Plain Jane & The Hotshot (6 page)

“D
on't forget,” Dottie shouted over the steady brawling of the nearby rapids, “you never fight the current. Just let it shoot you up the middle. If you get confused, disoriented, turned around or even tossed into the river, do not panic. Always let the current take you. It follows the path of least resistance.”

“Do not panic,” Bonnie repeated, trying to sound lighthearted but betrayed by her nervousness. “After all, the rocks only hurt if you actually hit them.”

“Oh, don't be such a fraidy-cat,” Hazel teased, floating alongside them in the other raft. “You're all strong swimmers, and besides, you're wearing life vests.”

Jo felt nervous anticipation crowding other
thoughts from her mind, thoughts that mostly tended toward Nick Kramer and his smoldering, no pun intended, good looks. The kiss on the bridge had played out over and over in her dreams last night, and despite the high-altitude chill after dark, she was forced to throw off the top blanket.

You need challenges like this, she assured herself as the roar of the approaching rapids really began to drown out other sounds.

Nothing focused the mind like fear.

“Oh, how this aching body misses the feel of a black knit dress,” Kayla wailed beside her, barely audible above the river racket.

At least it wasn't another snide comment about Nick, Jo thought gratefully. So far their mutual dependence had pushed all hostilites onto a back burner.

“Ride 'em, cowgirls!” Hazel shouted in front of them as the first raft suddenly dipped, then shot out of the water when the frothing rapids gained a purchase. “Up the middle, ladies!” she reminded them, and then Jo lost sight of the lead raft as their own craft suddenly plunged into a curtain of misting, roaring foam.

“I wanna go home!” Bonnie wailed just before the rapids drowned out all conversation.

But it turned out they could indeed trust the current. It kept them safely in the middle, and they only needed to occasionally fend off a boulder that came too close, pushing against it with their paddles.

In mere moments, their distressed cries turned into
shouts of pure, astonished fun as this crazy, bobbing thrill ride picked up dizzying speed and made all of them feel like little kids riding the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair.

All too soon, however, the ride was over, and they floated quietly in the wide pool, all four talking at once and insisting on running the course again.

“Told you,” Hazel gloated as the women trekked back upriver, carrying the light rafts between them by rope handles. “See how much fun you miss by acting like city sissies?”

In the adrenaline rush, Nick Kramer was finally pushed from Jo's thoughts, but when they arrived back at camp late that afternoon and Hazel made a mysterious disappearance, Jo couldn't help but feel uneasy. It didn't do not to watch that matriarchal matchmaker. Hazel was usually up to no good, and Jo was convinced she was now the target of the woman's schemes.

 

Hazel had learned, when the smoke jumpers stopped by for supper two days earlier, that tonight they would be off duty. And she had made plans then to ensure that Jo would “bump into” Nick Kramer later tonight, during the star-navigating exercise.

First, however, she had a certain motherly duty to attend to. After all, if she was going to cross Jo's path with Nick's, she needed to peer a little closer into Nick's heart. Hazel trusted her first impressions, and instinct told her Nick was a “keeper.”

Nonetheless, Jo had recently sailed through rough romantic waters, and Hazel had no desire to plunge her vulnerable friend into a whirlpool of additional heartache.

She waited until late that afternoon, when the girls were helping with supper and the smoke jumpers were likely to be awake after their previous night's labors. Then Hazel slipped quietly away to visit the men's camp, which was located about two hundred yards below the cabins on Bridger's Summit.

“Getcher britches on, boys!” she called out as she approached their circle of one-man tents. “Female approaching camp!”

In fact, a few of the firefighters were barely dressed, and Hazel discreetly ogled some sloping pecs as her eye quickly rushed over the camp, looking for Nick. She spotted him immediately, shaving in front of a metal mirror that had been nailed to a tree.

“Hazel,” he greeted her cheerfully, scraping some bristle off one side of his strong-jutting jaw. “Excuse us if we're not ready for company. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“I'm just curious about something,” she replied, glancing around to make sure none of the lounging men was close enough to overhear.

“Oh, yeah? What?”

“What's your honest opinion of Jo?”

“Jo?” he repeated.

