Expectant Father (4 page)

“Excuse me.”

Becca’s shoulders tensed. There was still plenty to do and
by now the rest of Incident Command would have heard of her accident, so she had to prove that the pregnant Fire Behavior Analyst was as tough as any man. A bump on her noggin? Wouldn’t slow Becca down. But the interruption came from someone she couldn’t easily ignore.

Becca turned around to see what the female Hot Shot wanted.

“What you did back there in Medical was…great. You made taking control look so simple.” The Hot Shot shifted her feet and jiggled her fire helmet with one hand as if she were nervous. “My name is Victoria… The Queen.” Self-consciously, she touched her red hair. “Would you like to have some dinner? I could use the company.”

There was an informal sisterhood in the fire community. Women helped each other with moral support, advice and a safe place to vent. But the Hot Shot’s timing was off. Becca’s job was calling, her credibility at stake. If she wanted that promotion in Boise, she had to perform above excellent, above what a man could do.

Becca opened her mouth to refuse, to suggest they catch a cup of coffee in the morning, but then she caught Aiden’s disapproving stare as he came out of the Medical tent. His attention seemed to be aimed at both Becca and the Hot Shot with her, which pushed Becca’s nurturing instincts into over-drive. He clearly disapproved of Victoria, who might have approached Becca to talk about how to deal with Aiden.

Becca sighed. Her conscience wouldn’t let her leave this until later. Besides, her stomach growled again; the baby needed to be fed.

“Can we make it quick? I still have plenty to do before the IC team meets to set up their plan of attack.”

“I appreciate it. I need to stand in line for the shower any
way.” The Hot Shot ran a hand over her hair. At some point, it had been in an intricate French braid. Now red hair hung in limp strands around her dirt-streaked face.

The last glimpse Becca had of Aiden was of his frowning countenance as they made their way to the chow line.

The sight made her smile.

“Y
OU COMING TO EAT
, Roadhouse?” Bart asked as he wiped his face with a worn blue bandana and made to follow the rest of the Montana #5 ground crew into the chow line.

“In a minute.” Roadhouse wanted to make sure his son, Aiden, was okay. He’d heard about the Silver Bend crew’s close call on the mountain. He’d even heard there were no severe injuries. But that didn’t stop him from worrying, or ignoring his empty belly and walking on stiff knees through camp looking for his son.

Roadhouse was on a private fire crew—second-class citizens to the likes of Aiden on their Department of Forestry firefighting teams, even though the pay was better in private crews and the work often farther from the front line. DoF Hot Shot crews got the prime jobs on wildland fires, except in situations like this one, where bodies were scarce.

Non-fire civilians might say Roadhouse was lucky to be away from the action most of the time, but when fire ran in your veins, you wanted to be at the front line, with adrenaline and the dragon roaring in your ears. Why suit up otherwise?

Before he’d rounded camp once, he saw Aiden step out of the Medical tent. His heart nearly stopped. Other Silver Bend members were filing out as well. What had happened to his boy?

“Roadhouse,” a deep, familiar voice called out behind him.

Roadhouse glanced around, knowing he had to give So
crates, one of NIFC’s most respected Incident Commanders, his full attention, but unwilling to take his eyes off his kid.

“How was it out there?” Socrates didn’t call him “Old Timer” like some of the kids on the crews, because he’d been fighting fires longer than Roadhouse. He had the gray hair and scars to prove it.

“It’s a sleeper, sir,” Roadhouse stated bluntly. Wouldn’t do to hold back with Socrates. “The fire seems tame, but it’ll surprise us all at the end. You can sense it up on the line.” He could have griped about the gasoline, but Roadhouse wouldn’t complain about having to hike five additional miles to base camp. Back in the early days, firefighting in the mountains was more of a survivalist challenge. A bit of hiking was nothing in comparison.

Socrates stared long and hard at Roadhouse before admitting, “Someone finally agrees with the Fire Behavior Analyst.” Socrates scanned the camp. From the rise where they stood, they could see most of the mess area, tables filled with grubby, hungry firefighters, the Medical tent, the staging area where trucks unloaded men and equipment, and the command tents.

Aiden started up the hill toward them with the Silver Bend superintendent, Golden. Roadhouse turned around, pretending to look up the mountain, hoping his son wouldn’t recognize him with all the grime and his long hair tucked beneath his helmet. Desperate for Aiden’s company, Roadhouse had resorted to dropping into Aiden’s path when he least expected it—only because Aiden would vanish if he saw Roadhouse first. When that happened, it nearly broke Roadhouse’s heart all over again.

