“Sounds interesting.” Tara heaved the brush outside of the line. “O’Connor’s an EMT? Geez, what can’t he do?”
“He’s not good at relationships.” Silva took off his hardhat and brushed back his chestnut brown hair. His rolled-up sleeves revealed forearms with bird tats, covered with hair.
“Well, that’s random. How long have you known him?”
“We go back a few years. He’s a player and quite the heartbreaker. Never have seen him with the same woman twice.”
She raised her brows, looking up at him. He was nearly as tall as Ryan. “Oh, really?”
“Hey, Jon,” yelled Tupa. “Need you back here for a minute.”
“Nice talking to you.” He winked at her and returned to the back of the crew line.
Silva had paid her some attention in class, but more so now that they were working outside. So, Ryan was a player? She tried not to let Silva’s comments bother her, but his words stuck to her like glue.
Enough of this, she needed to focus. Saw, toss brush, chop out vegetation, scrape to mineral soil. She liked the cadence of the chainsaws; the sound of work being done. She thought of Dad, how he’d gracefully handled his Stihl as if it were an extension of his arm.
It took a good while for all three crews to reach a rhythm. Occasionally, people fell out of the order and Tara somehow found herself behind Hudson. He took his time tossing lightweight brush, annoying those behind him by leaving the heavy logs.
“Heads up, falling timber,” hollered Silva, lifting his chainsaw away from a fifteen-foot tree.
Everyone cleared until the tree hit the ground. Tupa limbed it with his chainsaw. “Swamp it.”
“I got it. Get clear,” hollered Tara, lifting the log and heaving it up onto her right shoulder. She braced to toss it outside of the fireline. Just as she pitched it, Hudson got in the way.
The log struck his hardhat, knocking him to the ground.
“What the fuck?” He rolled on the ground, clawing at his hat to tug it off.
Tara stood, stunned. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—"
“You could have killed me!” Hudson leered. He felt his head then peered at his fingers. No blood, but the log had cracked his hardhat. He held it up. “If this were my head, I’d be dead.”
“I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t have gotten in the way.” She replayed it in her mind. No, she wasn’t the one who’d screwed up.
“O’Connor!” yelled Hudson. He stood and glared at her. His otherwise not-bad-looking demeanor turned dark, his face a deep red. Veins bulged in his neck, sending chills through her. She had an urge to flee. Instinctively, she stepped back.
Ryan trotted up. “What happened?”
She breathed relief at his presence. Not that she couldn’t handle herself, but the demonic look in Hudson’s eyes set off all kinds of alarm.
“Waters threw this log at me.” If Hudson could spit poisonous venom she’d be dead.
“It was an accident. He got in the way right as I tossed it.” She stared at Ryan.
Ryan examined Hudson’s cracked hardhat, then his scalp. “You aren’t bleeding, but you might get a lump. Are you dizzy?” He peered at Hudson. “Your eyes aren’t dilated, but you should be checked for concussion.”
“He got in the way just as I threw the log.” She sounded like a recording.
He studied her a long moment, expressionless, making her uncomfortable.
“Everyone take five,” Ryan announced to the crew. “Hudson, I’ll have someone drive you back to the med clinic. Waters, come with me.” He crooked his finger at her and strode off into the woods, radioing for someone to come fetch Hudson.
Her heart sped and not in a good way. Ryan seemed pissed. He blasted through brush as if it weren’t there, his boots snapping twigs. She followed him behind a large clump of alder where no one would hear.
He stopped and faced her. “What’s with the attitude?” He removed his sunglasses and let them dangle to his chest, his mouth a straight line.
She stopped short of bumping into him and folded her arms. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said haltingly.
“You’ve seemed pissed off ever since this morning. You’re out of sorts with me. I get it. But heaving a log at a guy? You shouldn’t take retribution on an assumption.” His all-business voice chopped her like an axe.
“You think I hit Hudson on purpose for sabotaging Angela?” Her voice rose.
“There’s no proof Hudson weighted her pack. Or Rego, for that matter,” he said evenly.
“Then find out who did. Sabotaging another firefighter is a malicious act and whoever did it should be fired!”
“I’m looking into it. You can’t fire people on an assumption.”
“You don’t believe me when I tell you they did it? Why aren’t people held accountable anymore?” Her exasperation bubbled into a boiling froth.
“I can’t fire these guys without proof.” His calm manner now irritated her.
“So, they’ll get away with sabotaging Angela and trying to get me fired?”
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “When people get away with gender discrimination, it burns out of control like a runaway fire and a guy has sex with people he works with in every town he visits without giving a shit how it hurts others, when all it boils down to is he thinks he’s God’s gift to women—” She stopped herself and froze, her words wafting in the air like acrid smoke.
Oops. How had this become a rant about Travis McGuire? Her face heated and sweat beaded her forehead. She swiped at it and squeezed her eyes closed, scrunching her face. In what seemed forever, she forced a lid open and peeked at him.
“Are you done?” he asked in a quiet voice.
She took a moment to regroup and cool herself down. “I didn’t mean—what I meant to say was, I was talking about Angela’s fitness test. Someone wanted her to fail.”
“That may be, but we need to
