Ms. Got Rocks

by Jacqueline Colt

  “Hey Rocky, we don’t have time to spare, I have the sprayer on the back, we can start spraying around the cabin first,” Jazz was talking as fast as she was moving out of the Hummer.

  Throwing open the fill spouts on the commercial type sprayer, she seemed unconcerned about her yellow slacks and print Tee shirt, and the yellow leather three inch heels. The sprayer looked very similar to what Cal Trans used to spray oil on the roads. Jazz handed Rocky a respirator mask then she ripped open a bag of powder and poured it into the sprayer while her gold bracelets jangled and glittered in the sunlight.

  “Get the hose for me, will ya,” Jazz asked as the last of the powder went down the tube. “We don’t even have to measure; Dad has the bags made up to fit these sprayers. When the sprayer is full of water that is the right concentration, clever huh?” she explained while she worked. “He came up with that, because most of our employees can’t read English, actually most of them can’t read any language.”

  Rocky hustled back to the sprayer with the garden hose and stuffed it into the sprayer barrel.

  “But what is this glop?” Rocky asked Jazz as they stood on either side of the big sprayer.

  “Daddy makes this. Our company developed this for our plants in South America. It takes a little while for it to start working though, it has to be exposed to air for several hours. But, we have saved I don’t even want to think how much money, by spraying the grounds and buildings of the factories. Every once in a while the locals or their Federales try to burn the factories down. Daddy had his chemists working for a year to develop this mixture,” Jazz said with pride.

  “Wow, I could have bought some, saved you the trip out here. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but really...,” Rocky did not get to finish her sentence.

  “You can’t get this in a store, the EPA hasn’t approved it, and this is what we had at home. We use it on our house in Boston and the compound,” Jazz said. “We’ll try to keep it out of the river.”

  “Not like that is going to make much difference to the fish, when the fire goes through, the water temp. will go to boiling and the fish and crawdads die,” Rocky explained.

  “With La Extinga, the fire isn’t going to get that close, so I want to be super careful of the river. God, I hope I have enough of this to get the entire front where it is plowed.”

  “Crap there is not going to be enough. Rocky your place is a lot bigger than I thought it was,” said Jazz when she turned around surveying the meadow.

  It took more than fifteen minutes to fill the barrel of the sprayer. Rocky and Jazz caught up on each others news. Rocky took Jazz for the tour of the newly completed bathroom. Rocky showed Jazz the unfinished guest room,

  Jazz stayed to change clothes from her elegant pants outfit to jeans and a Tee with the new hiking boots she had bought for the aborted Lost Dutchman Mine trip.

  “Jazz aren’t we going to get into trouble with the EPA, for using this?” Rocky asked as they got into the Hummer and started the circle of fire retardant around the cabin.

  “You want your cabin or are you going to wimp out on me. Deal with the EPA later,” Jazz said like ignoring the federal law was something she did daily.

  “Don’t worry Rocky, this La Extinga isn’t going to hurt anything, and it does work. Maybe this will be the push the EPA needs to see this is a good thing. They’re pissed because one of the big chemical companies didn’t develop it. Daddy doesn’t pay lobbyists,” Jazz stated with a flat cold tone in her voice.

  Two swoops around the cabin; one stop for reloading, and the women were down to the fence line, leaving fifteen feet at the river edge unsprayed. Callaghan’s fire break and Rocky’s pump and fire hose jury rig would have to take care of that section. When they stopped for another reload of La Extinga they could hear the fire sirens in the distance and feel the wind changing again to the west. Soon the air was filled with the smoke of burning dry grass and cinders were falling like a brief nasty rainstorm.

  “Jazz do you get poison ivy? If you do, you are probably going to get poison oak from the smoke. Go put on a long sleeved shirt of mine,” Rocky directed her friend.

  The two women stood side by side waiting, facing west; they felt they were as ready as they would ever be. There was nothing more they had the equipment or the time to do, but wait. There was absolutely no chance that a summer rain shower would drench the foothill battle line.

