Chasing Fire Part 32

Dobie trotted up. "What're you two ... Jesus, Cards, how the h.e.l.l did you do that?" "Hold his hands," Rowan ordered as she dug into her pack.

"What?"

"Get behind him and hold his hands down. I think it's going to hurt when I pull it out." She set a boot on either side of Cards's legs, pulled off her right glove.

She clamped her fingers on the inch of jagged wood protruding from his cheek. "On three now. Get ready. One. Two-"

She yanked on two, watched the blood slop out, watched his eyes go a little gla.s.sy. Quickly, she pressed the pad of gauze she'd taken out of her pack to the wound.

"You've got a h.e.l.l of a hole in your face," she told him. "You said on three."

"Yeah, well, I lost count. Dobie, hold the pad, keep the pressure on. I have to clean that out." "We don't have time for that," Cards objected. "Just tape it over. We'll worry about it later." "Two minutes. Lean back against Dobie."

She tossed the b.l.o.o.d.y pad aside, poured water over the wound, hoping to flush out tiny splinters. "And try not to scream like a girl," she added, following up the water with a hefty dose of peroxide.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, Ro! G.o.dd.a.m.n, f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t!"

Ruthless, she waited while the peroxide bubbled out dirt and wood, then doused it with more water. She coated another pad with antibiotic cream, added another, then taped it over what she noted was a hole in his cheek the size of a marble. "We can get you out to the west."

"Screw that. I'm not packing out. It was just a d.a.m.n splinter."

"Yeah." Dobie held up the three-inch spear of wood. "If you're fifty feet tall. I saved it for you."

"Holy s.h.i.+t, that's a f.u.c.king missile. I got hit with a wood missile. In the face.

My luck," he said in disgust, "has been for s.h.i.+t all season." He waved off Rowan's extended hand. "I can stand on my own."

He wobbled a moment, then steadied.

"Take some of the ibuprofen in your PG bag. If you're sure you're fit, I want you to go switch off to scout spots. You're not running a saw, Cards. You know better. Switch off, or I'll have to report the injury to Ops."

"I'm not leaving this here until she's dead."

"Then switch off. If that hole in your ugly face bleeds through those pads, have one of your team change it."

"Yeah, yeah." He touched his fingers to the pad. "You'd think I cut off a leg,"

he muttered, but headed down the line. When he'd gone far enough, she pulled out her radio, contacted Gull. "Cards is headed to you. He had a minor injury. I want one of you to head up to me, and he'll take your place down there."

"Copy that."

"Okay, Dobie, get that saw working. And watch out for flying wood missiles. I don't want any more drama." The backfire held. It took another ten hours, but reports from head to tail called the fire contained.

The sunset ignited the sky as she hiked back to camp. It reminded her of watching the sun set with Gull. Of bullets and blind hate. She dropped down to eat, wis.h.i.+ng she could find that euphoria that always rose in her once a fire surrendered.

Yangtree sat down beside her. "We're going to get some food in our bellies before we start mop-up. Ops has eight on tap for that. It's up to you since he was on your team, but I think Cards should demob, get that wound looked at proper."

"Agreed. I'm going to pack out with him. If they can send eight, let's spring eight from camp."

"My thinking, too. I tell you, Ro, I say I'm too old for this, but I'm starting to mean it. I might just ask your daddy for a job come the end of the season."

"h.e.l.l. Cards is the one with the hole in his face."

He looked toward the west, the setting sun, the black mountain. "I'm thinking I may want to see what it's like to sit on my own porch on a summer night, drink a beer, with some female company if I can get it, and not have to think about fire."

"You'll always think about fire, and sitting on a porch, you'd wish you were here." He gave her a pat on the knee as he rose. "It might be time to find out."

She had to browbeat Cards into packing out. Smoke jumpers, she thought, treated injuries like points of pride, or challenges. He sulked on the flight home.

"I get why he's in a mood." Gull settled down beside her. "Why are you?"

"Sixty hours on fire might have something to do with it."

"No. That's why you're whipped and more vulnerable to the mood, but not the reason for the mood."

"Here's what I don't get, hotshot: why, after a handful of months, you think you know me so d.a.m.n well. And another is why you spend so much time psychoa.n.a.lyzing people."

