Chasing Fire

by Pamela Clare

Gabe held his breath as the boy passed the halfway mark, a look of utmost concentration on his face as he took those last few steps. When Dean stepped off the rope and onto the platform, everyone cheered, even the kid with the fat lip.

  The triumph on Dean’s face put a knot in Gabe’s chest.

  “You did it, man!” Gabe walked over to unharness him, gave him a high five.

  Chaska did the same. “Way to go! You didn’t give up even though it would have been easier.”

  Old Man tousled the boy’s hair, bent down. “What you did—getting back up there after you fell—that was true courage.”

  Chapter 5

  Eric parked the Type 6 brush truck across the road from the fire. “The county crew hasn’t made it yet.”

  “They probably got lost,” said Jenny Miller.

  Chuckles.

  Eric climbed out, Miller and four other members of his crew following. Because Scarlet Springs sat in the WUI—wildland-urban interface—Eric required every firefighter who joined his crew to have experience fighting wildland fires. He drilled them relentlessly on both structural and wildland firefighting techniques so they would be ready for anything—and so they would remember the differences between the two.

  Scarlet had burned to the ground in 1878, and it was his job to make sure history didn’t repeat itself.

  Silver pulled up behind them with the rest of the crew in a surplus hotshot buggy that Eric had bought from the US Forest Service at auction last year. Running a small fire department meant getting creative with finances.

  “Listen up!” Eric called out. “Right now, this fire is just hanging out here, waiting for the wind to catch it. We’ll clear a chain length off the road and brush out the area on the east side as well. We need to work fast and smart to corral this thing before that front moves in.”

  “Bring it on!”

  “Miller, it’s your turn to be lookout. Head up that ridge. With all the spurs here, it’s possible that stray embers might start spot fires elsewhere that we can’t see.”

  “Got it.”

  He went over the trigger points with her. “If you see smoke or flames rising from any of the little canyons or draws coming off these spurs, warn us and get out. If this thing blows up and turns into an active crown fire, we all get out. Remember, there is no good black here. If we have to evacuate, we climb into these vehicles and get the hell down the road to that turnaround area. That’s our primary safety zone. After that, we fall back to the parking lot at Ski Scarlet.”

  “What about the creek?”

  “There’s not enough water flowing now to do us any good.”

  Orange helmets nodded.

  “I’ve got a dozer on its way, so cut those trees before they get here. If the fire spots to the other side of the road, we’ll hit those fires with the brush truck. The county crew will join us on the line shortly, and Robertson will be Incident Commander when he gets here.”

  Groans.

  “I don’t like it either, but that’s how it is. We will cooperate with the county crew and follow orders, but we will not compromise our safety. Understood?”

  More nods.

  “You got it, chief.”

  They grabbed their gear—packs, personal gear bags, Pulaskis, shovels, chainsaws, hoes, and cubies of drinking water. They did one last radio check and had just started up the road when the county crew pulled up and parked behind them.

  Eric stayed to go over his plan of attack, but one look at Robertson’s face told Eric he was still pissed.

  Too bad, buddy.

  Eric would never risk the success of an operation to appease anyone’s ego.

  Robertson pretended Eric wasn’t there, not bothering to check in with him before he barked orders at his crew, sending them to cut line on the fire’s flanks to keep upcanyon winds from moving it along the valley. “Let’s hook this thing and go home.”

  When his team of twenty had moved up the road, he walked over to Eric, jabbing a finger in his direction. “The next time you go over my head, I’m going to demand yours on a platter.”

  “You’re welcome to try.” Robertson had no authority over Eric and no sway with Scarlet’s Town Council. “It’s not your community that will burn to the ground if this thing blows up. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect the people of Scarlet Springs. If that means contradicting you in front of the sheriff, so be it.”

  The roar of chainsaws told him his crew was now hard at work.