  In the next quarter hour the wind changed again to the south, the change cleared the air of the smoke and ashes. Rocky waded into the river to ensure the dredge motor powering the submersible pump was topped out with fuel.

  With the wind in the other quarter they could hear the roar of the fire; they could not tell how far away it was. It could be in the next gulch for all they could tell.

  They stood and watched. Behind them Callaghan had parked the tractor near the cabin. As he moved toward the women, Jazz checked her watch for the umpteenth time.

  “Rocky, we made it in time; the La Extinga should have had enough time for the oxygen to escape into the air.” said Jazz.

  Then she heard a movement behind her and turned to see Callaghan.

  “Who is that guy?” she asked.

  “Oh, that is the jerk who is my neighbor, at least I think he is a neighbor,” Rocky answered her, giving Callaghan a double whammy look with her gemstone brown eyes.

  “He showed up with the tractor this morning and made the firebreaks. He is putting in a vineyard next door. He is the claim jumper I told you about.”

  “He looks vaguely like I know him from somewhere,” Jazz said softly to Rocky. She spoke softly because Callaghan stood next to them.

  Callaghan looked at Jazz and Rocky. A small wrinkle passed between his black eyebrows, but briefly. Rocky did not notice, Jasmine most certainly noticed.

  Callaghan asked, “Did you see the fire yet? I brought the tractor over here. You can drive it if you have to, do you think you could drive it?” he was asking Rocky.

  “If it is stick, I can drive it,” she assured him.

  When it became apparent that Callaghan was not leaving immediately Rocky introduced the pair.

  “Jazz, this is Callaghan,” Rocky said. Unlike herself, Jazz did not present her handshake. Rocky again failed to notice that Jazz had blanched and her body stiffened momentarily as Jazz remembered where she saw this man.

  “Callaghan, this is Jazz,” Callaghan made no attempt to shake her hand. He acknowledged the introduction with a curt nod. He knew precisely who Jasmine Harris was, and recognized her from across the meadow.

  As Rocky finished the presentation, the wind turned again and with a roar like the winds of hell the fire came over the rise. The fire had to consume the east side of the rise and then jump the two lane county road. Then the fire would be on the Clancy property.

  “Jazz, there are wet burlap bags in that wash tub, when you see any embers land, hit them with the wet sack. I’m going into the river and start the pump, I’ll keep you wet,” Rocky yelled over the noise of the on rushing fire.

  As if on cue over the fire line the flames sputtered, dying into golden ash and pearly white steaming little beads.

  Within five minutes, the only fires were the ones Rocky and Callaghan were battling with the dredge fire hoses. The County and State tanker trucks raced over the bridge and down the far river bank, the men now have the fire blocked. The fire was smoking and resisting death directly across the river from the now safe cabin.

  “What the hell happened?” Callaghan yelled to Rocky. He had his navy blue ball cap off wiping soot and sweat from his astonished eyes.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that, it just stopped,” he said.

  Jazz stood squarely in front of him with her hands on her hips and said, “My father had that invented. My family does good things, Mr. Callaghan, contrary to what you think of us.” She turned and stomped off into the cabin.

  The wind had again swung from the south, and the air was clearing. The fire crews have m
oved out of the area, leaving a small mop up crew behind filling a tanker truck from the river. They were too far away and too tired to ask questions of the two people standing stunned in the center of the only unburned acres within miles of Whiskey Gap.

  Without another word, Callaghan walked to the river and swam to his dredge, pushing it back to his property.

  Rocky yelled after him, “Do you want some help?”

  Callaghan shook his head and waved her off and continued to swim away.

  Rocky looked at the front of the meadow, the only burned part of the area was south on the Myerson’s place past the big rock and the old almond grove. Everywhere that Jazz had sprayed the La Extinga was safe. In fact, the weeds were even cool to the touch.

  Jazz was standing on the porch looking most pleased with herself.

  “Come on Jazz. We have to get pictures of this stuff,” Rocky turned to get her camera from the cabin.

