The Forest Ranger's Promise (15 page)

“Take it back!” Shelley yelled at Anne.

Scott turned. The two girls stood at the bottom of the ditch bank where they'd been raking weeds and garbage. From the angry glares on the girls' faces, Scott realized that they were fighting.

Great…that's all they needed right now.

“No, I won't. It's true,” Anne hollered back.

“Then you're not my friend anymore.”

“That's fine with me.” Anne shoved the other girl.
Shelley staggered on her injured leg, lost her balance and landed on her bottom in the tall weeds.

“Anne!” Melanie jumped across the ditch and went to help Shelley up. Scott was right behind her.

“You okay?” Scott asked Shelley.

The girl rubbed her knee, glaring at Anne.

Anne stomped off, heading down the road as fast as her legs would carry her.

“Anne!” Melanie called, but the girl kept going.

“What was that all about?” Scott asked his daughter.

Shelley glowered at the other girl. “She said you're still a rotten forest ranger. Once a rotten forest ranger, always a rotten forest ranger. So I called her a rotten rancher.”

Melanie clenched her eyes closed and let out a hissing breath. She clearly shared his exasperation over this contentious situation.

Truth be told, Scott was growing incredibly weary of this battle. It was one thing to have the town hate him and his job, but he was at a loss as to how to resolve the problem with these girls. “I thought you two had stopped your fighting.”

Tears beaded in the corners of Shelley's eyes. “You're the only thing we ever fight about, Dad. I'm a ranger's daughter and Anne's a rancher. It'll always be that way.”

“Calling each other names won't solve anything. You two should be friends, not enemies.” Scott said the words automatically, conscious of Melanie standing beside him listening.

“She started it,” Shelley said.

“I don't care. You finish it. What about you two being half dogies? I thought that was more important than being rangers or ranchers.”

“Anne doesn't think so. She doesn't like you, Dad.
And if she doesn't like you, then I don't like her.” Shelley limped over to pick up her plastic bag.

Scott inhaled a sharp breath, feeling as though he'd been slugged in the gut. Anne hated him. In spite of everything he'd tried to do to win her trust. He could forget about telling Melanie how he felt about her.

“I think it's time I took Shelley home. I'm worried about her leg.” From Melanie's sympathetic expression, Scott knew she didn't buy his excuse.

“I'm sorry, Scott. For everything,” she said.

“Yeah, me, too.”

“I'll speak to Anne again.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I made her a promise and I need to prove myself to her, Mel. It'll take time.”

But how much time? What could he do to prove himself to Anne and win her trust? Until he did, he couldn't make her and Melanie part of his family. And he wanted them for keeps.

 

By Friday evening, Scott looked forward to a free evening. He'd worked hard to coordinate the various projects he had going for the ranchers. Thankfully, the work crew had completed the pipeline up on Three Creek. Frank should be pleased. For once.

Last night, Scott had finished baling Melanie's hay, which was now safe in the stack yard at Opal Ranch. To celebrate, Melanie had invited Scott and Shelley over to her house for dinner, a movie and popcorn. One more hour of work and he could go see his girls…and have another opportunity to win Anne over. And yet a dark cloud of reservation hung over him.

His girls.
Melanie, Anne and Shelley. They'd become his whole world. If only he could make them all his.

The phone rang in the outer office and Karen's urgent
voice filtered through the open door. Scott almost groaned out loud. Now what?

As predicted, Karen appeared in his doorway moments later, reaching across his desk to hand him a piece of paper. “Looks like we've got a wildfire. Owen Thompson was out on Rattlesnake Mountain today. On his way home, he saw some boys parked off the main road, drinking beer. They had a campfire in Simpson's Meadow. Terry Hansen just called to report that she was out riding her horse and saw a lot of smoke coming from that vicinity.”

“Did Owen Thompson recognize the boys?”

“He said no, but something in his voice led me to believe that he knows more than he's saying.”

Which meant he knew their identities, but didn't want to get them into trouble.

Great! Another manmade forest fire. “Hopefully it's nothing. I'll drive over and check it out now. Stay close to the radio and I'll report what I find.”

