Chapter 2
There was far toomuch smoke cascading down the tree-lined hillside. Maybe it had been a good thing Thunderbolt had misbehaved. Sophie would just load up the rest of her animals. They didn’t need to be breathing in this soot-laced air.
As she drove under the arched iron sign that spelled out her inherited ranch’s name, something moved on her porch. A man stood by her front door.
Of course today was the moment the bank’s loan department would finally be taking Sophie’s application to build more barns seriously.
Shifting her truck into neutral, she set the brake. Now was not the time for a visitor—she needed to get her horses out of here.
Except the man wasn’t wearing a suit.
She threw her truck door open. “Can I help you?”
The man finally turned. Blue eyes. Brown hair greased back.
His leathery, tanned face was at least twenty years older. A spotty beard supported a variety of white and gray along with its reddish-brown mixture which didn’t match the chestnut color poking out of his gray T-shirt. His tarnished, rounded work boots thumped against each of her porch steps. “This Valley Ranch?”
His voice had a strained quality that didn’t exactly sound welcoming.
There was something off about this guy. And she wasn’t about to tell him anything. “You looking for someone?”
He spat on the ground and tipped his chin toward the side of her house. “I pulled in looking for Lewy. My bike is parked over yonder. Think my gas gauge must be broken. It started to stall about a mile out, so I thought he’d spot me some gas to get me back into town.”
“You’re a friend of…Lewy’s?” Marley’s nephew, the teen who Sophie had been encouraged to offer a job, hadn’t been here in weeks. Sophie’s gaze went to the side of the porch, and she leaned closer to her own truck. The back of a motorcycle tire came into view on the other side of her house.
The man adjusted his belt buckle. “Yeah, I parked over there because I figured Lewy would have been back at the horse barn and all.”
No matter if he was looking for Lewis or not, a stranger should have parked at the front of the house, especially with the lack of gas. What did the man really want?
Even while he held her gaze, she didn’t miss the way his fingers tapped against his leg. Something wasn’t quite right with his story.
She inspected his bootcut jeans and his jean jacket. “How do you know Lewis Truitt?”
His gaze shifted over her shoulder, toward the hazy woods and then whipped back to hers. “I’m sort of mentoring the kid. He needs some, shall we say, molding.”
Sophie doubted this man would earn any stickers as a mentor.
He spat again and ran the edge of his boot over the chew-laced dirt. “But he’s proving to have some potential.”
Sophie took a step back. “I wish I would have seen more of that potential while he’d been here. But I’m sorry to say Lewis hasn’t worked here for a month.”
Forgetting to brush down Daisy was one thing, stealing two hundred dollars from Sophie’s kitchen crock was something else altogether.
She should have fired him after she’d caught him yelling at Peanut. However, she’d been trying to provide the second chance her friend Marley needed Lewis, her nephew and temporary ward, to have. Plus, Peanut wasn’t exactly an obedient mule.
“I hadn’t been told that.” The man clenched his jaw but then flashed a grin wide enough to reveal a missing back tooth. “So, about that gas? Don’t want to get stuck out here with the smoke rolling in. I heard they were evacuating the area. Hope you have someplace to wait out the fire.”
She retreated and swiped her cell phone off the dash of her truck. Her location wasn’t any of his concern. “It will only take a moment to grab the gas can from the shed.” And get this man on his way—away from her. “I’ll meet you at your bike.”
Except he ignored his beat-up Harley and matched each of her steps toward the white shed, catty-corner to her barn.
She quickened her pace. “You’re from Ember?”
“I’m there more often than not these days.”
Not really an answer. She rotated her phone in her hand and slid her thumb over the unlocked screen.
“Always be ready. For anything.” Her brother’s warning flashed in her head, the one he’d given her before he headed away on his first assignment, an undercover mission. He wasn’t even supposed to tell her that much about what he did for Homeland Security. But they had been the only person they each had left to depend on.
“Just in case, Lamby. Be ready.” The nickname her brother adopted for her after she became obsessed with a cartoon about two sheep siblings had stuck. In response, she had started calling him Crispin after the oldest sheep. It had helped that Crispin hated his first name. “People often hide their true motivations.”
Aw, now she had Crispin on the brain. Again.
