A Rush of Wings (16 page)

Another team arrived, and another. They would need a base to support them with food and water at least. Couldn't she and Marta do that much? That was a reason to stay. A surge of gratitude filled her. Gratitude toward whom?

U
nder the direction of the smokejumpers, Rick trenched the base of the mountain, creating a dirt line as wide as the tallest trees that might fall. Some with chain saws cut and dragged trees from the natural break they'd chosen. No sense trying to clear the forested land farther up. Those trees would burn. Aspen would regenerate from underground roots. Conifers would have to start over from seed, unless the initial tree survived the burn. Some would if the bark was not burned through.

Until they got air support, they couldn't fight the worst of the flames, could only hope to contain the spread. Their goal—to trench a line too broad for the fire to jump. The volunteers without gear worked at a greater distance than the smokejumpers, who had parachuted in to begin the containment. Thanks to Noelle's quick eye, they had gotten to it sooner than many fires of its kind, but already the mountainside crackled and groaned. Inside, Rick groaned as well.

Fire
. In the dry years the danger was always high. For the last weeks he'd looked out for it, praying for rain as the state banned campfires and even propane stoves. But this one, it seemed, nature started on its own. The sun's heat beat down on his back; ash and smoke billowed around him with the acrid smell only a wildfire made. Sweat stung his eyes, rolled down the back of his neck, and moistened his hands in his gloves.

High on the mountain, pines blazed like beacons, towers of flame
that leapt from treetop to treetop as whole trunks exploded, sending fireballs hundreds of feet. The carpet of pine needles kindled, and fire roared along the ground. Everywhere smoke rolled like a choking fog, and he gasped for clean air even at the fringe. But he dug tenaciously, breaking the ground, clearing it.

One thing in their favor was the wind direction. It took the flames up and away from Juniper Falls. If the direction changed, the valley would form a tunnel the flames would rush through like a blowtorch. His throat constricted at the thought. His land, his home . . . all gifts. He had to remember that. And the Lord's will be done. But it was hard to relinquish control, to accept even as he fought.

Lord, all this is yours. I won't resist if you need to take it. But until then, I'll fight with all I have. You command the wind and the flame. Help us now
. He jammed the shovel into the earth and dug.

———

Taking a break from their efforts inside, Noelle paced the yard, straining to see progress on the mountain. A slurry bomber passed over, dropping red clouds of water, fertilizer, and fire repellant just ahead of the blaze. Earlier a helicopter with a bucket on a long rope had begun dipping in nearby reservoirs and dropping water into the heart of the flames. But the fire engulfed more and more.

She jumped at the blast that jolted the ground, slapped the crags, and echoed back. Another followed, and fresh clouds of smoke and dust blurred the base of the mountain. The fire fighters must have set those charges themselves. A bulldozer chugged up from the meadow, cutting its own access as it went, making way for water tankers to follow. Would any of it be enough? The sky was a sickening brown, the sun a red orb as it sank behind the peaks.

Where was Rick? What was he doing up there in the smoke and fury? Was he afraid, or did he just trust his invisible God? She went to the porch and watched from the corner. Smoke stung her eyes and nostrils. Ash floated like snow. She tasted it in her teeth. But she stayed outside, waiting to hear, waiting for Rick, and hoping she would not need to leave the ranch. The very thought drained her.

The Andersalls had gone, rather than risk an emergency departure. Both the other families were ready to do the same, though they hadn't decided to actually check out yet. The Elams from the second cabin stood outside now and watched with her.

A medical team had set up a first aid station in the main room of Rick's house, as his was the nearest shelter. The smokejumpers had their own camp, but they came down to the house for food and supplies. With help from Red Cross volunteers and people from the town, Marta made sandwiches and kept a steady supply of coffee brewing, along with pitchers of water and bottles of Gatorade for the fire fighters to quench their thirst. Other supplies like sunscreen, lip balm, gloves, and bandanas arrived, and Noelle helped distribute them to fresh teams of fire fighters.

