Summer of Fire - Linda Jacobs [107]
The impact of Clare’s words showed on Devon’s face as though she had thrown a handful of gravel. Her own shock made her mind go blank as the tiny cabin and the narrow space between the beds seemed to close in.
Devon leaped up. “Fuck you!” she screamed. Both hands caught Clare in the chest, a solid blow that shoved her backward to land on the small of her back against the bed frame. Sharp agony narrowed her vision, but she was able to see Devon push through the cabin door and run away.
Steve was surprised to see lights in the Visitor Center. More ash drifted down as he stepped up to the door.
It was locked. Inside, he could see a meeting under way in the auditorium behind the interpretive exhibits. In the front row, Steve recognized Ranger Butler Myers, with a tired yet tense look on his horsy, bearded face.
Steve tapped the glass.
Butler unfolded his long frame from the chair and came to the door. “You got a nose for trouble, Haywood.”
“How so?” Steve hoped Butler wasn’t referring to his drinking.
“Come in. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”
Duncan Rowland, the Incident Commander of the North Fork, held the floor. The slim, dark-haired man in a ball cap nodded to acknowledge Steve and went on with his briefing.
He indicated a map that showed the North Fork looking like an octopus, with a rounded head to the northwest and arms that reached in all directions.
Rowland pointed to a new tentacle. “This area has defeated all our efforts. Observers on the fire line are watching the wind in case we need to call an evacuation.”
“Shutting down the complex would be unpopular with the traveling public,” Butler drawled. “They like to get up close and personal with these fires, take their pictures.”
Rowland removed his cap and twisted it. “We’re not gonna know any more for a while,” he said. “I recommend everyone hit the sack early.”
Steve had been thinking of driving home to Mammoth tonight after he bought Clare . . . and Devon, dinner. Now he must stay, even if it meant sleeping in his truck, for all hands would be needed tomorrow.
Rowland completed his warning. “There aren’t any decent breaks in topography or fuel between here and the North Fork. Without a change in the weather, all hell is going to break loose.”
Clare lay curled on the bed in her cabin. The nausea that had gripped her when her backbone slid down the metal bed frame had passed, but she didn’t feel like moving. Nothing . . . nothing like that had ever happened between her and her daughter.
Why couldn’t she have mustered the self-control she used in training? Elyssa had never liked Devon and she was the source of this rumor about the older guy.
“Clare?” Steve stood in the doorway.
She wanted to jump up and throw her arms around him, but it seemed too difficult.
“What happened?” He came and knelt beside her.
“Devon and I had a difference of opinion.”
“A bit more than that, I’d say.” His mouth twisted. “I shouldn’t have left.”
“You couldn’t have known.” How could he have known?
Steve pulled her to her feet and against him. She pressed her cheek against the softness of his faded red shirt, smelling a hint of male sweat and feeling safe.
“Has anything like this happened before?” His hands felt sure on her back.
Clare blinked back tears. “Never.”
“I guess she doesn’t much care for me.”
“It’s not you,” she protested against his chest. “That’s just how it started.”
He folded her closer and his heart beat against her ear. “We’re going to get you some dinner,” he said.
“I couldn’t eat.”
“You need something,” he urged. She did indeed need something. It wasn’t food.
She shook her head again to dinner. “I need to wait for Devon.”
“I’ll go, then.” He started to move away. Her hands tightened on his shoulders in a way she hoped he could not mistake.
The flash in his eyes happened suddenly, yet she felt she’d been waiting for it a