Chapter 13
Deanna
The next morning, the Twin Otter circled three thousand feet above the lightning-caused start near Deer Lodge.
Ryan had been all business during the jumpers’ briefing.
He avoided looking at her; no small talk, no jokes, only the bare minimum of communication required for the mission.
Deanna had knocked herself out, proving herself to the other jumpers on this project fire.
Same old, same old. I’ll have to prove myself to Ryan O’Connor, too.
“Get ready!” the spotter called.
Ryan jumped first, then Deanna, followed by three other jumpers.
The rush of freefall cleared her mind, the chute deployment jerking her and reminding her to stay in the moment.
Smoke swirled upward from a lightning-struck Douglas fir that had spread flames to the understory.
Thirsty huckleberry bushes torched like Roman candles.
The landing jarred her ankles in the uneven meadow. She hit the quick-release on her harness, stepped clear of the canopy, and gathered the nylon into a stuff sack before the afternoon thermals dragged it into the timber.
First job on the ground: secure the chute, find the cargo, arm up with tools.
The cargo box had landed forty yards upslope, its yellow streamers knotted in a lodgepole snag, dangling five feet from the ground.
Deanna cut the streamers free with her pocketknife, and the box dropped to the forest floor.
The jump crew opened the box to retrieve Pulaskis, crosscut saws, fusees, water bladders, MREs, and the two chainsaws to use if the fire reached heavy timber.
Deanna dropped the tools into a staging pile and surveyed the terrain.
Two acres of ground fire crept through the bunch grass and pine duff, feeding on the drought-cured fuel.
Spot fires flickered in the duff thirty feet from the main head.
Without action, they would run. The air smelled of scorched resin and dry earth, and the heat from the fire’s edge warmed her skin from fifty feet away.
Ryan barked orders over the crackle of flames.
“Deanna, you and I are cutting the line on the left flank. McPhee, Duffy, and Thompson, you’ll cut line from the anchor at the creek, in front of the fire’s head.”
The jump crew scattered to their positions. Deanna attacked her section with controlled fury, her Pulaski biting into the duff, creating a fuel break. The fire had crowned, tossing burning debris in front of the main head. She focused on her line so much she almost missed the warning crack.
“Ryan! Heads up!” someone shouted.
Deanna turned to see a ponderosa snag toppling toward Ryan. He dodged the burning mass but stumbled on a root and went down hard. The burning tree crashed over him.
“No! Oh my God!” Deanna dropped her Pulaski and radioed McPhee and the others to come help. She picked up a chainsaw, yanking the cord as she ran.
Luckily, Ryan had managed to get his upper body out of the way.
Deanna’s chainsaw screamed through the wood as the flaming tree covered Ryan’s lower half, pinning him face down.
“Help me!” she shouted to her jump crew, chainsaw biting into the trunk. “McPhee, Duffy, grab his shoulders! Thompson, be ready to drag him clear!”
“Ryan, lie still!” Deanna gritted her teeth as the saw bit in. Chunks flew as she cut at an angle to keep the chain from binding.
“Get ready to roll it off him!” Deanna shouted over the saw noise.
The tree measured about two feet in diameter. Her jump crew squirted water from their canteens to keep flames away from Ryan. Smoke poured off the burning tree. Thank God for their goggles.
The chainsaw finally broke through. “Now! Let’s lift it!”
Duffy and Deanna lifted the heavy section enough for McPhee and Thompson to drag Ryan clear, away from the flames. He groaned, clutching his leg.
“Are you okay? Tell me where it hurts.” Deanna dropped to her knees beside him, palpating his leg for obvious breaks.
“Yeah, think so.” He flexed his ankle and winced. “Bruised as hell, but nothing’s broken. Damn, that went sideways fast. Thanks, Brooks.” The cool distance from earlier had vanished.
Thompson and McPhee helped Ryan to his feet. Thompson wiped his brow with a blackened glove. “Twenty years on fires. Never seen someone cut a man free that fast. Good save, Brooks.”
“Glad I was nearby,” she said, winded from exertion.
They still had a fire to fight. Ryan was sidelined for the rest of the day while the jump crew worked to get the fire line built. Around noon, they’d contained the fire, and by dinnertime, they’d completed mop-up and gathered their equipment.
As they waited for a helicopter to pick them up, Ryan spoke up. “Deanna, I owe you an apology.”
Her head came up. “Whatever for? You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes, I do.” He rubbed his face, leaving a streak of ash across his cheek. “I’ve had a chip on my shoulder where you’re concerned ever since Alaska. I want to apologize.”