As a pickup truck brought a team down to rest, she went inside to help Marta and the others. This was the smokejumper team, who had been brought in to plan the attack because of the fire's proximity to developed land and communities. Noelle handed a plate to a woman with a thin blond ponytail clipped up in the back and asked, “How's it going out there?”

“I've seen worse.”

That was encouraging, wasn't it? “So we won't be asked to evacuate.”

“If the fire reaches the first trigger point, this whole area will be put on voluntary evacuation. By the second trigger point, it won't be voluntary.”

“But it's not moving this way.” Noelle prodded for the assurance she knew the woman could give.

“The conditions could change in a moment. If you're worried, you should go ahead and find a safer place.”

Noelle's throat tightened. Did she look so ineffective? This was a woman who flew around the country stabbing the throat of dragons. And Noelle was afraid of leaving the ranch? Why? How had she been programmed, disabled? She knew how—Daddy's overprotective sphere and her own nightmares.

The man next to her took the plate Noelle handed him. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Um, have you seen Rick Spencer up there?”

“Is he on one of the teams?”

“This is his ranch. But he's working on a containment line, I think.”

“He'd be with the volunteers, then.” He glanced at his smokejumper colleague.

She shook her head. “Sorry.” They went to the main room to join their team members, who sprawled and ate and talked through a much-
needed, though probably too-short, break. Noelle caught bits of their conversation, reminiscences of worst moments they'd faced, fires so massive they created their own weather, even snow—though how that worked she couldn't imagine. Maybe this one would make it rain.

Noelle went back outside. Rick hadn't come in to eat or rest. The sun set, smoke-dulled stars appeared, the night grew dark. Emergency teams used the third cabin and the extra rooms to sleep in shifts while others continued their vigilance. Noelle couldn't sleep, so she dozed on the swing, then woke at the sound of hooves on the gravel. She sat up. Rick slid from the horse and led Orion to the stable. He had to be exhausted and hungry, but it was a while before he emerged. He had taken care of the horse first.

He climbed the stairs, and she jumped to open the door. “Are you all right? What can I get you?”

He just shook his head, went in, and collapsed on the couch. The main room was empty. The Elams and Johnsons had gone to bed, confident they'd be notified of any danger. Though a volunteer waited in the kitchen, Noelle got Rick a roast beef sandwich herself. She poured him a glass of cold water and carried them into the other room.

He took the water and drank. “Thanks.” His voice rasped.

“You went all day without eating.” She held out the sandwich.

“No thanks.” He rubbed his face with grimy hands.

“Marta would scold you into eating something.”

He lay down on the couch, indifferent to the soot that covered him. His face grew slack in the lamplight. He was asleep already.

She took a blanket from the linen closet beside his office door and covered him. She'd wanted to know how bad it was, if they were beating the fire or if they would have to leave in the night. Could he sleep so deeply if that were the case? Well, she wouldn't get any answers now. She wrapped his sandwich and put it back into the refrigerator, then went up to bed.

Several times through the night she woke, smelled the smoke, and went to the window. The glow on the mountain remained. They'd be evacuated if it worsened. She went into the bathroom and counted the remaining hundred-dollar bills in her makeup bag. How far would the money take her, and where would she go? She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn't have to find out.

When she woke, Noelle looked out at the thick, red sky. The mountainside was lost behind the veil. Her heart jumped. Maybe the
fire had burned itself out. She rushed to wash and brush her teeth, ignored her hair, and threw on jeans and T-shirt. She went down, but the couch was empty. She found Marta in the kitchen with an older couple from town, baking muffins and scrambling eggs.

“Where's Rick?”

“Gone back up.” Marta emptied a skillet of eggs into a larger pan from which the few people milling about helped themselves.

Noelle sank into the chair. “Then it's still burning.”

“The winds picked up last night. We've been put on voluntary evacuation.”

No! The fire must have reached the first trigger point, whatever that meant. “Are you going?”

“I have a job to do.” Marta took out a large pan of muffins and set them out on the counter.

