After changed plans, bracing for the worst, and enduring a day of winds, all of that was now past. Johnny’s original plan again made sense. The Pistol Creek Fire could be allowed to burn, or, as said in bureaucratic-speak, ‘managed.’
—·—
Johnny drove, and hardly slowed as he steered the truck onto Culberson Ranch. One of the firefighters held onto the dash board. He looked blue in the gills.
“Quit worrying, Pete,” Johnny said. He nodded at the blackened trees in the headlights. “See that. Last year’s fire. Liquor me up and I’ll tell you war stories. Jack could tell ya more, but it’d take a hell of a lot a liquor to get him talking. I’m cheaper, plus I tell better stories.”
Jack groaned.
At the bottom of the hill the truck bounced onto the meadow. Johnny slowed only when they neared the ranch house. “Element of surprise,” he said.
Hardly surprised, Kip Culberson met them under the cottonwoods at the front of the house. “Come in, boys.” Gray hair combed back, denim shirt crisp, the rancher pointed them toward the casita’s courtyard patio. “We want to hear what happened. Everything. The fire, the rescue, everything.”
One truck of firefighters had already arrived, and since Christy and two others had stayed behind to monitor the fire, the wait was on this truck. “Sorry we’re late, Kip,” Jack said. “Contrary to appearances, Johnny actually does have a responsible bone in his body. We had to drag him away. But it’s nice of you to feed us.”
“Our pleasure. We thought it’d be better than army rations or sack lunches.”
Kelly’s mother scurried out a side door, carrying a tray of food. The streaks of gray in Juanita’s hair only made her an older version of Kelly. She was a beautiful woman of Spanish heritage. With her constant air of contentment, entertaining suited her. She saw Jack and stopped.
“Juan!” she shouted.
“Juan?” Johnny whispered. “Is she talking to me?”
“No,” Jack whispered back. “Our little joke.” He lit up. “Juanita.” He walked toward her, trying to hide a limp.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” Jack gave her a peck on the cheek, careful not to brush against her.
“Do I have leprosy or something?”
“No, I do. I’m dirty. Dust and smoke. You don’t want me touching you.”
“Don’t be foolish.” She handed her tray to Johnny and smothered Jack with a hug.
The side door swung open, and Kelly stepped out, a bottle of wine in one hand, long-stemmed clay goblets threaded through the fingers on the other. Her eyes opened wide and she rushed through the horde.
Jack grabbed her shoulders. “Whoa, careful.”
She pushed back his arms, and wrapped hers around him. “Ooh,” she said, looking taken aback. “You smell of all sorts of things.”
He laughed. “Mind if I jump in the shower? I’d breathe easier.”
“Tell us about the rescue first. We’re dying to know.”
“I promise, it’ll be better if I can breathe.” He pulled away. “Kip, can I borrow a shirt?”
“I’ll hang one on the door knob.”
—·—
Stripped down and standing at the mirror, he checked for bruises. One on each shoulder, one on a hip. Both elbows. Both knees.
He climbed in the shower, washed away layers of dirt, dust, and sweat, then let the warmth soak into his muscles and down to the bone.
—·—
Jack returned, his hair wet and combed, wearing a shirt too big in the body and short in the sleeves, but it was clean.
“How are the enchiladas?” he asked, approaching the long, plank table.
They were going over well. He filled his plate and took a seat with Kelly and Johnny.
Kelly took a whiff in his direction. “You’ve lost all your character.” She smiled and squeezed his arm. “Tell us what happened.”
“Johnny didn’t tell you?” Jack cut into an enchilada, savored a bite, and tried to decide where to start the story.
“You should tell it, but speaking of losing things,” Johnny said. He turned to Kelly. “He coulda lost a lot more than character yesterday.” He raised a brow.
“What’s that mean?” Kelly asked.
“You coulda lost your man.” He flashed her a look.
“Go on.”
Jack shook his head. “Thought you wanted me to tell this.”
“Hey, you saved a guy.”
“Don’t.”
“Okay, it’s your story. Tell it any way you want, unless you want to hear how masterful I was on rope. That’s about the only part I can tell with any authority, except for hearing that crash, and how it echoed up and down the canyon.”
Kelly’s eyes grew wide. “You’re joking right?”
“Yes, kinda. Except for that part about the crash.”
Her brow furrowed. “Start talking.”
Johnny attempted a smile. “I’m just pulling your leg.”
“Is he?”
Jack opened his mouth to speak but saw something fearful in her eyes.
“Hey, I didn’t see it, but you should be proud,” Johnny said.
“Proud of what?”
“He saved a guy. A big rock came peeling off the wall. Made a hell of a noise. Echoed up and down the canyon. Sounded like the world coming to an end. Shook everything.”
Kelly’s mouth gaped open.
Johnny turned to Jack. “You tell her.”
Jack held his tongue.
“You two were bouncing around on that rope . . .”
“Shut up Johnny.”
“Hey, everything worked out, I promise. Besides, I was on top, on rope, had ’em the whole time. No way I woulda let go.” He flashed a smile. “But it felt like I was fighting a hundred pound bass.”
“Ha, very funny,” Kelly growled. She turned to Jack. “Your message
