wakara.” Not Mom’s voice. “Wakara, wake up now.”

  Anne. Kara opened her eyes. And Dad. To her relief, the room stayed still.

  “Sit up a little.” Dad’s hand on her back eased her forward as he slid another pillow behind her head. “There, do you feel any better?”

  Kara nodded and realized it was true. Her stomach wasn’t churning, and she didn’t feel as hot. But when she tried to talk she sounded like a cross between a bullfrog and a mouse.

  “My throat,” she managed to croak.

  Anne moved to her side. “Drink this. It will give you strength.”

  Kara took the mug Anne offered her and sniffed the steaming liquid. Peppermint. And chamomile. She couldn’t tell what else. Anne waited patiently while she blew on the tea to cool it, then sipped. The warm brew eased the tightness in her throat, and the sweetness soothed her stomach. “Good,” she managed.

  The cook nodded. “The herbs will help you heal.” She tucked the covers around Kara’s waist. “Rest now.”

  Her father felt her forehead for the tenth time and peered into her eyes. “You’ve been out of it for sixteen hours. Anne hasn’t slept. We’ve been taking turns watching you and calling in your symptoms on the radio. Doctor Glenn is convinced you have the flu, but if we hadn’t been able to rouse you this morning, Mark was going to fly him in.”

  Kara groaned. All this trouble because of her. She felt sleepy and disoriented. Sixteen hours. It must be Monday morning. More guests would check in this afternoon. She had to get up. There were cabins to be cleaned, and Anne needed her help in the dining room. But she felt so weak. She gave in and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, Ryan was sitting on the foot of her bed, his baseball cards spread out all over the covers.

  “Ry?”

  He jumped, then grinned. “Hi, Kara. It’s my turn to sit with you.” His teeth crunched something, and she detected the faint smell of butterscotch. “Dad said not to get too close. You might be catchy.”

  She tried to laugh but had to settle for a smile.

  “It’s okay. Dad said not to make you talk. I’m supposed to go get him if you wake up.” He pushed up on his knees and peered into her eyes. “Are you really awake, Kara? Dad said you might hall-ucin-gate—then I’m supposed to run.”

  Kara did laugh then, but even to her own ears she sounded like a tortured mule. Ryan jumped off the bed and fled, leaving behind a trail of candy wrappers and baseball cards.

  It was Wednesday before she could stand up long enough to take a shower. By the time she dressed and dried her hair, her intentions to get back to work faded. The best she could do was sit at the counter in the kitchen and watch Anne prepare lunch.

  “Your strength will return,” the c
ook assured her. “Then I will sleep for a week.” She flashed Kara a teasing smile.

  “Thanks for taking care of me,” Kara voiced her thoughts. “And for doing all the chores. You must be tired.”

  Anne nodded. “A little.” She pushed a pan of biscuits into the oven, then lifted the lid on a pot of vegetable beef stew.

  Kara’s mouth watered, and she realized she was actually hungry again.

  Without asking, the cook poured a ladle full of stew into a bowl and set it in front of Kara. “Ryan dries dishes and can lay a fire.”

  For some reason the words stung, but Kara could see no hint of scolding on Anne’s face.

  She had been pretty tough on Ry lately. Her conscience had been prodding her for weeks. But, she reminded herself, most of the time he asks for it. Lying. Fooling with the radio. Refusing to listen when I tell him to do something.

  She frowned. “How do you get him to help? I never can.”

  Anne handed her a napkin. “I raised five brothers.”

  Kara almost dropped her spoon. “Five!”

  The woman shrugged. “Our father worked hard.”

  Kara was curious. Anne talked a lot about her father. She had mentioned a brother back at Thurston Springs. He was the one who’d found the book on the Yana tribe at Anne’s house and sent it to her on one of Mark’s charter flights. But she hadn’t ever said a word about her mother. Kara was about to ask when Anne spoke.

  “Our mother died when I was ten.”

  “Oh.” Kara wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”

  She wanted to continue the conversation, but just then the screen door slammed twice and the babble of voices coming from the dining room sent Anne into a flurry of activity.

  DURING THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, the summer weather ignited an explosion of guests. The cabins were booked solid, and there was always something to be done. Twice Kara started to read the book Anne’s father had written, but she had to put it down after only a few paragraphs.