Firecamp

Chapter One

When the hum of the highway became a bumpy, crunching dirt road, Nora straightened, rousing herself from pleasant daydreams about what the coming fall would bring.

While she’d been imagining her future, the familiar green of her Brighton Valley home had given way to a high desert wilderness; sandy soil grassland presented mixed scrub, including creosote and saltbush, along with yucca and cholla cactus.

Here and there, hearty pi?on pines and junipers dotted the landscape.

The high mountain peaks still held touches of snow, making for a distinct contrast.

Settling back, she closed her eyes again, returning to the dream of reinventing herself by finishing the last two years of her four-year degree with a transfer to Arizona State University.

All her life, she’d tried to find a comfortable place in her family, first among her rough-and-tumble older brothers and then as the trendy girl her mother wanted her to be.

Her parents had provided a home, food, and clothing, and she’d tried to repay them by being the dutiful daughter they expected.

For the most part, anyway. But after this summer, that compliant girl would be gone, and the Nora she’d always wanted to be—truly unfettered and altogether self-reliant—would take her place.

She’d planned and strategized for months about how to take a giant step away from her homelife, but all it had taken was goading her father into a simple wager.

“Is that a hitchhiker?” Her younger brother Tyler’s adolescent voice cracked in the silence. Their father only grunted as he braked.

Tyler’s excited tone piqued Nora’s interest, and she squinted into the sunlight.

A tall figure stepped out of an ancient car, the kind her older brother Rudy referred to as a land yacht.

Though the driver had attempted to angle it off the narrow, two-lane road, her father still needed to swerve slightly to avoid the flared red fender.

The person gave a casual wave but didn’t approach.

Her father opened his door and stood, the engine still running. “You lost?” he called.

“Not that I know of.”

The composed voice was higher pitched, and Nora rubbed at her face, intrigued. A woman?

“Breakdown?” her dad pressed.

“Runs like a top.” A shrug. “Except when she’s out of gas.”

“You’re not aware there’s a gauge for that?”

Nora rolled her eyes. The veiled insult meant the person was definitely female. He’d never say such a thing to another man. She was surprised by the pleasant laugh that answered him.

“Well, she runs good, but a few accessories, including the gas gauge, are a little less dependable.”

“How far you going?”

The woman swept an appraising glance over Nora and Tyler, still in the Jeep, before stepping closer.

She gestured down the road. “I think it’s only a few more miles.

It’s an outdoor work group thing. Mainly for fire mitigation but also for forest health.

” She turned and looked out over the scrub oaks and Ponderosa pines now visible from the roadside, drawing Nora’s attention to the landscape.

A radiant slant of light caught in the artful curve of a fallen tree made Nora long for her beloved Canon EOS 7D digital SLR camera, but she’d packed it away in her bag since her father would never stop to let her take pictures.

Then the woman’s words registered. Outdoor work group?

Fire mitigation? Her interest heightened, and she lowered the window. “Are you going to Firecamp?”

The woman pivoted, leaning to look into the Jeep. “I am.” A swish of long dark hair fell forward over her shoulder, pulling the tied red bandana to the side. “It’s going to be so great. Are you going too?” Her eyes, almost the exact blue of the Colorado sky, shone as she smiled.

Nora’s breath caught. The woman was younger than she’d first thought, closer to her own twenty years, and her enthusiasm seemed entirely genuine. Nora wet her lips and allowed herself to enjoy the pleasant, open expression as the woman waited for her reply.

“Nora.” Her father’s grating voice ruined the moment as he killed the engine. “Instead of sitting there gawking, why don’t you make yourself useful and get the spare gas?”

She gritted her teeth, shoving the door open with enough force that the woman had to jump back.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be there,” she muttered, ignoring the baffled look on the woman’s face.

Stalking around the rear bumper, she grabbed the five-gallon can that Tyler had barely managed to lift from its mount.

His freckled face was flushed with anxiety, and she paused to ruffle his hair.

