“Ithink it’s best if we go home in the morning,” was what my dad said after we stayed up until midnight making sure the flames were officially put out. We’d emptied every last cube of ice from the coolers and soaked the bed of charred pine needles with all the water bottles Mom and a few people from surrounding campsites had packed.
I unzipped the tent at sunrise to a black line in the dirt. It stretched on and on around us. I wasn’t convinced if I stepped anywhere near the eternal circle, it wouldn’t swallow me whole. Everything was the color of midnight and covered in ash. A situation that still required an incident report to local authorities by Jack. My mistake was even harder to look at in the daylight.
If I could go back and make different choices, I would. I’d tell my dad I was sorry right away, and he’d not only hear it but believe it too. But it’s too late for that. The damage has been done. I’m afraid I’ve lost his trust.
It’s quiet when we pull up the driveway in Park City, theend of an eight-hour drive spent in silence coming to an end. I’m not sure I’ve ever run out of things to say in my whole life, but at a loss for words was exactly how I’d describe the weight sitting on top of my chest.
“I’ll unload. You can head inside.” His voice is even. He doesn’t even sound mad anymore. But the fact that he’s still acting so withdrawn, pushing me away, stings more than anger ever could.
This weekend built a barrier between us. We’re that black line that never ends. I don’t know if I’ll ever become more like my brothers or if there will be a day when something I do makes him proud. But right now, it feels like I could do just about anything, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
Present Day
Forget it ever happened? Is she kidding?
How am I supposed to ignore the soft curve of her waist that fit perfectly beneath the palms of my hands. Or the way her hair fanned across her breasts as it cascaded down her chest. I can’t stop picturing Hailey pressed up against that bathroom wall, and it’s doing exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t let happen after my training mistakes… It’s making me lose focus.
My first day on the line was yesterday, and I’m determined to be the best at this job. But now there’s a small problem. A crimp in my plan. The superintendent’s daughter is consuming my every thought.
“Failing to break in your boots, dehydration, disrespect.” Jack presses his palms into the door casing, commanding my attention. My hands freeze, wrapped in shoelaces. I unwind them and roll my shoulders back. He doesn’t look mad; it’s worse. He looks disappointed.
“It’s one thing to show up unprepared,” he continues, “but had you started training with us in April, I would have let you go the moment you mouthed off to anyone on this crew. I want to be right about you, Morgan.” His eyes bore into mine as if he’s transferring a memory…that night…the campsite…the fire. A mistake I never want to relive. It was nine years ago, but the pieces all fall into place like it was yesterday.
You did good out there, kid. Maybe you have a future in this.
I still remember his vote of confidence in me. I think it played a big role in why I chose this career path for my life. But I pushed that weekend so far out of my mind that I never tied the two together until now. And even though I hardly know this guy, his opinion matters to me because of it. I want to impress him like I did back then.
A crackle sparks through the radio speaker clipped to Jack’s collar and draws my attention to the staccato voice delivering a choppy message.
“Dispatch to Iron Summit. We’ve got a brush fire north of Warren, Idaho, at the White Horse Campground. Sending you the resource order now.”
He tucks his chin to his collarbone so that is mouth presses against the communication device. “Superintendent of Iron Summit. Copy that.”
He draws his phone from his pants pocket and swipes across the screen. I study the movements of his mustache as he mumbles, “45.264 degrees north, 115.6765 degrees west. Command One, Garret Paxton. Air Tactical 6. Tac 3.”
GPS coordinates, incident commander contact info, and radio frequencies, I determine from the limited information he whispers.
“Department 8, this is dispatch. We need two engine crews on site,” the static continues.
Jack drowns out the alert with his own phone call. “Murphy, we roll out in one hour. Notify Jackson.”
With swift movements, he tucks his phone away and grips me by the shoulders.
“I’m taking a chance on you because I owe…” He shakes his hand as if he can physically mop away the end of that sentence. “But I will sure as hell find a replacement if you keep pulling stunts,” he warns.
I’d nod if it wasn’t for my stunned realization. The reality of my situation all making sense now. I didn’t get hired mid-season because of my talent, skill, or résumé. I got this job as a favor to my father.
“Oh, and Morgan… stay away from my daughter.”
“Saddle up, gentlemen. It’s time to take Pony for a ride!”
Half the crew gathers around a two-wheel-drive commuting vehicle. It’s mint green with a mountain logo andRegion 4stamped on the back door. Long white stripes paint the sides of the buggy nicknamed after a small horse.
“Look who’s on their own two feet today.” McCafferty slaps his palm over the top of my helmet and jostles it around a bit. “Thought that life-saving sheep maneuver of yours might have done you in, rookie.”
I vaguely remember boasting about that in my disoriented state.
“Do your worst,” I say to the alpha squad leader as he assigns us all our tasks.