  Not bothering to wait for Robertson’s response, he outlined the plan for his own crew. “With the help of the dozer, we’ll make the most of this roadway and try to get this thing contained before the wind carries it to the other side. We’ll pump-and-roll on any spot fires that show up across the road. If that helo arrives, we’ve got a good chance of actually—”

  “There won’t be a helicopter.” Was that satisfaction on Robertson’s face? “Pella just called to say none are available at the present time.”

  Son of a bitch!

  “Did Pella try to rent one from the Colorado National Guard?”

  “Who’s going to pay for that? It’s not coming out of my budget.” Robertson turned and walked away, leaving Eric angry enough to spit.

  “Fuck.” With no other option, Eric shouldered his pack and hiked toward Miller’s position on the ridge. He’d taken a few steps when he got a call on his radio.

  It was Ryan, his A-shift captain, who’d been called in on his day off to manage things while Hawke and B- and C-shifts went out on the fire. “We’ve searched all the usual places and called around. No one has seen Bear for a few days.”

  Shit.

  It wasn’t unusual for Bear to disappear for days or even weeks at a time. He had a cabin up here somewhere on a piece of county property called Haley Preserve. Homesteading wasn’t legal, but very few people knew the cabin was there, thanks to Austin Taylor, who, together with his boss, had turned a blind eye after Taylor had found the cabin a few years back.

  “Get Taylor from County Parks on the phone. He knows where Bear’s cabin is.”

  “Copy that.”

  He finished his hike up to Miller’s lookout position.

  “It’s beautiful up here, chief.”

  “Yes, it is.” But Eric couldn’t see the beauty of the place.

  All he could see as he looked around them was fuel ready to burn.

  If the blaze broke out of this valley, if the wind caught it and turned it into an active crown fire, it would run straight for everything and everyone he loved.

  Austin Taylor crawled beneath the litter, slipped the ATV tire into its socket, and crawled out again. “We’re good to go.”

  They started toward the parking lot, six Team members steadying the litter as it rolled down the trail with its injured cargo.

  A park ranger with Forest County, Austin had been patrolling trails when the Team was toned out to help a woman who’d fallen while bouldering with friends near the Indian Peaks Trailhead. As rescues went, this one was straightforward and simple. Reach the victim. Offer first aid. Get her into the litter. Trail her out to the ambulance waiting in the parking lot.

  Malachi O’Brien, an ER doc who volunteered with the Team on his rare days off, had given the victim an autoinjector of morphine, which had left her euphoric.

  “Hey, Conrad, are you and Kenzie stopping by the—” Megs said, only to be cut off by a squeal.

  “Conrad?” The victim sat up on her elbows, gaping at Conrad as if noticing him for the first time. “Harrison Conrad? Oh, my God!”

  “Oh, here we go,” Megs muttered.

  “That’s my name.” Conrad didn’t like the adoration.

  “God, I’ve wanted to fuck your brains out for years. I have a shirtless photo of you in my work locker. Oh, man, those pecs!”

  Conrad’s face went blank as if he didn’t know how to react or what to say and so refused to react or speak at all.

  Austin found himself biting back laughter and saw that the other Team member
s—O’Brien, Megs, Nicole Turner, Mitch Ahearn, and Bahir Acharya, the new guy—were almost choking in an effort not to smile or laugh. Before long, everyone on the Team would hear about this. It would be a long time before they let Conrad live it down.

  The woman’s boyfriend didn’t seem to find it funny. “I’m right here, you know.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t awkward at all.

  The victim was too doped up to care what anyone thought. “Holy shit! I’m being rescued by Harrison Conrad. I’d have broken my leg sooner if I’d had any idea he would show up.”

  “Now, there’s a testimonial for our website,” Megs muttered.

  The victim searched the litter around her. “Where’s my cell phone? I need a photo, or no one will believe me.”

  Back at the ambulance, Conrad allowed her to take one selfie, insisting that her boyfriend be in the photo, too.

  Austin was in the driver’s seat of his ranger vehicle when Dispatch called for him over the radio. “Fifty-six-twenty. Go ahead.”

  “Fifty-six-twenty, we got a call from Scarlet FD asking you to contact the firehouse.”

