The Forest Ranger's Promise (16 page)

“No. It'd take you too long, and I need you in the office to coordinate things. I'll take care of it. Out.”

Where was Melanie? She expected him for dinner and should be home. With everything he had going on here, he didn't want to worry about them right now. He wanted them where they would be safe.

A screaming siren caught Scott's attention and he turned to see Sheriff Chambers zipping down the narrow road. Two pumper trucks and a transport vehicle filled with fire crew followed.

Finally.

Within the hour, the area became a beehive of activity. Pumper trucks and tractors clogged the side of the road.

“What can I help with?” the sheriff asked.

“You can put some red cones along the road down there and direct traffic away from this place.” Scott pointed toward the road leading to town. “The last thing we need is a bunch of rubberneckers getting in the way to see what's going on.”

“You got it.” The sheriff trotted toward his car.

A fire crew of twenty men and three women arrived wearing fire-resistant clothing and armed with shovels and Pulaskis, a special hand tool that combined an ax and an adze in one head. As the crew gathered around, Scott gave instructions.

“We'll anchor and flank it. Let's set the road as our anchor point. I don't want any crews out in front of the
fire. The winds are moving too fast. We'll have to attack from the sides until we can get more manpower or a chopper to drop retardant on the front to slow the fire down. I think we can pinch it off on the sides.”

The crew went to work digging trenches, using shovels and Pulaskis to scrape back grass, brush and other fuels.

“Karen told me some boys were sighted up here with a campfire,” Jim Tippet said. “You think that's what caused this burn?”

Scott coughed against the smoke. “It's highly likely. Once we have the fire under control, we'll investigate the cause.”

He wished he had a hotshot crew here. Smoke jumpers always got a lot of publicity, but no one built fire line faster than a skilled hotshot crew. Man for man, Scott would match an experienced and physically conditioned member of a hotshot crew with a smoke jumper any day. Hotshots ate small fires like this for breakfast.

Within two hours, the hotshots from Pine View arrived. Scott put a holding crew on one side to ensure the fire remained within prescribed boundaries. The Pine View crew worked the other side to squeeze off and contain the flames. It appeared they were making good headway. Three-man crews used hoses connected to two pumper trucks, spraying gushers of water at the flames. Steam rose from the fire, adding to the black cloud churning above. The smoke lingering over the roadway was so thick that drivers had to turn on their headlights.

Everything was working just fine. The static of radio traffic accompanied the whoosh of water from thick fire hoses. Gray smoke billowed over the mountain, the air heavy with the scent of burnt grass and sage.

The crews were fighting fire on two fronts. The fire
spreading across the meadow, fanned by a breeze it created itself, and the fire heading toward the mountains, toward big timber.

They almost had it under control. The hotshot crew from Evanston would soon arrive and the added manpower would be all they needed to contain this fire. Scott figured he'd be home in time to tuck Shelley into bed that night.

And then the wind shifted east. Toward Opal Ranch.

“A
nne! Shelley! Where are you?” Melanie raced through the barn again, checking each animal stall, climbing up to search the hayloft.

Nothing! Where were they?

She ran outside, checking each corral, scanning the hay fields with urgency. Smoke from the west filtered over the air, making her cough. She'd been so busy bottling beets that she hadn't noticed the smoke until she went to call the girls in to help make supper. There'd been no lightning storms and she couldn't determine where the fire came from. It must be manmade.

Fear roiled through her. She wouldn't leave the ranch without her girls.

“Bob! Here boy!” She whistled for the dog, but he didn't come. No doubt he'd gone with the girls, wherever that might be.

Jumping on a four-wheel quad, she started the engine and drove down by the pond. Maybe the girls had gone there. With the water no more than knee-deep, the girls liked to catch pollywogs and pick fluffy willows to put in a vase on the kitchen windowsill.

The girls weren't at the pond. Panic climbed Melanie's throat, shutting off her air supply. Where were they? Oh, when she got hold of them, she'd give them a piece of her mind. Why had they gone off without telling her first?

Changing her tactics, she drove out to the fields. That effort proved fruitless and ate up twenty precious minutes. Common sense told her to find the girls and get out of here as fast as possible.

When she returned to the house, she checked the tool and lambing sheds. The girls could be anywhere, but they'd had a fight earlier. Shelley had finally gotten angry at Anne's insults about Scott being a ranger and told Anne off. Melanie had broken up several verbal fights that day and finally threatened that the girls wouldn't get to watch their movie tonight if they didn't stop arguing. So where had they gone? Were they together or separated?

