Ryan shook his head. “Dude, your timing sucks.” He aimed his drip torch. Drip, poof, the sweet sound of igniting willow and alder, and the velvety sound as thirsty brush accepted flame.
“You have a good right hook. Shit, bro.” Gunnar moved his lower jaw back and forth.
“Had I known Hudson threatened Tara when I saw him today, I would have put him through plate glass.” Ryan moved sideways, working his drip torch. “Got all your teeth, Norske?”
“Near as I can tell.” Gunnar ran a finger over his teeth.
“Then man up and quit your bitching.” Ryan grinned at his jump partner. Satisfied with his backfire, he put out his drip torch and picked up a chainsaw.
Lion-eyed and determined, Ryan sprinted along the pipeline gravel pad to chainsaw nearby trees. He eyed the approaching flame towers, tossing embers and airborne debris, gunning for the pipeline like a terrorist hellbent on destruction.
His body worked on autopilot while his mind raced. Why didn’t Tara tell him about this? Had Hudson threatened her before or after Ryan saw her up at base camp? On the mountain, she’d told him she didn’t have a grip on anything. He’d assumed she meant McGuire’s death. He didn’t know whether to be angrier with Hudson or with Tara for not telling him.
Never had Ryan fought a fire with such fury. Thistles and nettles prickled his legs as he wielded his chainsaw like Conan the Barbarian; sword upon the enemy, slaying his ruthless foe. Intense, sweltering heat assaulted him, and sweat ran down the furrow in his back. Ash and dirt swirled while a crazed, irrational energy fueled him as he knocked down flames with a vengeance.
Several hours passed by the time Boone radioed. They’d contained their part of the fire. Ryan staggered back to take stock of the trees and foliage he’d destroyed to save a pipeline. He plodded up a small rise to assess. His back-burn strategy worked. Now out of fuel, the fire slowed, and smoke morphed from black to white. Good. Mission accomplished.
“O’Connor, you copy?” radioed the IC. “We’re sending crews to hold the line and mop-up. And a bird to extract your jump squad at TAPS Pipeline Milepost 562.”
“Copy.” Ryan gathered his jumpers and ordered them to pack up and haul equipment to their extraction point. Feeling spent, he fell in at the end of the line. He did his damnedest to compartmentalize and shove aside the disturbing events that had vaulted front and center into his world.
So, this was what passion for a woman was like—made him so savage he’d assaulted his best friend and leveled everything in sight to contain a fire. His anger had percolated into a full-blown conflagration.
After his night with Tara, Ryan found what he’d been searching for. A woman like her. She understood his world and knew what made him tick, more than he did. She was a smart, competent firefighter, and a beautiful woman with a terrific sense of humor and a heart of gold. And he admired her. She’d lit a fire in him. He couldn’t extinguish this flame—it burned too fierce. He’d do whatever it took to protect her, whether she wanted him to or not. Probably not. And that was a chance he was willing to take.
But what he loathed more than anything, were liars and vermin like Hudson screwing with his world. He’d underestimated the evil in the guy.
He resolved to find out the truth.
Even if it killed him.
Chapter 33
When Tara woke the next morning, she hastily dressed and readied herself for another day on the fireline. Making sure her fire shelter was secured in place below her pack, she slung her pack over her shoulders, wriggled into her harness, and buckled it.
Silva addressed the crew. “Listen up. More storm cells are moving in.” He paused to cough and clear his throat. “Both flanks have flared, and the fire’s made a sizeable run. We’ll work the left flank and back burn the green between the Richardson Highway and the flame front. We’ll have to hike to our assigned area. Aviation’s too busy to transport us.”
Aurora Crew grabbed their gear and filed out of base camp. Silva led the way with his GPS tracker in hand. The ICC computers had stopped talking to his tracker, so he’d entered their destination latitude and longitude manually.
Angela fell in line behind Tara. “Good, no more mop-up.”
“We’ll see real action today.” Tara couldn’t shake her unease eyeing the ominous rows of lofty cumulus clouds with charcoal bottoms, brooding over the mountains, waiting to wreak havoc on their world. Forked lightning zig-zagged across a purple sky and wind gusts swayed the trees. Her chest tightened.
“Not sure I like the looks of those clouds,” called out Liz, behind Angela.
“Me neither.” Angela scoped the sky. “But rain ought to help.”
“We’re crazy. We run toward danger when most run from it.” Liz chuckled. “At least there’s no snakes here. Not like in Nevada.”
“Only ravenous bears and wolves with a dash of charging moose and B-52 bomber mosquitoes.” Tara scanned the foreboding edge of the large front moving in. Dark plumes of fire smoke drew closer as they approached the left flank. The fire had ravaged several ridges and continued to spread.
“Okay folks, here’s where we start back burning.” Silva stopped walking and the crew gathered around him. “The IC wants us to stop the fire two miles from the highway, so they can keep it open. We’ll construct a new line and back burn toward the flame front. Know your escape routes and where everyone is at all times. Let’s go, kids.”
Silva’s radio announced a forecast of 60-mile-an-hour winds for the afternoon. Tara recalled the last time she experienced such a forecast, the day of the Copper Peak Fire.
Tara lit her fusee and torched alder and willow. She worked methodically, the morning breeze carrying the back burn toward the flame front. She watched the sky and kept track of her crewmates—Tupa, who