  “Copy that.”

  He pulled out his smartphone, checked for signal, which was patchy up here at best, and called the firehouse.

  Ryan answered. “Hey, we’ve got this fire west of town, and the chief is on the line up there. He wants us to find Bear and bring him in until the fire is out. We’ve searched town and called around but can’t find him. Hawke says you know where Bear’s cabin is. We’re supposed to get a dry cold front this afternoon, and the chief is afraid this thing is going to blow up.”

  Well, shit.

  Austin looked to the west. He couldn’t see the smoke from here. “Bear could be anywhere between Scarlet and his cabin. Hell, he might have hangouts that we don’t know about. I can head out that way and see if I can spot him, but it will take time. Is there any chance of getting a helo for this? It would be a lot faster.”

  “I have no idea. Pella put in a request for a helicopter for bucket drops, and that was rejected. Maybe you could snag a rescue chopper.”

  Maybe—if they weren’t all out on rescues. It was the middle of the summer, the busiest time of year as far as rescues went.

  “I’ll check in with my boss and get back to you.”

  “What’s up?” Megs stood at Austin’s open window, eyes hidden behind mirrored shades.

  “Hawke is worried that the fire west of town is going to blow up. He has his crew searching for Bear, but they can’t find him. They want me to head to Bear’s cabin and bring Bear to the firehouse.”

  Megs looked stunned. “You know where Bear lives?”

  “I spotted him at his cabin once when I was out hiking.”

  Brow furrowed, Megs stared at him. “You sure kept that secret.”

  “I didn’t want suits with the county to come in and throw him off the land. He’s been here longer than they have.”

  “You’re a good man, Taylor.”

  “Yeah, well, now I have to persuade my boss to let me leave patrolling so I can head out on a Bear hunt.”

  “Let us know if we can help.”

  “Thanks.” Austin walked back to his truck and called his boss, Rick Sutherland, on his cell phone to explain the situation.

  “I’m worried about Bear, too, but I need you. I just got off the phone with Pella. He wants us to close the trails and public campgrounds. It’s just a precaution. I’ve been monitoring the fire on the radio, and I understand why it’s making Hawke edgy.”

  “What about Bear? He’s out there somewhere.”

  “If we don’t close those trails and clear the campgrounds, he won’t be the only one. Clear out the hikers and tourists, and then we’ll worry about Bear.”

  By the time noon rolled around, Julian could have eaten one of Hunter’s elk, antlers, hooves, and all. Pella had been called away to deal with the wildfire, so McBride finished debriefing the last scenario without the sheriff and led them back toward the parking area, where they all piled into a waiting van and drove down to Knockers in Scarlet Springs.

  A tall man with a beard met them at the door, his hair in a man bun. “Hey, Zach. Good to see you again.”

  Hunter lowered his voice. “I think this guy goes to the same stylist you do, Dorkangelo.”

  “Dude, I have never worn my hair in a bun.”

  McBride clearly knew the guy. He held out a hand. “Hey, Joe. Thanks for letting us use your land today.”

  Joe Moffat, the landowner.

  Joe brushed off McBride’s thanks. “We sure appreciate the work you all do to help keep our town safe.”

  McBride introduced them all to Joe, who, in turn, introduced his wife and the pub’s co-owner, Rain, a striking woman with roses, ivy, and skulls tattooed along her forearms. Their little daughter, Angel, rode in a carrier on her mother’s back.

  “We’ve got a table saved for you over here.” Rain led them toward the far side of the pub, a stack of menus in her hands.

  Julian sat, accepted a menu. “Thanks.”

  Hunter glanced around, saw pool tables, a bar, a stage, and … a climbing wall? “No wonder this place is popular.”

  “I think locals would tell you there’s nowhere else to go,” Rain joked, handing the last menu to McBride. “Cheyenne and Sam will be over to take your drink orders in just a moment. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Chicago-style deep dish pizza.” McBride sounded dubious. “Seriously?”

