Expectant Father

“You know Roadhouse, don’t you, Spider?” Socrates asked with an arched brow. To an outsider, it might appear that Socrates was being polite, making sure they all knew each other. But every one of the men standing on the knoll knew that Roadhouse was Spider’s dad. Just like every one of them knew that Spider and Roadhouse had a shaky past, if you could call neglect and abandonment shaky.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Spider answered coolly, wishing he’d recognized his father as he’d walked up. He would have walked on, and let Golden talk to their commander alone. “We’ve come to check in.” This last part came out a little belligerently. It wasn’t every day that a man watched a woman get burned, ran down a mountain in his boxers and startled a pregnant woman, then had to face his father. Spider was dirty, tired and not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Come to gripe a bit?” Socrates raised a white eyebrow. He’d been the Silver Bend superintendent before Golden and had trained many of the Hot Shots in the Idaho region, including Spider. He cut right through the bullshit and didn’t let anyone give him undeserved grief.

“No, sir.” Golden shook his head, ever the politician, spinning his wedding band, a movement that reminded Spider how much his friend loved his wife.

“Hey, I’ll gripe if you’ll let me. But I’d rather hear about the latest on the fire,” Spider said, giving Socrates a halfhearted grin, waiting to see if they were sparring or playing nice.

“I’m sure you could have been briefed by Becca Thomas when you ran her over on the hill today.” Socrates shook his head. “Spider, when are you going to grow up and learn to think about the consequences of your actions?”

So, they were sparring.

“I was just telling him—” Golden began.

Socrates cut his stepson off with a wave of his hand and a disapproving glance. “There are women in NIFC and the fire crews now. Did you happen to think that running down the mountain half-naked might be considered harassment by one of them? Perhaps by the woman in your own crew? Either one of you?”

Spider avoided the Incident Commander’s hard stare, but somehow managed to catch his dad’s disapproving shake of the head. Spider drew his shoulders up so that he was at least even in height to his dad, even if he was still shorter than Socrates and Golden. He’d just been trying to lighten Silver Bird’s spirits.

“Morale is a little low in the field, which is understandable given that this is the end of the season and crews, including ours, are burnt out,” Golden spoke defensively. “What are we doing on this fire? Setting up a perimeter and picking our noses while it gains momentum? Or are we trying to put it out?”

Socrates looked pretty damn grim as he stared at them, which gave Spider a funny feeling in his stomach, but he chose to focus on Golden. “I wanted to pull you onto the IC team, Golden. That’ll be awfully hard to justify after a stunt like this.”

“I don’t want to be part of Incident Command, so maybe it’s for the best.” Golden looked frustrated. “I’ve told you that before and I thought we agreed that my skills were best used in the field.”

“We’re not likely to get much more in the way of resources and you’re good at creative ways to fight fire. I could use some help in planning the attack.”

“Try someone else on our crew, like Spider.” Golden was being uncommonly stubborn considering what they’d just been through, and that he had a wife and two kids back in Silver Bend to consider.

“Ding-ding-ding! Round over. Gentlemen to your corners.” Forcing a grin on his face, Spider stepped between the two men. “We’re here for some relaxation, a shower and some real food. It’d help morale a heck of a lot more than me running around half-naked, treading on the politically correct line you seem to have drawn in the sand, Socrates, if you’d just let us know what help we can expect on this beast.”

The Incident Commander considered them silently for several seconds before admitting, “You won’t be getting much help. Based on the Fire Behavior Analyst’s recommendation, I’ve requested more air support and crews.” He didn’t sound as if he’d put much stock in his request. “But resources are stretched thin this time of year and we’re not exactly defending anything from the fire. There are no government logging contracts or public structures in this fire’s path.”

“We’re risking our lives for nothing? That bites.” Spider scanned the picnic tables below them. A blonde and a redhead caught his eye amid the sea of yellow shirts and fire helmets. What were those two women up to?

“You’ll be happy to hear we’ve solved the gas supply dilemma.” Socrates’ voice dripped with sarcasm.

“A little hiking never did anyone any harm,” Roadhouse added, as if defending Socrates, who sure as shooting didn’t need any defending. The man was tough.

“Considering the way Spider hikes these woods, we’d all feel better if he went from here to the DP in a vehicle.” The severity of the Incident Commander’s tone left little room for argument.

