Page 1 of Shelter for Tanna

Chapter 1

Rain tapping on the roof woke him and he knew it was going to be one of those days. He made a cup of coffee, took a quick shower, packed his duffel, and headed out. By the time he reached the truck, he was soaked. Turning the key in the ignition, he listened with satisfaction as the big engine in the 1964Ford F100 purred, and he backed from the drive onto the street and rolled toward the station house.

Every light in BowlingGreen Municipal Fire Department’s StationFour was on and the smell of bacon and eggs filled his senses once he was inside. He passed Sparky on the way to the locker room and gave the big man a chin lift. “Hey, Monkey,” his fellow firefighter mumbled back to him as though he was still half asleep too.

It was an easy decision?change into his dry clothes and let the wet ones hang up to dry. He could put them on the next morning. Pulling a forty-eight meant they’d have plenty of time to dry out. The aroma of sausage cooking hit his senses too, and his mouth watered as he headed toward the big kitchen.

And he never made it there. The tone sounded, echoing through the firehouse, and the dispatcher’s voice could be heard clearly everywhere inside. “StationFour, StationFour, this is central dispatch. Respond to scene of multi-vehicle accident, Fifteenth and Morris. Repeat, respond to scene of multi-vehicle accident, Fifteenth and Morris. No reported injuries. One vehicle reportedly engulfed. Copy?”

“Copy that, dispatch. StationFour responding, box and pumper rolling. ETA five minutes,” ElCapitan barked back as Braden fastened the last snap on his turn-out coat and hopped on the truck. “Let’s roll out, men!”

The trip didn’t even take them five minutes, and when they pulled up on the scene, there was indeed a passenger car sitting there, flames shooting up from under its hood. “Monkey! Grab the pike pole!” Fresh yelled, and Braden didn’t hesitate. Opening the hood of the car was absolutely necessary if they were going to extinguish the fire, but it would also let more oxygen in and the chances of it flaring were almost one hundred percent. Standing to either side, Fresh held one huge commercial fire extinguisher, Pokey the other, and Braden moved directly in front of the car, hooked the front edge of the hood with the pike pole, and pushed it upward.

A ball of fire rewarded them, but between Fresh and Pokey, the flames were extinguished in a matter of seconds. There was no danger of the fire moving to the fuel system, and an explosion of the gas tank had been avoided. That was the best they could hope for.

The station’s EMTs were busy checking occupants of the vehicles, all of whom seemed to be fine. An elderly couple walked around their destroyed SUV, while a young man of college age hung his head over his wrinkled-up Mustang convertible. Over to the side stood a young woman, her face pale and drawn, holding the hand of a small boy who looked to be maybe seven or eight. A lone tear wandered down the woman’s cheek and Braden felt sorry for her, so he approached her. “Ma’am, are both of you okay?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for asking. We’re fine, but now I’m out a car.” She was a pretty thing, small, dainty, and blond, with big blue eyes rimmed in sadness.

“I’m so sorry. At least you weren’t hurt. Hold on just a second?I’ll be right back.” Braden ran to the truck, opened a side panel, and returned to the mother and child. “Here you go,” he said as he held up a plastic badge and a teddy bear wearing a firefighter’s helmet. “This makes you an honorary firefighter,” Braden declared as he handed the child the toys from the truck’s stash.

“Thank you, sir!” the little boy gushed and beamed up at Braden. At least one of the people at the scene that day was a bit happier. None of the adults could feel that joy, he was sure. He said goodbye, but he continued to watch the woman out the corner of his eye. Yeah, he could definitely see himself dating her. She was a cutie, even though she certainly wasn’t at her best at that moment, without transportation and standing in the driving rain.

The men grabbed brooms and started cleaning up the scene, sweeping up little piles of glass and splintered plastic, and spreading oil absorb, as well as moving a bumper from one of the cars off to the side. It would be hard to clean up the spills with the rain pounding down, but they had to at least try. Liquids like that, especially in an intersection, could easily cause another accident, and they really didn’t want to come back there anytime soon.

They’d gotten most of their equipment packed up when the wreckers started arriving, three flatbeds from various services around town. He wasn’t paying much attention to their activity until something caught his eye and he turned.

The driver of the third wrecker, the one removing the burned car, was struggling with the bumper, trying to get it to the truck and loaded up, but seemed to be having problems with it. “Be right back,” Braden told HotShot and ran that direction. The tow truck driver was a smaller man, and he couldn’t get the thing moving in the right direction. “Hey! Need some help?” Braden yelled through the rain as he ran toward the driver. The person grasping the bumper turned and Braden stifled a gasp.

It was a woman.

“No. I’ve got it,” she growled and gave it another yank.

“Hey, these things are a bit unwieldy. You take that end and I’ll take this one,” he said.

“I said I’ve got it,” she repeated, daggers shooting from the greenest eyes Braden had ever seen.

“Everybody needs a little help now and then. Here. Come on,” he answered, refusing to take no for an answer. In seconds, they’d lifted it, carried it across the pavement, and thrown it up onto the bed of the wrecker right beside the car. “There ya go. Neat as a pin.”

“Thanks, but I could’ve done it,” she muttered.

“I know, but I like to help people. It’s kinda my job, ya know?” Braden said with a grin. “BradenNichols,” he said and extended a hand, but the woman glared at him. Instead of drawing it back, he just left it and smiled. “Friendly local firefighter.”

Hesitantly, almost as though he had the plague, the woman took his hand and shook it. “TannaHilliard.”

“Good to meet you, Tanna. I bet we see each other again sometime at one of these scenes. Have a good day,” he said as he headed away, then turned and walked backward a few paces, calling back, “And get inside and get dry!”

He could’ve almost taken her expression as a smile when she called back, “You too.”

“Holy fuck. Is that a woman driving a tow truck?” HotShot asked as they climbed back onto the truck.

Braden nodded. “Sure is.” As they drove away, he watched her finish securing the car and wondered how a woman got into that vocation. And he hoped that sometime soon he’d have a chance to ask her himself.

* * *

There were no more calls that day. They spent the evening playing cards, and Sparky’s wife came by with a cake she’d baked. It was delicious, and they laughed and talked as they ate.

That was one of the things Braden loved most about being a firefighter?the camaraderie. Every guy in the house had a nickname from something the others had noticed about him. They called Braden “Monkey” because when he’d first started out, he’d climbed ladders like he was going for a prize. Joe“Sparky” Anderson had been nicknamed that after a spark caught the edge of his pant leg on fire?out in back of the station house while they were grilling. Harley“Hot Shot” Wilson had this thing about wanting to use the extinguishers on everything, even fires that didn’t warrant the chemicals. And William “ElCapitan” Bartlett… Well, he was the captain, so that just made sense. They’d heard rumors that his firefighting nickname had been “Hook’em” because he’d rescued a woman from a burning building?and she married him. They didn’t know if that was true, and they didn’t ask. Didn’t matter. He was the boss.

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