Chasing Fire: An I-Team/Colorado High Country Crossover Novel

by Pamela Clare

“Thanks.” Joaquin didn’t want to be rude, but they didn’t really have time for this now.

  “I’ve got an idea.” Wendy shook Leah’s hand. “You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

  Leah nodded. “It’s that obvious?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve all been there.” Wendy turned back to Joaquin. “I’ll take your new reporter under my wing. I know all the officials in this area and most of the firefighters, too. I’ll make sure she gets the story. In return, you’ll let us run one of your photos—something your editor doesn’t want.”

  That was an unusual offer, but Joaquin didn’t need to think about it. “Done.”

  Joaquin left Leah with Wendy and jogged to where the PIO stood having a heated conversation about him with the fire chief, a big guy with dark hair and a sooty face.

  “I can’t guarantee his safety, and if he doesn’t listen to me…”

  “I’ll listen.” Joaquin held out his hand. “I won’t get in your way.”

  The man seemed to size him up, took his hand, shook. “I’m Eric Hawke, fire chief for Scarlet Springs FD.”

  “Joaquin Ramirez, Denver Independent.”

  Hawke frowned. “Why does your name sound familiar?”

  “Maybe because I won a Pulitzer for—”

  Recognition dawned on Hawke’s face. “You’re a friend of Gabe Rossiter’s.”

  “Yeah. I am. How do you know Gabe?”

  “He and I volunteer together on the Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue Team.”

  “Small world.”

  “All right. You can come, but know that I can’t guarantee your safety. Have you ever trained in the use of a fire shelter?”

  A fire shelter?

  Hell. “No.”

  “Then you’d better hope we don’t need them.”

  Joaquin climbed into the truck, buckled himself into one of the back seats beside sooty, sweaty firefighters. They didn’t make eye contact with him, their minds on what lay ahead. They had already battled this thing—and lost.

  He kept quiet, listening as Hawke directed operations via radio as they left the ski resort and drove toward the smoke-filled horizon.

  That’s why Joaquin had so much respect for everyone who worked in emergency services. They ran toward the danger while everyone else fled. They were true heroes.

  One of the firefighters—a woman—spoke to Joaquin. “If I’d known someone was going to take our pictures, I’d have put on a little makeup.”

  The others laughed.

  The woman, whose face was lined with sweat and soot, smiled. “I’m Jenny Miller.”

  “Joaquin Ramirez, Denver Independent.”

  The man in the passenger seat looked back at him. “Brandon Silver. You have any idea what you’re going into here, Ramirez?”

  Joaquin shook his head. “No, but I’ve been in some pretty tight spots before. I was in the Palace Hotel during the terrorist attack, and I was shot when a lunatic tried to kill my wife.”

  Eyebrows rose.

  Silver frowned. “Sorry to hear that.”

  For a time, no one spoke as Hawke drove upward along a series of dirt roads. Then off on his right, Joaquin saw them—McBride, Hunter, and Darcangelo. He caught only a glimpse of them, dust from the road obscuring his view.

  Hawke drove them upward until they crested a ridge. To the northwest was Ski Scarlet and ahead of them…

  “Jesus,” someone muttered.

  Smoke filled the sky, gray and angry.

  Hawke parked at the top of the ridge, the other trucks parking in a long row behind him. Joaquin piled out with the firefighters, moved to the east side of the road out of the way, and got his camera ready, Hawke shouting out orders to the others.

  “The fire is below us. The wind is strong. There’s a lot of unburned fuel between us and an active crown fire. It doesn’t take a genius to know the blaze will cross that valley and run up this mountainside faster than we want it to. Stay aware of the fire’s behavior at all times. One person with their eyes open could save all our lives. Silver, you’re our lookout. I want you up there.” Hawke pointed to an outcropping of rock. “You’ll have an uphill run to safety, so leave sooner rather than later when that thing heads our way.”

  A group of firefighters huddled together, holding what looked like gas cans with long wands. They ignited the wands, spread out along the length of the road, some disappearing out of sight, and went to work.