“Did Rick say what we should do?”

“They're directing people from town to shelters. I'm sure you could shuttle down with someone.”

Noelle shook her head. “I mean, how we can help. What can I do?”

“Just what you've been doing.” Marta set a muffin before her.

But it didn't seem like enough. How could handing out Chap Stick make a difference?

“According to the fire fighters, this is not the worst of the fires in the state. They've moved some of the Hotshots to Evergreen.”

Noelle pushed up from the table, knowing she had to stay hopeful. “That's good, isn't it? If they don't need them here, it must mean—”

“It's a matter of degree. Each fire gets a rating, and Evergreen has more valuable real estate in closer proximity to the fire.”

Noelle turned her attention to the smoke-engulfed mountainside. “Did Rick eat? I couldn't get him to eat last night. He went all day with nothing.”

Marta emptied a third jug, then paused. “He was fasting.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Fasting and prayer avail much.”

Marta might as well be speaking a foreign language. How could going without food help Rick? “That's absurd. How will he keep up his strength?”

Marta smiled. “ ‘Those who hope in the Lord will renew their
strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.' ”

“Well, he was weary last night, practically fell asleep sitting up.”

Marta didn't answer, just poured out Styrofoam cups of coffee for the half-dozen volunteer fire fighters who prepared to start their shift. Noelle sighed. She didn't understand Rick and Marta's hocus-pocus, but it didn't matter. If Rick thought sacrifice could save his ranch, more power to him. If only it worked.

She went outside. It was hard to distinguish anything through the smoke fog. Shielding her eyes, she paced the porch before going back inside for another day of handing out supplies and making sandwiches. She wanted to keep watch from the porch, to know that evacuation would not be necessary. But helping was better, and outside her eyes streamed tears.

She kept thinking of the blonde and other women she'd served sandwiches or given bandanas or sunscreen. They were up there equipped with shovels and axes and hoses and training that Noelle had never even considered. The most she wielded was a paintbrush. So no one would consider her heroic. How did that fit her developing image of herself?

She coughed smoke and ash from her lungs. One couldn't be everything. She just needed to know who she wanted to be. Two men drove up in a maroon extended-cab truck, but they stopped in the yard, not proceeding up the meadow as so many other vehicles had. They climbed out and one sent her a wave. “We're taking Rick's horses down.”

She looked from them to the stable and corral that held the animals. Had Rick asked for them to be removed? She started down the stairs. “Does he know?”

“He called for help. We'll just hitch up his trailer and take them four at a time.”

If Rick was moving the horses, did that mean he thought evacuation imminent? Or was he just being cautious? If it came to mandatory evacuation, the fire fighters had said they'd have to leave within one hour. They could never move out all the horses in that time. Surely he was just being his normal methodical self. But he did have a firsthand view of the situation. Maybe it was worse than the smokejumper had led her to believe.

Her heart thumped. No. She would not panic. Maybe she couldn't face down that dragon. But she could face her own. What was the worst
that could happen, a few nights in a shelter? No one would know her, recognize her, report her whereabouts. It was paranoid to think so. This was Colorado, not New York. If her picture had ever made a paper out here, it was news to her.

Noelle strained to see up the meadow. She didn't expect to see Rick any time soon. Maybe not until the fire was out or he was too tired to keep on. How long would it take? The light hardly changed as the sun climbed the sky. The heat was heavy.

“Excuse me.”

Noelle turned to Mrs. Elam, the guest in cabin two. “Yes?”

“May we check out?”

Noelle looked from her to the mountain where Rick was. Had the woman assumed she was staff? She could get Marta, but a new influx of fire fighters needing breakfast had her passing muffins and coffee and eggs. Noelle nodded. “Sure.” She brought the woman into Rick's office. A computer sat on the desk, but it was not booted up and she doubted she could access his files. So she'd do it the old-fashioned way. She found a memo pad. “Three days, right?”

“That's right. We'd reserved for five, but . . .”

“And how much per night?” Noelle searched for a pen to record the transaction.