Gail Barrett - Facing the Fire

“Twenty miles? Just to reach a dirt road?” Her jaw sagged. This trip could take all night. And she couldn’t imagine driving this trail in full darkness. “But what about your shoulder?”

“It’s fine. I’m guessing my collarbone’s cracked, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” She gaped at him. “Are you joking? You must be in terrible pain.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Right.” She didn’t believe that for a second. “Is there something we can do?”

“We can rig a sling up later, when we’re farther away from the fire. I don’t want to take the time right now.”

“All right,” she said, still stunned. She knew they didn’t have the luxury of stopping, at least not yet. “But let me know when you want to do it.” She put the Jeep into gear and released the brake.

A quarter mile later, they crossed the ridge top and started down the opposite side. They descended slowly, working their way haltingly down the rutted road, every sway and jostle of the Jeep bringing their shoulders dangerously closer. Jordan focused on the path the headlights cut through the dusk, determined to ignore her nearness to Cade.

The smell of the fire finally faded, replaced by the strong smell of pine. She braved a glance at Cade. He’d fallen asleep, thank God. At least now he could escape the pain that injury must cause. And she could stop pretending he didn’t affect her.

She let her gaze linger on his handsome face, on the hard, familiar planes of his cheekbones, the stubbled line of his jaw. The dim light emphasized the shadows under his eyes, his fatigue. He seemed vulnerable suddenly, exhausted, and she felt a reluctant surge of sympathy.

He’d always come home from fires worn out. He’d shower, wolf down more food than she’d thought possible and promptly crash into bed. And leave her feeling even lonelier than when he’d been gone.

She forced her gaze back to the road. After seeing that fire, she had to admit he had a right to be tired. She could only imagine the strength his job demanded.

Pensive now, she continued picking her way down the mountain. Soon she heard a low rushing sound over the noise of the motor. It grew steadily louder, and her hopes rose. They’d made it to the river. Now just twenty more miles until they reached a normal dirt road.

But then the headlights flashed on a barrier blocking their path and she quickly slammed on the brakes.

“What’s wrong?” Cade asked, his voice rough with sleep.

She peered through the windshield at the metal pole. What on earth? “The road’s closed.”

He dragged a hand over his eyes and straightened. “I’ll check it out.”

“I’ll come with you.” Her anxiety rising, she pushed open her door. Why would anyone block off this old trail? Unless…

She hurried around the front of the Jeep. The sound of rushing water filled her ears. The Jeep’s headlights shone past the barrier to the dark, swirling water below, and her breath jammed in her throat.

Someone had put up that pole for good reason. The bridge was gone.

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