“We've established her name,” Hazel said. “Now tell me what you think of her.”

Nick's eyes cut from the mirror to Hazel's face, then back to the mirror. He angled the razor up under his nose and said cautiously, “Who wants to know?”

“I'm the one asking, aren't I? Just spit it out, big boy. I won't share it with her.”

“Well…she's damn good-looking,” he essayed, obviously holding back. “Great face, great body.”

“All right, for a man that's a typical start. But let's get past the cattle auction. What else do you think of her?”

“Not so quick,” he resisted. “What's she think of me?”

“Not too much, evidently.”

Hazel's bluntness was deliberate, and just as she'd hoped, her candor triggered his own.

“Well, since you insist on knowing, the feeling is mutual,” Nick retorted, his voice revealing resentment. “She's the pouty-princess type, thinks her pedestal is mighty high. Likes to stamp her foot and lay down all the rules, push a guy around for the power rush. I've had it up to here with women who deliver ultimatums.”

He almost said more, Hazel could tell, but he suddenly shut up.

Still, sunlight is the best disinfectant, thought a jubilant Hazel, and his brief comments just now threw open casements of illumination. Just like Jo, he'd obviously been hurt in love, and also like her, he was confusing the person who hurt him with all members
of the opposite sex. A common mistake, but also a tragic one.

Both these kids, Hazel marveled, are proud and sensitive, and ironically, have much more in common than they suspected. They were both also emotionally defensive, and neither was the enemy the other suspected.

However, she also realized they couldn't simply be told these things. The heart was no friend of logic. They'd have to learn it the tough way in the school of romantic hard knocks.

“Nick, have you heard the expression ‘A burned baby fears the fire'?”

His eyes met Hazel's again.

“Sure I have. But don't forget,” he joked, “I'm trained to see how close I can get to the fire without being burned.”

“Nobody yet has fireproofed himself against romantic burns.”

“Tell me about it,” he admitted. Then he added, “So was Jo burned quite recently? I wondered.”

Hazel nodded without going into the details. “And it's not just that. I've known Jo for a long time now. She's had to work harder than most girls to be taken as her own person. Sometimes our parents cast a long shadow over us without meaning to.”

For a moment, as he patted shaving cream off his face with a towel, Nick frowned. “Sometimes they cast no shadow at all, and that's worse.”

“I take your meaning.” Hazel nodded again. “But
Jo's got a problem with the former Miss Montana. A tall, gregarious, very leggy Miss Montana,” she clarified. “One who modeled professionally and is still quite a celebrity in our little town. Ranks right up there with our only rodeo champ, AJ Clayburn.”

Nick mulled this awhile, then nodded.

“Maybe,” Hazel hinted, “if you two could get a little time to yourselves, you might work some of these knots.”

Nick saw the canny gleam in her Prussian-blue eyes, and a little conspiratorial smile twitched at his lips.

“Might be we could,” he agreed. “But she sure hasn't made me feel welcome to come visiting.”

“So what? A faint heart never won a fair lady, buckaroo. Where d'you plan on being tonight, say, around eight o'clock? Maybe…someplace a little more private than this?”

Nick did a good job of playing along.

“Sometimes, on nights off like this, I like to go over to Wendigo Lake just to get some time alone. You know where it is?”

Hazel nodded, realizing the place would be perfect for her matchmaking efforts. Rustic and romantic, encircled by spruce and pine, Wendigo Lake was within sight of Bridger's Summit—she could easily excuse herself at that point, knowing Jo could not possibly get lost from there.

“Moon's in the full phase now,” Nick added. “Light enough I can do a little fishing off that old
dock on the south shore. You know the one I mean, don't you?”

“Why don't you stroll over that way this evening?” Hazel suggested casually. “Maybe some company will show up. Maybe not. At this point, no guarantees.”

“All right, I will. If nobody shows up, fine, I'll get in some fishing. Bass bite in moonlight.”

But despite all her encouragement, Hazel felt compelled to add a clear caveat before she returned to camp.

