Bleeding Green Read Free Page B

can have. Jackson’s a little on the skinny side at 180 pounds, though.” She glanced sideways at her companion, a half-smile on her face, as they bumped around obstacles.
    “That St. Bernard belongs in the zoo!” Lawrence said. “With the rhinos and hippos. Seems like he would fit in and all that.”
    Her laughter rang through the woods. Of all the rangers and AmeriCorps members she had worked with, Lawrence DeVille was one of her favorites. A graduate of The Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina, he could pull out the courtliest manners at the drop of a hat. Gallantry was his middle name. He also took care of Jackson when she was out of town, lavishing love and rough ‘n tumble play on the giant dog.
    The radio crackled with static and she braked to a stop.
    “Bill to Laurel.”
    “Go ahead, Bill.”
    “There’s an old pine about twenty feet in that’s smoking like crazy. Water’s not doing a thing. Sounds solid when I tap on it. Shall I take it down?”
    “Drop it. How does the rest of the line look?” she asked, turning the vehicle around and heading back toward the engine crew.
    “Everything else looks good. Smoke’s about out.”
    “Copy that, Bill. On my way to you.”
    The radio became quiet.
    Marie and Brock watched Bill as he strapped on the required chaps before he fired up the chainsaw. He gave them a salute and began the first cut in the tree.
    Just as Laurel and Lawrence pulled up to the fire engine, flames zoomed out of the cut Bill was making with the saw. Leaping backwards, he dropped the saw as the oxygen-happy flames curled out of the hole and licked up the side of the pine.
    Brock ran over to Bill, grasping his shoulder. “You okay, man?”
    Pale around the mouth, Bill licked his lips. “Geez! That was close!”
    Laurel walked up to them, assessing the situation. “OK, Bill?” At his nod, she turned to Brock. “Let’s take it down and pull it into the black zone.”
    Brock nodded. “Right. She’s not going to go out on her own.” He motioned to Marie, who had the hose nozzle ready and aiming at the flames. “Get some water in there,” he said, pointing to the flaming cut.
    As she soaked the hole with water, hissing steam and roiling smoke came from the tree, as if protesting this invasion in anger.
    Brock picked up the chainsaw and pulled the cord. The saw roared to life and he focused on the wedge that Bill had begun. He glanced at Marie and she stopped the stream of water. Then he walked around to the back of the tree and began cutting.
    The crew backed up as they watched him work. Quieter flames countered the bite of the saw on the bark—a duel of machine and fire. The machine won.
    Finally the mighty pine swayed and toppled over, landing with a loud whomp!
    The engine crew chained the smoking tree to the back of the truck and pulled it into the black zone.
    Boyd’s voice came over the radio. “Laurel, everything good on your line?”
    “Yes, we’ve just finished.”
    “Let’s meet at point A.”
    “Copy that, burn boss!”
    The twelve members met and slumped in various positions on the ground. Tired as they were, they had to debrief after the burn and they knew it.
    As burn boss, Boyd led the evaluation of the burn, each team member voicing a few thoughts on how the burn had gone.
    Wrapping up the debriefing, Boyd said, “See you at the shop!”
    The ranger shop was the headquarters at Timucuan State Park. The trucks would be fueled, tanked with water there, and burn pots filled with burn fuel. All the equipment had to be made ready for the next burn or in case of an emergency during the night before any crew member could go home.

Chapter 3
     
     
    C rooking her left arm on the open window frame, the soft evening flow of air caressed Laurel’s arm. Steering the white Dodge Durango state pickup truck down the main park drive, an orchestra of insects filled the humid summer night. A song of glorious diversity floated on the Florida twilight.
    Laurel cocked her head