by Bale, Leigh
Last night, Scott had finished baling Melanie’s hay, which was now safe in the stack yard at Opal Ranch. To celebrate, Melanie had invited Scott and Shelley over to her house for dinner, a movie and popcorn. One more hour of work and he could go see his girls…and have another opportunity to win Anne over. And yet a dark cloud of reservation hung over him.
His girls. Melanie, Anne and Shelley. They’d become his whole world. If only he could make them all his.
The phone rang in the outer office and Karen’s urgent voice filtered through the open door. Scott almost groaned out loud. Now what?
As predicted, Karen appeared in his doorway moments later, reaching across his desk to hand him a piece of paper. “Looks like we’ve got a wildfire. Owen Thompson was out on Rattlesnake Mountain today. On his way home, he saw some boys parked off the main road, drinking beer. They had a campfire in Simpson’s Meadow. Terry Hansen just called to report that she was out riding her horse and saw a lot of smoke coming from that vicinity.”
“Did Owen Thompson recognize the boys?”
“He said no, but something in his voice led me to believe that he knows more than he’s saying.”
Which meant he knew their identities, but didn’t want to get them into trouble.
Great! Another manmade forest fire. “Hopefully it’s nothing. I’ll drive over and check it out now. Stay close to the radio and I’ll report what I find.”
He pushed back from his desk and reached for his ranger hat hanging on the wall. Due to such a wet winter, fire season had remained relatively quiet this summer. In early June, Simpson’s Meadow was filled with verdant green grass and sedges. By mid-August, the meadow had turned to dry kindling. All it needed was a lit match to set it off. Ideal conditions for a nasty brush fire.
Scott drove his light green Forest Service truck outside of town, heading for Simpson’s Meadow. He fought the anxious urge to speed. It would take twenty minutes to reach the meadow and he had a bad feeling about this.
Fifteen minutes later, plumes of black smoke rose in the northern sky. Definitely a fire with lots of fuel.
A car and truck had pulled off the side of the road. Two men, a woman and several kids stood in the dirt talking, gesturing at the smoke and snapping pictures of the fire. Just what he needed right now. Tourists gawking at a range fire.
Taking out his binoculars case, Scott joined them. One of the men was none other than Marty Taylor.
“Boy, am I glad to see you! I just called your office on my cell phone,” Marty said.
Scott bit off a grouchy retort. Now that the ranchers needed the Forest Service, they were glad to see him. Scott tried to feel charitable, but the past attack on his home and daughter—not to mention the McAllisters—left him feeling irritable.
“Did any of you see some boys around here with a campfire?” he asked.
They all shook their heads. Which meant that unless Owen Thompson was willing to disclose the identities of the kids, they might never find out who had started the blaze.
Smoke burned Scott’s eyes. He wasn’t surprised to find Marty here. The fire was close to his ranch. To get to the Taylor and Donaldson ranches, the fire would first have to go through Opal Ranch. Currently the wind was blowing west toward the mountains. Away from Opal Ranch.
Scott removed the binoculars from their carrying case and held them up to look through. Smoke choked the sky with red flames dancing beneath, moving fast.
“Is it serious?” a man hovering beside him asked.
“Any wildfire is serious.”
With plenty of fuel and wind, the flames fanned across the dry meadow, consuming everything in its path. Heading toward the phone lines.
A sense of urgency built within Scott. He had to warn Melanie. Every person he cared about was at Opal Ranch.
Scott reached for his radio. “Ennison to Karen.”
A brief pause of static.
“This is Karen. Go ahead.” Karen’s voice scratched out of the radio.
“We’ve got a brush fire in Simpson’s Meadow, about fifty acres. At current wind speed, it’ll be over 125 acres in an hour. It’s currently on private property, burning toward forest land. Acknowledge.”
“Affirmative.”
“Can you reach the McAllisters and the Donaldsons to warn them?”
“I’ve already tried, but when I called the McAllisters, I got no answer.”
