Big Sky Baby

“Believe me, I thought long and hard about telling you. But this baby is yours, as much as I rue that fact. And I thought you should know.”

“So, now I know.” He raked a hand through his hair, then shook his head. “Hell, Jilly. I need some time to think about things. And talk to an attorney, I guess.”

“Do whatever you need to do,” she said, suddenly sorry she’d listened to Jeff’s advice. She could have saved herself a ton of humiliation by keeping her secret. “I’m not happy about this, either. I’m going to owe the poor child a ton of apologies, since he or she is getting the short end of the stick in the father department.”

Undaunted by her slam, he merely shrugged. “I’m going to ask for a paternity test.”

“Whatever.” She turned on her heel and strode for the door, eager to escape the man she should never have gotten involved with in the first place.

Before she could turn the knob, he caught her arm and pulled her around to face him.

His usually cocky stance slumped and a bit of remorse softened his expression. “Listen, Jilly. I’m sorry about being a jerk, but you’re going to have to give me some time to think things through.”

She could certainly understand his need to think things through, and she tried to understand his shock and frustration. But that didn’t make him any less of a jerk. “The news didn’t sit well with me, either.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Jilly. I’m not going to offer marriage.”

Did he think that she wanted to marry him? That marriage to him would solve all her problems?

She raised her chin, mustering all the bravado she could find. “Don’t worry about me being disappointed, Cain. Being married to a guy like you would be an awful penance to pay for past mistakes.”

She just hoped his involvement in her child’s future wouldn’t be worse.

Jeff and his crew climbed from the plane and dispersed on the temporary landing field after another day of dousing the flames that continued to threaten Custer National Forest.

Exhausted and tired of sucking smoke and ash into his lungs, Jeff took one last look at the C-130 transport plane that had been converted to a tanker. At twenty-four, he was pretty damn young to be flying one of the big birds, and he knew it. But not many guys his age could boast of his extensive experience.

The U.S. Forestry Service had been surprised at the cockpit proficiency he’d garnered in his youth, but they quickly put him to use as a pilot for MAFFS when he’d been hired.

Jeff had always loved planes and flying, and on his fifteenth birthday, his uncle Stratton took him to the airfield and paid for his first ride in a biplane. It had been the best gift he’d ever had and had merely whetted his appetite for more flights, more time in the air.

It wasn’t every teenager who could afford his own flying lessons in a multitude of different planes, nor every kid who had the good fortune of meeting a guy like Hank Ragsdale at an air show in Billings.

Hank had taken young Jeff under his wing and introduced him to other members of the Commemorative Air Force, a host of airmen who flew old World War II planes. Jeff had earned his pilot’s license at the age of sixteen, and from then on out, there was no stopping him—not with the money in the hefty trust fund that his mother had left him.

Jeff had been certified in more planes than he could count, thanks to Hank and his buddies.

“Forsythe,” Jim Anderson called from the makeshift command post. “How’d it go today?”

“Not bad. But we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” Jeff lifted the bill of his hat and raked a hand through his hair. It had been a hell of a long day already. “Are we making any progress out near Rocky Point?”

“I’m afraid not.” Jim furrowed his brow. “In fact, a couple of firemen from Rumor sent to assist us are missing. We’re going to send a Huey out to search for them now.”

Jeff’s first concern was for his cousin, Reed Kingsley, the Rumor Fire Chief. “Who’s out there?”

“Harry Willett and Cain Kincaid. They were having radio trouble earlier, so I’m not sure what’s going on.”

Cain.

Jeff’s heart dropped to his gut. He might want to pound the guy senseless, but he didn’t want anything—other than a good and well-deserved beating—to happen to the father of Jilly’s baby. “Who’s going to look for them?”

Jim nodded toward a CH1 single-engine with the blades rotating. “Bart Henthorne. That’s him heading out.”

“I’m going with him,” Jeff said.

“Now wait a minute. You’ve been out all day, Forsythe. Take a break.”

Jeff shook his head. “This is personal, Jim. Cain is a friend of a friend.”

“Oh, what the hell. Go ahead. Just don’t get heroic. If you need a rescue team, radio in and we’ll send one out. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Jeff shot his boss a grin. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Then he loped toward the Huey, intending to reach the chopper before it took off.

Jeff hadn’t liked Cain Kincaid since the first grade. The guy had always been a braggart and a liar. And Jeff couldn’t believe it had taken Jilly so long to see through him.

“He comes from a nice family,” she’d said in the fireman’s defense.

“Yeah?” Jeff had responded. “Well his parents gave him a biblical name he’s certainly living up to.”

Jilly had figured his status as a public servant in the community gave his character some sort of validation. But a snake in the grass like Cain didn’t grow legs and feet, just because he was slithering through life in a uniform.

The weekly talks Jeff and Jilly had shared only confirmed his opinion. In fact, each time Jilly revealed more about her relationship with the fire man, Jeff’s list of mental grievances against the guy grew.

When Jilly’s car was in the shop, Cain forgot to pick her up at work—not once but twice. He borrowed money from her, then had a million excuses why he couldn’t pay her back.