She eyed the stranger out of the corner of her vision and slid the shed door wider with her hip. Walking inside, never turning her back to him, she picked up the red, plastic gas container.
“Here, let me get that.” With two long strides, his rough hand landed on hers and tugged the gas can out of her grip.
She didn’t even have time to suck in a breath before he marched away for his bike. Maybe the man really was only having a bad day.
Evacuation. Probably she needed to call the fire department and check on the status. She didn’t want to leave her dream property and potentially never see its buildings standing again.
Stupid fire.
God had given her this place as a fresh start. So why was He going to take it all away now?
As he unscrewed the gas cap on his motorcycle, his elbow pushed back a section of his jacket. A gun, tucked between his shirt and his jeans, made her bite down on her tongue.
Maybe she’d start with a call to the sheriff.
Sophie pressed against the door of the shed. A holstered gun was one thing. Even a normal thing in this area. She kept one in her closet. But one stuffed in a temporary position meant he’d probably shoved it there in a hurry. To hide it from whoever might see. Someone like her when she arrived home.
Her fingers tightened around her phone. Before she could process what to do next, he’d already taken the gas spout out of his motorcycle.
As he held out the gas can, his eyes snapped to hers. “Seems like a lot of ranch for one little lady. Hope you have a man around. Maybe a father, or a brother, or another hired hand since Lewy didn’t work out?”
Sophie took the offered gas container and then moved on the other side of the back tire, putting the motorcycle between her and the stranger. The man did not need any further information on her. “Hope the gas fixes your bike’s problems.”
With a tsk, he hiked his leg over his bike and shoved away the kickstand with his boot.
The deep throttle of the engine wasn’t the only thing rattling in Sophie’s chest. So many questions popped into her head, but her brother’s advice so long ago took center stage.
“Sometimes questions are good.” Crispin placed his hands on either side of her cheeks. “And sometimes questions cause trouble. If something ever doesn’t feel right, you get away as fast as you can. You promise me.”
She nodded.
Crispin raised one of his brows.
With a sigh, she said, “I promise.”
Her brother may have broken his word to her about his return, but Sophie would keep hers.
She pressed on a closed-lipped smile. “Be careful getting back with the fire and everything. The smoke can limit vision on the road quickly.”
He saluted her with two fingers. “Might want to check those fire alerts yourself. You’ve been mighty helpful, little Lamb,” he said with a wink.
He lifted his boots off the ground and sped off down her driveway. Even with the threat of an evacuation ticking away, she kept her focus on the road until she couldn’t hear the roar of his engine.
“Little Lamb.”
Had the stranger known her as Sophie Lamb, like the rest of the town of Ember?
Or as Rachel Tucker, whose brother nicknamed her Lamby. A name that needed to stay in the past.
Her phone beeped. The screen revealed her fears—an evacuation notice. Her gaze locked onto the hazy trees in the distance. More than just smoke was coming for her dream.
* * *
He only needed a little space from his memories. Then he’d be fine.
The teens were long gone, but the aftermath of their actions lived on. Including Houston’s hesitation.
Something he couldn’t let happen again.
Houston squeezed the handle in his hands and tossed dirt on the taunting coals.
Orion stood on the opposite boundary of the five square feet of the smoldering mess, raking in the dirt and snuffing out the occasional sparking pine cone. He cleared his throat. “James, you okay?”
But before Orion finished, their radios buzzed, and their chief came over the line. “I know you’re still watching your fire there, but there’s an evacuation order by the sheriff. I need one of you to do an evacuation check on a ranch. It’s about half a mile south of your GPS location. Aerial spotted a truck headed there. It hasn’t left yet. And the fire’s pushing that way hard.”
Houston took a step back from the heat. “I can go.”
Orion’s gaze shot across the smoke and pierced into Houston.
Once again, Orion pressed his lips together, and finally, he said into his radio, “James could gain some experience with an evacuation check.”
“As long as it gets done.” At the chief’s response, Houston let out the breath he’d been holding. “Be quick. The flames aren’t messing around today.”
They never do.
Orion wiped his brow with his forearm. “Copy. I’ll be wrapping it up here shortly and heading back to the line to help Benning.”
Houston broke down his shovel and shoved it into his pack. “First the teens. Now evacuation round up. Not exactly how I saw our day going.”
