Heat (Firefighters of Montana Book 4) Read online

  Tyler felt his eyebrows go up. They didn’t typically do evacuations, although it wasn’t outside their realm of duties. He bent to take a closer look at the map where Sam was pointing. On the extreme edge of the park, he could see what looked like an access road snaking into the steeper terrain.

  “What kind of an evacuation?”

  “A man and his daughter. They were told to leave two days ago, but looks like they decided to stay. The landlines are down, and the fire roads are impassable, otherwise the St. Mary crew would go in and get them. They can still use this access road if they leave in the next hour. It’ll take the ground crews at least two hours to reach them, which is why they want us to go in. The fire will reach the access road at this point”—Sam jabbed a finger at a spot on the squiggly line—“within an hour. If we can’t get them safely beyond this point, we’ll be looking at an aerial evac.”

  Tyler could see the property was directly in the path of the fire. He barely contained a snort of contempt. Although the fire marshals provided ample warning for residents to flee ahead of a wildfire, there were always those who believed they could ride out the storm. They soaked their homes with water and hunkered down, putting their lives at risk, as well as the lives of those trying to rescue them. Tyler would go in after the man and his daughter because that was his job, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He resented risking the safety of his crew because some jack-wagon thought he was fireproof. That the man would endanger his own daughter—a child—was even more infuriating.

  “I’ll take Vin and Ace,” he said. “We’ll get these people to safety and cut a fire line here.” He indicated a spot ahead of the leading edge of the fire. “If things get dicey, I’ll call for a slurry drop.”

  Slurry was a fire retardant liquid, dropped by aircraft ahead of a wildfire, to protect that area from catching fire. Most commonly, it was used to protect homes and people.

  Sam nodded. “They’re scooping water out of St. Mary Lake and dumping it along the access road. If they can keep the road wet, those folks will have a good chance of making it down the mountain.” He started to move away, and then turned back. “Listen, that front is moving fast and hot. No heroics. Just get those people out, and then you hightail it out of there. Head back to the drop site, and radio me for our position.”

  Tyler folded his map and tucked it inside his suit, as Sam climbed across the gear to tell Vin, Ace, and Doster about the evac plan. Sam and the spotter bent their heads over the map, debating on where to drop Tyler and the other two jumpers. After several moments, obviously satisfied, Sam gave Doster a slap on the back, and then signaled the remaining men for the first jump. Tyler watched as each man positioned himself in the open door, waited for the spotter to tap him on the leg, and pushed himself out into the open sky.

  Then it was just the four of them left in the plane, as the pilot banked sharply and the spotter leaned out of the open door to survey the land beneath them. Tyler never tired of seeing the majestic mountain ranges and sweeping valleys that defined this part of Montana. He’d lived here his entire life, had spent countless days hiking through the wilderness of the national park. Despite having traveled all over the continental U.S. and Canada, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Protecting this magnificent land from the ravages of wildfire was both a duty, and a privilege.

  Less than five minutes later, they were over the second drop site. Tyler braced himself in the opening of the plane, surveying the area below. The landing site was a mix of conifer trees, meadows, and brush just below a rocky outcrop. If the winds didn’t cooperate, there was a risk of overshooting the drop site and being pushed into the rocks, or being carried into a dense copse of tall spruce. Either would suck. Tyler had dropped into trees before, and even if he managed to avoid being impaled by a branch, or getting his chute lines tangled, it was a complete drag.

  When he felt the slap on his leg, he pushed forward, out of the plane and into the open air, free-falling toward earth. Tyler silently acknowledged he always had some anxiety before jumping, but once he was actually airborne, all of that vanished.

  He was flying, free and untethered, the wind whipping at his jumpsuit and pushing at his face, and his heart soared with the sheer thrill of it. Then he pulled his chute and felt himself jerked upward, his downward plummet momentarily suspended. He glanced up to see the bright blue, rectangular canopy open above him. Grasping the two toggle handles, he peered down over his boots to where the ground was swiftly rising up to meet him. He steered toward the landing site, maneuvering himself to the center of the small clearing, and pulled hard on both toggles to slow his approach.

  He landed on his feet, and quickly gathered in his chute and stripped off his helmet and his protective gear. Shading his eyes, he watched as Vin and Ace dropped out of the sky, wincing as Ace hit the ground hard. But the younger man was up on his feet almost immediately, and Tyler gave the thumbs up to the spotter, as the plane circled above them. Within minutes, their packs and equipment were dropped out of the aircraft, and Tyler swore softly as one of them drifted too far and landed in the trees. Retrieving the gear would cost them precious minutes and, with the wildfire bearing down on the trapped family, they needed every second.

  It took them less than ten minutes to store their chutes, retrieve their gear, and begin hiking toward the threatened property. As they closed in on the wildfire, Tyler could smell burning trees and hear the ominous crackle of flames as the wildfire consumed the dry underbrush and spruce. He glanced at his map.

  “We’re heading directly toward the fire. The property should be straight ahead, through these trees,” he shouted to Vin. “We’ll bring the family back this way, and get them to the access road.”