  “Let’s show this bitch who’s boss.”

  “Yeah!”

  It was one of the most interesting things Joaquin had witnessed—like some strange kind of dance involving firefighters, wind, and fire.

  Hawke’s crew drizzled live flame onto the dried grasses and shrubs, then let the wind blow it toward the road. When the fire reached the gravel, it went out, leaving a three-foot-wide stretch of blackened land behind it.

  The firefighters went forward again, drizzled more flame. Once more, the fire flared up and was carried toward the road. This time it went out when it hit the blackened strip—or “the black,” as they called it.

  And Joaquin understood.

  They were burning away the fuel that lay in the fire’s path, fighting fire with fire, hoping to stop it in its tracks here before it could reach Scarlet Springs.

  He raised his camera and went to work.

  “Please let me through.” Kenzie fought not to raise her voice or cry. “I promise, I’ll come straight back.”

  She’d gotten a panicked call a few minutes ago from Chip about Crank. Crank, the sweetest pit bull in the world, was home in the evacuation zone while his daddies were at work in Boulder and unable to get to him. She’d promised to get Crank, together with their kitty, Kahlo, and keep them both at the kennel until the men could get off work and make it back to Scarlet. But Julia Marcs wouldn’t let Kenzie through.

  “I’m sorry, Kenzie. If I make an exception for you, I’ve got to make an exception for everyone. This fire isn’t a joke.”

  “But that’s just it!” Didn’t Julia understand? “If that fire burns their house down, Crank and Kahlo will die.”

  The thought sickened Kenzie, fed a growing sense of desperation.

  “I’m really sorry, Kenzie. I don’t want that to happen any more than you do, but I really can’t let you put yourself in harm’s way.”

  Kenzie nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I know you’re doing your job.”

  She loved Crank. He was one of her favorite pooches—a big, silly boy who only wanted to play and be loved. She’d never met Kahlo, the kitty, but she didn’t have to know or love an animal to be concerned for its life.

  Julia seemed pensive for a moment, then something in her expression changed. “There are some cops from Denver helping us to clear houses in the evac zone. If you give me Crank’s address, maybe they can make it there in time. I can ask them to bring the animals to the kennel.”

  “Thank you!” Kenzie had the address written down on a sticky note and handed it to Julia, who reached into her pocket for her cell phone and called someone named Hunter.

  “Thank, man. I appreciate it. Yes, a pit bull named Crank and a kitty named …” Julia looked up at Kenzie.

  “Kahlo.”

  Julia repeated the name. “Thanks. If you could bring them down to the main roadblock, Kenzie Morgan will be waiting for them. Crank will recognize her.”

  “Thanks, Julia. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to them.” Kenzie stepped back, made way for others who wanted to talk to Julia.

  One man shouted in Julia’s face, angry that his camping plans were canceled. “Listen here, little girl, I reserved a camping spot and drove all the way here from—”

  Julia cut him off, stood her ground. “There won’t be a campground by tonight, sir, so I suggest you find another place to camp. Colorado is a big state, and there are plenty of options.”

  Five big Ford F-150s pulled up to the roadblock, hauling horse trailers. The trucks stopped, and Nate West stepped out of the fir
st one. Kenzie had gone to school with him, though they hadn’t been in the same class. The Wests were one of the wealthiest families in the state and owned the biggest ranch in Forest County.

  The tourist went back to shouting. “I want your badge number. I’m going to call your—”

  “Is this guy giving you a hard time?” Nate walked up to Julia, cowboy hat on his head, jeans slung low on his hips.

  “No. He was just leaving.”

  “Bitch.” The man turned to go, his face red with rage.

  Nate stopped him with a palm to the chest. “Apologize to Deputy Marcs.”

  Kenzie found herself holding her breath as the tourist turned a brighter shade of red.

  Perhaps sensing Nate’s resolve or intimidated by his height or his scarred face, the jerk backed down. “Sorry.”

