We walked back through the kitchen, passing the guys in the TV room. They were just beginning to stir, standing up and stretching.

“Are they going somewhere?” I asked.

“They eat breakfast and watch the news. Then they go down and do chores unless we get a call. In off-season, we work a typical forty-hour week, five AM to four PM or four PM to ten PM.”

“No fires at night?”

“Yeah, for the full-time engine guys.”

“Chores?”

“Yep. Wash the vehicles, sweep and mop floors, dishes … whatever. We don’t have maids here.”

I snarled at him, knowing it was a dig at me.

“Downtime—if we get any—is a lot different at the hotshot duty station. We dig new trails and fix fence and signage, run drills…”

“So, not really downtime,” I said.

Tyler knocked on the door across from the quarters, and a deep voice growled from the other side.

“Come in, damn it!”

Tyler winked at me and opened the door. The superintendent sat behind his desk, partially hidden by several file folders and an ancient, boxy computer, looking frustrated.

“Hey, Chief. I have a journalist here who—”

“Do you know anything about Twitter?” Chief asked, his black eyes targeting me.

“Pardon?” I said.

“The Twitter. Do you know anything about it? Someone with a lot more time and who makes a lot more money than me decided we needed to have a Twitter account, and I haven’t the slightest fucking clue how to … what is it called?”

“Tweet,” Tyler said, trying not to laugh.

He pounded his fist on the desk. “Goddamn it! Tweet!”

“Yes. I could probably help,” I said, “but I’m here on an assignment, Mister…”

He looked at me only briefly before shaking his head and returning his attention to the computer. “It’s just Chief. What assignment?”

“I’m a … photographer for the MountainEar.” Even though it was the truth, I felt like I was lying. “I’ve been assigned to the Alpine Hotshots. Mr. Wick would like to share with the community what you guys do.”

“We tweet,” he grumbled.

Tyler breathed out a laugh. “Chief, c’mon. Miss Edson would like to—”

“Edson?” Chief said, finally deciding I was worth more of his consideration than Twitter.

Shit.

Chief narrowed his eyes at me. “As in Edson Tech?”

“Uh…” I began, not sure which was the right answer. My father had just as many enemies as he had friends. Probably more.

“She’s just a photographer,” Tyler said. “Quit busting her balls and tell her yes or no. I’m in here on my day off.”

“Yeah, and why is that?” Chief asked.

“I owe her a favor,” Tyler said.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Can she shadow the crew and take pics or not?”

“Did she get her red card?”

“Chief,” Tyler said, exasperated.

“If she can show me how to send a twit, then yes.”