Page 225 of Her Reluctant Hero
“I have to—see a man about a horse.” She borrowed his euphemism.
He relaxed marginally. “All right. Go back the way we came. I don’t want you walking into the fire. And stay where I can see you.”
She stopped cold. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope. If I can’t see you, I won’t know if you’re in danger.”
Her face was hot and her bladder was full. “Never mind. I can wait.”
“Not for the next few hours, you can’t. Go ahead and go. You can hide behind a tree. I won’t look. I just have to be able to see you in relation to the fire, all right?”
Her bladder tapped its foot impatiently as she weighed modesty against necessity. “You promise you won’t look?”
He rolled his eyes. “You think I want to watch you pee?”
“I don’t know what kind of a perv you are.”
He grinned and winked. “A totally different kind. Hey, Peyton!” he called as she walked off. She turned.
“Got TP?” He tossed a roll at her.
She caught it one-handed and turned, red faced, to find a big fat tree.
“We’re in trouble.”
Gabe’s voice from the other side of the big fat tree made her jump as she fastened her pants. “Jesus, Cooper!” How had he snuck up on her?
“We got a blowup. No time for modesty. We’ve got to move. Have your gear?” His voice was the sharp businesslike tone she’d heard in the camp, not the lazy drawl she’d grown used to today.
She came around the tree pulling on her pack. He nodded his approval.
“Let’s move!”
“Gabe, what—?”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she saw the wall of flames not a hundred yards from where they stood. The fire advanced fast, faster than the flames at the camp yesterday. She watched in fascination, all the lovely colors, not just the expected warm colors, but flickers of blue and green and purple. It devoured the ground as it moved toward them, the grass and brush blackening and curling, flames licking at trees, igniting branches and needles, heating sap until the trunks exploded into torches. The heat rolled in waves, increasing in temperature.
“Don’t look at it!”
Gabe grabbed her hand firmly and started down the hill, the opposite direction from where they’d been heading, back toward the Girl Scout camp.
“What are you doing? We’re going the wrong way!”
He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, didn’t expend the energy to explain. She wouldn’t have heard him above the roar of the fire anyway.
Each breath seared her throat and lungs as the heat washed through the air. Firefighters died by breathing in the super-heated air. She squinted against the ash and embers floating toward them on every fire-created gust.
Gabe dragged her across the rough terrain, and she finally realized his intention. The fire had moved past them, between where they were now and the Girl Scout camp. He was getting them to the burned-out area, and safety.
As her shock subsided, she hurried forward, more sure-footed, but didn’t relinquish her hold on Gabe’s gloved hand. As the smoke thickened around them, his hand became her only connection, became her lifeline. She focused on following him, on trusting he would get out of here safely. He hadn’t failed her so far.
Gabe managed to cover his mouth with his spare bandana, turned to motion for Peyton to do the same. He felt her struggling behind him. She was having trouble getting the kerchief in place one-handed, but she refused to release his hand. Not stopping, he reached back, yanked it up from her throat to under her eyes. Good thing she’d left it on, and put on her fire shirt. He couldn’t allow her to stop.
His fire shelter—he’d given it to the little girls. He staggered with the implication. No fire shirt, no shelter, no radio. Firefighting had gained many advantages in the last twenty years and he was without all of them. If the fire overtook them, he was toast. Peyton still had her shelter. Maybe, if they squeezed together, they could both fit. If not, well, maybe the end would come quick.
The smoke obscured his vision, the noise so diffuse he couldn’t tell where the fire was. His instinct, his sense of direction would get them to the black.
Peyton cried out and he turned to see her batting at her bandana. He saw the flicker of flame and yanked off the burning fabric, threw it aside. The emotion in her eyes was pure relief, but he couldn’t allow her even a moment of relaxation. They had to keep moving.
