Page 15 of The Grumpy Firefighter
The station alarm sounds—not the full emergency tone, but the alert for a non-critical incident. Arthur's voice comes over the intercom from the communications desk.
"Chief, we've got a structure fire at the old barn on Maple Creek Road. Initial report indicates contained blaze, no occupants, but adjacent property may be at risk as the wind picks up."
"Acknowledged," I respond, already moving toward my gear. To Natalie, I add, "Stay here. Logan can drive you home when the weather clears."
Her expression shifts from observer to participant in an instant. "I can help," she says firmly. "Even with a twisted ankle, I can manage communications or assist with equipment."
"It's not necessary—"
"Paul," she interrupts, using my first name deliberately, "I'm not asking to run into a burning building. I'm offering to be useful. There's a difference."
"Fine," I concede. "But you stay with the command vehicle, and if I tell you to clear the area, you do it immediately. No questions."
Her smile is radiant. "Yes, Chief."
Within minutes, we're en route to the property, Natalie beside me in the command SUV while the engine and tanker followwith the rest of the crew. The sky has darkened considerably, gray clouds rolling in from the mountains like a tide of smoke.
"First flakes," Natalie says softly, pointing to where tiny white specks have begun to appear against the windshield.
As we crest the hill on Maple Creek Road, the barn comes into view—an old wooden structure now partially engulfed in flames. The fire is concentrated on one side, likely where hay was stored, but with the rising wind and approaching snow, containment is the priority.
I park at a safe distance and turn to Natalie. "Stay in radio contact. Monitor county emergency channels and keep me updated on the weather pattern."
She nods, already reaching for the communications equipment with confidence. "Be careful," she adds, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that says far more than her words.
"Always am," I assure her, allowing myself one brief touch, my hand covering hers for just a moment before exiting the vehicle.
The next forty-five minutes are consumed by the organized chaos of rural firefighting. The barn is a lost cause, but our focus is preventing spread to the nearby farmhouse and outbuildings. The crew works with practiced precision—Bradley and Nathan managing hose lines, Arthur coordinating with the property owner, Austin assisting with equipment, Logan serving as my second, anticipating needs before I voice them.
Through it all, I'm particularly aware of Natalie in the command vehicle, her calm voice occasionally coming through the radio with weather updates or information from county dispatch. Once, when I glance back during a brief pause, I catch her watching me, her expression a mixture of concern and something that looks remarkably like pride.
The snow intensifies as we work, fat flakes now falling steadily, accumulating on our shoulders and helmets, hissing as they meet hot embers. It helps with containment but complicates our operations, making surfaces slick and visibility poor.
By the time we declare the fire contained, we're all dusted with white, the burned skeleton of the barn stark against the increasingly winter-like landscape. No injuries, minimal property loss beyond the already-deteriorating structure. A good outcome by any measure.
As we pack up equipment, my radio crackles again. "Chief?" Arthur's voice sounds concerned. "Just got a call from Nora at Moonlight & Manuscripts. The heavy, wet snow is causing issues with their roof, sounds like potential structural concerns over the rare books section."
Natalie's head snaps up, alarm replacing the calm competence she's displayed all morning. "That's my apartment building," she says. "And those books… Paul, some of them are irreplaceable first editions."
Decision made in an instant, I key the radio. "Tell Nora we're on our way. Have her start moving the most valuable inventory to the central area, away from exterior walls."
"The fire's contained here," Logan confirms, joining us. "Bradley and I can finish the last checks while you take Nathan and Austin to the bookstore."
Twenty minutes later, we pull up to Moonlight & Manuscripts, where the situation is immediately clear. The old Victorian building that houses both the bookstore and Natalie's second-floor apartment shows signs of stress under the unexpectedly heavy snow.
Nora is directing a small team of volunteers in moving books from the threatened sections. She looks up with visible relief when we enter.
"Oh, thank God," she exclaims. "That corner's getting worse by the minute, and we've got the Hawthorne collection under it."
Natalie moves with surprising speed despite her ankle, immediately assessing which books need immediate rescue. "The first editions are in the glass cabinet," she instructs. "And there's a collection of original maps in the drawer beneath them."
What follows is a carefully orchestrated rescue operation of a different sort. Nathan climbs up to examine the ceiling while Austin and I work with Natalie and Nora to protect the most valuable items. The snow continues to fall outside, a steady curtain of white that transforms Whitetail Falls into something from a snow globe.
"The good news," Nathan reports as he climbs down from his inspection, "is that it's a localized issue. The bad news is that it needs immediate attention before the weight of the snow causes more damage."
"I'll go up," I decide. "Austin, bring the equipment from the truck. We can divert the water and shore up that section temporarily until proper repairs can be made."
As I prepare to head to the roof, Natalie approaches, concern etched on her face. "Be careful up there," she says, her hand lightly touching my arm. "It's getting slippery."