Deanna picked at a loose thread on her pack strap. “Not necessary. I was wrong to chase Cohen. For what it’s worth, I’m no longer that person.” She flashed a partial grin. “And I owe Raynie one, too.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate it.” Ryan winced at his leg. “However, the woman I knew in Alaska wouldn’t have risked herself like you did today.”
“Oh, I still would have.” She smiled. “Only now I won’t be hitting on you.” Deanna was proud of herself for reaching a point she could joke about it.
“Good to know. My wife will appreciate it.”
“I used to go after guys without caring who got snared in the wreckage,” she confessed. “Told myself all was fair in love and war. Twisted logic, I know.”
“What changed?”
“A near-miss on a fire in Idaho. The kind that rearranges your priorities in about thirty seconds.”
“No need to elaborate,” said Ryan. “I get it. Every firefighter has moments like that.”
Deanna was relieved he understood. She didn’t want to get too much into it. “I decided I no longer wanted to be someone people warned each other about.”
Deanna helped Ryan to his feet as the helicopter landed, and they ducked under the spinning rotors. The other jumpers helped him on board, then gathered Deanna’s gear and hoisted it into the helicopter before she could reach for it. Small gestures, but they meant everything.
BACK AT THE ICC, WORD had spread about Ryan’s incident. Falling snags killed more firefighters than flames did. Some got lucky. Others didn’t. Deanna stood arranging her gear inside the jump shack when footsteps sounded behind her. “Deanna?”
She turned to see Tara Waters O’Connor. Surprised didn’t begin to cover Deanna’s reaction.
“Hi, Tara. Good to see you.” Deanna straightened, unease knocking her chest.
“Ryan told me what happened,” said Tara. “Thank you for helping him.”
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“But you were the one who did.” Tara held her gaze longer than necessary. “I’m seeing a different side of you.” She gave her a tight smile. “Stay careful out there.” She left the shack with Deanna staring after her.
Deanna plopped down hard on a stool. Helping Tara’s husband had been an unexpected turn, and she hoped it would help make things right with the Aurora Hotshot Crew.
But Tara had looked her in the eye and thanked her, exceeding anything Deanna had any right to expect.
Winning Tara’s respect would mean the world, since many in wildland fire valued her opinion.
On the way to the shower, Raynie and Kenzie appeared ahead of her, heads close in conversation. Deanna changed direction, taking the long way around the building. Not in the mood for that confrontation. Not yet.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Colton: Can we talk? Maybe take a walk on that trail above the school?
The lack of their usual easy banter set off an internal alarm. The change in his tone landed wrong, and she couldn’t shake it. She went straight to the negative, thinking the worst. Had she messed things up already?
She texted back. Sure. See you there.
After changing into clean jeans and a T-shirt, Deanna met Colton at the edge of camp, where a trail led up into the hills above the school. Tension lined her shoulders.
“Hey, how did your day go?” she asked. Every heartbeat ticked like a countdown. To what, she didn’t know.
“It’s been a day or ten,” he said. “Heard you rescued your JIC.”
She chuckled. “Thank God for the ones who invented chainsaws.”
“Quite the evolutionary history. Remind me to explain it sometime.” He set off along the trail, and she fell into step beside him. They climbed up the hill a short distance, the sounds of base camp fading behind them.
Colton stopped at an overlook where some wise soul had erected a park bench. The smoke-filled valley spread below them, the fire columns rising to an indifferent sky.
He sank down on the bench, and Deanna sat beside him, a sense of unease taking hold.
“Tell me about Alaska and the Aurora Crew,” he said, his gaze fixed on the valley below. “About what happened up there.”
There it is.
She inhaled sharply. “Who’ve you talked to?”
“Doesn’t matter. I want to hear your version.” He folded his arms and waited.
Deanna fixated on the smoky Rockies, gathering her courage. The conversation she’d been dreading since the Aurora Crew had arrived. She owed Colton her honesty.
“You know some of it. The Aurora Crew’s reaction when they showed up told you enough.” She took a shaky breath. “Cohen and I went out a few times the season before, in Canada. When I saw him in Talkeetna, I went after him, despite knowing he had a girlfriend.”
“And then?”
“A firefighter fundraiser at the Talkeetna hangar. I drank too much and kissed him. His girlfriend, Raynie, saw us.” Her voice caught. “I kept kissing him until he pushed me away. Raynie took off, and he went after her. It was humiliating.”
He turned to look at her. “Cripes, Deanna, why did you do it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. The conquest thing kicked in, I guess.” She trained her eyes on the distant smoke columns until the sting of memory had passed.
“What happened afterward?” He shifted on the bench.