  Rain overheard him, stopped, turned back. “You should try it. Victoria Hawke, the woman who runs the pizza part of the business, is from Chicago.”

  “You’re on.”

  A tall, blond server who said her name was Cheyenne came to take their drink order. Everyone asked for water, most complaining that they were officially on duty and couldn’t try any of the brews. A few minutes later, they overheard Cheyenne’s voice and those of two other women talking to each other nearby.

  “Have you ever seen such a group of hunks?” Cheyenne said.

  “I think my ovaries just exploded,” said another.

  “Can I have the one with the ponytail?”

  “Sure—if I can have the one sitting across from him.”

  Shit.

  Julian met Hunter’s gaze, spoke quietly, not wanting to embarrass anyone. “I think you have a fan club.”

  Hunter grinned. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”

  “Jesus fried chicken!” Deputy Marcs muttered to herself. She turned toward the women. “Hey, Chey, Sam, Marcia—the hunks can hear you, and so can I.”

  Giggles.

  A moment later, Cheyenne walked up to the table, the two other women with her, each carrying a tray with glasses of ice water.

  “I’m Marcia, the bartender.” A pretty woman with shoulder-length brown hair set a glass of water down in front of Hunter. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  The other woman, presumably Sam, gave Julian his water. “Here you go. Can I get you anything from the bar—a sampler of one of our brews, perhaps?”

  There was no mistaking the interest in her eyes.

  It was flattering to think that a woman in her early twenties found him attractive. He’d turned forty this year, and some of his whiskers had gone gray. Still, Julian hadn’t been interested in another woman since the day he’d kissed Tessa in that hospital linen closet. She had loved him when he couldn’t love himself. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

  “I’m good. Thank you.”

  Sam gave Deputy Marcs her water without saying a word.

  “Aren’t you going to flirt with me or ogle my physique?” Deputy Marcs flexed a bicep.

  “Sorry, Julia,” Sam answered with a smile. “You’re hot, but you’re not my type.”

  Cheyenne and Sam stayed to take their orders, while Marcia turned to give McBride his water, her gaze still on Hunter. In the next instant, she tripped, dumping ice water down the back of Hunter’s shirt.

>   He gasped, shot to his feet, caught her.

  She stared at him where he held her, eyes wide. “Sorry!”

  “It’s okay. I was hot.”

  Julian wasn’t sure that was the best choice of words in this situation.

  “I’ll get you a towel.” Cheeks pink, Marcia hurried back to the bar.

  Deputy Marcs seemed to find the whole thing hilarious. “She’ll name a drink after you.”

  Julian couldn’t help but grin. “You should have seen the look on your face.”

  “You think this is funny?” Hunter raised a brow at him.

  Julian nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  Marcia returned with a terry cloth towel, her cheeks still pink. “Sorry again. I’m happy to pay for your meal.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Accidents happen.” When Marcia started to dry Hunter off, he took the towel from here. “I can handle it. Thanks.”

  “Sorry!” She looked like she was going to say something more, then turned and hurried off, probably still feeling embarrassed.

  They placed their orders—mostly burgers, but a personal pan pizza for McBride—and talked over the day’s training while they ate. Deputy Marcs was eager for them to see the devastation at the county’s campgrounds and along Magnolia Road.

  “The fire burning west of town right now was almost certainly started by transients, so that’s another danger these illegal campsites pose to those of us who live here. People who don’t obey camping regulations are unlikely to respect fire bans.”

  Julian could see that. “Where is the nearest homeless shelter—Boulder?”

  Deputy Marcs nodded. “Some are afraid to go to the shelters because they don’t feel safe there. Some refuse to stay in shelters out of fear of being picked up on outstanding warrants or because they don’t want to follow the shelter’s rules about drugs and booze.”

  “This problem isn’t going to be easy to solve,” McBride said. “That’s why I brought you all up here. Apprehending fugitives is on the top of the Marshals Service’s list. As for the rest—well, we don’t want to demonize people, but public safety and resource protection take precedence.”