“I got it, kiddo.” The last thing she wanted to do was add another father-daughter skirmish to the countless ones Tyler had already witnessed, especially since she was about to leave for three months.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the woman watching for a few seconds before she followed their father as he limped purposefully toward her car.

“Name’s Jeffrey Palmer. I was a smoke jumper for twelve years,” he said, pointing to his leg, “before a fire whirl threw off my landing and put me on disability. But I still do all right.” They shook hands.

Nora’s familiar anger sparked. Sure, pretend you care about helping a stranger when all you really want is the opportunity to brag about your so-called heroic exploits.

She knew from experience that anything he did for his family came at a cost. But after this summer, he’d owe her, and she was going to collect.

“Yes, sir.” The woman continued the conversation. “I can see you do. But wow. That must have been an exciting life.”

She sounded almost awestruck. Nora understood.

Her father had seemed godlike to her as a child as she and her older brothers had fought fiercely for his meager consideration and infrequent praise.

When Tyler was deemed old enough to begin his indoctrination at her father’s hand, Nora had been remitted to her mother’s supervision, even though she’d become nearly as proficient as Art and Rudy at handling and repairing the tools of the firefighting trade.

Demonstrating strength and toughness had given her a sense of pride, so she’d felt emptied by the rejection, except for a kernel of resentment that had sprouted and grown over the years.

Thankfully, Nora’s new duties included babysitting, and Tyler’s sweet, loving nature helped offset her bitterness as she struggled with finding her authentic self.

Still, Art and Rudy began teasing her about becoming a sissy, and her father never missed a chance to expound on how females were too soft for real work.

This from the man who had taught her chainsaw use and maintenance and given her a Pulaski axe for her twelfth birthday. Irony much?

Nora watched her father favor the woman with a rare smile. “Well, my oldest boy Arthur commands a hotshot team, and his younger brother, Rudy, joined a helitack crew. So I guess that tells you something.”

“And now your daughter’s doing her part at Firecamp,” the woman said with a glance back. “That’s a meaningful contribution as well.”

Gratified at having her involvement acknowledged, Nora inclined her head.

The woman returned the gesture, but when her father countered with a perfunctory grunt, Nora frowned, not caring if any of them noticed.

Her only concern was securing the financial assistance she needed for out-of-state tuition by winning that bet.

Successfully completing Firecamp—something her own father didn’t think she could do—would get her the funds and a one-way ticket to Arizona, and that was all she wanted from the experience.

His much-proclaimed my word is my bond mindset meant he wouldn’t dare welch on his part of the bargain once she’d fulfilled hers.

Her parents thought college was fine as long as she was also looking for a husband while she was there.

They believed she’d need a man to take care of her.

But Nora’s plans didn’t include firefighting, men, or the business marketing degree her parents were anticipating.

Her acceptance at ASU’s prestigious Herberger Institute School of Art meant she could pursue the calling that stirred her soul.

She hoped to have a year before they noticed she’d changed her major to photojournalism.

It was all within her grasp, and she’d done everything she could think of to ensure she’d make it through the summer at Firecamp.

Claiming that being around novice chainsaw users made her longer style unsafe, she’d cut her light brown hair daringly short, styling it with enough gel to appease her mother’s shock.

Along with the camera that had cost her two years’ savings, she’d packed the one dress she was willing to wear—at her mother’s insistence—but otherwise, her bag was full of the jeans and T-shirts and sweatshirts she’d always preferred but had put aside to make her mother happy.

She’d taken weeks to break in her new work boots, and now they fit perfectly.

“Are you gonna stand there like an airhead, Nora, or did you want to put that gas in the tank?”

Embarrassed by her father’s derision, she surveyed the driver’s side. She couldn’t help admiring the vehicle’s long lines, though there was no gas cap in sight. She motioned brusquely to Tyler. “Check the other side.”

He went and returned, shaking his head.

Her father and the stranded woman were peering under the hood. Nora set the can down none too gently and stalked around the trunk, scanning the passenger’s side. Tyler was right. There was no sign of a fuel tank.