laughed.
Yep.
Take away the soot streaks from his face and that cinder-shaded yellow Nomex shirt, and he was still just a shaggy-haired kid, grinning through ash grit, with that same great expanse of ocean in his eyes.
Elle slipped her aviator glasses on.
Last thing I need is another baby-sitting job.
She scooted out of the captain’s chair, wincing as ponytail hairs hung up in the headrest. She followed the strands down with her fingers and broke them at the source, a ring of prior casualties already wrapped around the thin chrome support.
Elle tapped the bulkhead and ducked through to the passenger compartment, the smell of oil and woodsmoke mixing with the humid breeze that wafted in as she opened the side door and lowered the steps. Madison was caught up with her dolly imagining.
“Maddie, you want to come down and say hi? We’ll be here only a few minutes before leaving for your appointment.”
Madison seat-belted her doll into one of the jumper seats. “No thanks, Mom. I need to fly Rose to her appointment first.”
Elle felt a welling of sadness and affection for her daughter. She swallowed, thankful her sunglasses were on so Maddie couldn’t see. “Well, that sounds good. Just make sure not to really flip any of the switches—just pretend.”
“I know, Mommy. I’m not really going to fly her there.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s good. Maybe when you’re older—huh, baby?”
“Of course.”
Elle grinned and bit her lip. “Of course.”
She descended the ladder to the tarmac, knowing from the corner of her eye that she’d caught the attention of Silas, the sandy-haired smiler. She set foot on the runway, took a breath, and steeled herself.
You can’t handle this airship, Surfer Boy.
Laughter broke out again in the circle of smokejumpers. Elle noticed Warren Adams and strolled up to him. “Word is I’m supposed to taxi you up and over yonder. That about right, Mr. Adams?”
Warren grinned with his square, silver-stubbled jaw. “Westmore, what’re you doin’?”
Elle brought her palms up at her sides. “Ain’t it obvious by now? What about you all?”
He hugged her, heavy with the humid odor of sweat and soot. “Huey dropped us off about five minutes ago. Saw Jumper 41 circling to land and had a feeling it might be you. How’s your little girl?”
“Wonderful.” Elle pointed to the plane.
“No, no. I meant Madison, not the Twin Otter.”
“So did I. She’s in there right now.”
“No kidding? Taking her to be with you in South Lake?”
“There’s a lot to it, actually. But she did most of the flying down here, so it was a nice break. Got myself a good nap in.”
Warren chuckled.
Elle ran her hand along her braid. “So how was your jump?”
“Good, good. Growing fire this side of the Sierras. Small in comparison to what’s blowing up in the Desolation Wilderness. We were sent in to pull out an injured radio tech.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“He has a pretty gnarly leg fracture and a concussion. But he’s alive. Last I heard he’s awake now and recovering in the hospital ICU.”
Silas cleared his throat.
Warren threw a sideways glance. “Where are my manners? Elle, this here’s Silas Kent. A man instrumental in the rescue. I’ve been trying to groom him for the next spotter promotion, but some things take easier than others.” He winked at Silas.
She extended a hand, all business. “Good to see you again, Kent.”
Warren raised his eyebrows. “You two already know each other?”
Silas wrapped his coarse fingers around hers, looked in her eyes, and smiled. “We flew together for a while. But it’s been years.”
On the far end of the circle, a slouching jumper spat on the tarmac.
Elle took advantage of the distraction and pulled her hand back. “Hey now, McJumper. You going to clean that up off my runway?”
A Hispanic man beside Silas laughed to himself. “She said Mic -Jumper.”
Warren scratched his jaw. “Been here five minutes