Summer of Fire - Linda Jacobs [18]
Then you walked away.
Today, Clare couldn’t shake the memory of Steve Haywood’s troubled gray eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
July 26
Garrett Anderson towered over Clare as the heavyset fire general’s hand engulfed hers. She’d arrived a few minutes early for their meeting in West Yellowstone and seen him on the lawn as she parked her rental car on the street.
“Hear you had a bit of excitement yesterday,” he offered.
“You might say that.” She forced a smile, along with the signature casual tone of the fire fraternity.
“Are our mountain lakes a bit more refreshing than your blood warm Gulf of Mexico?” The tinge of Atlanta in his voice was even more pronounced in person than on the Motorola.
Her smile turned genuine. “You’re no more used to forty-five degree water than I am.”
“Don’t bet on it,” he chuckled. “I’ve been in Boise seven years.”
Clare was still getting acquainted with Garrett, having seen him only twice before. Buddy Simpson at A & M had warned her that beneath the deceptively soft-looking physique and laid-back manner was a man of steel.
Together, they approached the headquarters of the newly created Greater Yellowstone Unified Area Command, set up in what had once been the Union Pacific Railroad’s dining hall. At the end of the rail line to the park, late nineteenth-century tourists had been served on Limoges china while waiting to catch stagecoaches into Yellowstone.
Thirty-foot rock chimneys flanked both ends of the hundred-foot long construction of stone and weathered wood. Great walls of windows lined the sides. Behind, ravens strutted in an area that appeared to have been the railroad right-of-way, now devoid of tracks.
Garrett got to business. “Welcome to another level of fire management bureaucracy. You know I’m Forest Service, out of the Boise Interagency Fire Center. Our partner agencies include National Parks, Office of Aircraft Services, Bureau of Indian Affairs, Fish and Wildlife, and the National Weather Service.” Buddy had told Clare that Garrett was one of less than twenty Incident Commanders in the country, calling the plays in a military style organization.
“So where does this Unified Area Command fit in?” She paused on the stairs flanked by elegant rock walls leading up to incongruous modern wire mesh doors.
“Starting today, the National Park Service and Forest Service are to coordinate over the park and surrounding areas. They’ve put me in charge.” Garrett rolled his expressive eyes. “But I expect I’ll be acting more as referee with those two groups.”
Clare had not realized how influential Buddy’s friend in wildfire was.
Garrett reached for the door and held it open for her. “I’ll show you the latest fire extents map.”
Something dark in his tone made her say, “I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.”
In the doorway, they stepped aside to make way for two young men carrying a metal desk.
Inside, an empty vaulted room with pine beams ran the width of the building. Their footsteps echoed on the scuffed pine floor that bore the dusty prints of the movers. Garrett led the way through a pair of metal swinging doors that looked out of place in the otherwise rustic room.
A dramatic staircase led down into a larger space that had once been the main dining room for travelers at Yellowstone’s western gateway. Looking at the soaring space, however, gave Clare the impression of a symphony played by a tone-deaf orchestra. The fireplace had been boarded up, cheap fluorescent fixtures hung from the ceiling, and squares of speckled tan linoleum covered the floor.
More movers shuffled in with furniture. A woman from the phone company clasped