Page 11 of Light My Fire

Larke poured herself a cup of coffee and joined Tucker at the map. Didn’t even look at Riley as he left. Interesting.

“Another fire?” she asked.

“Lightning strike,” her father said and hung a hand on her shoulder. “This one’s up past the McGinty place.”

“That’s not far from Alicia Salmon’s place. She’s almost to term. Maybe she should evacuate.”

“Where does she live?” Tucker asked.

“Southwest of the fire, about a mile from the main road.” She pointed to a place just south of the state park line. “Rough road, mostly for a four-wheeler and snowmobile,” she said. “Or, of course, horseback.”

She turned to her father. “I’ll see if I can get her on the CB.”

“Don’t go in without checking in with us,” Tucker said, feeling a little odd to be giving orders, but, well, Jed had put him in charge.

“I’ll load up a Fat Boy in case you guys need to set up a strike camp and we need to drop in supplies,” Barry said. In his mid-sixties, Barry was every inch the picture of an Alaskan bush pilot—rangy, tough, unruffled. He shaved his white hair down to bristles, wore a white handlebar mustache, had blue eyes and a rare smile. Now he pressed a kiss to his daughter’s temple, reached for the cap folded in his back pocket, and headed out to his Otter drop plane.

“Roll call,” Tucker said to a couple of the rookies from Minnesota. Crazily, they hailed from his hometown of Deep Haven in northern Minnesota. They’d joined the Jude County hotshot crew two years ago on a recommendation from Jed. This year, both had tried out and made the team. A guy named Romeo—lean, wide shouldered, with long, dark blond hair. The other, a lumberjack named Seth. Their other sawyer, he handled a chain saw like he’d been born with one in hand and bore the reddish-blond beard and white-blond curly hair of a true Norseman.

Seth nodded at him and went to grab his fellow rookies, two Zulies—Hanes and Eric—who had transferred from the Missoula team. Jed had hired them after they passed their training.

The team assembled a few minutes later outside the lodge, and Tucker gave them the update, including the decision to use the squares. Not a word of dissent and by the time Barry had his Otter fueled up, the team had packed their PG bags, along with the cargo box of fuel, water, fusees, chain saws, water canisters, and hose line and dragged it all out to the tarmac.

Tucker grabbed his own gear, added a few extras—streamers, a low-range antenna, toothbrush and paste, an extra T-shirt and socks—and joined the seven-person team assembled near Kingston’s yellow Otter. A bumblebee in the sky.

Tucker noticed Skye crouched before her PG bag and headed over to her. “How are you?”

She wore her hair in a tight braid, her aqua-gray eyes just a little troubled as she forced a smile. “I’m good.”

“Right. Okay, stand up, let me check.” He ran through the equipment in her leg pouches—a hundred-foot letdown rope, extra drogue deployment bag, 12x12 camping tarp, a knife. She held her gridded face helmet and wore a bandanna tied behind her ears.

“Good. And your PG bag—you have your hard hat, leather gloves, signal mirror—”

“Yeah.”

“Bug dope?”

“You mean large animal repellent?”

Good, so she still had a sense of humor. He pressed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re still first stick, with me, so just do what I do. You’ve done this before—the winds might be a little higher, but we’ll put down far enough away from the fire line it shouldn’t be too bad.”

She nodded.

“Grab an extra protein bar, then get aboard.”

Barry Kingston wore a canvas jacket, a fraying baseball hat, and aviator glasses and met them with a hand out. “Before you go—I gotta pray for you guys.”

Huh?

“Listen, guys. You’re headed into danger, and the only thing I have to give you is this.” He met Tucker’s eyes first. “‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.’”

His gaze scanned the rest of the assembly. “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.’”

His eyes finally landed on Larke standing just outside the group. “‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’”

Barry recited the psalm as if it might be conversation, a truth that belonged to him. “Lord—You have this team’s back. You go before them to prepare the way and will shelter them as they do the job to which You’ve called them. You are their good shepherd. Protect them. Guide them. And bring them home safely.”

He glanced again at Tucker. “God is able. And you are able through Him. Let’s go.”

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