Читать книгу Facing the Fire - Gail Barrett - Страница 6

Jordan Wells lifted the old metal bucket out of the icy stream and set it beside her on the bank. Shivering, she rubbed her wet, chilled hands on her jeans to warm them. She’d forgotten how cold these Montana streams were. They were little more than glacial melt rushing down the mountains.

But the place was beautiful, she had to admit. Smiling, she glanced around the tiny clearing. Early-afternoon sunlight sifted through the Douglas fir trees, making the water sparkle. The clear stream raced over rocks and overturned pebbles while the pine boughs moaned above.

She inhaled the deep-forest air, that complex mix of ancient pines and earth, so unlike the cornfields and woods of Virginia. She’d loved this place once. Being here had filled her with peace, serenity. She’d felt protected from the world, sheltered in the tiny cabin with Cade.

She closed her eyes and, just for a moment, let the images swamp her. Cade’s hard face. His low, rough voice. That devastating grin.

The shocking thrills, the wild excitement she’d felt in his strong arms.

But that was before the fire season had started and the loneliness set in. The weeks apart. The endless waiting. Never knowing when he’d come back or how long he would stay.

Then the pleading. The desperation. That stark white hospital bed.

The shattering realization that he loved leaping out of airplanes more than he loved her. And always would.

She opened her eyes with a sigh. But that had happened years ago. That life was gone forever, like the innocent, trusting girl she’d once been.

And that was exactly why she’d come back here. To put that painful past to rest forever and prove she was over Cade. To sell the cabin she’d ignored for years and finally move on with her life. To marry Phil, a stable, steady man with a normal job who’d never rush off on wild adventures and leave her to suffer alone. Who’d waited far too patiently for too many months for her to accept his proposal.

And she would finally say yes to him. She’d be crazy not to. That man was everything she wanted.

She’d accept, all right. As soon as she cleaned out the cabin, she’d stop at the real estate agency in Missoula, sign the contract to sell this place and catch the next flight back East.

She rose and lifted the dented bucket. The thick bed of pine needles muffled her footsteps as she trudged up the narrow trail toward the house.

The wind gusted in the pine trees again and they creaked and wailed overhead. The tinge of wood smoke wafted past and Jordan paused. Had someone built a cabin nearby? She hadn’t noticed any new side roads or even tire tracks on the long drive in. Maybe a passing hiker had started a campfire despite the burning ban.

Then she caught the distant buzz of an airplane and her breath stalled. A DC3 jump ship. She’d recognize that sound anywhere. She’d heard that sad, wrenching drone every time Cade flew away.

Her heart pumping hard against her ribs, she set the bucket on the ground and looked up. A patch of blazing blue sky peeked through the thrashing pines.

Could there be a fire nearby? Fear crawled down her spine. How would she know? Her cell phone didn’t work out here so she couldn’t call to find out, and no one knew where she was. She listened intently, but the lonely sound drifted away.

She inhaled deeply, but only smelled fresh air and pine. She eased her breath back out. It was just her imagination. Old ghosts. The very memories she’d come here to banish.

She picked up the bucket and carted it into the cabin. Old ghosts or not, she’d better finish quickly and leave.

Cade McKenzie stood in the open doorway of the DC3 and sucked in the smell of burning pine. Below him, black, roiling smoke pierced by huge orange flames rose from the Montana forest and covered the earth with a threatening shadow.

Undaunted, he snapped down his face guard and narrowed his eyes. No matter how formidable the fire, he’d stop it. The steep hills and volatile winds only challenged him more. And he knew the eleven smokejumpers poised behind him felt the same.

The spotter, hanging partway out the door beside him, pulled in his head from the slipstream. “Hold into the wind,” he shouted over the roar of the rushing air. “And stay wide of the fire. It’s gusting bad down low.”

Cade nodded and returned his attention to the fire. They would jump near the heel and contain it first, then split up and secure the flanks. Despite the dry conditions, they could pinch off the head by late tomorrow—unless the wind changed direction and whipped the flames toward Granite Canyon.