Scott had to assume the phone lines were down. He didn’t need to worry yet. The fire was burning away from Opal Ranch. He had time to warn Melanie. Right now, he had a responsibility to control this fire.
“Karen, get hold of Jim. Tell him we have an incident here. We need a crew to build fire line as soon as possible. The wind’s picking up.”
Static squawked on the radio.
“Affirmative. I’ve already put Jim on standby. We’ll have two pumper trucks to you within sixty minutes.”
“You’re the best. And can you call the phone company? We’ve got phone lines edging the meadow. I think the fire’s reached them already. That might be why you can’t reach the McAllisters.”
“I’ll call the phone company.”
“Good. And I’ll radio the Bureau of Land Management and the Supervisor’s Office right now.”
“Roger that. Be careful out there.”
“Will do. Out.” Scott signed off, then radioed the BLM and the Supervisor’s Office to make them aware of the situation. “I need two Type-1 crews and a chopper as soon as possible.”
Spreading a map on the hood of his Forest Service truck, Scott scanned the area with his gaze before giving the coordinates to the dispatcher in the SO.
“We’ve got a crew stationed in Pine View and one in Evanston,” she said.
“Roger. Get them to us as soon as you can.”
“We’ll do our best.”
Scott signed off again and stowed his radio in his pants pocket. He’d need it handy over the next few hours. The fire was no more than five miles from Opal Ranch, followed by the Donaldson and Taylor ranches. Too close for comfort. If the wind changed, they’d be in trouble.
Scott whipped out his cell phone and dialed Melanie’s number. The phone rang and rang, with no voice mail picking up. That was a bad sign that the phone lines were out. What if Melanie wasn’t aware of the fire yet? She’d need time to move her sheep and he didn’t dare leave to go and warn her.
It would take an hour before a pumper truck arrived and almost two hours for a hotshot crew. It seemed like a lifetime. To be on the safe side, they needed to move as much livestock as possible and evacuate the local ranchers. Just in case.
Scott faced Marty. “I believe we have a standing contract to use your crawler tractor to build fire line, right?”
“Yep. I can have one here in an hour. I’ll stop by the Donaldsons’ to see if Frank can also bring his tractor over,” Marty said.
“That would be great. We have a standing contract with him, too. Can you stop by the McAllisters on your way? I’d like to warn Melanie about the fire.”
Marty turned, but kept walking backward. “Their place is too far out. I need time to move some of my livestock.”
Scott turned to the other man standing nearby. He didn’t recognize him, but being new to town, Scott didn’t know everyone yet. “What about you? Can you drive to the McAllisters’ place and warn them?”
The father shrugged. “We’re not from around here, mister. We were just driving through on our way to go see Zion’s National Forest. If you can give us directions, we could probably find it.”
“No, thanks. It would be best if you got going. In another hour, we may need to close the road.” The last thing Scott wanted was tourists getting lost in the middle of a brush fire.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the family headed for their car, loaded up and took off.
While Marty ran to his vehicle and drove home, Scott returned to his truck and reached for his fire pack. During fire season, he kept it with him at all times. All forest r
angers were trained wildfire fighters. He pulled on his Nomex pants with deep, baggy cargo pockets on the legs and hips. Next came his bright yellow, fire-resistant shirt-jacket and helmet. He clipped his goggles to his helmet, then removed his regular boots. With the truck door open, he sat on the seat and pulled on his heavy wildland fire boots with lug soles and nine-inch tops. Last and most importantly, he stowed his Nomex gloves inside his pocket, then strapped on a radio chest harness. No matter what, he carried his folded-up fire shelter on his back, but chose to leave his personal gear, sleeping bag, water and food rations in the truck.
Following the eighteen watchout situations, which included identifying escape routes, Scott remained on the road and waited. He kept busy, making calls to the Sheriff’s Office and the high school principal to put them on alert. If he needed to set up an incident command center, the local high school was the best location. Fire crews could sleep, shower and eat there once they got a logistics chief to set it all up.
