Liz guffawed and even Tara laughed.
“Time! Not fast enough.” Ryan stood at the end of the crew line and pointed his sunglasses toward the women, as a groan emanated from the crew. Everyone looked at the three laughing women.
“Hey, not our fault.” Angela wiped away tears and held up a hand at the crew.
The more Tara thought about it, the more her unresolved anger with Travis rolled back on her. Here she was, deep in the heart of Alaska, and her hurt and anger were as fresh as ever. Stop talking and thinking about him.
“Aurora, take a five-minute break,” called out Ryan.
Ryan approached the women. “Ladies, how about splitting up and mixing with other crew? Waters, Skowran, move down the line. Divina, you can stay here.”
“Sure, no problem.” Liz moved to insert herself between two guys.
Angela stayed put, as Ryan suggested.
Tara sent Ryan a solemn look before stepping down to insert herself between two crew members. Did he think we were having a sewing circle or something? Her irritation stuck in her throat, so she held it there rather than smart off with something she’d regret.
Everyone resumed digging fireline until Ryan called another break.
Tara lifted the tip of her neck bandana and wiped her face.
The broad-shouldered guy working next to her dropped to the ground and sat cross-legged. He looked up at her. “Hi, I’m Jon Silva.” He rested his Pulaski across his lap and took a sip from his canteen.
“Tara Waters.” She plopped down next to him, unscrewing the lid from her canteen.
“I know. Pleased to meet you, Tara.” He leaned back and positioned his hardhat on his face for a fast nap. “I’m glad we’re on the same crew.”
Ryan will have Aurora Crew dig fireline all day and night, if necessary. He put the crew through their paces to the point of exhaustion. He understood the women’s inclination to work near each other, but he also knew the importance of them blending with the rest of the crew.
He observed Tara working from behind his sunglasses. She tore at the ground as if she were at war with it. Sweat poured down her face and she wiped it away with her sleeve. Every so often she’d touch the orange bandana around her neck. It kind of turned him on. Knock it off, O’Connor…not the time, not the place.
That wasn’t all he noticed. Silva had been paying close attention to Tara. Ryan knew him well. They’d taken EMT training together, and Silva had been the chief fire medic on several fires. Last season he treated Ryan for a sprained knee and lacerations from a bad jump landing. Silva had also worked fires as a crew boss. He was well-known and had a good reputation. His smooth charisma appealed to everyone, especially women. A pang jabbed Ryan’s chest at the thought of Tara succumbing to Silva’s’ charms.
The sound of grunting and metal clicking against rocks filled the air, interspersed with Gunnar calling out to advance the line. The crew worked steadily, and Ryan stood sentinel with his stopwatch. “Time.”
The crew leaned on their tools, wiping sweat and sipping water. The nagging sun beat down.
“Eighty-five feet in six minutes. Again.”
Everyone groaned with sighs all around.
“Sorry, people,” said Ryan. “Alaska fires burn hot and fast. You don’t want to learn this the hard way.” He clicked his stopwatch.
“Again!”
Chapter 14
Ryan was a different guy out here in the woods. If Tara wasn’t so irritated with him, his incident command mode might have turned her on. Yesterday maybe, but not today.
An eternity passed before he called time and clicked his stopwatch. “Better. Ninety-five feet in six minutes. Good. Now let’s cut a saw line.” Ryan took off for the vehicles.
Tara pushed off the ground and fell in line to hike back to the trucks.
Once there, Ryan told the certified sawyers to come forward and grab a chainsaw. Silva, Tupa, and a guy named Wolfgang each picked one up. Ryan handed them leather chaps and saw tools. “Your PPE, gentlemen.”
Ryan addressed the crew. “You dug a fireline, so you know the difficulty of digging through tundra. In Alaska, we mostly do saw lines. We’ll be working with another crew. Sawyers will cut trees and brush, so stay clear when trees fall. Be safety aware, know what’s going on around you. Toss the brush outside of the saw line. Capisce?”
“Yeah.” A communal response and a bobbing of heads.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Ryan waved everyone to move on and led off at a fast clip. People worked to keep up.
After a mile or so, they stopped in an area with dead trees from beetle kill. Another crew was already on site. Tara’s stomach fell to her boots when she spotted Rego and Hudson.
Ryan pointed to pink flagging tied to dead snags every thirty feet as far as Tara could see. “Here’s your line. Sawyers in position.”
Silva, Tupa, and Wolfgang moved ahead of the pack, sawing alders and willow bushes.
“Brush clearers, go,” ordered Ryan, gesturing the next four people in the line to pick up brush and toss it outside of the saw line.
The rest followed in the same order as before; chopping remaining vegetation, hacking roots, and scraping to mineral soil. Sawyers cut trees and Tara followed a safe distance behind, swamping brush away from the fireline. She respected chainsaws, knowing loggers in Missoula who’d lost body parts due to fatigue or carelessness.
She noticed Ryan talking to some fire bosses, gesturing with his clipboard. Probably talking about crew assignments.
Silva came up behind her. “So, what happened with Angela in the pack test?”
Tara glanced back at him. “She wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t finish. O’Connor had her taken to the med clinic.” No way would she tell Silva the real reason. Not until she found out who’d wanted Angela to fail her fitness test.
“It’s handy having two certified EMTs around.” Silva chopped at brush.
“Two?”
“O’Connor and myself. He’s a certified Smokejumper EMT,