  For the next hour and half as the wind stayed out of the south, Rocky and Jazz reenacted the mixing and spraying process. Rocky took photos of the Myerson’s meadow and her adjacent meadow. That should be clear enough, the women agreed.

  Jazz and Rocky washed up in the kitchen sink. They cracked icy cold cans of Pepsi and sat on the porch watching the meadow in their smoke stinking and sooty clothes. They sat there and listened to the radio fire reports and watched for flare ups.

  When dusk arrived, the wind changed again to the west, this time, however, nothing happened. The fuel had been consumed and there was no way to get a start around the bridge.

  The women realized that they were extremely hungry and Rocky had nothing prepared for dinner.

  Between the two of them, Jazz made the sauce and Rocky stuffed the pasta shells. They ate what normally would have fed a family of five. They took their ice cream sundaes back out onto the porch, and ate while they listened to the radio announce that a new blaze was closing on the tiny historical town of Applegate, many miles east of Whiskey Gap.

  “God, I feel horrible that I don’t have enough La Extinga to cover the whole area,” Jazz said.

  “What does La Extinga mean, like put out fires in Spanish?” Rocky asked with a chuckle in her voice.

  “The product doesn’t actually have a real brand name, the chemists call it R-42 or Snuff, but the men at the factoriess call it La Extinga, which obviously means to extinguish in Espanol. My Dad doesn’t have any sense of humor whatsoever, but he thinks calling it Snuff is the funniest thing, so in English they call it Snuff,” Jazz explained.

  “Whatever he calls it, Jazz. I call it a miracle and I don’t know how to thank you for doing that,” Rocky said.

  “It wasn’t any biggie; I didn’t have anything else to do anyway,” she gave Rocky a little hug.

  “Rocky, I have to go now, the La Extinga will keep working for approximately forty-eight hours, and maybe they can catch that monster by then. I can help out with a hit man, if you want, take care of the problemo, no problemo,” Jazz said.

  Rocky turned in astonishment and stared at her friend.

  “Just kidding, but I do have to be going Rocky, I’m sorry that I can’t stay and visit with the girls, but I have a business meeting tomorrow so I alas, I must go,” Jazz was inside gathering her gear and then tossed the works into the Hummer.

  In a very short amount of time Rocky was standing alone on the porch watching the taillights of the Hummer and sprayer recede into the darkness.

  “What was all that? I got the impression when she drove in she was going to stay, otherwise why the overnight bag?” Rocky was asking herself. “Sometimes, I think we aren’t playing in the same ballpark.”

  Before she figured out the situation, Callaghan appeared around the corner of the porch, dirty and looking tired but adorable in the extreme.

  “Got Rocks, are you and your friend okay?” he asked as he stood at the bottom of the steps, looking as though he was waiting for permission to stand on the porch.

  “Yeah, we are fine, we were tired and mostly hungry. There is a little left of the pasta we had, are you hungry? Are you okay?” Rocky asked trying her best to be polite.

  “Hell, yes, I’m hungry,” he said, assuming it was safe for him to walk up onto the porch.

  “Come on into the kitchen it won’t take long to fix,” Rocky said as she held the screen door open for him.

  “Is your crocodile dog around?” he asked as he looked around the neat colorful living room with a wall decorated with the large map of the American River over drawn with grids for mining, that in turn was set off by photos in simple frames.

  “Which crocodile do you mean? The big brown one, or the little black one? Well, makes no difference both the crocs and the rabbit are in Old Town Auburn for safety,” she said while sliding the pasta shells into the microwave and then pulled more salad mix from the refrigerator.

  “Is your friend around, what was her name?” Callaghan asked concerning the sole purpose of his visit.

  “Sit down there, her name is Jasmine Harris and she has a business meeting tomorrow, so she had to fly back,” she explained dishing the meal onto the plate.

  “That fire retardant or whatever it was worked like a charm,” Callaghan said between bites of the terrific pasta.

  “What kind of business is Jazz in?” he asked trying to sound casually interested.

