Page 38 of Smoke Season

She glanced back at Fallows. “Then what’s our next move?”

Mel pulled back, allowing True the chance to assess her closely for the first time. Mel looked utterly exhausted, but True’s heart still caught for a beat in her throat, even with Vivian and the tense way they’d left things still at the back of her mind. Perhaps preciselybecauseof that. Unrequited love was, by definition, no one’s fault, but sometimes, even after all these years, it still stung.

Standing outside the shuttle van at the drop-off point in Carbon, waiting for Don to liberate the Wus’ duffels from the back, True had searched her brain for something—anything—she could say to Vivian to make their parting better. But there had been nothing, of course. It was done. They were probably already on the interstate by now, allthis drama in their rearview mirror. Regret still sat like a stone in her stomach, unmoved by the worry and stress all around her.

Mel offered a wan smile, brushing her hair out of her eyes, and as True stepped back, she noticed the Eddy had begun to clear out. As Sam shouted, “Last call!” those with homes to go to slowly filed out, the evacuated residents from Forest Service Road 7312 at the base of Flatiron last to leave, having only cots awaiting them at the temporary shelter in the Carbon High School gym.

When True glanced back across the Eddy, Fallows hadn’t budged, however. She made eye contact and made a beeline for him. She couldn’t afford to wait for him to cause a scene in the empty bar, in front of Sam.

She wove through several families gathering their gear, Mel on her heels, but by the time they had sidled past all the suitcases and duffels to confront Fallows, Sam had somehow beaten them there.

“Last call foryouwas about a decade ago,” he said, a thumb pointing in the direction of the door.

Fallows stood his ground by the door, evacuees squeezing around him like debris through river rocks. “I guess we’ll clear out when we’re good and ready,” he told Sam as several of his crew members gathered around him.

In other words,I still call the shots, kid.

They stood toe to toe for a long moment, and though Fallows was several inches shorter than Sam, it didn’t seem it, despite the gleam of something vulnerable around the whites of his eyes. Could it be fear?

A flush of red crept up Sam’s neck, reminding True that no matter how much she loathed dealing with this man, Sam couldn’t even be in the same room with him without having a visceral reaction. What must it have been like, growing up as a Bishop in Carbon, having to prove yourself to every adult, having to shake labels likewhite trashandredneckandcriminalat every turn? Her protective instinct kicked into gear, and True stepped in front of Sam.

He didn’t appear to appreciate the gesture. “Everything’s under control,” he told her, frowning at her as if to say,What’s wrong with you? Get yourself and Mel out of here.Fat chance.

“That’s right,” True tagged on. For the benefit of the remaining customers at the bar, she attempted a bored scoff, adding in a raised voice, “Carbon, we’ve seen forest fires before, haven’t we?”

Fallows only smiled coldly. “Not like this one, sweetheart.” He pressed a finger into Sam’s chest, then flicked it up to flip the bill of his ball cap off his head. When Sam flailed to grab his hat before it flew to the ground, Fallows laughed loudly. “Jesus, junior, how are you still falling for that one?”

He kicked it across the bar floor for good measure. When Sam turned to retrieve it, Mel on his heels, Fallows rounded again on True. “Where the hell is it?”

“At Temple,” she hissed, with a sidelong look toward Sam to ensure he hadn’t heard. “Same as always.”

Now she was sure Fallows looked scared, for the first time True had ever seen, anyway. “Then you get that we’refucked, right?”

True forced herself to remain calm. Icy calm. “Like Sam said, everything is under control.”

“Sam doesn’t know shit. And clearly neither do you, given thatIamhereand mydeliveryisnot.”

“I don’t know shit about what?” Sam’s tone was hard as he returned, cap clenched tightly in one hand, the other in a fist against his thigh. True flinched. She was standing at Temple Bar with Vivian all over again, her reputation on the line.

Fallows attempted a hearty, cold laugh. “Take your pick, son.”

Sam lunged at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave?”

True piled on, hoping to continue the redirect of Sam’s focus. “And what exactly is your problem with me, anyway?”

“This asshole’s always a problem,” Sam answered.

Fallows reserved his smirk for True this time. “But I’m never too much foryouto handle, right, honey?”

“That’s it.” Sam lunged, dropping his hat again to snag a handful of Fallows’s shirt.

“Stop it,” Mel said from behind True. She tugged Sam away, muttering something about Fallows not being worth Sam’s time or the energy it would require to mop his blood from the Eddy floor. True was only half listening, eyes still trained on Fallows like he might dart away any minute, snake in the grass, one of the rattlers that disappeared into the granite lining Whiskey Creek.

Fallows broke eye contact first, a significant victory, True decided, with a grunted order to his men to stay put. “We’ll finish this outside,” he told True, then sauntered out of the Eddy without a backward glance.

She didn’t follow him, not with Sam’s eyes burning a hole in her back. She waited until Mel could draw his gaze back to her face, as only Mel could, imploring him to give his attention to what mattered. “Our daughters,” she heard Mel say, then, “Highline” and “time to go.” True chanced a glance back toward the bar to see Sam nod, turning to finish closing up, and only then did she slip out the Eddy door to continue what she’d started with Fallows.

Once outside, she faced him square on, feet planted firmly, just like when riding out Quartz Canyon from her perch at the bow, ready to take a hit against a river rock, a wall of water, or both.

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