Chapter Fifteen #3
The chainsaw was the same brand they’d used at Firecamp all those years ago but a different model. Undoubtedly, Nora could have figured everything out on her own, but Fallon took an extra minute to point out the master switch and the priming bulb.
“When is the heavy equipment coming?” Nora asked, adjusting her hard hat.
Fallon wasn’t surprised by the question.
Nora would know they couldn’t take the time to haul out the downed trees that would serve as fuel if they left them on the ground.
For mitigation during an actual fire, the forest service dispatched a picker that would load the cut sections onto a logging truck.
“Tomorrow.” Fallon pressed her lips together. “After we disclose our actual location.”
“Think they’ll send an ATV for you?”
Fallon shook her head and chuckled, her anxiety lifting marginally. “I doubt it.”
Nora nudged her with her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Let’s worry about the fire for now. Where do you want me, chief?”
Fallon directed her to the far line nearest the forest, presuming she still had the skill to direct her falls.
Watching Nora walk away, Fallon couldn’t help but admire the familiar swagger that Nora had when she carried a saw.
Fallon had never known another woman who projected that kind of confidence while backing it up with action.
Maris’s voice came from behind her. “That photographer is a sawyer too?”
Fallon had been caught staring, so no point in pretending otherwise. “Yeah. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”
After taking a long drink, Maris poured some water on her head before replacing her hard hat. “You two had a thing or something, didn’t you?”
“Or something.” The answer sounded distant to her own ears. She took a shallow breath before turning to face Maris, a future crew chief herself. “You up for taking point with me? We can let everyone else do some limbing.”
“Fly on, Falcon,” Maris said.
The crew didn’t quit until almost full dark.
The wind had died down, the smoke hung heavy in the air.
Tyler had proven to be a useful gofer, bringing gas or water and sharpening chains as needed, and he was now setting out the packed dinners on a folding table, having already prepared two large buckets for washing up.
“Good work.” Fallon patted his shoulder. “We might have to keep you.”
He blushed. “Thanks, but I already have a job.”
“Tell me about it while you help me grab our goodies out of the van.”
His enthusiasm was apparent, and Fallon was impressed with the obvious value of the work he described. Knowing that he and Nora had always been close, she was especially glad to learn they shared a townhome.
“I’m sorry we don’t have something more fitting for a scientist of your caliber to do.” She handed him a cooler, grabbing a second one herself. “But I can guarantee you’ll be quite popular when you show up with this.”
“These ladies seem very nice, but I prefer male company,” he said.
“Ah, well, it’s not my place to give you specifics, but we have some diversity. Just for conversation, mind you. We don’t have time for…distractions.”
He nodded, clearly intrigued. After they rejoined the group, Fallon handed him a meal and got one for herself.
Nora sat on a stump, stretching her back with her eyes closed.
Resisting the thought that she was even more remarkable than she’d been ten years ago, Fallon turned away, making the circle of her crew with the cooler in hand.
Each person dug in and pulled out one of a variety of beers.
They teased and heckled each other, some trading, some refusing to do so.
When she came to Shandra, Fallon stopped and produced a bottle from behind her back, a nonalcoholic Heineken.
Nora pulled out one of the two remaining Colorado Native brews, an IPA, and Fallon held out the last one, a pilsner, to Tyler.
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I never cared for the taste of beer. You go ahead.”
“How about a soda?” Fallon asked, opening the other cooler and pulling out a Coke.
“Now you’re talking.”
By the time Fallon sat to eat, almost everyone else had finished and was enjoying their beer.
“So, Nora,” Brooke called. “Where’d you learn to handle a saw like that?”
“At Firecamp, of course,” Nora answered, and the crew cheered.
“Sorry, but I have to call BS on that,” Fallon said. “She came to camp with those skills and was nice enough to help the rest of us who didn’t even know which end was sharp.”
Everyone laughed. “And now you take pictures of fabulous sawyers?” Caden asked.
“Sawyer, swampers, beauty queens—oh, same thing, excuse me.”
A few laughed, but Brooke said, “Fuck that. I’m a hell of a sawyer, but I ain’t no beauty queen.”
Fallon stood. “All right, drink up and hit the sack. I’m calling for heavies tomorrow, and we want to give them plenty to do.” As the crew dispersed, Fallon turned back, “I only brought one tent for you and Tyler. I hope that’s okay.”
Nora looked out at the assortment of shelters, watching as the sawyer’s lights began to glow inside them. “Are you still in your adventurous model?”
Fallon sniffed. “No, I…it would have been too big for this operation.”
“Sure was nice to change standing up, though.”
The wistfulness in her voice made Fallon’s throat tighten. “Listen, if you’re not comfortable sharing with Tyler, I can sleep with Maris—I mean, you know, share the tent with her—and you can have mine.”