brother in me still holding on to that big brother pedestal David had fallen off of long ago.
"Hey, Dad, how are you feeling? Those docs gave it to you good, huh? I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up."
"Nah, nah, that's all right." It was impossible to believe the thin, reedy voice coming through the phone was the man who raised me. Back on the ranch, he could bellow my name, and I could hear it no matter what corner of the thirty acres I was standing on. A groan of pain rolled through the phone. "Boy oh boy, don't think the doctors left much inside of me. Guess I've lived a good life, so what the hell."
"No, don't say that. You're sticking around for a lot longer." Even as I said it my gut twisted with the reality that his prospects weren't good.
"Hey, Bronx, kiddo, I need to ask a favor. Looks like I'll be back in this hellhole next month for a second surgery." He chuckled but it was weak and pained. "Guess they didn't take enough of me yet. I've got Rick watching the horses while I'm off my feet, but he's got to head across the country to a wedding next month. Do you think you could take some time off and keep an eye on the horses?"
"You know what? I've got some time coming up. I'm sure I could swing it. Don't worry about the horses. I'll take care of them. I look forward to some time at the ranch. Might be just what I need."
"Thanks, buddy, I knew I could count on you." I'd heard the same words from him many times, but this time they hit me like a punch in the chest. Wasn't fair that such a good guy had to suffer and leave this world so early.
I heard my mom's admonishment in the background about him using up all his energy to talk about horses.
"Got to go. Your mom is giving me an earful. See you soon?" he asked, hopefully.
"Yep, as long as those hillsides aren't burning just try keeping me away."
"Bye, son," he said quietly. It was rare for him to call me son, but I always felt it in everything he said and did.
I hung up and rested back, only to discover the seat was already getting too hot to sit against. Even though the last few minutes on my phone, starting with the short, cold text from Carly and ending with Vick's heartbreakingly unfamiliar voice, had left me feeling less like a party and more like a bottle of whiskey, I opened the door and climbed out.
4
Over everyone else and the thunderous tunes, I could hear Bulldozer's loud, booming voice. The guy, like his nickname, rolled over everything in his wake. Adam Rafferty had been on the crew for six years. He'd started the gig at twenty-one, younger than most, but he had proven himself physically, outrunning every new recruit, not just by seconds but minutes. Mentally, he could get distracted, mostly due to a bad temper, but he was definitely someone you wanted on your side when facing down ten foot tall flames. We didn't always get along. He was one of those guys who could just rub me the wrong way, but I rubbed him wrong too. It was a mutual put up with each other for the team kind of relationship.
I walked past the kids who had finally managed to clean off their raft, only to have it get dirty again as they dragged it across the gritty parking lot to a blue truck. I followed the sandy path past the copse of trees and stepped into the chaos I was expecting.
Three shade tents with the base camp logo Fire Warriors of the West were set up along the narrow white beach. Towels, umbrellas, beach chairs and ice chests dotted the sand from one end to the other. Gideon Underhill, or, Topper as we called him for his propensity to land on tree tops, had delivered on his promise to bring out his ski boat. Topper was one of the old-timers, which in smokejumping years meant thirty plus. He was fast in the rough terrain, like a mountain goat—even at his ripe old age. As agile as he was on steep hillsides, he usually hesitated at the jump, the remnants of a fear of heights he'd had to overcome to get the position. Bulldozer and Angus were sitting on the bow of Topper's boat