  Nate stepped aside, his gaze meeting Kenzie’s. “Hey, Kenzie. Are you okay?”

  “I will be. I have some clients whose pets are trapped at home in the evacuation zone. Julia sent some officers to get them.”

  “We’ve got some extra help today from some Denver cops and a couple of guys from the US Marshals Service,” Julia explained.

  Nate grinned. “I know those guys. They’re good people. They won’t let you down. I’m here to evacuate horses.”

  “Sheriff Pella told me you’d be coming.” Julia reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Here are the addresses of the horse owners who called in.”

  “Thanks. We’ll find them and bring them to safety at the Boulder County Fair Grounds.”

  “Thanks, Nate—and be careful up there.”

  “No thanks are necessary. We’re happy to help.” Nate gave Kenzie a nod. “Take care, Kenzie. I hope you get those pets to safety.”

  “You stay safe, too. Good luck with the horses.” Kenzie watched him climb behind the wheel of his truck.

  After what had happened to him, how could he stand to be near fire?

  Some people are just brave.

  Chapter 9

  Gabe helped Chaska put away the ropes, harnesses, and other gear. All of it would have to be inspected before the next camp session began, but they didn’t need to deal with that today.

  Gabe zipped a gear bag. “Are you excited about becoming a father?”

  Chaska got a worried look on his face. “Yes, though it doesn’t feel real yet.”

  “It will feel real enough soon.” Gabe couldn’t help but grin at the worried frown on Chaska’s face. “The moment you see that newborn in Naomi’s arms, the first time you hold your baby, you’ll feel a kind of love you’ve never felt before, like your heart just grew.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’ll see.”

  That’s how it had been for Gabe. He had never planned on getting married or having kids—not until he’d met Kat. He’d been a closed-off and angry man, but she had broken through all of the barriers he had erected around himself and set him free. Now, he couldn’t imagine his life without her or their three children.

  The men walked together to the Dining Hall, where the kids were finishing their lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches, watermelon, and carrot sticks, and filled their plates. He walked past Dean, the kid who’d fallen and gotten into a fight this morning, and held out his fist. “Way to crush the ropes course, buddy.”

  Dean, who was sweeping the floor, looked surprised by the praise, but gave Gabe a fist bump, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  Gabe and Chaska sat at one of the tables and dug in. Mountain air had a way of making a person hungry, at least in Gabe’s experience.

  Alissa bounded up to him, a happy smile on her face. “Mama says we can stay a while longer. Can we, Daddy?”

  “Are you having a good time?”

  She nodded, her face as bright as the sun. “I’ve been playing horses around the tipi. It’s not like a hogaan, but I like it.”

  Kat spoke almost exclusively Diné to the kids, while Gabe spoke English. Both Alissa and Nakai were more or less bilingual at this point and spent a few months each year at their grandmother’s home in Kaibito on the Navajo reservation.

  Kat walked up, Noelle on her hip, Nakai hopping along a few feet behind her. “We can stay here while you go into town to tell them about the phone lines—unless you had planned on going straight home from Scarlet Springs.”

  “If the kids want to keep playing, I don’t mind coming back for you.”

  Alissa jumped up and down and then ran out of the Dining Hall with her little brother, the two of them chattering to each other in Diné, Kat watching, a smile on her face.

  Gabe took Noelle and fed her bits of his watermelon while Kat went to the restroom. By the time Kat returned, he was ready to head into town.

  He sought out Naomi. “I’m supposed to check on a cake at Food Mart and then let someone know that the phone line is dead.”

  Naomi nodded. “If you can bring back a few ten-pound bags of ice that would be great, too. The ice maker just quit working.”

  “You got it.”

  He walked to his vehicle, caught the scent of smoke on the breeze, and wondered who’d been stupid enough to ignore the county-wide fire ban to start a campfire. He’d been a ranger for too many years not to feel irritated by this. Leave it to idiots to put other people’s lives and property at risk.

