Chapter 4 #2
A plane lifted off outside the open hangar doors, engines whining through the smoky haze, as Colton finished his log. “I told her we should meet for coffee.”
Ace lit up. “Terrific, you’re one step ahead of me. What do you got to lose?”
“Nothing,” said Colton. “And you have nothing to lose with her smaller friend, who helped get you out of your plane.”
Ace shot him a sly grin. “Speaking of which, is Kylie single?”
“Don’t know, dude. Ask her next time you see her.”
The fuel truck rolled through the gate with a different company logo on the side and a new driver.
The paperwork checked out three times over.
Colton inspected the fuel, rubbing it between his fingers, smelling it, holding a sample jar up to the light.
The driver’s eyes widened, giving him a strange look.
“Paranoid much?” asked Ace for the driver’s benefit.
“Appropriately cautious,” corrected Colton. “You’d be doing the same if you weren’t grounded.”
His ground radio buzzed to life. Air Attack. “All aircraft, be advised, wind speeds expected to increase within the next two hours on the Copper Creek Fire. Potential for extreme fire behavior on the leading edge. Davis, you need to get airborne ASAP.”
Where Deanna’s jump squad worked.
“Heading to my ship now.” Colton returned his radio to its clip.
“Have fun up there. Tell the fire I said hello. And stay in the air this time, or I’ll kick your ass.” Ace touched his baseball cap and drove his cart out of the hangar.
Colton lifted off within minutes, the tanker climbing fast through the smoke layer. The predicted wind change hit. The smoke column bent east, and the fire’s steady advance broke into aggressive finger runs.
He keyed the aviation frequency. “Air Attack, Tanker One-Eight-Two. I have a visual on Jump Squad 19. The winds are pushing the head straight toward their position. Tell them to retreat to their safety zone.”
Air Attack came back fast. “Copy, One-Eight-Two. I’ll relay.”
Deanna broke in before Air Attack got the chance to relay. “Tanker One-Eight-Two, this is Jump Squad 19. The head crowned, and it’s running. We’re abandoning the line and retreating to our safety zone at the rocky outcrop, three hundred yards east.”
She’d read the fire from the ground at the same moment he’d read it from the air.
“Copy, Jump 19,” he radioed back. “I see you.”
From above, the yellow Nomex figures sprinted east. Deanna ran last, hanging back to push the members of her squad ahead of her.
The fire crowned behind them, racing through the canopy at fifteen miles an hour, maybe twenty.
Three hundred yards out, a rocky outcrop offered cover.
The jump squad ran toward it, but they wouldn’t outrun the leading edge of the blaze.
They need more time.
He didn’t wait for clearance or Bird Dog to lead him in. Colton dove the tanker low, white-knuckling the gate release lever. “Air Attack, One-Eight-Two. Emergency drop to widen the buffer for firefighters to retreat.”
He dumped a salvo between the jumpers and the advancing fire. The slurry blanketed the timber, and the fire head stalled where it hit the fireline.
His ground radio woke up. Deanna, winded but steady. “Good timing, Sky King,” she managed between heaving breaths. “We had our escape route mapped out, but thanks for the wiggle room.”
“You had it handled. The slurry was insurance.”
“And very much appreciated,” she said.
Damn, that woman sounds good on the radio. Dare I say sexy?
The Air Attack supervisor came through on the aviation frequency. “One-Eight-Two, be advised. You made that drop without clearance and without Bird Dog in the lead. I understand the circumstances, but you bypassed standard protocol.”
Colton keyed the mic. “Copy, Air Attack. Understood. Won’t happen again.”
“For what it’s worth, Davis, your drop helped six jumpers. But run another drop without calling it in first, and I’ll ground you myself. We clear?”
“Crystal.”
Colton exhaled. A wrist slap, not a grounding. Fair enough. In the world of aerial firefighting, results bought you latitude but didn’t erase the rules. Next time, he’d call it in. Provided next time gave him seconds to spare.
The Air Ops Support Group confirmed they’d trucked retardant and aviation fuel into Bowman Field, the county strip three miles out of Anaconda, close enough for quick turns between drops.
Six thousand feet of runway, and a loaded Dash 8-400AT only needed five.
Tight, but it beat the alternative of a two-hundred-forty-mile round trip to Missoula every time his tanks ran dry.
Bowman Field had no Fixed Base Operator to dispense fuel, so the incident commander had trucked in a temporary aerial firefighting base from Missoula, consisting of retardant tanks and equipment, jet fuel trucks, and a loading crew.
To the southwest, the Pintlers pierced the smoke-hazed sky. He’d loved this country since before he was old enough to fly over it. Loving it wasn’t a promise it would keep him safe.
Colton had booked a hotel room five blocks from the Incident Command Center at Anaconda High School. After completing his post-flight inspection and paperwork, he drove to the hotel and changed. Then he was off to the ICC to grab a meal.
The drive gave him time to think. Deanna’s cool demeanor from today replayed. She’d called their retreat one breath ahead of him and thanked him after he’d dropped slurry to help her crew. He’d worked with seasoned firefighters who’d panicked over less, yet she hadn’t.
Colton climbed out of the truck as Deanna approached. She’d showered and changed, and exhaustion shadowed her face. The evening light caught fire in her hair.
“I came to thank you for helping us out a second time out there. It was . . .”
“Good timing?” he finished for her.
“I was about to say heroic, but good timing works.” Her smile faded. “Have you found out anything about what happened yesterday?”
Colton lowered his voice. “An NTSB investigator found sugar in Rosie’s fuel tanks.”
Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? Someone doesn’t want tankers dropping on this fire. Do you have any enemies?”
“You mean besides the rancher I buzzed, causin’ his cattle to stampede? No, can’t think of any.” He kept a straight face. “Could be any number of crazies.”
Her mouth fell open. “You buzz ranchers and their cattle? You could lose your pilot certificate!”
Colton shrugged. “A cranky neighbor wouldn’t keep his cows off our land, so I gently herded them in the opposite direction.”
“Gently?” She let out a little laugh. “Where’s your ranch?”
“South of Butte.” He left it at that. “Anyway, it’s probably disgruntled employees or others who think we should let fires burn.”
“How’s Ace?” she asked.
“Out of the hospital and asking about Kylie. Since he’s grounded, he comes around whenever he’s feeling up to it. He can’t stay away from the action.”
Deanna’s smile thinned. “Kylie hasn’t had luck with guys. She seems to meet the ones who won’t take no for an answer. Even firefighters.”
“Too bad,” he said. “I know people in wildland fire who have hooked up and stayed together.”
“Me, too,” said Deanna. “But you know as well as I do, the job comes first in this business. Canceled dates, missed anniversaries, one person always getting called to another fire. Assuming both people outlast the season.” Her expression softened.
“Thanks for having our backs today, with your slurry drop. Good to have—”
“A wingman?” he cut in.
She tilted her head with a thoughtful look. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”
Kylie appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. “Hey, Dee, our jump boss is on the phone. He wants to talk to you.” She held up her cell.
“Coming.” She smiled at Colton. “I’ll take you up on that coffee invitation.”
As she walked away, he was glad he’d asked. He liked this woman.
Air Attack texted an update: Seven thousand acres. Fire slowed with the evening humidity, but tomorrow promises hot weather. Be ready to roll at first light!
Colton slid a hand along the belly of his tanker, his fingers tracing the rivets and welded seams. Dash didn’t feel like his, the way Rosie had. But he had a woman he wanted to see again, a fire to fly, and the unsettling reality that someone was watching his every move.
Before his next descent, he intended to find out who it was.
Before they turned it into his last.