He pushed back from his desk and reached for his ranger hat hanging on the wall. Due to such a wet winter, fire season had remained relatively quiet this summer. In early June, Simpson's Meadow was filled with verdant green grass and sedges. By mid-August, the meadow had turned to dry kindling. All it needed was a lit match to set it off. Ideal conditions for a nasty brush fire.

Scott drove his light green Forest Service truck outside of town, heading for Simpson's Meadow. He fought the anxious urge to speed. It would take twenty minutes to reach the meadow and he had a bad feeling about this.

Fifteen minutes later, plumes of black smoke rose in the northern sky. Definitely a fire with lots of fuel.

A car and truck had pulled off the side of the road. Two men, a woman and several kids stood in the dirt
talking, gesturing at the smoke and snapping pictures of the fire. Just what he needed right now. Tourists gawking at a range fire.

Taking out his binoculars case, Scott joined them. One of the men was none other than Marty Taylor.

“Boy, am I glad to see you! I just called your office on my cell phone,” Marty said.

Scott bit off a grouchy retort. Now that the ranchers needed the Forest Service, they were glad to see him. Scott tried to feel charitable, but the past attack on his home and daughter—not to mention the McAllisters—left him feeling irritable.

“Did any of you see some boys around here with a campfire?” he asked.

They all shook their heads. Which meant that unless Owen Thompson was willing to disclose the identities of the kids, they might never find out who had started the blaze.

Smoke burned Scott's eyes. He wasn't surprised to find Marty here. The fire was close to his ranch. To get to the Taylor and Donaldson ranches, the fire would first have to go through Opal Ranch. Currently the wind was blowing west toward the mountains. Away from Opal Ranch.

Scott removed the binoculars from their carrying case and held them up to look through. Smoke choked the sky with red flames dancing beneath, moving fast.

“Is it serious?” a man hovering beside him asked.

“Any wildfire is serious.”

With plenty of fuel and wind, the flames fanned across the dry meadow, consuming everything in its path. Heading toward the phone lines.

A sense of urgency built within Scott. He had to warn Melanie. Every person he cared about was at Opal Ranch.

Scott reached for his radio. “Ennison to Karen.”

A brief pause of static.

“This is Karen. Go ahead.” Karen's voice scratched out of the radio.

“We've got a brush fire in Simpson's Meadow, about fifty acres. At current wind speed, it'll be over 125 acres in an hour. It's currently on private property, burning toward forest land. Acknowledge.”

“Affirmative.”

“Can you reach the McAllisters and the Donaldsons to warn them?”

“I've already tried, but when I called the McAllisters, I got no answer.”

Scott had to assume the phone lines were down. He didn't need to worry yet. The fire was burning away from Opal Ranch. He had time to warn Melanie. Right now, he had a responsibility to control this fire.

“Karen, get hold of Jim. Tell him we have an incident here. We need a crew to build fire line as soon as possible. The wind's picking up.”

Static squawked on the radio.

“Affirmative. I've already put Jim on standby. We'll have two pumper trucks to you within sixty minutes.”

“You're the best. And can you call the phone company? We've got phone lines edging the meadow. I think the fire's reached them already. That might be why you can't reach the McAllisters.”

“I'll call the phone company.”

“Good. And I'll radio the Bureau of Land Management and the Supervisor's Office right now.”

“Roger that. Be careful out there.”

“Will do. Out.” Scott signed off, then radioed the BLM and the Supervisor's Office to make them aware of the
situation. “I need two Type-1 crews and a chopper as soon as possible.”

Spreading a map on the hood of his Forest Service truck, Scott scanned the area with his gaze before giving the coordinates to the dispatcher in the SO.

“We've got a crew stationed in Pine View and one in Evanston,” she said.

“Roger. Get them to us as soon as you can.”

“We'll do our best.”

Scott signed off again and stowed his radio in his pants pocket. He'd need it handy over the next few hours. The fire was no more than five miles from Opal Ranch, followed by the Donaldson and Taylor ranches. Too close for comfort. If the wind changed, they'd be in trouble.