Scott tried calling Melanie’s house and her cell phone, but she didn’t answer. He regretted not having gotten her a satellite phone yet. Where could she be?
He called Marty Taylor’s cell phone. He was over at the Donaldson place. “Frank said to tell you he’ll have a tractor over there in about an hour.”
Scott hid his surprise. With the fire so near their property, the Donaldsons had a lot at stake, but Scott still welcomed their willingness to pitch in. “I appreciate it.”
Scott hung up his cell phone and glanced at his watch. With each passing minute, the fire ate up acres of dry grass and brush. By the time Marty and Frank arrived with their tractors, the fire perimeter had doubled in size.
Scott paced the roadside, waiting anxiously for his fire crew to show up. He set a limit on where the fire could get to before he got in his truck and drove to Opal Ranch to search for Melanie and the girls. They were probably outside with the sheep and Melanie had left her cell phone in the house or had it turned off. Rolling clouds of smoke choked the skies, sending flames high into the air. Surely Melanie could see and smell the fire. Although he didn’t want to leave right now, he’d evacuate them himself before he’d allow the fire to hurt them.
Holding his radio two inches away from his mouth, he pressed the call button. “Ennison to Karen.”
“This is Karen. Go ahead.”
“Did you happen to hear from Melanie McAllister?”
“No, sir.”
“I haven’t been able to reach her and thought she might have contacted you.”
“Negative.”
“If she calls, let me know immediately.”
“Roger. Do you want me to drive out to Opal Ranch and see if I can locate her?”
“No. It’d take you too long, and I need you in the office to coordinate things. I’ll take care of it. Out.”
Where was Melanie? She expected him for dinner and should be home. With everything he had going on here, he didn’t want to worry about them right now. He wanted them where they would be safe.
A screaming siren caught Scott’s attention and he turned to see Sheriff Chambers zipping down the narrow road. Two pumper trucks and a transport vehicle filled with fire crew followed.
Finally.
Within the hour, the area became a beehive of activity. Pumper trucks and tractors clogged the side of the road.
“What can I help with?” the sheriff asked.
“You can put some red cones along the road down there and direct traffic away from this place.” Scott pointed toward the road leading to town. “The last thing we need is a bunch of rubberneckers getting in the way to see what’s going on.”
“You got it.” The sheriff trotted toward his car.
A fire crew of twenty men and three women arrived wearing fire-resistant clothing and armed with shovels and Pulaskis, a special hand tool that combined an ax and an adze in one head. As the crew gathered around, Scott gave instructions.
“We’ll anchor and flank it. Let’s set the road as our anchor point. I don’t want any crews out in front of the fire. The winds are moving too fast. We’ll have to attack from the sides until we can get more manpower or a chopper to drop retardant on the front to slow the fire down. I think we can pinch it off on the sides.”
The crew went to work digging trenches, using shovels and Pulaskis to scrape back grass, brush and other fuels.
“Karen told me some boys were sighted up here with a campfire,” Jim Tippet said. “You think that’s what caused this burn?”
Scott coughed against the smoke. “It’s highly likely. Once we have the fire under control, we’ll investigate the cause.”
He wished he had a hotshot crew here. Smoke jumpers always got a lot of publicity, but no one built fire line faster than a skilled hotshot crew. Man for man, Scott would match an experienced and physically conditioned member of a hotshot crew with a smoke jumper any day. Hotshots ate small fires like this for breakfast.
Within two hours, the hotshots from Pine View arrived. Scott put a holding crew on one side to ensure the fire remained within prescribed boundaries. The Pine View crew worked the other side to squeeze off and contain the flames. It appeared they were making good headway. Three-man crews used hoses connected to two pumper trucks, spraying gushers of water at the flames. Steam rose from the fire, adding to the black cloud churning above. The smoke lingering over the roadway was so thick that drivers had to turn on their headlights.