“Don't get me wrong, Nick. Jo is much tougher than she thinks she is, and I've always trusted her judgment. She's fully capable of making her own decisions. But as her friend, who's more or less responsible for her up here, I'd hate to see some guy hurt her by sailing under false colors. She's had too much of that already.”

“I read you loud and clear, Hazel. Don't worry. I'm not the feed-'em-a-line-of-bull type.”

“That's my hunch about you, too,” the cattle queen pronounced.

But as she returned to her own camp, she had to admit it: the fate of this potential romance was just too hard to call.

Even if Nick was not the bad sort at all, she could not entirely discount his hint about an unhappy childhood. For reasons beyond his control he might not have it together emotionally—lots of guys in rugged, macho jobs were too emotionally bottled up inside,
one reason they sought jobs that were conducive to the loner and his need to avoid too much society. She'd seen it in many of the cowboys she'd hired over the years.

Jo needed a man, sure, but one who was mature and responsible. There were plenty of men with strong backs and weak characters.

For Jo's sake, and for the sake of Mystery Valley's future, Hazel would take the gamble.

S
upper was cooking by the time Hazel returned to the cabins, and the girls were busy playing doubles badminton.

Jo, however, had missed several easy shots, forcing her partner, Bonnie, to take most of the swings at the shuttlecock.

“Jeez oh Pete, Lofton!” Bonnie scolded her good-naturedly. “I've seen better form toppling a windmill! Building castles in our mind, are we?”

“Castles? A honeymoon suite, more likely,” Kayla suggested. “Or maybe just a double sleeping bag that smells of wood smoke and the last girl's cheap perfume.”

“Cool it, mighty mouth,” Stella admonished.
“You'd know something about cheap perfume, since you've got our camp smelling like Eau de Biker.”

Ignoring the fracas, Jo gave the shuttlecock a mighty swat, spiking it, and Kayla had to leap aside, almost tripping over her own feet.

“Sweetheart,” Kayla said coolly, “you might want to put your glasses on. I know Miss Montana can't wear glasses, but then again, you're not Miss Montana, are you?”

Jo had been eating Kayla's snide comments, off and on, all day long. This time, however, the “Texas tart” had gone too far.

She threw down her racket and placed her fists on her hips, ready to unload on Kayla.

Stella quickly intervened. “Oh, who are you trying to kid, Kayla? You're ragging on Jo because Nick Kramer obviously prefers her over you.”

By this time their voices had risen high enough to engage the attention of the other women.

“Quit the catfighting,” Dottie called over to them.

But she spoke absently.

Like Hazel, she was distracted by something going on over at the adjacent ridge.

Jo followed their gazes and saw a new pall of gray-black smoke rising into the sky. Flames licked upward, fueled by the brisk breeze.

“That's a new fire,” Bonnie said behind her. “It wasn't burning earlier today.”

“Yeah, same thing I was thinking.”

Even as they watched, a twin-engine transport
plane swept overhead. Smoke jumpers hurled out of the fuselage, their parachutes opening gauze-white against the sky.

Jo couldn't help admiring the men's obvious skill, for their drop zone was tiny and the wind was picking up. Nonetheless, they landed with precision on a lower slope and quickly began moving up to intercept and contain the outbreak.

What a way to pay the bills, she thought.

“Is that Nick Kramer's team?” Bonnie wondered out loud. “They sure haven't got much room to operate on that steep ridge.”

Hazel, also busy watching the firefighters in action, turned to tell them that Nick's team had the day off. But spying the sudden look of concern on Jo's face, Hazel decided to keep mum.

After all, she reasoned, holding something back wasn't the same as telling a fib.

 

Supper was finished, the sun had finally gone down in a copper blaze, and the women were waiting for the moon and stars to glow a little more brightly before they set out for their various drop points. Hazel had tuned the radio to the local station out of Bighorn Creek for the evening news broadcast.

“Turning to fire news in the Bitterroot country,” said the announcer, “we have a late report, just in, that two smoke jumpers were injured, one seriously, while escaping from a sudden firewall on Bent's Ridge.”

“That's the next ridge over!” Dottie exclaimed. “Must be the guys we saw jumping a little while ago.”

