CHAPTER 1
Caleb Rourke
I stare up at the ceiling and watch the sunlight slowly wash across the length. Finally, I can get up.
Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I stand and look at my watch. Four full hours of sleep. A record.
How the hell am I going to do this for the next three months? I need something to keep my body and mind busy. I’m on call if they need a hotshot firefighter but these are the good months. For the next three months all but a few are laid off until fire season kicks back in.
Last week I signed up for the local fire department, but they haven’t gotten back to me.
Maybe Jaxon has something I can do. I know he’s got his hands full with his mountain home, several business properties in town and two sets of twins. Damn, it’s good to see him happy. He and Spade both struck gold on this mountain.
After serving with both men, then wandering aimlessly for a couple years, Eli-another teammate -and I came to visit when Spade got married. The town and mountains called to us, too.
Eli, always a naturalist, joined a rafting and camping tour company.
My dad was a firefighter, and I’d been a volunteer fireman before following my mom into the military. Once I moved here, I applied to be a hot shot jumper and completed my training. For the last season I’ve been working with the closest crew.
After padding across the open room and switching the coffee on, I hit my workout routine then the shower. I swallow down a bagel and polish off my coffee, then head out to chop more wood. Call it my meditation.
I lose track of time in the repetition. Pausing, I pull off my T-shirt to wipe my face and neck, then drink some water. A glance down the mountain freezes me in my tracks. A thin spiral of smoke rises from the general area of my nearest neighbor. I haven’t met her, but Jaxon said she’s a widow.
Still clutching the axe, I jump in my truck and head down the road that runs in front of her property. Keeping my eye on the thin ribbon streaming upward, I figure I should be able to contain it. Unless the wind picks up.
Pulling into her yard, I see there are two structures. The house and another smaller, barn-like structure behind it partially hidden by the forest. There’s an older model pickup parked in front of the house.
Jumping out with the axe, I grab my shovel from the truck bed. Taking the porch steps two at a time, I pound on the door, watching the smoke coming from the back of the second structure.
“Hello! Hello! Anyone home? Ma’am, you home?”
Widow. Damn. I should have introduced myself two weeks ago. Maybe she’s so old she doesn’t hear. Maybe she’s afraid. We’re a little isolated here. “Ma’am, I’m a friend of Jaxon. I’m living in his cabin up the mountain. Ma’am, there’s a fire.”
I hear a chair scrap against the floor, then the window curtain shifts. “Ma’am, I’m Rourke. Call Jaxon, call the fire department, call whoever you want, but there’s smoke coming from the rear of your outbuilding. I’m going to go check it.”
Spinning, I jump off the porch and head across the yard. I can smell the fire now. The farthest corner of the building has flames jumping up both sides of the corner. The smell of gasoline fills the air. Shoveling dirt on the flames, I beat it down enough to keep it from spreading but don’t know how long I can keep up. I sense someone coming up behind me.
“I’ve got a bucket of water,” a soft, steady voice says.
“No! A propellant’s involved. Do you have any fire extinguishers?” Glancing briefly over my shoulder I’m surprised to see a beautiful young woman.
“Yes.”
“Get them, then call the fire department and tell them gasoline’s involved and to hurry.”
She returns quickly and puts two ten-pound ABC extinguishers beside me. Exactly what I would have chosen. Grabbing one I work on getting the blaze put out. We should be okay now and it won’t take the local VFD’s long to get here, I hear the siren wails in the distance.
I wonder if she’s the daughter of the widow.That the fuck am I thinking. Concentrate on the fire man.
I have the fire out by the time the fire department arrives. The captain smiles. “I guess I don’t have to call you to tell you you’re hired.”
He reaches out to shake my hand, then records my statement of what I saw and found. As we finish, I see a couple of the other men go up and hug the woman who got me the extinguishers.
“Her husband was one of us,” the captain says watching the exchange. “A good man. He died in a fire almost two years ago.I—it’s been hard on all of us. Guy and Grace grew up here in Kennedy. We all did.
“Grace is... this was their workshop. He was a painter and photographer when he was off duty. Grace does pottery. They have a shop in town where they sell what they make. But a lot of his work is still in this workshop. I don’t know if she could have handled losing all that, too.”
“Was there a lot of damage inside?”
