Her Firefighter Hero by Leigh Bale

It clattered to the floor. Who on earth could be calling her at this time of the night?
    â€œHello?” she answered, her voice sounding groggy.
    â€œGood morning! You awake yet?”
    Jared’s words made her eyes pop open wide. At first, she was confused. But then, her senses returned.
    She chuckled. “I am now.”
    â€œSorry to disturb you so early, but we’ve got a fire. It isn’t big, yet. Just fifteen hundred acres, but it’s zero contained,” he said, his voice upbeat but also serious.
    Megan rubbed her eyes, which were gritty with fatigue. She’d received these calls in the past. So had Blaine. They’d come from a different FMO back then, but he’d always sounded energetic and ready to face the coming fire.
    â€œHow many workers will we need to feed today?” she asked.
    â€œTwo hundred men and women have been called in this morning, with about fifty administrative people to run the incident command post. They’ve called in several more hotshot crews, which will be arriving later this afternoon. You should plan to feed about four hundred people for dinner tonight.”
    Whew! Good thing she had enough T-bone steaks stashed in the freezer chest. “Okay, I can handle it.”
    â€œI’ll be up on the mountain by the time you reach the fire camp.” He then proceeded to give her instructions on how to get there.
    â€œDo you know the area?” he asked.
    â€œYes, I’ve been there before.”
    â€œGood. Just drive carefully and stay safe,” he said.
    His caring words sent a tingle of warmth up her spine. “I will. And you, too.”
    As she hung up the phone, she realized what she’d said. They sounded like a pair of good friends looking out for each other. And they weren’t friends. Not really. And yet, she couldn’t help worrying about him, and the other hotshots, too.
    Shaking her head, she hurried to make some phone calls of her own. Her team was on standby and knew she might call them at any time, day or night.
    By nine o’clock that morning, she’d notified her crew, loaded up the trailer, buckled her kids into their seats and was driving her truck along the winding mountain road. They hit a bump that jarred them all, and June gasped. As Megan watched closely for some sign of the wildfire base camp, she was grateful Jared had insisted she use his more reliable truck.
    Her crew drove in tandem. She led the way, followed by Frank driving the semi with the mobile kitchen attached. Catherine Brindley, a school lunch cook, and four high school seniors with enough maturity to help with this job, were in a van bringing up the rear. They’d be staying up on the mountain for several days, until Megan brought in another crew to relieve them of their work. She’d hired a couple more cooks and waitresses to man the diner in town, but Megan wanted Frank’s expertise to help set up their operations at the fire camp.
    The trailer hitched to Megan’s truck thumped behind at an even clip. It was filled with cooler chests, canned vegetables, fresh salad mix and bags of potatoes for baking. She had enough bacon, eggs, pancake mix, meat, bread, potato chips, trail mix and fruit to make breakfast and lunch for tomorrow. By then, she’d be back up here with another load of food. While the fire lasted, she figured this would be a daily trip, shuttling between the restaurant in town and the fire camp in the mountains. No doubt it’d take a toll on her, but she wanted to ensure everything ran smoothly. And she’d be paid well for her labors, the money a welcome blessing.
    Just off the smooth asphalt, she saw a red sign with a black arrow pointing to the west that said Incident Base Camp. This must be it. An alpine meadow high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The large clearing was filled with red Indian paintbrush, now trampled beneath hundreds of boot heels and tires from large, heavy equipment.