Scott whipped out his cell phone and dialed Melanie's number. The phone rang and rang, with no voice mail picking up. That was a bad sign that the phone lines were out. What if Melanie wasn't aware of the fire yet? She'd need time to move her sheep and he didn't dare leave to go and warn her.

It would take an hour before a pumper truck arrived and almost two hours for a hotshot crew. It seemed like a lifetime. To be on the safe side, they needed to move as much livestock as possible and evacuate the local ranchers. Just in case.

Scott faced Marty. “I believe we have a standing contract to use your crawler tractor to build fire line, right?”

“Yep. I can have one here in an hour. I'll stop by the Donaldsons' to see if Frank can also bring his tractor over,” Marty said.

“That would be great. We have a standing contract with him, too. Can you stop by the McAllisters on your way? I'd like to warn Melanie about the fire.”

Marty turned, but kept walking backward. “Their place is too far out. I need time to move some of my livestock.”

Scott turned to the other man standing nearby. He didn't recognize him, but being new to town, Scott didn't know everyone yet. “What about you? Can you drive to the McAllisters' place and warn them?”

The father shrugged. “We're not from around here, mister. We were just driving through on our way to go see Zion's National Forest. If you can give us directions, we could probably find it.”

“No, thanks. It would be best if you got going. In another hour, we may need to close the road.” The last thing Scott wanted was tourists getting lost in the middle of a brush fire.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the family headed for their car, loaded up and took off.

While Marty ran to his vehicle and drove home, Scott returned to his truck and reached for his fire pack. During fire season, he kept it with him at all times. All forest rangers were trained wildfire fighters. He pulled on his Nomex pants with deep, baggy cargo pockets on the legs and hips. Next came his bright yellow, fire-resistant shirt-jacket and helmet. He clipped his goggles to his helmet, then removed his regular boots. With the truck door open, he sat on the seat and pulled on his heavy wildland fire boots with lug soles and nine-inch tops. Last and most importantly, he stowed his Nomex gloves inside his pocket, then strapped on a radio chest harness. No matter what, he carried his folded-up fire shelter on his back, but chose to leave his personal gear, sleeping bag, water and food rations in the truck.

Following the eighteen watchout situations, which included identifying escape routes, Scott remained on the
road and waited. He kept busy, making calls to the Sheriff's Office and the high school principal to put them on alert. If he needed to set up an incident command center, the local high school was the best location. Fire crews could sleep, shower and eat there once they got a logistics chief to set it all up.

Scott tried calling Melanie's house and her cell phone, but she didn't answer. He regretted not having gotten her a satellite phone yet. Where could she be?

He called Marty Taylor's cell phone. He was over at the Donaldson place. “Frank said to tell you he'll have a tractor over there in about an hour.”

Scott hid his surprise. With the fire so near their property, the Donaldsons had a lot at stake, but Scott still welcomed their willingness to pitch in. “I appreciate it.”

Scott hung up his cell phone and glanced at his watch. With each passing minute, the fire ate up acres of dry grass and brush. By the time Marty and Frank arrived with their tractors, the fire perimeter had doubled in size.

Scott paced the roadside, waiting anxiously for his fire crew to show up. He set a limit on where the fire could get to before he got in his truck and drove to Opal Ranch to search for Melanie and the girls. They were probably outside with the sheep and Melanie had left her cell phone in the house or had it turned off. Rolling clouds of smoke choked the skies, sending flames high into the air. Surely Melanie could see and smell the fire. Although he didn't want to leave right now, he'd evacuate them himself before he'd allow the fire to hurt them.

Holding his radio two inches away from his mouth, he pressed the call button. “Ennison to Karen.”

“This is Karen. Go ahead.”

“Did you happen to hear from Melanie McAllister?”

“No, sir.”

“I haven't been able to reach her and thought she might have contacted you.”

“Negative.”

“If she calls, let me know immediately.”

“Roger. Do you want me to drive out to Opal Ranch and see if I can locate her?”