"Those are both pretty easy to get. The first is it may be a handful of months, but people who live and work together, particularly under intense conditions, tend to know and understand each other quicker than those who don't. Add sleeping together, and it increases the learning curve. Second."

He pulled out a bag of sh.e.l.led peanuts, offered her some, then shrugged and dug in himself when she just glowered at him. "Second," he repeated. "People interest me, so I like figuring them out."

He munched nuts. Whatever her mood or the reasons for it, he wasn't inclined to lower his to match it. A hot shower and hot food, followed by a bed with a warm woman in it, ranged in his immediate future.

Who could ask for better?

"You're starting to think about what's waiting back at base. All the c.r.a.p we've been too busy to worry about. What's happened while we were catching fire, if the cops charged Brakeman, found Dolly's killer. If not, what next?"

He glanced over toward Cards, who snored with his head on his pack, a fresh bandage snowy white against his soot-smeared face. "And you're mixing in worrying how bad Cards messed his face up. Whatever Yangtree and you talked about before we demobbed topped it off." She said nothing for a moment. "Know-it-alls are irritating." Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. "I'm getting some sleep." "Funny, I think having somebody understand you is comforting."

She opened one eye, cool, crystal blue. "I didn't say you were an understand- it-all." "You've got me there." Gull shut his eyes as well, and dropped off.

ROWAN HEADED STRAIGHT to the barracks after unloading her gear. To settle down, Gull decided, as much as clean up. Maybe she'd label it as "taking care of her," and that was too d.a.m.n bad, but he postponed his own agenda to hunt down L.B.

He waited in Operations while L.B. coordinated with the mop-up crew boss.

"Got a minute?"

"For the first time in three days, I've got a few. I'm stepping out," L.B.

announced, then jerked his head toward the door. "What's on your mind?"

"You telling me the status of things around here so I can pa.s.s it on to Rowan."

"I don't know how much they're keeping me in the loop, but let's find a place to sit down."

WHEN ROWAN STEPPED OUT of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, a still filthy Gull was sitting on the floor. "Is something wrong with your shower?"

"I don't know. I haven't been in it yet." "I've got a lot to do before I'm done, so we'll have to reschedule the hot s.e.x portion of the evening." "You've got a one-track mind, Swede. I like the track, but there are more than one."

She opened a drawer, selected yoga pants and a top.

"I'll give you the rundown," Gull began. "Trigger dragged Cards to the infirmary. The wound's clean. No infection, but it's pretty d.a.m.n deep. Plastic surgeon recommended, and after some bulls.h.i.+t, he's going into town to see one in the morning. He wants to keep his pretty face."

"That's good." She pulled on the pants and top without bothering with underwear-something Gull appreciated whatever the circ.u.mstances. "And it'll be fun to rag him about plastic surgery," she added, stepping back into the bath to hang the towel. "We ought to get some fun out of it."

"Trigger already suggested they suck the lard out of his a.s.s while they're at it." "That's a start."

"They've charged Leo Brakeman."

He watched her jerk, just a little, then cross over to sit on the side of the bed.

"Okay. All right."

"His rifle, prior threats and the fact he can't verify his whereabouts for the time of the shooting. He admitted he and his wife had a fight, and he went out to drive around for a couple hours. He'd only just gotten back when the cops showed up at the door."

"His wife could've lied for him."

"He never asked her to. Some of this came from the cops, some of it's via Marg. I could separate it out, but being a know-it-all, I figure Marg's intel is as solid as the cops'."

"You'd be right." "They fought about him coming out here, going off on you. About Dolly in general. I think losing a child either sticks the parents together like cement, or rips them up."

"My father had a brother. A younger one. You probably know that, too, since you studied Iron Man."

Gull said nothing, gave her room. "He died when he was three of some weird infection. He'd never been what you'd call robust, and, well, they couldn't fix it. I guess it cemented my grandparents. Has he admitted it? Brakeman?"

"No. He's claiming he was driving around, just tooling the backroads, that somebody broke in, took his rifle. Somebody's framing him. His wife finally convinced him to get a lawyer. They held the bail hearing this morning. She put up their house to post his bond."

"Jesus."