  He drove out of the canyon toward the dirt road that led to the highway. It was a thirty- or forty-minute drive to Scarlet, so he turned the radio to a classic rock station, singing along to Boston. After about ten minutes, he spotted an old spruce that had fallen and taken the phone lines down with it.

  Well, shit.

  That would take a while to repair.

  As he rounded the next bend, a herd of elk bolted across the road in front of him, running as if spooked, forcing him to slam on his brakes.

  Strange.

  It wasn’t like them to be active during the heat of the day.

  He watched them pass then drove on until he came around another bend.

  A sheriff’s vehicle raced toward him, overhead lights flashing.

  He pulled over, giving the officer room to pass on the narrow road.

  To his surprise, the vehicle stopped.

  A deputy rolled down the window, and he recognized Deputy Marcs. “We’ve got an active crown fire burning west of town. There’s a mandatory evacuation in place for this area. You can’t be here.”

  Gabe’s heart gave a hard knock. “Mandatory evacuation?”

  He had worked as a park ranger for years. He knew what an active crown fire could do. He needed to get back to the camp and warn Chaska, Naomi, and the others. “I just came from Camp Mato Sapa. Nobody told us about this.”

  “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t get the reverse 911 calls.”

  “We didn’t. The phone lines are dead about a half mile up the road—a fallen tree branch. That’s why I’m coming into town—to let people know the camp has no phone service.”

  Okay, there was the bit about the cake and the ice, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting everyone to safety.

  “Thank God Hawke sent me to check.”

  Deputy Marcs reached for her hand mic. “Eight sixty-five to Scarlet Command.”

  She released the mic. “How many kids are up there?”

  “Forty-three kids and maybe fifteen to twenty adults.”

  “Hell.” She clicked her mic again. “The phone lines at Camp Mato Sapa are down. They did not get the evacuation order. Break.”

  She paused for a moment and then went on. “There are forty-three children and perhaps twenty adults still at the camp. They have no idea there’s a fire coming their way. I’m heading there now.”

  Gabe slammed his vehicle into reverse, used the shoulder to make a U-turn, and hit the gas, tires spitting gravel as he sped back toward the camp and everything he loved, Deputy Marcs following closely behind him.

  Julian watched the GPS, giving Hunter directions, as they sped with overheads
flashing toward the address Deputy Marcs had given them. “Take the first left.”

  “Look at all that smoke. The fire must be close.”

  “Unless the house is actually engulfed, I’m going in.” Julian couldn’t stomach the thought of pets burning in a fire.

  Hunter shook his head. “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to reach the house.”

  The smoke thickened, until it was like fog, obscuring their view, giving Hunter no choice but to slow down.

  “Damn it.”

  They reached the top of a ridge—and the smoke cleared to reveal firefighters at work.

  “A backburn.”

  Crews moved along the length of the road to their right lighting fires, letting the wind blow the flames onto charred earth. Their heads turned as Julian and Hunter passed, but they didn’t try to stop them.

  “Gee-zus.” Hunter whistled. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

  Julian’s gaze shifted to the view in front of him. “Son of a …”

  Across the valley, a wall of flames churned its way toward a cluster of remote mountain homes. Built ten miles west of Scarlet’s western town limits, they were clearly expensive custom homes. And they were doomed.

  Hunter pushed on the gas, sent the vehicle speeding downhill toward the fire. “This is going to be close.”

  “Left here.”

  “I see it.” Hunter slowed, made the turn.

  Already embers rained down on the tall pines around them, four houses set back from the dirt road, all doomed to burn.

  Julian pointed toward the tall Mediterranean-style house at the end of the road, the one farthest from them. “It’s that one.”

  “Of course, it is.” Hunter sped toward it, pulling to a stop in the driveway just as a large ponderosa pine in the front yard ignited. “Let’s move!”

  But Julian was already on his way. He took the front steps two by two, smoke stinging his eyes and making him cough. He jerked open the screen door.

  Hunter coughed, too. “Use your Aikido master key.”

  Julian stepped back, turned to the side, did his best to focus. Then he spun and kicked the door, breaking the lock and forcing it open.