Everything was working just fine. The static of radio traffic accompanied the whoosh of water from thick fire hoses. Gray smoke billowed over the mountain, the air heavy with the scent of burnt grass and sage.
The crews were fighting fire on two fronts. The fire spreading across the meadow, fanned by a breeze it created itself, and the fire heading toward the mountains, toward big timber.
They almost had it under control. The hotshot crew from Evanston would soon arrive and the added manpower would be all they needed to contain this fire. Scott figured he’d be home in time to tuck Shelley into bed that night.
And then the wind shifted east. Toward Opal Ranch.
Chapter Twelve
“Anne! Shelley! Where are you?” Melanie raced through the barn again, checking each animal stall, climbing up to search the hayloft.
Nothing! Where were they?
She ran outside, checking each corral, scanning the hay fields with urgency. Smoke from the west filtered over the air, making her cough. She’d been so busy bottling beets that she hadn’t noticed the smoke until she went to call the girls in to help make supper. There’d been no lightning storms and she couldn’t determine where the fire came from. It must be manmade.
Fear roiled through her. She wouldn’t leave the ranch without her girls.
“Bob! Here boy!” She whistled for the dog, but he didn’t come. No doubt he’d gone with the girls, wherever that might be.
Jumping on a four-wheel quad, she started the engine and drove down by the pond. Maybe the girls had gone there. With the water no more than knee-deep, the girls liked to catch pollywogs and pick fluffy willows to put in a vase on the kitchen windowsill.
The girls weren’t at the pond. Panic climbed Melanie’s throat, shutting off her air supply. Where were they? Oh, when she got hold of them, she’d give them a piece of her mind. Why had they gone off without telling her first?
Changing her tactics, she drove out to the fields. That effort proved fruitless and ate up twenty precious minutes. Common sense told her to find the girls and get out of here as fast as possible.
When she returned to the house, she checked the tool and lambing sheds. The girls could be anywhere, but they’d had a fight earlier. Shelley had finally gotten angry at Anne’s insults about Scott being a ranger and told Anne off. Melanie had broken up several verbal fights that day and finally threatened that the girls wouldn’t get to watch their movie tonight if they didn’t stop arguing. So where had they gone? Were they together or separated?
It was time to call Scott. She did
n’t know what else to do. She couldn’t find the girls.
Lost in thought, she rounded the corner to the house and shrieked. “Scott! Oh, thank goodness you’re here.” Relief flooded her and she almost threw herself into his arms. She didn’t need to. He wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her close for a quick hug.
“I’ve been trying to call you for two hours. Where have you been?” His voice sounded clogged with emotion or soot. She wasn’t sure which.
His presence brought her immediate comfort. With him here she knew everything would be okay. If they could just find the girls.
“I’ve been in the house. No one’s called today.” She drew back and took a good look at him. Black streaks marred his face and he wore a yellow helmet and firefighter garb.
“The phone lines are down.”
“I didn’t know,” she said breathlessly.
“What about your cell phone?”
She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. “It’s in the house, turned off. I figured if someone needed to reach me, they’d call my landline. I can’t find the girls.”
“What?” He blinked, his eyes red from smoke.
She quickly explained about the girls. “I’ve been frantic to find them.”
“I’ve got to get you out of here. It’s not safe anymore.” He turned toward the garden, scanning the back fields for signs of life.
“Where could they be?”
His gaze moved over the thin road leading back to the south pasture and his brow furrowed. “You moved the lambs several days ago so they could graze, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She paused. “No, they wouldn’t. That’s two miles away. Surely they wouldn’t walk all that way just to see the lambs—” She couldn’t finish. Her body prickled with alarm. “But that’s closer to the fire.”
“We’re out of time. Get in your truck and meet me down there.” He sprinted toward the tractor.
Anxious with worry, Melanie ran to the truck, started the engine and drove down the road. In her rearview mirror, she saw Scott following with the tractor at a slower pace and knew he planned to build fire line.