"He's not coming back around here, Ro."

"That's not what I mean. She's dealing with more than anybody should have to deal with, and it just doesn't feel like any of it's her doing. I don't know how she's standing up to it."

"She's dealing with more yet. They identified a man Dolly met at a motel off Twelve the night she died. One she met there a number of times in the past few months. Reverend Latterly."

"Their pastor? For the love of-" She broke off, slumped back. "Dolly was putting out for her mother's padre, all the while claiming she'd been washed in the light of the Lord or whatever. It makes sense," she said immediately.

"Now it makes sense. G.o.d will provide. That's what she said to Lynn. Her baby would need a father, and G.o.d would provide." "I don't think G.o.d had the notion to provide Dolly with a married man who's already got three kids. He's denying it, all righteously outraged, and so far, anyway, his wife's sticking with him. The cops are working on picking that apart."

"He met her the night she was killed. She wanted a father for her baby, and Dolly always pushed when she wanted something. She pushed, maybe threatened to tell his wife, ruin him with his congregation. And he kills her."

"Logical," Gull agreed.

"It still doesn't explain why he didn't just leave her, why he took her into the forest, started the fire. But odds are it's the first time he killed anyone. It's probably hard to be rational after doing something like that.

"Gull ... If he and Dolly were heating the sheets, all this time-and he's been preaching to Mrs. Brakeman for years-he could've gotten into their house."

She tilted her head. "And you've already thought about that."

"Speculated. I expect he's had Sunday dinner there a time or two, he and his wife probably brought a covered dish to summer cookouts and so on. Yeah, I think he knew how to get in, and he might've known or been able to access the combination to the safe."

"It would be a way to have the cops looking at Brakeman, and that worked.

Maybe have them speculating. This violent man, this man with a violent temper, one who'd already pushed his daughter out of the house once, has been known to have heated arguments with her. It could be."

"It's not out of the realm. You lost your mood."

She smirked, just a little. "Know-it-all. Maybe I was feeling useless again, a comedown from three days when I know everything I did mattered, made a difference, was needed. Then I'm coming back here where I can't do a d.a.m.n thing. I can't be in charge, so I guess it helps some to think it all through, and to figure out what I'd do if I could be in charge. Maybe it helps to talk it through with somebody who understands me." She smirked again. "At least understands parts of me."

"You know, I could sit here and look at you all night. All gold and cream and smelling like a summer orchard. It's a nice way to transition back after an extended attack. But, how about I clean up, and we go get ourselves a late supper?"

"That's a solid affirmative."

"Great." He pushed to his feet. "Can I use your shower?"

She laughed, waved toward the bathroom. Since she had some time she decided to call the other man who understood her. "Hi, Dad."

ELLA TURNED when Lucas opened the door to the deck. She'd slipped out when his cell phone rang to give him some privacy for the call, and to admire the fairy lights she'd strung on the slender branches of her weeping plum.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Rowan just wanted to check in, and to update me on what's going on."

"Is there anything new?"

"Not really." As he sipped a gla.s.s of the wine they'd enjoyed with dinner, he brushed his fingertips up and down her arm. She loved the way he touched her-often, like a rea.s.surance she was with him.

"She sounded steady, so I feel better about that. With Ro, when bad things happen, or wrong things, she tends to take it in. What could she have done to prevent it, or what should she do to fix it?" "I can't imagine where she gets that from. Who's been fiddling around here every chance he gets? Fixing the dripping faucet in the laundry room sink, the drawer that kept sticking in that old table I bought at the flea market?"

"I have to pay for all those dinners you cook me. And breakfasts," he added, gliding his hand down to her waist. "It's nice to have a handy man around the house."

"It's nice to be around the house, with you." He hooked his arm around her waist so they looked out at the garden together, at the pretty lights, the soft shadows. "It's nice to be with you."

"I'm happy," she told him. "I tend to be a happy person, and I learned how to be happy on my own. It was good for me, to have that time, to find out a little bit more about myself. What I could do, what I could do without. I'm happier with you."

She hooked an arm around his waist in turn. "I was standing here before you came out thinking how lucky I am. I've got a family I love and who loves me, a career I'm proud of, this place, good friends. Now the bonus round. You."