“Donovan, where have you been?”
“In a ring of fire. But we made it to the creek. We’re almost clear of the drop zone.”
“Then I’ll give the command to drop,” Travis said. “Good work, Donovan.”
“We owe you, man.” Pyle clapped his hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “You saved us. How’d you know the old firebreak was here? Or that it would work?”
“I didn’t,” Ryder said. “But I have a feeling Someone greater than I did.”
As twilight broke over the command post, shouts celebrated the death of the fire.
Weary volunteers headed to their trucks and cars, murmuring about the power of a thousand gallons of water hitting the burning trees. Pops left with Granny, who came up with bowls of fruit and grab-and-go snacks around four a.m. Tina had packed up an hour ago, out of food and out of energy. But Elizabeth couldn’t leave. Not until she had eyes on Ryder Donovan.
Was he really out of the drop zone when the helitanker let loose? That was over two hours ago.
Blackened by smoke and exhausted, the WMA officers and local firefighters stood around talking, discussing the fight, assessing, taking reports, worried a hot spot might ignite again. But she knew. They were waiting for Ryder and his crew as well.
Yet the five of them had not emerged.
She stood off to the side, out of the way, whispering the only prayer she knew, “God, please.”
Suddenly, a strong, moist wind whipped through the camp, and a sweet, drizzling rain began to fall. Rain. Much-needed rain. And five grimy figures walked from the trees and dim morning light into camp.
Ryder. Elizabeth ran toward him, pushing through the gathering crowd, and into his arms. “Thank God. Thank God.”
Covered in smoke and soot, he only knew one thing amid the cheering and applause—Elizabeth.
“I was so terrified for you,” she said, arms tight around his neck.
“I’m here now. All is well.” Ryder gripped her tighter, his fears and weariness evaporating. When she stepped back, she swatted at him playfully.
“Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Never,” he said, roping his arm around her waist and pulling her close again. “Maybe now’s not the best time, but I love you, Elizabeth Dorsey.”
“Oh, goodness, Ryder, wow, I?—”
“I think you love me too. Only you have your plans and—” Fire always had a way of drawing the truth out of a man.
“Donovan.” Travis tapped him on the shoulder, then shoved a bottle of water at him. “Need you over here.”
“Rotten timing,” he muttered as Elizabeth slipped away. But maybe it was for the best.
As Ryder gathered with the crew, half-heartedly listening to the debrief, hearing his name a few times, he was in another world. Never mind his throbbing knee, his burning eyes, or his aching body. Or all the speculation over how the fire started. Hikers? Campers? The illegal loggers?
He’d just exposed his heart to a woman who, in all likelihood, would never love him back.
14
Ryder woke late Saturday afternoon with Fred and Ginger peering at him from the foot of the bed.
“I know, I know,” he said. “Who’s the old dog now?” Laughing, he reached to scratch their ears. “The fire was pretty bad, guys. Ate up a lot of the Wade Reed area.”
Careful of his back and knee, Ryder showered, then, in shorts and T-shirt, brewed a cup of coffee while he fed the dogs, then stepped onto the deck, gazing toward the burn.
His place was surrounded by green as if a fire hadn’t ravaged a good section of the Cheatham WMA. As far as he knew, no park guests were caught in the blaze. No agents, firefighters, or volunteers had been lost.
He’d dreamed about the fire, leading his men into the thick of it and never escaping. He woke up every time, sweating and panicked.
