“Don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.” Silva cold trailed his fingers through ash and soil. “I’d be careful about trusting him.”
Tara gave him a slight nod. She swung her tool so hard a cloud of ash dust and dirt swirled up and she coughed.
“Angela, do you have a wipe handy? Got something in my eye.” Tara faked it to avoid further conversation with Silva and made her way over to Angela.
Silva kept working and moved some distance ahead.
Angela unzipped her shirt pocket and produced a clean wipe. Tara removed her sunglasses and wiped her eyes.
“Thanks. Much better.” She resumed cold trailing the soil.
“Careful, careful,” sing-songed Angela in a low voice.
“You catch all that?” Tara pursed her lips.
“Course I did. My hearing is so good I can hear a mosquito sneeze in the woods,” lilted Angela, swinging her Pulaski and dragging it through the soil. “I should work for the CIA. Maybe I’ll meet a Jack Ryan. Think they’re taking job applications?”
“Sure, why not.” Tara scowled at the ground. “So why is Silva talking about my Ryan?”
“Please tell me you aren’t that clueless. Silva is so sweet on you, he’ll say anything. Guys are as shrewd as women when competing for one. But to their credit, they aren’t as vindictive.” Angela smothered a smoke with dirt.
“But Silva saw me with Ryan, so he should have gotten the message.”
“And Silva saw you leave without Ryan. Why did you do that?”
“Got cold feet. I didn’t want a Travis 2.0…didn’t want to get burned again.” Tara stood and leaned back, gazing up at a towering, charred spruce. “Like this poor tree.”
“Hey.” Angela straightened and gave Tara a look of reproach. “You and the tree may have been torched, but you’re both still standing.”
Tara gave her a wry smile. “Divina, you have skills. You should be a therapist.”
Angela scoffed. “I’ll get right on that after I work under cover for the CIA as a panda bear trainer. Seriously, you should give Ryan a chance. He strikes me as good people. Besides, he puts fires out. He wouldn’t burn you.”
“I hope you’re right.” Tara appreciated her friend’s positivity. Travis put out fires too, and he burned me.
Why did Silva care whether Ryan hurt her or not? Whether Silva’s comments were true or not, she knew one thing for sure: She wouldn’t let herself become just another line on Ryan's parachute.
Aurora Crew finished their twelve-hour shift. Silva tried finding air transport back to base camp, but all helos were busy slinging water loads and transferring other crews.
“We’re hiking back to base camp,” he announced.
A groan reverberated through the crew, weary from their long shift.
Tara and Liz fell in at the end of the line, debating what they'd wish for if they found a genie in a bottle. Liz couldn't decide between a bottle of expensive champagne or a massage by Jason Momoa. Tara preferred the massage…but from a certain smokejumper.
Hudson’s voice grumbled behind Tara. “Silva can’t expect us to work a twelve-hour shift, then make us hike all the way back to camp.”
“So, pack up your toys and go home.” Tara tossed over her shoulder. She was in too good of a mood to let Hudson's whining annoy her today.
“And don’t let a spruce hit your ass on the way out,” quipped Liz in front of her.
Hudson appeared next to Tara and slid an arm around her. “You should be the one to go home,” he whispered in her ear. “After what you did to me.”
Tara yanked herself away from him. “And what might that be?”
“You assaulted me. Then left me on those damn antlers.” He moved in close and brushed a hand across her breast. “I know a way you can make it up to me.”
She shoved him back. “I decked you once. By God I’ll do it again.” Her teeth clenched, along with her chest.
Hudson laughed. “We’ll talk later, babe.” He smooched his lips at her, then jogged up front to walk with Rego.
Not if I can help it. The first time Hudson groped her she should have reported him. She didn’t want the stigma of being a complainer, but if she let him get away with his behavior, she’d be part of the problem. I don't need this on my first project fire.
She would take care of the problem.
Once and for all.
Chapter 27
Melbourne left the rotors spinning as eight smokejumpers hefted in their gear and pulled themselves on board the Bell Super Huey transport.
“Burnin’ daylight, folks,” said Mel into his hot mic from his left front seat, as Ryan heaved himself in beside him. He pushed back his hair to put on the flight helmet and snapped the strap under his chin.
Ryan spoke into his hot mic. “This one damn near kicked our ass.”
“I heard.” Mel scanned left and right before lifting off.
“What’s the plan, Stan?” Ryan buckled his seat belt.
“My instructions are to return you guys to the Jump Shack.” Mel stared ahead, guiding the helicopter to cruise altitude. He glanced at Ryan. “Afraid I have bad news. There’s been a smokejumper fatality.”
Ryan closed his eyes, dread locking his chest. “Which base?”
“Missoula. Jumping a fire in Idaho. Chutes didn’t open.”
“Have they released the name?”
“McGuire.”
A scorching realization. “Not Travis McGuire.”
Mel scanned his airspace. “Yeah, he’s the one. Know him?”
“Jumped a few fires with him in the Lower Forty-eight. He IC’d the Copper Peak Fire I jumped in Montana a month ago.”
The same fire where he met Tara.
Oh no. Tara. She planned to marry the guy at one time. Ryan didn’t want her hearing it on random radio chatter or some other way. He should be the one to tell her. Or should he? They were beginning a relationship; one he hoped would have staying power. But McGuire was a fellow jumper, so Ryan thought it was only right he should tell her.
He stared at the birds-eye view of the Richardson Highway leading to Fairbanks. Any firefighter
