Wildfire Smokejumper Trilogy

Chapter 2-3

After she got back from her morning trail run and had showered, Laura headed down to the front desk. Bess handed her the day’s signup sheet. Six tourists for a trail ride. All had listed themselves as moderate to experienced riders. Downgrade that to “I’ve ridden a horse before” through “I have a fifty-fifty chance of getting a horse to go where I want, despite the nice berry bush we’re passing.”

Then she focused on the names. Grayson Clyde Masterson. One of the ones who’d declared himself as experienced.

“I thought he was checking out?” she pointed at the name for Bess.

She shook her graying curls, “No such luck, Laura. He saw you were leading the trail ride and decided to stay at the last minute. Actually said his meetings at the conference went so well, he was taking the week off and thought this would be an ideal place to spend it.”

She didn’t manage to suppress her groan, “Aren’t we full up?”

“Cancellation. Sorry, but I’m not turning down money.”

“Neither am I,” Laura agreed. Grayson might be an arrogant clod who thought he was god’s gift to women, but he tipped very well. So well that it was a little creepy. Didn’t matter; no one was buying their way into her bed and she was saving up for a sorrel she’d had her eye on since the spring. The mare would make a fine breeder and Kenny had promised to hold onto her for Laura at least until the fall.

She flipped through the pages, tomorrow’s nature walk was full—and yes Mr. Jerk was one of the people—but no one had signed up for the next day’s trail ride yet. So she switched it with the next sheet down and handed it back to Bess. Bess looked down at the new order of events then smiled at Laura and winked. An ice and snow class up on one of Mt. Hood’s glaciers. If he wanted to sign up for that, fine.

“I’ll fix the activity board.” Bess tapped at her computer keys for a few moments.The “Join Us For These Fun Activities” slideshow display screen behind the front desk shifted from close-ups of birds and scenic nature trails to dramatic views from above the Mount Hood timberline, some showing a crowd waving to the camera—each clothed in parka, snow pants, and a climbing harness.

Go ahead, Grayson. Sign up for that one. I dare you.

Laura waved her thanks to Bess and headed for the corral to saddle up the horses. Men were such…

No. No, she wouldn’t clump them together merely because she was sick of, well, most of them.

Mister Ed, her big tan gelding, trotted up to the fence line to greet her. They’d been riding together for five years now and the gelding was always anxious when they missed a day. A chunk of carrot and a nose rub reassured him that everything was okay.

She remembered Akbar the Great looking horse-stiff as he crawled in from a fire. There’s another thing Grayson wouldn’t be doing anytime soon, jumping fire. By the look of his hands, he lifted nothing heavier than a martini glass. Akbar’s hands she could picture easily: calloused, strong, and looking as if they could hold up the world.

He’d also been funny and included her mom in the conversation. And he hadn’t talked about the New Tillamook Burn other than admitting he was MHA’s lead smokie, and only after her mom had asked. He hadn’t used his main pick-up card on her. Of course, his buddy had already played “we be smokejumpers” for him. Even if they were in the game together, there wasn’t any artifice or hidden agenda about it. They were clear as could be about the question they were asking long before they asked it.

Casual s*x was not something she did. But it was hard not to be impressed by Akbar being the lead smokejumper. It was a world where first seat meant something. It was also a world she understood. People like Grayson who made their livings in offices and boardrooms never made sense to her. She liked some, even dated a few, but she’d never understood what drove them. Akbar she understood without even thinking about it: smokejumper, proud of it, and enjoying the obvious benefits.

Like everyone else in all of Oregon, and twice over because she made her living out of doors, she’d read every update on the three weeks that the Burn had raged. From her perch on Mount Hood, she’d been able to see the smoke plume day in and day out; could smell it most days. At night, the hills burned so brightly she’d been able to see them a hundred miles away.

He’d been in that; right on the front lines.

“But the thing I really noticed about him,” she told Mister Ed. “Despite being obviously famished for good food after the brutal firefight, he kept forgetting to eat as we talked. As if talking to me was more important than anything as mundane as mere hunger. Of course you wouldn’t know about that.”

Mister Ed who had followed her over to the tack shed and was nosing her pockets looking for another treat.

“He was charming about it.”

Mister Ed nickered.

“I know. It’s been a long time since anyone did that to me.”

Whether by intent, or hoping to discover another carrot, the gelding head-butted the back pocket where she’d stuffed her phone.

She glared at the horse.

Mister Ed gave back one of his “I’m so innocent” looks.

“Okay, fine. But don’t tell the others.” The half dozen other horses were still snoozing down by the water trough. She dug out another chunk of carrot and laughed as Mister Ed’s soft muzzle tickled her open palm.

Then she dug out her phone and sent a text.