  As long as the access road was still viable. If things went south and the road was impassable, they would bring them back to the drop site and call in a chopper. He could hear the roar of the wildfire ahead of them, and several times they encountered small fires that had sprung up from stray embers, carried by the wind. They suppressed those flames on the spot, working quickly to clear away flammable debris, and kick dirt over the embers. Sweat soaked Tyler’s shirt and ran in rivulets down his neck. His eyes burned from the smoke that filled the air, and he swiped the moisture from his face with the back of his gloved hands. They hadn’t even reached the main fire, and already he’d had a good workout.

  They continued to push their way through the trees, using their pulaskis and, on one occasion, a chainsaw to cut through the dense forest. The sound of the wildfire grew louder. Through the brush, Tyler could now see the beginning of the property, and what looked like a high, wire fence that ran as far as he could see to either side.

  Great. Now, they’d have to cut through the fencing to get to the house. Tyler cursed under his breath. The three men reached the fence line and Tyler stood back, momentarily puzzled. There were actually two wire fences, one inside the other, with a three-foot space separating them.

  “What the hell?” Vin peered through the fencing. “Did you see that?”

  A dark shadow moved on the other side of the fencing.

  “Yeah, looked like a dog,” Ace said.

  “Ah, hell.” Vin swore. “I know where we are. That wasn’t a dog—that was a wolf.”

  Both Tyler and Ace turned to look at him, and Tyler knew his face showed his astonishment.

  “I’ve heard of this place…it’s a wolf sanctuary,” Vin said, swiping a hand across his eyes. “I just didn’t realize it was so far off the beaten path.”

  Christ. Wolves. How many were there? And had their enclosure been compromised by the wildfire? Tyler knew enough about wolves to know they preferred to avoid any contact with humans, but with the wildfire almost on top of them, their behavior could be unpredictable. Dangerous.

  Perfect. Just when he thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, now he had to worry about wolves.

  Chapter Two

  Who would have guessed there were pine trees in hell? An en
tire forest of them, snapping and crackling as the advancing firestorm consumed them in roaring columns of flame. Overhead, the sky was black with smoke, and chunks of burning ash and debris drifted down all around. The acrid stench of charred aspen and pine filled the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe. No, this wasn’t hell; this was something even worse.

  Wildfire.

  Callie McClain guessed she had less than an hour before the inferno reached the timbered ranch house, and then the outbuildings, and then, heaven help her, the animal enclosures. The thought made her mouth go dry with fear.

  How could she have been so stupid? How could she have missed the news reports that the massive wildfire, first spotted more than fifteen miles to the west, had shifted, jumping fire lines and mountain roads to spawn new, separate fires? Why hadn’t she bundled her father into the pickup truck two days ago, when the fire marshal had first warned them that evacuation might become necessary?

  Because he hadn’t been sure they would need to evacuate.

  Because she hadn’t believed the fire would advance this far, and she’d been reluctant to cause her father any additional distress after his recent heart attack. When she’d first broached the subject of leaving, he’d adamantly refused to discuss the issue. Always the pessimist, Callie had packed a duffel bag of clothing for her dad, as well as a box of photos and his important documents. She’d been living out of a suitcase since flying in from California two weeks earlier, so she was ready to go at a moment’s notice.

  Over the past two days, her father had become increasingly stubborn. He’d dismissed the wildfire as a threat, convinced it would never reach their property. He’d lived on the edge of Glacier National Park for more than forty years; he’d seen his share of wildfires, and had told her this one would be contained and extinguished well before it reached them.

  Callie had believed him.

  Now it might be too late. The narrow pass that sliced through the surrounding mountains and connected their property with the main road might be impassable. If that were the case, both she and her father—and his beloved animals—could very well die.

  Frank McClain had operated a wolf sanctuary on his steep, mountain property for as long as Callie could recall—since she’d been a child. Presently, there were just five wolf packs living at the sanctuary, twelve wolves in total, but they meant everything to Frank. She was pretty sure he loved those wolves more than he did his only daughter. With the help of Randy, one of the sanctuary volunteers, they had successfully transferred five wolves into the kennel truck, but the remaining seven wolves had retreated to the back of their enclosures, where the terrain was steep and heavily timbered.

  Wilder than the first five wolves, they avoided human contact, and Callie knew it would be impossible to corral them and transfer them into the second kennel truck. They would have to ride the fire out, and she prayed they would survive. She had finally persuaded a reluctant Randy to leave the sanctuary while he could, before the access road became impassable. That had been almost three hours ago. Corralling her father into the truck was proving much more difficult than herding the wolves into the kennel cages.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the flames had drawn closer. The sound was tremendous, like a freight train roaring toward them, and the temperatures had soared to a scorching level. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. She’d never known such terror. Not so much for herself, although she had no wish to burn alive, but for her father, whom she loved despite his failings. This was not how he was supposed to die.

  But he had refused to leave.

  Even now, when he was almost too weak to walk unaided, he resisted her, dragging his feet and straining toward the wolf enclosures. She hung on grimly to his arm, practically dragging him along, ignoring his protests. She only hoped he didn’t have another heart attack. As frail as he was, he might not survive this time. But neither of them would survive if she didn’t get them down the mountain.