“Golden,” Socrates nodded to his stepson when he stopped a few feet away.

Still in his prime and liked by many, Golden was fast be
coming a legend. People would tell stories about Golden around fire camps long after he was gone.

No one would remember Roadhouse when he was six feet under, fondly or otherwise, least of all his son.

Hearing a second set of footsteps, Roadhouse turned around with a sinking heart, meeting Aiden’s curious gaze, watching it harden with recognition.

When would his son learn to forgive?

W
HAT A LOVELY
little family reunion. Spider pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Wasn’t he just a luck magnet today?

“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.

“T
HAT 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.

“H
OW 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.”

“It’s not a man’s world anymore.” Becca struggled to make her words sound convincing. The farther she climbed up the management ladder, the less she could say about the way it really was in the system. She didn’t know Victoria at all, and, much as she wanted to, she wasn’t going to agree with her about the barriers women still faced in wildland firefighting ten minutes after meeting her.

Becca picked up an apple and wiped it with a napkin to keep herself from admitting anything. She’d accepted her dinner invitation to help Victoria, not ruin her chances at that promotion. A quick glance showed her that all the men in IC, including Carl, were congregated at a table on the other side of the mess area.

Victoria looked at her closely, then sighed. “So if I say I’m going to file a harassment suit against the Department of Forestry because my crew ran down the mountain, flags waving out of their boxers, you’re going to tell me I should, right?” Despite the bandages around her wrists, Victoria had delicate hands with short nails painted a beautiful shade of red. She pointed at Becca, her disappointment evident in every word. “You don’t understand. It’s different out there.”

Becca did understand. It wasn’t that different in base camp. To succeed, a woman had to have a nearly squeaky-clean reputation, look the other way seventy-five percent of the time, as well as be quicker, smarter and tougher than a man. Becca stroked a hand around her belly. Try outdoing a man while being pregnant.

“Forget it,” Victoria said, turning her attention to her meal.

The Hot Shot’s disappointment stung because Becca and
this woman had a lot in common. Both were struggling to appear as strong and capable as any man. Keeping up the facade was a tough job. For the first time since joining NIFC, Becca was tired of doing it. Granted, the pregnancy was sapping her staying power, and her pounding head wound wasn’t helping her energy level today, but mentally, Becca needed time away to regroup, even if it was only an afternoon. Time was something she didn’t have in base camp, not when she didn’t have an accomplished assistant.

While Becca stared at Victoria’s nail polish, the baby kicked her ribs as if in reprimand. Still she hesitated.

“So much for the myth of the sisterhood,” Victoria mumbled with a shake of her head.

Becca had watched out for her female colleagues most of her life. And, in their own way, they’d watched out for Becca. There were some things that only another woman would understand. The Hot Shot was right—in a man’s world, women needed to support each other.

“Off the record—” Becca put her fork down, glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard “—you and I both know you can’t file a claim.” She’d be labeled
trouble,
and no one would hire her after that.

“I know.” Victoria pushed her spaghetti around her plate. “This is my second year as a Hot Shot. I thought the first year was tough but this year is different. Everything seems to be going wrong. Everything,” she repeated, a dejected gloss in her eyes.

“You just need to find your rhythm, that’s all.” Becca had been right to spend time with Victoria. She seemed to need a friend.

“Do you really think so?”

Becca put her hand on Victoria’s, careful of the bandages around her wrist. “Hey, if it’s worth it to you, it’s worth the
sacrifice—the dirty jokes, the way they act like fifteen-year-old boys, even the skinny-dipping in that mountain stream—all the things they can do together that you can’t because you’re a woman. If you want to fight fires that much, it’s just like having a bad commute or a crummy office—you put up with it, because you’re good at it and you want this more than anything.”

“I can’t see myself doing something else. It’s stupid, but I feel as if I was destined to do it, even though it’s harder than anything I’ve ever tried before.” Victoria’s smile elicited one from Becca, who knew exactly what the Hot Shot meant. “Some of the assistant supers, well, just one of the assistant supers, gives me a pretty hard time. He’s not in charge of my unit, thank heavens, but he…” She glanced up. “Here he comes.”

To Becca’s dismay, Aiden was bearing down upon them with Jackson. She swung one leg over the bench to leave. She’d been lucky—if offended—so far in that Aiden didn’t remember her. Just how far would luck take her?

“Don’t go,” Victoria whispered, a plea in her eyes that Becca wanted to ignore. The woman needed more backbone if she wanted to succeed out here.