“Always got to be on our toes. Go get your head clear so we can end this fire. When we get back to HQ, we’ll need to talk about your hesitation with the flames.” Orion grimaced. “Can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But we’ve got to be able to depend on you.”
The weight of more than just the pack on his back seemed to hover on Houston. He couldn’t fail. “And you can depend on me.” He nodded as he tightened the straps over his shoulder. “After we destroy this fire, we can talk.”
By then there would be no need to talk about Houston’s hesitation. God wouldn’t have opened the door for him to become a firefighter if Houston couldn’t handle the position.
Right, God?
The jog through the woods stretched out Houston’s coiled muscles. As he hurdled over a downed log, he hummed the chorus the kids would request Houston to play on his guitar for the Wednesday class. It didn’t matter how old the hymn was. The words to “It Is Well” still were applicable no matter the generation singing. And especially to Houston.
Soon a valley snuck up below, where a white house with pale blue shutters was sandwiched between a winding rock driveway and a barn complete with a corral. A few sheds were lined up behind the house and a rectangular, open field anchored the end of the property. On the other side of the valley, another rolling hill of forest walled in the ranch. Up ahead, almost hidden due to the thickness of the pines on the other side of the road, far in the distance, a silver water tower poked up through the treetops on the opposite crest. Lettering on the side had faded beyond recognition other than the letter “E.”
Houston’s boots crunched against the ground as he marched down the dry, grassy incline. There was no vehicle in sight at the ranch. Hopefully, aerial only missed the owners leaving.
He took the porch steps two at a time and then banged on the front door. No footsteps. No shuffling noises from inside the house. Nothing but his own heartbeat.
After a few seconds, he knocked on the bay window beside the door. “I’m Jude County Hotshot Houston James. Is anyone?—”
An odd screech had him walking to the edge of the porch and gawking toward the barn.
That brash shout mixed with the scraping of metal sounded like trouble. Whether animal, owner, or more than likely, both.
Houston jumped down from the porch and fisted his fingers as he passed one of the sheds with a lock on the door. The next building was about the size of a single-car garage, with two sliding doors on top hinges that had been pushed open enough in the middle for a person to squeeze through.
When he reached the barn, he thumbed his knuckles against the side of the open wooden door. “Hello?” Houston stepped through the barn door. “Anyone in here?”
Inside, the front section was partitioned out into stalls with a center aisle barely two people wide. A different shaped saddle than he was used to at Natalie’s barn. His sister-in-law and her extended family had several horses. This saddle rested on a post of the right stall, and another sat on a cabinet-like bench with brushes and holsters around it. The far side had an open doorway that led to another segment of the barn, or maybe a storage area.
No one answered.
The abnormal noise could have been a rusted door hinge complaining in the wind. Except, the barn’s lights were still on. Someone had either fled in a hurry and left some fairly expensive equipment, or he was looking at something worse.
Like someone refusing to evacuate.
Clean straw filled the bottom of the first stall on the left and a plastic bucket filled with fresh water hung on a bent-up nail.
Houston lifted his voice. “I’m Houston James with the Jude County Hotshot crew, and?—”
The sound blared again. This time it was no creaking door, but a donkey’s cry.
Heavy footsteps thumped toward Houston until the doorway in the middle of the barn was now occupied. Not a donkey, but a mule. He or she stared right at Houston and released another ear-covering shriek.
What was Houston supposed to do with a mule?
“Peanut. Really?” A sing-songy female voice drifted from beyond the mule. “We don’t have time for your moods.”
A woman came into view and stroked the mule, who Houston assumed was Peanut. “You know that Daisy always loads up first.” She petted the mule until her gaze landed on Houston.
“Oh.” She wrapped her hand around Peanut’s neck as if Houston had planned to steal him. “You’re back.”
The woman only came up to Houston’s shoulders. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and a few wisps framed her bright hazel eyes.
Hold on.
He recognized this woman. Didn’t he?
Her eyes were both green and brown. A perfect amount of each that used to anchor him back in chemistry class. Houston swallowed and willed words to come. But he couldn’t seem to make his tongue work.
The woman had paled and tightened her hold on Peanut. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else who had run out of gas earlier.”