CHAPTER THREE

“THAT WAS FUN,” Spider mumbled to Golden as they made their way back slowly to the mess area.

“Oh, yeah. Pulling teeth should be this fun,” Golden answered. “If Lexie’s been talking to Socrates about getting me into a safer job—”

“Your wife wouldn’t do that,” Spider quickly cut Golden off. “She’s so not like that.”

Golden sighed. “I know.”

“But I feel for you, man. It would really suck to be on the IC team right now.”

“Not that your opinion means much, Spider.” Socrates spoke dryly as he passed the pair. “I’d even pull you on to the IC team if I thought your antics would do us any good. In fact, just so you get a taste of it, I’d like you to discuss your experience today with Becca Thomas before you head out tomorrow. The more she knows about this fire, the better off we’ll be.”

Spider swore under his breath and stopped in his tracks, letting Socrates proceed alone. Had the Fire Behavior Analyst requested he talk to her since he’d avoided her all afternoon? Was this her way of punishing him for her injury?

“Damn, Spider. You really know how to put your foot in your mouth.” Golden laughed. “He’s gonna put you on the IC team just for spite.”

“That’s not funny.” Like most Hot Shots, just the thought of being corralled in camp gave Spider the hives. He’d become a Hot Shot because he loved the physical challenge, the adrenaline rush and being outdoors six to eight months a year.

Golden looked relaxed now that it seemed Spider might be the Incident Commander’s minion of choice. “Socrates is right about one thing. You need to stop and think every once in awhile. I’m glad the race downhill wasn’t my idea.”

Spider tossed up his hands in mock innocence. “First you egg me on, then you abandon my tactics. Thanks for the support, fearless leader.”

“You know what I mean. You and The Queen weren’t getting along before this. Socrates is right. With no love lost between you, she could file a harassment claim against you.”

Spider had first noticed Victoria slacking just before they’d been certified in the spring. He’d mentioned it to Golden back then, but he’d told Spider he thought it was preseason jitters. That hadn’t been the case. Now at the end of the season, Victoria was endangering her life and those of the crew with every mistake she made.

“I saved her bacon on the mountain today. Maybe she needs more training. Maybe sooner rather than next year.”

“Maybe.” Golden almost sounded convinced. “She was fine earlier this season, but she’s struggled through the past couple of fires.”

Relief teased at Spider’s tired brain. Sure, there were a couple of rookies he worried about, but no one on his unit of eight men—half of the Silver Bend crew—made him more anxious than Victoria. If he could get her out of danger, the team would be that much stronger. Maybe this fire assignment wasn’t so bad after all. “Okay, let’s send her back home or something.”

“I don’t think we need to go that far.”

Spider stopped and grabbed Golden’s shoulder. He’d been so close to improving their crew’s safety. “Whoa. She’s a liability, man. One mistake after another. She’s not cutting it with Logan’s unit.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to shift her into yours.” Golden grinned.

“What?” It was bad enough to have a royal screwup on your crew, add that to the fact that she was the girliest girl in the history of the Hot Shots and that she was reporting to him. Uh-uh.

“Here’s your chance to put your money where your mouth is, Spider,” Golden goaded. “You always said it’s your fault if someone on your unit isn’t performing.”

“But this is different. We’re in the field and she’d dead weight.” Spider looked around searching for any reason Victoria shouldn’t report to him. He’d only worry more, which would affect his performance. Pretty soon, Golden would be sending Spider to be retrained. Being sent to extra training courses at NIFC when you weren’t switching jobs was like stamping a big “L” on your forehead. So, he reached for the first thing that came to mind—to stop Victoria from being assigned to him. “For crying out loud, Golden, she’s got nail polish on.”

“Yeah, and she uses a napkin and a fork.” Golden shook his head. “Come on, let’s go tell her.”

“Now?” Victoria was sitting with the pregnant Fire Behavior Analyst, the one person he bet could influence Socrates when it came to base camp special assignments.

This day kept getting better and better.

“HOW DID YOU MANAGE IT?” Victoria asked Becca. They sat with full plates in front of them at one of the picnic tables NIFC had set up in a small clearing, surrounded by towering pine trees.

Becca had to chew the rubbery spaghetti a bit before she could reply. “Manage what?”

“To last so long in a man’s world.”