His gaze shifted west toward the canyon bordered by a silver ridge. From the air, the dense pines hid the log cabin he knew was nestled beside the boulders. His old cabin, where he’d spent the most intoxicating months of his life—until Jordan decided she couldn’t handle living with a smokejumper and cleared out. A sharp stab of bitterness tightened his gut. Hell of a time to think of his ex-wife.

He forced the old anger aside. She’d raked him over good, all right, but he’d never see her again. She wouldn’t have kept the cabin after all these years. Still, he needed to make sure no one was in there in case the wind switched and the fire jumped the only road out.

“We’re on final.” The spotter scooted back and struck the side of the open door. His adrenaline rising, Cade moved forward into jump position. His jump partner, a rookie from a booster crew out of Boise, pressed in close behind him.

His muscles bunched, his gaze focused on the horizon, he waited for the spotter’s signal. An intense calm settled over him and his mind stilled.

And in that moment, he felt perfectly right. He was doing what he was born for, what he loved.

The spotter slapped his calf hard. His pulse jerked. He thrust himself out of the plane and into the roaring slipstream. And hurtled ninety miles an hour toward the fiery earth.

The wind rose again, swirling the orange flames high and pushing sparks and smoke over the line. Cade cut off his chain saw and lifted his arm to wipe the sweat dripping down his cheeks beneath his hard hat.

Something wasn’t right; he could feel it. But what? They’d secured the heel without problems and begun scratching a line up both flanks. But instead of feeling confident they would slay this dragon, unease slid through his gut. And he’d fought fires for too many years to ignore his instincts.

Unsettled, he strode to the pile of equipment and set down his saw, then pulled his canteen from his personal-gear bag. He drank deeply, letting the warm water soothe his parched throat.

“Hey, Cade.”

His smokejumping bro, Trey Campbell, strolled over. They’d rookied the same year out of Missoula and jumped together ever since. And after Jordan had deserted him, they’d spent more nights than he could remember frequenting Montana’s bars.

Trey rummaged in his own bag and pulled out his water. “Any word on this wind?” he asked.

“No, but it feels like it’s picking up.” He frowned back at the fire. Heavy brush and snags littered the forest floor, fueling the surging flames. The erratic wind kicked up sparks and slopped spot fires over the line.

He recapped his canteen, pulled out his radio and keyed the mike. “Dispatch, this is McKenzie.”

His radio crackled. “Go ahead, McKenzie.”

“Any idea what’s going on with this wind? It’s blowing the hell out of our line.”

Voices murmured in the background. “We’ll call the district for an update,” the dispatcher said. “We’ll get right back to you on that.”

“Thanks.” He stuffed the radio in the side pocket of his bag. “Do you mind taking over for awhile?” he asked Trey. “There’s a cabin by the rim of the canyon I need to check out, make sure there aren’t any people hanging around.” Like his ex-wife? His stomach tightened but he quickly discounted that thought. “They’re going to need a head start getting out of here if that wind shifts.”

“That your old cabin by any chance?”

“Yeah.” Which he’d surrendered to Jordan, along with any illusions he’d ever had about marriage. “After I swing by the cabin, I’ll recon the head again, too. When dispatch gets back with that wind report, we can decide where to build line tonight.”

“Got it.” Trey’s teeth flashed white in his soot-streaked face. He shoved his canteen into his personal-gear bag, picked up his chain saw, and loped back toward the line.

Cade took a final swallow of water, then stuffed his canteen in his own personal-gear bag. He moved a small notebook and compass to the side pocket with the radio, and secured the flap.

A sudden blur in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he glanced up. A blazing snag pitched silently forward, and his heart stopped.

A widow maker. A dead, burning tree that fell without warning, killing anyone in its path. And it was heading straight for their line.

“Watch out,” he shouted. “A snag!”

The men immediately scattered—except for one. His jump partner, the rookie. The kid looked up, then froze.