It was time to call Scott. She didn't know what else to do. She couldn't find the girls.

Lost in thought, she rounded the corner to the house and shrieked. “Scott! Oh, thank goodness you're here.” Relief flooded her and she almost threw herself into his arms. She didn't need to. He wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her close for a quick hug.

“I've been trying to call you for two hours. Where have you been?” His voice sounded clogged with emotion or soot. She wasn't sure which.

His presence brought her immediate comfort. With him here she knew everything would be okay. If they could just find the girls.

“I've been in the house. No one's called today.” She drew back and took a good look at him. Black streaks marred his face and he wore a yellow helmet and firefighter garb.

“The phone lines are down.”

“I didn't know,” she said breathlessly.

“What about your cell phone?”

She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. “It's in the house, turned off. I figured if someone needed to reach me, they'd call my landline. I can't find the girls.”

“What?” He blinked, his eyes red from smoke.

She quickly explained about the girls. “I've been frantic to find them.”

“I've got to get you out of here. It's not safe anymore.” He turned toward the garden, scanning the back fields for signs of life.

“Where could they be?”

His gaze moved over the thin road leading back to the south pasture and his brow furrowed. “You moved the lambs several days ago so they could graze, didn't you?”

“Yes.” She paused. “No, they wouldn't. That's two miles away. Surely they wouldn't walk all that way just to see the lambs—” She couldn't finish. Her body prickled with alarm. “But that's closer to the fire.”

“We're out of time. Get in your truck and meet me down there.” He sprinted toward the tractor.

Anxious with worry, Melanie ran to the truck, started the engine and drove down the road. In her rearview mirror, she saw Scott following with the tractor at a slower pace and knew he planned to build fire line.

Was the fire really that close? Surely they had time to round up the lambs and herd them out of danger. If only she hadn't been working so intently inside the house and had seen the smoke sooner.

Her heart beat madly in her chest as she bounced along
the rutted road, which was little more than a trail used only by her. She saw the smoke backlit by flame. The sheep were huddled in a far corner of the fenced pasture, milling around nervously. But where were the girls—?

There! Relief flooded Melanie when she saw them among the sheep. Bob ran along the perimeter, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he urged the flock toward the fence. He'd done what he'd been trained to do. Move the sheep as far away from danger as possible.

Thick clouds of smoke filtered through the truck vents, making it difficult to breathe. Melanie stopped the truck and hopped out. She jumped the fence and dashed through the alfalfa toward the girls.

“Anne! Shelley!” she screamed at the top of her voice.

“Momma!” Anne cried.

Melanie scooped the two girls into her arms, kissing them both, scanning their faces for injuries. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, but I can't breathe,” Anne said.

Shelley coughed, a thick hacking sound.

“Come on.” Taking each of their hands, she ran toward the truck, half dragging the girls behind her. She would not let go no matter what.

Scott met them at the truck. Sitting on the tractor, he pointed toward the house in the distance. “Get them out of here right now.”

“Can't we move the sheep?” Melanie shouted over the roar of the tractor engine.

“No time. Take care of our girls. Go! I'll protect the sheep.” He looked toward the west and his eyes narrowed, as if he were calculating how much time he had before the flames engulfed him. And then he turned and
did something that stunned Melanie and stopped her breath cold.

He stepped down off the tractor, pulled her close, and kissed her. Once. Quick and fierce. And then he was gone.

Waves of emotion trembled over Melanie's body. She couldn't let him go. She couldn't!

“No, Scott!” she cried. “It's not worth your life. Come with us. We won't leave you.”

“Get going!” he yelled back as he settled into the driver's seat and shifted gears. The engine backfired as he pressed the accelerator and moved forward.

Melanie yelled for him to come back, but doubted he could hear above the engine. Stubborn, foolish man.

Watching him go, she stood there frozen. Helpless. Clasping the girls' hands like a lifeline. Fierce winds created by the fire whipped her long ponytail across her face.

“Daddy!” Shelley screamed for her father, tugging on Melanie's hand to run after him.

Melanie held firm. No matter what, she had to protect the children. She had to get them out of here.

Scott ignored them as he lowered the disk plow and drove along the outer edge of the pasture fence. The blade gouged up giant furrows of earth as he created a trail of fire line to protect the sheep.

“Melanie, please don't let him go,” Shelley whimpered.

Even Anne jerked on Melanie's hand. “Mom! Make him come back.”