  Callie bore most of her father’s weight as they stumbled across the front of his property, to where the kennel truck sat with the engine running in the small, gravel parking lot. Beneath the roar of the advancing flames, she could hear the low, plaintive moans of the wolves contained within the cages that were mounted on the back of the pickup.

  Only five wolves.

  Callie looked toward the enclosures beyond the outbuildings. There were ten separate pens surrounded by double-wire fencing and topped with concertina wire. She saw no sign of the remaining wolves.

  “The pack.” Her father wheezed, twisting toward the pens as he tried to break free of her grasp. “We have to bring them with us.”

  “We can’t, Dad.” They’d already gone over this a dozen times. “There’s no more time. They have the bunkers. The only other option is to open the pens and release them.”

  Two years earlier, at Randy’s urging, her father had installed underground, concrete bunkers in each enclosure for exactly this kind of scenario. Although they’d yet to be tested, the bunkers would provide some protection while the wolves were forced to shelter in place.

  “I worry that the bunkers won’t be enough,” her father said, his voice breaking. “But if we release them, they could be killed.”

  Callie silently acknowledged the truth in what he said. The wolf was not a protected species in Montana. The best she could hope for was that the pack might cross into nearby Glacier National Park, where hunting was prohibited. But the more realistic scenario was that they would move in the other direction—away from the wildfire—and toward the towns of St. Mary and Browning. If that happened, they would almost certainly be shot on sight. While the sanctuary benefitted from the support of local businesses and volunteers, the ranchers in the region would not hesitate to protect their stock from a free-range wolf.

  “We’ll come back just soon as we can,” she promised, putting an arm around him and steering him toward the pickup. “But we need to go, or we’ll die.”

  “I can’t leave them!” he cried. “We have to try one more time to evacuate them.” With surprising strength, he broke free and lurched toward the pens, nearly falling in his haste.

  With a cry of alarm, Callie ran after him, but he shoved her away. As thin as he was, she thought she might be able to carry him bodily to the vehicle, but hesitated when he turned blazing eyes on her.

  “I won’t leave them behind!” He was wild-eyed, and his color had gone nearly purple, which frightened her even more. He looked on the verge of having another heart attack.

  She wanted to howl with frustration. Desperation lent her voice added strength. “Get your ass in the truck!” She’d never spoken to her father that way. “Now!”

  Her heart fell when her father set his jaw in an expression she knew all too well.

  “I’m not leaving my wolves behind.” His hands clutched the fence, his fingers curling around the wire as he stared mutinously at her.

  The heat had grown more intense. The roaring sound of the fire grew louder, more ominous. Soon, they would be trapped.

  Callie swiftly considered her options. It would take her no more than a minute to retrieve the tranquilizer gun. One shot would be enough to knock her father unconscious, but the effects could kill him. They kept sedatives in the cabin, as well. She could load up a syringe and administer just enough to make him pliable, without losing consciousness. He’d fight her tooth and nail, otherwise. She hated the option, but she no longer had a choice.

  Spinning on her heel, she sprinted toward the outbuilding that housed the office and the wildlife veterinary clinic. She was just feet from the door when movement from the far side of the property caught her attention. Flashes of yellow and red moved steadily through the trees. She paused, and as she watched, a small group of men emerged from the forest, hacking at the underbrush and branches with axes.

  Firefighters!

  She’d never seen anything as beautiful as the sight of those men in their yellow jackets and bright red hardhats, hefting axes and
chainsaws and shovels as if they weighed no more than children’s toys.

  “Thank God,” she breathed, and jogged toward them.

  Chapter Three

  Tyler and the other two men quickly made their way along the length of wire fencing, and now Tyler could see a clearing ahead, and could just make out several buildings, and a pickup truck parked nearby. But the wildfire had moved fast. The tall pines behind the main house were fully engulfed. The air was thick with smoke and falling embers. He quickly radioed Sam that they had reached the property and would start the evacuation.

  As they broke through the trees, Tyler took in the scene unfolding before them. A frail, elderly man stood clinging to the wire fencing of the wolf enclosure, while a young woman sprinted toward one of the outbuildings. As Tyler and his men broke through the trees, she skidded to a stop and stared at them with a mixture of astonishment and dawning comprehension.

  As she approached them, the brightness of the flames silhouetted her, and Tyler had the strangest sense that time itself had slowed. The whole scene unfolded like something out of a Hollywood action movie, playing out in slow motion. He was acutely aware of everything, from the long strands of brown hair that blew across her face, to the way her jersey clung to her curves. He watched as her perfect mouth moved, aware she was shouting to them, but not hearing anything. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, everything rushed back into fast motion. Between the smoke, the ash, the heat of the fire itself, and the elderly man who still clung desperately to the fencing, he knew the scene could quickly turn deadly. Then there was the woman, who must be the daughter that Sam had spoken of. Not a child.

  A beautiful woman.

  And as he stepped forward to intercept her, she looked at him like he was some kind of superhero. Like he was her own personal knight in shining armor. Warning alarms blared in his head, and in that instant he realized there were some things more dangerous than either wolves or wildfire.