Page 3 of Stuck With the Smokejumper

“Temporary reassignment.”

I stop pouring. “What?”

Beck leans one hip against the counter. “We got sent over yesterday. Didn't get here until after midnight, so we figured we'd find actual beds this morning instead of waking everybody up.”

“Sent over from the jumper base?”

He nods.

“Why?”

“Nothing's happening.”

I stare at him.

He smiles slightly. “Which is a good thing when your job involves wildfires. We've had an unusually slow stretch. They're shifting some people around instead of having us sit there waiting for something to burn.”

Tessa leans against the counter beside him. “And Blackpine gets you?”

“For now.”

Reid has worked out of Blackpine before and knows this area as well as anyone. He started on a trail crew here years ago, the same way I did. Beck's been here before. Usually with Reid, for a day or two between assignments. Then he disappears again. That's how Beck works. He arrives. He leaves.

Footsteps sound overhead, followed by the squeak of a bedroom door. Someone else is awake now. The crew house is starting to come to life.

I press the button on the coffee maker. The machine begins its slow gurgle. “What’s the plan for while you’re here?”

“Whatever Russ needs.” Beck shrugs. “Trail work. Fuels reduction. Brush clearing. Equipment. Supply runs. He said you're short a couple people.”

“How long is the reassignment?” I ask.

Beck rubs a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Don't know.”

I look at him. “A few days?”

“Probably longer.”

“How much longer?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Could be a couple weeks. Could be the rest of the season.”

The rest of the season.

Tessa looks at me and then pulls out a chair and sits. “So you're basically ours until somebody lights Montana on fire.”

Beck gives her a look. “Let's hope nobody does that.”

“You know what I mean.”

A few days around Beck is one thing. I've done that before. A few weeks sharing a kitchen, a living room, days off, and, as of this morning the occasional section of floor, is something else.

Every other summer, Beck Hale was just passing through. This year, he's unpacking.

two

Beck

“Is that bacon?” Reid asks.