Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
REED
M cCall Ranger Station, Payette National Forest , reads the wooden sign.
I made it.
A few miles off the main road at the edge of town sits a big building with yellowed siding and a green roof. I follow a grove of pine trees twisting around the property until I can park my truck next to the five other brown vehicles with Forest Service logos stamped on the sides.
My new home.
I pull my phone from the center console, taking note of the single white line in the top corner. It’s more cell service than I expected for a remote mountain town, but I doubt that’ll be the case when I venture into the brush. Sounds nice.
I open the text thread with my parents’ names on it and type, Made it. See you in eight weeks . I hit send and power off my phone, stuffing it in my duffel. I don’t bother locking up.
“You must be the new recruit.” A brawny guy with a full beard and a bag of mixed nuts clutched in his fist jogs toward me. He tips the contents into his mouth, then throws it in the trash can beside the front door. A jovial look spreads across his whole face when he stops in front of me.
“What gave it away?” I ask.
“You look like that,” he says, pointing to the product in my hair.
I rake my fingers through the pomade. “Last shower for a while.”
Judging by the layer of soot on every inch of his exposed skin, I gather he either tumbled off the edge of a cliff or hasn’t showered in several days.
“Not the only reality check that comes with this job.” He holds out his hand to me.
“Logan Murphy.”
We exchange a firm grip.
“Reed Morgan.”
I shadow him as he pulls open the door to the old building.
“Welcome to Iron Summit, rookie. Sixteen-hour shifts, shitty pay, no benefits.”
All things I probably should have covered when I spoke to the HR recruiter. But I barely had enough time to get here, asking about money wasn’t really on my mind.
“We eat, sleep, and breathe fire,” he continues. “You won’t find a crew stronger or better than this one.”
We take a left turn down a hallway.
“I’ll give you the grand barracks tour.” The passage is so narrow and his voice so deep that it rattles the frames lining the tan walls. Pictures of crews and years of service fill the two cut-out spots in every frame.
Logan turns the gold handle on a glass-paned door at the end. It creaks as it swings inward, exposing a spacious weight room.
“You won’t use this room much because we’re rarely here, but if you need to let out some pent-up frustration, here’s where you do it.” He winks at me, and the right side of his ducktail beard lifts with it.
“Good to know,” I say, memorizing the location. I’ll be back here later.
I follow him down another hallway that stretches the back side of the building. An endless row of doors stack like dominos before me.
“Living quarters. Most of the time in the summer months you have to bunk up.”
He stops at the one on the very end and kicks the cracked door open with his boot.
“This one’s yours. You’ll be with McCafferty.” He slaps a hand on my shoulder and laughs. “Good luck, man.”
What is that supposed to mean? But he doesn’t give me time to ask. He points to a door at the end of the hall next.
“EMT wing through there. And this”—he takes a couple of steps toward a walled arch in the center—“is the kitchen and family room.”
I follow him through the opening. A twelve-foot farmhouse table that must seat at least a dozen and a half people sits off to the side of the countertop. Six recliners face a TV on the opposite side.
“Hope you can cook, rookie, because no one else here can worth shit.” He chuckles to himself.
Yeah, that’s not going to be a problem for me. Cooking’s a skill I had to master younger than any child should.
“Hey, I heard that.”
From where I’m standing, an upper oak cabinet hangs open. A set of hands pour a cup of coffee behind it, dump in a packet of sugar, and stir the hot drink with a spoon. He’s facing me when the cupboard closes.
“Good to see you again, Morgan.” With a neutral expression, he raises the steaming mug to his lips and takes a lazy drink.
Why does he look so… familiar?
“It’s Reed, actually,” I correct him.
When he pulls the cup away from his face, I study his gray hair and the long, lean lines that slope his jaw.
“We stick to last names around here.”
He rounds the barstools until he stops right in front of me, where I can get a good look at him. With weathered boots and a full mustache, I’d say he’s been here… a lot longer than just a couple of summers. Then it hits me.
“Jack.”
“Hart,” he adds, acting completely unfazed by my unhinged jaw. “Superintendent of Iron Summit.”
My new boss is Jack Hart . My father’s friend. The man who witnessed one of the worst weekends of my life.
Of the hundreds of fire crews on the west coast, I never considered getting placed here, with him. I should have thought about this being a possibility, but I never saw Jack again after that day in the campground. I certainly never spoke about him with my dad. And in my twelve-year-old eyes, for all I knew, Jack Hart would be retired by now.
“You missed pre-season onboarding.” He takes another sip. “Something that takes two weeks. You’ll need to catch up in two days. Think you can handle that?”
Is he testing me?
“I think I can handle bypassing the training altogether and just get to the good stuff,” I tell him.
My course training wasn’t all that many months ago, and there wasn’t anything I struggled with.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Guess I should hand over my job to you then? ”
A new guy clomps into the kitchen, bearing the weight of a large duffel bag.
Jack stops him with a hand covering the strap. “McCafferty, this is Reed Morgan, the new recruit. I need you to train him today. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got… something”—he pauses like he’s thinking on it—“to take care of.”
“But it’s?—”
“I know, and I’ll make it up to you,” Jack promises.
In his disappointment, the guy hurtles his bag onto the counter. It snags on his shoulder-length hair.
So this is my new roommate. Great . I can see why Murphy wished me good luck. I’m five minutes in and already disappointing him. Off to a fantastic start.
McCafferty grunts and starts to stalk away. I take it as my unfriendly cue to follow him. Just before I clear the opening, I hear Superintendent Hart speak to someone else.
“I thought I said you didn’t need to come.”
When I glance behind me to see who he’s talking to, it’s Hailey’s eyes that I meet.