Oh, hell. Cade lunged to his feet and sprinted forward. The tree toppled closer and his adrenaline surged. With a final burst of speed, he barreled into the rookie and knocked him out of the way.

And was instantly slammed to the ground.

His breath fled as a massive weight crushed his back. He struggled to lift his face from the dirt, but branches covered his head.

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. Where was the rookie? He tried to shout, but couldn’t move his mouth.

He shoved against the ground but the branches trapped him. Heat blazed up his back and his adrenaline rose. He pushed again, his efforts futile against the punishing weight.

“Cade! Are you okay? Oh, God. Get him out!”

“We need saws in here,” someone else yelled over the roar. “Hurry up!”

Cade’s eyes burned. He choked down hot smoke and coughed. Heat crawled up his neck and he gasped for breath.

Chain saws wailed and men shouted. The weight shifted slightly and the branches thrashed above him. Then suddenly, they were gone.

He lifted his head and sucked in air. Work boots stood inches from his face, along with green Nomex pants.

“Oh, man,” the rookie said, his voice trembling. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t touch him.” Trey crouched beside him. “Speak to me, buddy.”

“I’m fine,” Cade managed.

“Are you sure?” the rookie asked. “Man, that was close.”

“Damn close,” Trey said. “He’s lucky the trunk missed him. If he’d been one second slower…”

But he’d escaped, and so had the rookie. “Thanks, guys.” He struggled to push himself upright. Pain knifed his shoulder and he hitched in a ragged breath.

“Hold on. We’ll help you up,” Trey said.

“I can do it.” He wasn’t injured, for God’s sake. He just needed to catch his breath. “Just get a line around that snag before it spreads the fire.”

He forced himself to his knees. Nausea roiled through his belly, but he ignored it and stood.

He waited until the ground steadied and the chain saws started up again. Then, his head down, his right shoulder throbbing, he staggered off the line. His pulse lurched. His skull hammered. Sweat and ash stung his eyes.

The rookie stayed with him. “I still can’t believe how fast that fell. I didn’t even hear it coming.”

Cade stopped near the pile of equipment. He inhaled, and pain seared straight to his ribs.

“Man, do I owe you,” the rookie continued. “I can’t believe I froze like that.”

“Forget it.”

“No, really. If you hadn’t pushed me out of the way—”

“We’d be peeling your skin off that stob,” Trey said from behind them. “Look, we’ll do the play-by-play later. Grab a Pulaski and help get that damned thing inside the line.”

“Sure.” The rookie grabbed the ax-like Pulaski. “Thanks again, man. I owe you.” He turned and trotted off.

Cade tipped back his head. Even that small movement made him grimace.

“We’d better look at that shoulder,” Trey said.

“I’m fine. I just need to catch my breath.” He bent to grab his canteen, then froze as his back and ribs pulsed.

Angry now, he straightened. A wave of dizziness blurred his eyes.

“Come on, Cade. You know the rules.”

He knew the drill, all right. Safety first. Get an injured man off the mountain. Anyone who couldn’t outrun a fire endangered himself and the other jumpers.

And he was far too professional to compromise his men.

But he wasn’t seriously injured. His shoulder was probably just wrenched. And smokejumpers worked hurt all the time. Bad knees, sprained ankles…Chronic pain came with the job.

Besides, he couldn’t leave the fire—his fire. Not until they had it under control.

And those damn doctors. What if they took him off the jump list? Hell! He couldn’t stop jumping now, not with fires raging all over the west.

Not ever. Dread rolled through his gut. “Just give me a minute,” he said. “I’ll shake it off.” He reached up to remove his hard hat. Pain flamed through his shoulder and he dropped his hand. He glanced at Trey and saw the doubt in his eyes.

“We can’t wait,” Trey said. “If this wind picks up, they’ll ground the choppers. We need to call it in now.”

“A few more minutes won’t matter. Look, I’ll go check out that cabin and make sure no one’s hanging around. If my shoulder isn’t better by then, I’ll call it in myself.”