Houston blinked out of his trance. She didn’t recognize him. Maybe this wasn’t the girl he knew from high school? “I’m with the Jude County Hotshot Crew. You need to evacuate.”
She sighed. “Yes, well, I keep getting interrupted to do just that.”
A huge white horse appeared behind her. The beast snorted.
“It’s okay, Frank.” The woman clicked her tongue. “Time to load up.”
The horse, who Houston presumed was Frank, grunted, but made no other movements.
Houston took off his pack. “Here. Let me help. You really shouldn’t have left this to the last minute.”
She released Peanut and blocked Houston. “I’ll take care of them. I am well aware of the importance of loading up my horses.”
She avoided his gaze.
Ready or not, the past had hit him again hard in the chest. First with the hesitation to fight the fire and now with his old high school chemistry lab partner. Yes, he knew exactly who this woman was. Or rather, who she’d been years ago. “Rachel, I don’t know if you?—”
“Sir, I understand you’re trying to do your job, but your presence isn’t going to help my animals load faster. You can get back to the fire. I promise we will leave.”
Her eyes snapped to his. Not to any of the burn wounds that reached from the top of his head down his neck, onto his arms and finished their stretch on his side, hidden by his hotshot uniform.
People often stared. Recoiled. Avoided.
What you meant for evil, God meant for good.
But would that even prove true for him?
The woman before Houston treated him almost like his scars weren’t there. Like she’d already known about them. “Rachel, let me help. We really have to hurry. Fire isn’t anything?—”
“I know, Houston.” She grabbed Peanut’s halter, pulling him back toward Frank in the doorway. Stilled. “Or...whatever you said your name was. But I’m not Rachel.”
Her last word was sharp, and Peanut let out another brash bray.
Frank reared back and then sprinted down the stall aisle. Right for Houston.
“Whoa, Frank. Easy. Stop!”
But apparently, the horse wasn’t eager to accept his owner’s raised voice.
Houston reached out for the animal. But with his ears pressed low and head tucked, Frank was evidently not a horse for a stranger to settle. Houston jumped against the opposite side of the stalls.
“Frank, No!” The woman chased after her white horse, but Frank galloped away from her and straight out of the barn.
The woman reached the empty doorway, and her chest heaved. She turned and shot a glare Houston didn’t think he’d earned. “I told you your presence wouldn’t help.”
“And I don’t think you realize that a fire is coming your way to destroy everything you own, including you.”
“Believe me. I know!” She ran back through the doorway in the middle, and Houston followed; however, he did not expect to find her walking a black and white horse out of a rusted horse trailer connected to an equally tarnished truck parked against the barn’s rear entrance.
She pulled herself up onto the horse, as if to go after Frank.
“What are you doing?” Houston stepped in front of the horse. “Rachel, you can get fined or even arrested if you don’t evacuate?—”
“Yes, fine, it’s me. And I know, Houston. But I go by Sophie now, and I don’t have time to explain that to you. You go do your job. Stop the fire from burning my home. And I promise we’ll leave as soon as I find Frank.”
Houston extended his arms in front of the barn’s exit. “I can’t let you risk your life. You’re wasting valuable time. The wildfire’s?—”
“You ignored me once. You can do it again.” She spun the horse around and went right through the doorway behind her. “Goodbye, Houston.”
Houston clenched his jaw shut. Okay, maybe he deserved that because, yes, he’d failed her. He should have looked her up before now. If only stubbornness wasn’t a trait that blossomed during a panic situation. But like she said, there was no time to explain anything.
Houston turned to follow, but at Peanut’s most recent bray, he did a double take at the mule, who reached his nose to the stall that held the unusually shaped saddle.
And now the saddle made sense. Mules require a different saddle shape.
Houston was all for saving lives, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t signed up for what he was about to ask the mule.
He ran his palm down his face. “You can be ridden, can’t you?”
The mule put the hanging stirrups in between his teeth.
Isn’t there a better way, Lord? I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a faster beast than Peanut.
But beggars couldn’t be picky, especially with a fire coming. And an old friend to save. Houston grabbed the saddle balanced over the top of the side stall in front of him and answered his own question. “Not exactly well, I’d imagine.”
His rookie season as a hotshot, and Houston was about to ride a mule to chase after the woman he wanted most to forget.
So much for leaving the past behind.