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Zack had dreamed about this—driving right up to the house, having the women come running to welcome him back—but this was no tearful reunion. Sparks were flying through the air. Garden hose in hand, Granny was spraying water onto the sides of the barn like her life depended on it, while Heaven was lighting little fires on the other side of the vegetable garden. As he threw the truck into park, Heaven yelled at Granny, and the older woman turned the hose on Heaven’s fire.
“Come on!” Andy yelled, thrusting wet bandannas into their hands. She took off for her truck. “Let’s go!”
He hurried out of his truck and into the back of Andy’s with Sam. A propane tank with a nozzle attached was back there, in addition to a water tank that left little room to do anything but hang his butt over the side. “What are we doing?” he yelled as Andy sped off over the lawn and then the prairie.
“Control burning, then spraying,” Sam shouted back, tying the bandanna over her face and then holding onto the side of the truck bed with both hands.
Of course, he told himself as Andy gunned it over what felt like a small mountain range. Fight fire with fire. If the wildfire had nothing to burn, it would die out.
Logically, that made perfect sense. But the thought of more pyrotechnics made no sense to his pounding heart. None whatsoever. This went way past dangerous. This bordered on suicidal.
He looked at Sam. She was staring at him, but between the bandanna and her hat, he could barely make out her eyes. Don’t be scared, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her that she didn’t have to go out there and face the biggest fire he’d ever seen, that he’d take care of it for her. He knew the part of her that had sputtered out a broken, heartfelt apology wanted him to do that.
“Will it work?” he shouted as he knotted his bandanna behind his neck. Breathing though the wet fabric was harder, but the air was a lot easier on his lungs.
“Has to,” she yelled back. The truck bottomed out seemingly in the Grand Canyon and he almost fell out. They crested the next hill as he struggled to get his balance back, but what he saw threatened to knock him off his feet entirely.
From this height, they could see the true scope of the fire that ran wild over the Lost Cause Ranch. Was the whole world burning? Black smoke hid everything from view except the line of furious red flames that was eating up the grass faster than he’d thought possible. The sight took his breath away.
Has to? He wasn’t going to think about the or right now. Or got a man—or a woman—fried to a crisp.
“Get in front of it!” Sam yelled to Andy.
Scared. She was terrified. But she couldn’t hide behind a gun, and he couldn’t shield her from this. She didn’t need someone to take care of it for her. She needed someone to take care of it with her.
Andy gunned it. Zack ignored the feeling of terror that had taken up residence in the base of his spine. He’d been in front of this fire once already, and that was more than enough to last him a lifetime. “I’ll burn,” he offered. “You spray.” That way, she could at least be behind the safety of water.
Andy honked as she brought the careening vehicle to a stop. Up ahead, he saw a tanker truck, probably half the size of an eighteen-wheeler but five times bigger than the little tank in the back of Andy’s truck. “Hachette,” Sam explained as she hopped out. “Grab the propane.”
“Linda’s calling everyone else,” a big man with squinty eyes said. “Junior’s made it to the east side, but this wind ain’t helping.”
“We’ve got this side,” Sam replied, getting her nozzle ready.
Hachette looked at Zack. “I’ll back up Junior, then.”
And that was all they said. Spraying water as he went, Hatchette drove off, leaving Andy, Sam, and Zack alone with an inferno bearing down on them.
“Hold it like this,” Andy said, lighting an oversized blowtorch and handing it to Zack. “Keep it low to the ground, and pointed north. Walk in front of the truck. Sam’ll be behind me, hosing down your fire.”
“Got it.” Everything else on this ranch—working cattle, riding horses, loving Sam—had been a trial by fire. Why should fighting wildfires be any different? The sheer insanity of it all made him laugh.
After several sputtering false starts, he got the hang of carrying his propane tank while working his blowtorch. The fire he started was such a small thing compared to the monster that was bearing down on them, less than a mile away. That fire jumped and skipped like an overeager young puppy lapping up milk.
As Zack walked along, Andy kept pace, alternatively gunning the engines to get over the humps and slamming on the brakes so she didn’t run him over. He didn’t know if the fire or the truck was the bigger health hazard.