Becca hesitated long enough for the men to stop at their table. If she left now, she’d have to acknowledge Aiden. Sensing her agitation, the baby hiccuped. Maybe if she sat really still, they’d ignore her.

“How are you feeling?” Jackson asked Becca as he stopped near her with a friendly smile.

Trying not to grit her teeth, she reassured Jackson that she was fine and bit into her apple, carefully wiping the juice from the corners of her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, Becca caught Aiden looking at her with his now familiar scowl.

The baby hiccuped again.

Becca stared at her plate. How dare he not remember her? How dare he not remember the way she’d taken him to the limits of his willpower and beyond. She just had to look at him and she was flooded with memories.

And an unwanted sense of longing.

She arched her back as the baby hiccuped a third time. Aiden probably dismissed her as just another old, pregnant woman, of no more interest to him than a heavily veiled nun.

Without preamble, Jackson got down to business. “Victoria, I think you might benefit from a change. I’m assigning you to Spider’s unit.”

Victoria appeared stricken. “Why?”

“Maybe he thinks I’ll whip you into shape,” Spider said, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t smile or reassure Victoria in any way. He clearly did not want Victoria reporting to him and Becca felt sorry for her all over again.

She willed Victoria to fling a snappy retort at him, but Victoria didn’t move or speak. Without thinking, Becca stepped up for her new friend. “Maybe Jackson thinks Victoria will whip you into shape, Aiden.” Then, because she was a little surprised at herself and wanted to soften her words, Becca gave him a cordial smile.

Jackson and Aiden were momentarily speechless.

“I think the team would benefit from the change.” Jackson finally filled the awkward silence. Then he touched Victoria’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

Victoria’s curt nod and downcast eyes broadcast how hurt she was by the move. Aiden had gone back to scowling.

“Get some rest. We’ll see you in the morning.” Jackson bid them good-night.

“Socrates…er, Sirus, asked me to talk to you about our experience today,” Aiden said with a stubborn set to his chin.

Becca managed to choke out, “Perhaps I can find some time for you after the briefing.” Drat. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

With a brief nod in Becca’s direction, Aiden followed Jackson up to the dinner line.

“Thanks.” Victoria groaned. “Spider hates me.”

“Don’t give him an inch. Guys like him look for weakness, especially in women out here.” Becca wasn’t going to let Aiden find her weakness, her secret. The baby shimmied around, making her dizzy for a few seconds.

“Oh, great. Just what I need to top my day.” Victoria ducked her head. “There’s that creepy old guy.”

“Who?” Becca glanced around, one hand splayed protectively across her belly.

Victoria made a face. “That guy with shaggy hair standing at the end of this row of tables.”

Becca tried to look casually in that direction. She spotted a beaten-looking firefighting veteran. He was gazing at them with a dull expression on his lined face, then he turned his attention to Jackson and Aiden.

“I’ve seen him around fire camps this year,” Victoria whispered, barely moving now, as if keeping still might make her invisible. “He seems to stare at our crew a lot. It creeps me out.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Becca saw Aiden turn and lock his gaze on her. She was suddenly able to relate to Victoria as a target of unwanted attention. She rubbed the baby in her tummy with one hand, trying to reassure herself that he didn’t recognize her, although it was disappointing that he didn’t. She’d thought they’d been spectacular together.

It was hard to believe that her impression had been wrong.

Maybe…she sucked in bed.

Becca shied away from the embarrassing notion. It didn’t matter that she was nothing to Aiden or any other man, for that matter. She’d gotten what she wanted.

Becca patted her belly again.

“I
KNOW HER
,” S
PIDER SAID
as he trudged back up the hill with Golden to the supper line. The afternoon breeze had died down and the oppressive heat was making one last run before the sun sank low on the horizon. “She knew my name.” Few people in the fire community knew his given name.

“The Fire Behavior Analyst?” Golden asked. “You might. She’s been around for years and years. I hear her brother was a Hot Shot a long time ago.”

“She’s not that old,” Spider grumbled, not knowing why he felt the need to stick up for her. “Have we been on other fires with her?”

“Probably not. She’s California Overhead.” Meaning the California division of Incident Command. “Socrates picked her up as an end-of-the season replacement. I’ve heard she’s one of the best FBANS around, though.”

Spider wasn’t impressed. He’d heard too many times before about “the best” and found them sorely lacking in the field. He looked at Becca again. Where had he seen her? And why was the memory bugging him?