“One man was treated on the scene for minor burns and lacerations,” the newscaster continued, “while the second was helivacked to Lucas County General, where he is in poor but stable condition. Although no evacuation of the park has been ordered, emergency officials fear an escalation of the fires in the next seventy-two hours.”

At the unexpected news, Jo felt her heart sink like a stone. She was surprised at her reaction. A cold, nervous fear iced her blood, and it had nothing to do with the threat of fire. All of a sudden she wanted very much to know if Nick Kramer was all right.

What's up with you, Lofton? she berated herself angrily. Of course it's sad that a couple of guys got hurt. But you're getting much too worked up over a guy who's nothing special to you.

“I hope Nick's okay,” Kayla said, rubbing it in.

Jo could see her adversary in the rubescent firelight, goading her with a knowing smile. Kayla was good at salting a wound.

Suddenly fed up, Jo stood and headed toward the cabin just to get a little time alone.

Hazel had to chuckle at the schoolyard silliness of it all. Watching these youngsters fight against and deny their feelings was more fun than anyone could buy a ticket for. Jo, with her natural shyness and that defensive, stiff-necked pride, was still smarting from
Ned Wilson's assault on her self-esteem, seeing Ned in every guy. And Nick, who appeared at a quick glance to be spoiled by good looks, but was in fact hungry with the same needs Jo felt.

This one's a challenge, Hazel conceded, fraught with touchy egos and hidden dangers. But she had never cared much for these “best friends” romances, where everything was sweet lavender and no storms. True love meant some fireworks and turbulence now and then, as surely as fast cars were made for speed, not safety.

“Time to take these gals out and dump them in the wild!” Hazel announced.

 

Jo was abandoned in a little, sloping pine hollow somewhere that she did not know from the moon.

All she had to do was get back to camp, she told herself. She was smart enough to be a teacher, so she was smart enough to use the map Mother Nature had given her. Hazel had taught her well, she thought, looking up at the dusting of stars in the sky.

This was easy enough to do. It was just that she had Nick Kramer on her mind, instead of what she was supposed to be doing. She couldn't stop worrying about that smoke jumper who was seriously hurt. Worrying that he had been Nick.

Shaking off her dread, she read the stars above her and said aloud as if to fortify herself, “This is the way.”

She sighted on a big knoll well ahead, wending her
way through trees and bushes, the full moon making travel easy.

In fifteen minutes she reached the knoll.

Moving from point to point, she eventually reached a moonlit body of water: Wendigo Lake. It reflected in the moonlight like a liquid mirror. At her end she could see the narrow shadow of a dock. Beyond it, on the other side of the lake, was the paved road that wound up Lookout Mountain to Bridger's Summit. From there she could find her way with her eyes closed.

Jo felt exhilarated by the accomplishment. Something had been growing slowly within her these past days, something unfamiliar but welcome. She felt it very strongly now and realized, with a sense of wonder, that it was confidence.

She headed toward the long, wooden dock that jutted well out into the kidney-shaped lake.

Although she would never admit it to anyone, she wanted to get back to the campground and see if there was any word about Nick. More and more, she was starting to think it was he who had been injured earlier.

That grim possibility made her replay, in her mind, all the nasty comments she'd hurled at him.

There'd certainly been plenty, she admitted ruefully. And what, really, had he done to deserve them? Because Ned had put her through the wringer, she turned around and punished Nick.

Just ahead of her in the moonlit darkness, a figure stepped onto the dock.

He walked to the far end, near the water. Then abruptly he turned and looked her way.

“Humans or bears?” he called out in an amiable tone, for it was too dark to discern faces at a distance.

Jo drew up short at the sound of the voice from the dark end of the dock.

For a brief moment warm relief flooded her as she realized Nick was all right, after all.

But then, right on the heels of that emotion came a sudden, hot rush of anger as she realized she'd been set up.

Hazel had been the one to drop her off. She'd been the one to plan Jo's foray through the woods.

Jo would bet all the gold in Fort Knox that Hazel was playing matchmaker, and if Nick Kramer was playing along just to make her look like a fool, then he'd be sorry.

So very sorry, Jo thought as she stared at him in the moonlight, hands on her hips, waiting, silent accusation all over her face.