Chinook’s population boasted one hundred but doubled in summer with firefighters and miners. After dinner, Tara, Angela, and Liz jogged around town, which took all of twenty minutes. One gravel road ran four blocks, bisecting Chinook, and that was it. A block from the fire station sat the Yukon Roadhouse, a combination bar, restaurant, and hotel.
The crew met for dinner in the cozy dining room of the main building. Tara, Angela, and Liz sat at one end of a long table with the rest of the crew, talking about the upcoming week. Silva came over to join them and took a seat next to Tara.
“What was the deal with you and O’Connor? You two had your fangs out with each other.” Silva lifted a water glass and sipped.
Tara shrugged. “We didn’t see eye to eye, that’s all.”
“You and O’Connor had a ‘you-make-me-want-to-be-a-worse-person’ thing going on at the end of training.” Silva glanced at her. “When people go at it like you two, something’s going on.”
“Nothing going on. I don’t hit on firefighters—or smokejumpers for that matter.”
“What if they hit on you?”
“I don’t encourage it.” Tara’s firm tone hopefully sent him a loud and clear message.
Silva’s head tilted with an appealing smile. “It’s not a mortal sin to fall for people you work with. Happens all the time. Didn’t you ever watch Grey’s Anatomy or Parks and Recreation?”
Tara leaned back. “I’m only here to fight fire.”
“So am I.” His brown eyes sparkled at her and his head tilted, reminding her of a suave movie star posing for a head shot.
She was curious why Silva always brought up Ryan. “The other day you said O’Connor was a heartbreaker. Why did you say that?”
“Just making conversation. Thought you should know his reputation with women.”
“What makes you an expert on relationships?” She reached for a biscuit and buttered it.
Liz and Angela had paused their conversation to listen. Tara noted Liz always stopped to listen to Jon Silva.
“I was married to three women.” He stated it so solemnly, Tara stifled a laugh.
“Wow! All at once? How did you meet them?” Liz popped a piece of biscuit in her mouth.
He gave her a reproachful look. “Give me a break. I’m not a polygamist. I found the first two in the traditional way—in a bar. The third was a birder I found on Tinder.”
“A birder on Tinder?” laughed Angela. “Do tell.”
“I was teaching ornithology at UAF while working on my doctorate,” said Silva. “I did a Big Year once with Audubon and came in at tenth place. I chase birds for fun.”
“As opposed to chasing women?” chuckled Liz. She leaned forward with interest. “Tell us about Bird Woman.”
“I fell in love with her photo on Tinder when she trolled for a birder husband. I wrote her a letter with the suitability statement she asked for. We were both working on doctorates, so it seemed like a perfect match. We married a month later.” Silva paused to sip from a glass.
“Then what?” asked Liz.
He continued. “Our research took us in opposite directions. I found out she hooked up with a birder dude in Mexico, tracking a green honeycreeper.”
“And?” asked Angela.
She and Liz waited expectantly as Silva milked the dramatic pauses, which amused Tara.
“Well, they never found the green honeycreeper.” Silva pursed his lips. “Unless it was in a hotel in Cancun. We divorced.”
“What happened to your first two wives?”
“They divorced me. I was always gone.” He smiled at Tara. “Every firefighter’s curse during fire season, and every birder’s curse chasing snowy owls.”
Silva was charming and entertaining and clearly loved being on center stage with the women on the crew. Knowing this, Tara decided to make it clear to him she had no interest, other than on a professional level.
The next morning after breakfast, Silva rattled off Aurora’s crew assignments. Bing Pickel said a quick good morning, handed Silva a to-do list, and scooted out again. He reminded Tara of the always-late white rabbit, in the way he dashed around.
“Also, I’m sure you’re aware we’re down two people from our crew this morning. One had a death in the family and the other left for personal reasons. AFS is sending two replacements.”
“Who?” asked Tupa, chomping one last piece of toast.
“Hudson and Rego.”
The women groaned.
Silva shrugged. “Sorry, AFS made those assignments.”
Tara’s stomach catapulted. Great. She still suspected one of them put the extra weight in Angela’s pack. She’d find out if it killed her.
“This is an appropriate time to get to know each other and congeal as a crew. We’ll split our work details accordingly. Oh, and keep an eye out for snowy owls. It’s the last northern bird on my list I haven’t seen. They bring good karma.” Silva caught Tara’s eye and smiled.
Silva divided the crew into three squads, six in each. He announced the squad bosses: Tara, Payson, and Liz, and tossed them each a set of truck keys and told them their work assignments for the day.
Tara led her squad out to a crew-cab pickup, where they grouped around her.“Let’s introduce ourselves, even though you might already be acquainted. I’m Tara Waters.”
“I’m Robin from Chicken, Alaska,” indicated one of the fair-haired twins with matching mustaches. He pointed a thumb at his brother. “He’s Bateman.”
“Bateman and Robin. That sounds like…” Tara raised her brows and grinned.
“Yeah, we know,” they both said at once.
She looked from one to the other. “How do I tell you apart?”
Bateman pointed to a black bat tatted on the side of his neck.
“Okay, I’m good with it.” Tara gave everyone a cheerful smile.
She was pleased Tupa was assigned to her squad. She enjoyed his positive vibes. But what a massive torso! She was amazed AFS found a Nomex shirt and pants large enough to fit him. “Tupa, tell us about yourself.”
“Born in Samoa and my family moved to Anchorage.” He rolled up his sleeves to display his cuff tattoos. His black beard and the ponytail pulled back on the high part of his scalp reminded her of