Cain even skipped out on caring for her when she got the flu, telling her he didn’t want to catch the bug and then going out with the guys to Beauty and the Beats, the strip joint, instead. “Hey, babe,” he’d told Jilly. “It was a guy thing. Those girls can’t hold a candle to you.”

Yeah, right.

At least twice Cain cheated on her in the four months they’d dated. Knowing the Rumor Romeo’s reputation, Jeff suspected Jilly had only managed to catch him twice.

But Cain was the father of Jilly’s baby, and Jeff was determined to bring the man to safety and encourage him to do right by her, even if doing right only meant providing financial support.

“I’m coming with you,” Jeff said to Bart Henthorne, as he climbed into the chopper. “Let’s go find those guys.”

For nearly twenty minutes the pilot and Jeff scoured the perimeter of the fire line, searching for the firefighters who’d lost radio contact with the command post.

The hot, smoky air swirled around them, at times clouding their vision as they scanned rocks, trees and mountainsides, looking for the yellow suits of the missing men. Their last-known position was a half mile from Rocky Point, a rugged mountain that had been aptly named by early trappers and settlers.

“There they are,” the chopper pilot said, pointing to the left. “On the east side of Rocky Point.”

One man was sprawled on the ground, obviously injured. The other stood, waving his arms.

“Damn,” the pilot said. “That fire is pretty close. We’d better get a rescue crew out here.”

And the fire would soon box them in. Jeff didn’t think a rescue team could make it in time. “We’ve got to get them now.”

“There’s no place for me to land,” the chopper pilot said. “And at this altitude, power is going to be a problem. We’re not equipped to do a rescue.”

“We’ll have to try. My first job with the forestry service was working on a rescue team. I know the drills backward and forward. And since we don’t have a crewman, I’ll go down. Can you run the hoist?”

“Yeah, but it’s going to be tricky.” The pilot shook his head. “I don’t know about this, Jeff. This bird isn’t equipped with all the rescue gear. And I’m at max power now. If I start losing turns, we’ll all go down.”

“I’ll try and make this quick.”

“The winds are pretty damn gusty. Be careful.”

Jeff strapped himself into the horse collar and descended from the hovering aircraft. The rotating blades sent the hot, smoky air swirling around him as the cable lowered him to the small patch of rocky ground where the stranded firemen waited.

A quick glance told him the wounded man was Cain. Blood and dirt covered the side of his head and face. And his eyes were closed.

“Is he alive?” Jeff asked Willett, voice straining to be heard over the noise of the chopper.

“Just barely. A burning tree limb fell on him, knocking him out. I dragged him this far, hoping to reach the rocky spot where we could escape the flames. We lost the radio somewhere along the way.”

“We’ll get you out of here,” Jeff said. “But let’s load him on the litter.”

Willett helped Jeff guide the basket that would carry Cain to the safety of the chopper.

Before lifting the wounded man onto the litter, Jeff looked him over. He had a knot the size of a golf ball over his eye, and a ragged gash gaped at the left temple. Blood, ash and dirt didn’t hide a third-degree burn on his cheek.

Jeff felt for a pulse and got one. As they loaded Cain onto the basket, he came to and grimaced in pain. Maybe the injured fireman would be all right, once they got him to Whitehorn Memorial Hospital.

When they’d secured Cain to the litter, Jeff told Willett to go first. With the pilot controlling the chopper and the hoist, they’d need someone to help pull Cain to safety.

As Jeff prepared to signal Willet they were ready to go, Cain opened his eyes. His pain-filled gaze fixed on Jeff. “Thanks for coming after us, Forsythe.”

“It’s my job.”

Cain nodded, his pale face twisted in pain and his voice hoarse. “Am I gonna make it?”

“You’d better make it,” Jeff said. “You’ve got a kid on the way. And some responsibility to face.” Jeff signaled the pilot to pull the basket up.

When it was Jeff’s turn, he grabbed the line to ascend. Smoke swirled around him, burning his throat and stinging his eyes, while the wind swung his cable high and wide. The chopper struggled to stay steady, but as Jeff left the ground, dangling like bait on the line, an updraft jerked the helicopter, slamming him against a rock on the mountain-side.

He heard the sound of his bone breaking before feeling a sharp crack of pain and a brutal ache that made his head spin, but he managed to hold on to consciousness. He swung out of control, all the while trying desperately to stay alert, to ignore smoke in his eyes and lungs, the excruciating pain in his head, arm and shoulder.

When he’d first started this flight, he’d told Henthorne he knew the rescue routine backward and forward. He just hoped the chopper pilot could manage to fly without using the guillotine switch that would cut the cable, thus saving those on board and the bird.

A couple of times he felt the buzz that came with loss of consciousness, yet somehow he managed to stay coherent. It seemed like hours before the hoist began to pull him up.

As he was dragged onto the chopper floor, Jeff asked Willett, “How’s Kincaid?”

But before he could hear the answer, a throbbing roar filled his ears and darkness settled around him.

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