“The fuck is that?” Chief asked. I leaned back when he went to touch it. He pulled back his hand. “Tell me that wasn’t in town. And that no cops were called.”

“Nothing to worry about, Chief,” Jubal chimed in. “All taken care of.”

Chief nodded once, then turned to address our crew. “Wind kicked up some embers. It’s not our tour, but we’re helping to stamp out spot fires. We’ve got a twelve-mile hike to the black, so load up. I want to be at fire camp by sunrise.”

We climbed into the crew buggies, riding in near silence until Taylor switched places with Watts and nudged me. “What happened to you?”

“McCormick’s Pub. Some douchebags were being disrespectful.”

Watts smiled. “Turns out she could’ve taken them all. She just about did if Zeke hadn’t got in her way. She kinda fights like you, Maddox.”

Tyler turned to me, his brows creating deep lines on his forehead. He prided himself on being unbeatable. “Who’s this?”

“A girl. Fuck off, you’ve got one,” I said.

“Everyone but the driver,” Fish laughed.

Tyler jerked up his chin once to get my attention. “She’s a bad ass, huh?”

“I think she’s married,” I said.

The guys let out a collection groan of disappointment.

“What about the blonde at the desk? Darcy?” Taylor asked.

“Darby,” I said. “She’s sweet.”

“You’ve got competition,” Sugar said. “I’ve seen that Trex guy eyeing her.”

“Don’t we hate him?” Runt asked from the back.

The Maddoxes were both frowning.

When the buggy began to bounce and the engine noise turned up a notch, I knew we were close to fire camp. The driver slowed to a stop and called for us to bail, so Sugar opened the door, and we filed out. I grabbed my chainsaw, Ragnar, wrapped it quickly, and carried it over my shoulder—motor up—in one hand, my Pulaski axe in the other hand.

The returning hotshots walked to fire camp in a line, their faces streaked with soot and sweat, their shoulders sagging from exhaustion.

“Who’s that?” Runt asked.

“The Geronimo Hotshots,” Tyler said. “Those guys are Apaches.”

“No shit? Like for real? All of ‘em?” Runt asked. He was the youngest of us, and the youngest Chief had hired for the Alpines. He had big shoes to fill, but he was a natural swamper—a partner to clean up after the chainsaw-swinging sawyers, and he was willing to do whatever it took to pull his weight.

“For real,” Taylor said.

The fresh team was already loaded up in the helo to be dropped off as close as the wind would allow, but we would be hiking in.

Bobby, the new helo pilot, waved to me as he lifted his machine in the air. I nodded up once, glad he was there.