  “I don’t know specifically, some type of manufacturing, like that fire retardant; they sell it in South America,” Rocky said as she poured iced tea into the tall glasses and the two begin to re-hydrate their bodies. After he had eaten, they sat on the porch listening to the night creatures moving into the unburned meadow, the birds restless having been disturbed from their usual night roosting hangouts.

  The humans sat and rested and soon the sound of snoring accompanied the sound of the night creatures in the meadow.

  Rocky woke wondering why the birds were so loud. She looked around at the melted ice in the untouched glasses of tea. She sat up with a start and a groan.

  There was no one around other than herself, the empty porch and the morning birds singing for joy.

  Rocky ached everywhere as she made her way into the house looking for Callaghan. He was not there and a good thing too Rocky thought, as she set the coffee pot to chugging.

  Chapter 17

  “…and who is standing there? You got it,” Callaghan questioned while he was talking by phone to his office in Washington D.C.

  “Who was there?” asked Luke, switching Callaghan to speaker phone.

  “Jasmine Harris was standing there in the middle of Clancy’s front yard,” Callaghan explained.

  “Why the heck would she be there? We received the report when she took off. They didn’t file a flight plan so we didn’t know she was going to California,” Callaghan’s boss replied.

  “The bad news isn’t that she was there, but that she recognized me,” Callaghan said sounding worried.

  “Did she say anything?” Clark the senior team leader and Callaghan’s partner asked.

  “Yeah, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she knew who I was, and that I knew who she was.” Callaghan replied.

  “Man, you need to watch your back, if Harris knows who you are,” another team member stated while looking worried and thinking how he could arrange protection for Callaghan.

  “What did Clancy do all this time, while you and Harris were bonding?” Luke asked Callaghan.

  “She didn’t seem to pick up the vibes. This confirms what I’ve been thinking all along,” Callaghan stated.

  “And what would you be thinking, as if I didn’t know?” Clark Fannuchi questioned.

  “I’m thinking that Clancy isn’t involved in this, that she is unknowingly the best friend of America’s Number One Illegal Gun Runner. I think that she doesn’t have a clue about her friend Jazz,” Callaghan speculated.

  “That would work out great for you buddy, who would want to live next door to Harris’ partner,” Clark said.

  “To say
nothing of jumping her bones,” one of the team members commented.

  “Give it a frigging rest, man,” Callaghan said, “I have to go, my eggs are cooked. I’ll be back in the office tomorrow morning. I have to get the tractor back and water everything before I leave. And say a prayer they catch the bastard setting the fires,” Callaghan disconnected, he omitted telling his team members that he slept last night on Rocky Clancy’s front porch.

  Callaghan thought. “You’d want her bones too, Lucas, if you had a close-up look at her eyes and the rest of her.”

  Chapter 18

  There was nothing like being in a snow fed river to wake you up when you are feeling drowsy because you stayed up all night waiting for something to happen that didn’t happen. Watching, and silently listening to the crickets and frogs.

  "Doesn't matter girls, it is getting light. Time to suit up and go earn a living." The coffee mug was empty anyway.

  The water had the perfect clarity to it this morning, which made easier dredging. They were not letting water out of the dam up river, even if it was past mid July and the rains were not due here for another four months.

  Into the water, she shoved and kicked the dredge over across the narrow main river current and back into the eddy directly across from the cabin. This was the spot that Rocky started cleaning out last week. She was anxious to see how much rubble had found its way back into the dredge hole, and how much the water current had cleaned off the face of the rock and the crevices.

  That felt good. It was good to get some exercise and it was always fun to be underwater even if it was also hard work. Rocky waved her arms and scared off a flotilla of crayfish, they would be back as soon as the dredge hose started sucking water. Rocky chuckled to herself thinking about her eighteen thousand dollar dredge that was a water slide for crawdaddies.

  The underwater face of the big rock was looking pretty and clean. Rocky gave herself a warm up exercise and incentive. Using her little dental picks she gouged into the big crevice, to see if any nuggets were loose. Nothing jumped right out and sparkled like gold in that place.