“Cade—”

“For God’s sake. Nothing’s broken.” With supreme effort, he picked up his PG bag and swung it over his left shoulder. Sweat popped out on his forehead and he struggled to breathe.

Trey shook his head. “All right, but I’m going with you, and we’ll scout a landing spot on the way.”

“Fine.” He hated pulling a man off the line, but didn’t bother to argue. He knew he’d need every bit of breath he had for the steep trek to the cabin.

By the time they reached Granite Canyon, Cade could hardly stay upright. His head reeled, hot pain ripped through his shoulder, and his ribs burned whenever he breathed.

He stopped at the black Jeep Liberty parked under the trees and propped himself against it to catch his breath.

“You okay?” Trey asked.

“A little winded.” He blinked to clear his blurred vision.

“McKenzie?” a voice on his radio called.

“I’ll see who’s in the cabin,” Trey said.

“Go ahead.” Glad to have an excuse to lean against the Jeep, Cade pulled his radio from his bag. “McKenzie here.”

“This is dispatch. We got that weather report you wanted.”

“Good. What’s the forecast?” He watched Trey stride to the door.

“Right now it’s holding steady at fifteen knots, with gusts up to twenty-five. But there’s a front coming through….”

The cabin door opened. A tall, slender woman stepped out and her dark hair gleamed in the light. Trey shifted sideways, and Cade caught sight of her face.

His heart stalled. His chest cramped tight, and suddenly, he felt dazed, as if the tree had crushed him again.

His gaze swept over her features. Those dark, exotic eyes. That full, erotic mouth. And damned if he didn’t still feel that pull, that powerful lure of passion and innocence that had once demolished his heart.

He scowled. Innocence, hell. She was as helpless as a rattler, and about as trustworthy, too.

She looked past Trey and their gazes latched. Her dark eyes widened and she mouthed his name.

Bitterness seeped through his gut. His ex-wife. Just what he’d needed to cap off a hell of a day.

“Did you get that?” the person on the radio asked.

“Yeah, I heard you.” He turned his back on his ex-wife. The motion set off another wave of dizziness. “Listen. There’s a Forest Service road that runs just north of the fire, then intersects with Highway 10. Is it still clear?”

“It is for now. In an hour it could get dicey. The front’s going to push that way.”

Unless they stopped the fire first.

“Okay. Let me know if anything changes. We’ve got a civilian heading out that way.” He turned the radio to scan.

Trey jogged over. “She’s packing up now. She’ll be out of here in just a few minutes.”

“Great.” He shoved his radio into his bag and sharp pain jolted his shoulder. He sucked in his breath.

“Some shock seeing her again,” Trey added.

“Yeah.” Shock didn’t begin to describe it. He felt that familiar anger blaze through him, the same rage and resentment that had consumed him for months. The fury that he’d let himself be conned by a pretty face in search of an easy paycheck. And had convinced himself it was love.

“How’s the shoulder?” Trey asked.

He brought his attention back to his job. Smokejumping. Fighting fire. The only thing that mattered. Everything he was.

But he had to face the harsh truth. He couldn’t work this fire with his body in this condition, and refusing to leave could endanger the troops.

“It hurts like hell,” he admitted. “My collarbone’s probably cracked. I’d better get it checked.”

“Do you want me to call for a chopper?”

“There’s no place to land. The nearest clearing’s a mile up that ridge.” He’d hiked this forest enough to know.

“So we cut a spot.”

“We don’t have time. A front’s moving in. If we don’t get that fire stopped now it could go big.” Which would endanger the men even more. And he could never live with himself if that happened.

“So what do you suggest?” Trey asked.

What else could he do? The men couldn’t afford to waste valuable time clearing a landing pad, and he couldn’t get himself to that ridge.

He glanced at the Jeep. Dread churned through his gut and the bitter taste of gall filled his mouth.

It had been one hell of a day, all right. And it was about to get even worse.

He slowly turned back to the cabin. The door opened and Jordan stepped out, carrying a bag. He smiled grimly. “It looks like I’m going to hitch myself a ride.”