He could hardly see anything, even with the truck’s headlights trying their best to cut the smoke. Every few steps, he’d lean back, looking for Sam. She was back there, killing the fires he’d started after they’d eaten up some of the dry grass.
Minutes bled into hours. Zack tapped out his first tank, but Andy had another one in the truck. His bandanna dried out in the heat, the smoke burned his eyes, and he couldn’t remember ever being this thirsty. But they kept going. To stop was to die.
At some point in the muddle of flaming space and smoky time, the wind died down and the smoke went from blanket to haze. A spooky silence settled over the prairie. The roar of the wildfire eased back, but there weren’t any of those familiar night noises of crickets or owls.
Andy honked at him, and he realized he’d walked about fifty feet away from the truck. He doubled back and shut off his blowtorch. “What’s up?”
Andy had the CB mic in her hand. “Get Sam,” she said without blinking. “Fire’s out.”
The words wouldn’t sink in. “What?”
Andy rubbed her eyes. “Fire’s out. Tell Sam.”
Zack dropped his tank, which was not the brightest thing he’d done, because it smashed his toes. He barely felt it, though. He was too focused on getting through the charred vegetation. “Sam! It’s out!”
Moving in slow motion, Sam swung to face him. The spray hit him, but after baking for God-only-knew how long, the water felt good. “What?”
He walked into the water and took the nozzle from her hands. “Andy said the fire’s out. We made it.”
“Out?” She shook her head and looked around at the wasteland that used to be her ranch. “Out.” She turned back to him, her eyes watering. “Oh, Zack.”
He caught her as she threw her arms around his neck, the sob muffled by her bandanna. “I’ve got you, babe,” he said in her ear. “I’m right here.”
“I missed you so much.” At least that’s what he thought she said.
He held her tight, feeling her body pressed against his. This. This was what he’d tried to stay away from and failed. This was what he’d come back for, why he’d slept in an unheated tent—one more chance to hold Sam Kenady in his arms. To know she needed him. But more than that, to know she wanted him.
“What are you doing here?”
The complete lack of enthusiasm with which she’d greeted him came rushing back to him. Did she want him? Did she really miss him? Or was this just gratitude—another hand around when she needed him?
But before he could get her bandanna pulled down so he could ask, the horn blared into the night.
“You two coming, or you want to walk home?” Andy shouted.
Sam made a hiccupping noise, linked her arm with his, and pulled him toward the truck.
Home. Was it?
The clock in the dash read 4:52. Andy kept talking to someone on the CB, and Sam was slumped against his arm. He didn’t know if she was asleep or just unwilling to look at the carnage. But she didn’t move when he shifted to put his arm around her shoulders.
The truck rocked over the land. He may have dozed off. He wasn’t sure.
“Hey, Zack,” Andy finally said, jolting him fully awake as the house lights came into view. “Not bad for a wannabe cowboy.”
He looked at her over Sam’s head. It would be generous to say she looked like hell, but compared to him? “It’s good to see you, too.”
Granny was waiting on the porch when they pulled into the yard. “Goodness, are you all okay?”
“Tired, but fine,” Andy said.
Sam didn’t move. “Come on, babe,” Zack whispered as he pulled her out of the truck. Dead weight in his arms. But still her head nuzzled against his neck, her warm breath soothing the blackened skin on his neck. He just wanted to hold her—but his muscles weren’t working so well right now. “She’s out,” he said to Granny.
Granny looked at him and managed a tired grin. “Still taking care of our girl.”
He’d sort of forgotten how odd it was that the blind woman looked at him. “Trying to.” He just stood there, unsure what to do. His brain wasn’t working either. Maybe the smoke had done some permanent damage up there. But even in his exhaustion, he knew that him, Sam, and a bed, all together at once, was a bad idea right now. Well, it was a good idea, but still a very bad one.
“Here.” Andy took the unconscious Sam from him. “You’ll still be here in the morning, right?”
Zack looked at Granny. “There’s a bed in the barn,” she said. “We can sort through the mess when everyone’s had some sleep.”
Sleep. The only thing that possibly sounded better than a bed was a shower—but no, sleep was winning. “I’ll be here.”
He watched the women trudge into the house, watched as the second floor lights went on, and then the third.
He was almost home.
Almost.