Melanie couldn't do anything to stop him. There wasn't time. She had to trust Scott. She had to trust the Lord. Scott was an experienced ranger and firefighter and knew
what he was doing. He trusted her to take care of their kids. To get them out of here safely.

She couldn't let him down.

“Come on, girls. Get in.” She pulled them with her over to the truck and pushed them inside, then whistled for the dog. “Bob! Come!”

With a sharp bark, the dog came running and jumped inside, then Melanie closed the door. The animal panted and huddled with the girls on the seat.

As Melanie turned the truck to return to the ranch, she saw flames licking along the outer trail leading toward Simpson's Meadow. The sky above looked blood-red, surrounded by black smoke.

The girls swiveled in their seat, their noses pressed against the back window as they stared at Scott. Both of them sobbed, sniffing loudly. Shelley kept calling for her father, her pitiful cries shattering Melanie's heart into a thousand pieces.

“Daddy. Daddy.”

Looking in her rearview mirror, Melanie shivered in spite of the tremendous heat. A wall of flame engulfed the area where the tractor had been and she prayed silently, harder than ever before in her life.

Please, God. Please don't take him from me now. Don't let him get hurt. Please let him live.

Oh, Scott! Her common sense told her he couldn't endure this. No matter how strong and self-assured he was, no man could survive this fire.

She couldn't lose Scott. Not now when she realized how much she loved him. She loved him even as she realized she'd lost him. And it was her fault. He may have lost his life saving their girls. Fighting to save Opal Ranch.

Her emotions overwhelmed her and she wiped her eyes,
trying to see through the blur of tears and smoke. Trying to be strong once more.

Please, Lord. Please don't take him from me now. Have mercy on us. Please.

 

The roar of fire filled Scott's ears, deafening him. All he heard was the pounding of his heart as the disk plow reached the end of fence and beyond. Ten, twenty, thirty yards.

Adrenaline pumped through his body. The fire circled and swirled before him. Pain embraced his body, the heat almost unbearable. Smoke clogged his lungs and he coughed violently. He had to protect his lungs from the hot air. Had to get inside his fire shelter.

One thought brought him solace. His girls were safe—all three of them. If he died today, they would live. His precious daughters and Melanie.

Then he felt a lance of doubt. He'd failed them. He had kept his promises to the ranchers, but not to his girls. He'd failed to protect Opal Ranch. Failed to keep his promise to Shelley that he'd never leave her.

What would happen to Shelley with him gone? Would Melanie look after his little girl? Would Melanie love and raise Shelley like her own? The thought of his innocent child being raised in foster homes nearly broke him.

And gave him the will to fight.

He couldn't outrun the fire. His best chance for survival was to ride it out. He might have one chance, if he hurried. Maybe—

Flames danced all around the perimeter he'd just created, so close he could spit at them. He jerked his face and neck shroud up to cover his nose, protecting his lungs from the toxic smoke. He killed the engine. As he
scrambled off the tractor, he reached back for his fire shelter. Even through the Nomex gloves, his hands burned like they'd touched a hot stove.

He wasn't going to make it. He'd run out of time.

Don't think that! Keep going. Don't quit. Think of Shelley. Think of Melanie.

So much to live for. So much to love.

Through the black haze, he tried to find a spot well away from the grass, brush and other fuels. He tried to see through the haze of heat waves, looking so much like a mirage. The sound of the fire popping, crackling and sizzling seemed to taunt him. The flames snaked along the edge of the fence, coming closer. Seeking him out. Tracking him.

His body pumped with adrenaline, but he still felt the pain. The blisters forming on his ears, hands and face. The stifling heat, so hot he could barely breathe.

Smoke stung his eyes and he blinked. His chest heaved as he gasped for air. His fingers fumbled with the red ring on his fire shelter. He pulled hard, then tore off the plastic bag. Clasping the handles, he shook furiously to unfold the shelter. The winds whipped it, trying to steal it away. He couldn't hold the shelter straight, but he gripped it like steel. Nothing would rip it out of his hands except death.

He'd made a promise to Anne. And to himself. He'd vowed to keep Opal Ranch safe. To protect Anne and Melanie, no matter what. To be there for Shelley.

He choked, knowing he may have failed in his promises, but he'd tried. So hard. He'd dallied too long, trying to save the orphan lambs. Trying to save the ranch.

Walls of flame surrounded him, closing in. Panic climbed up his throat, but he fought it off. Fought to
follow the safety training ingrained in him over years and years of work and practice.

All he saw were flames and smoke, moving fast. So fast.

He was going to die, a horrible, painful death. He wasn't going to make it.

Not this time.