July Thunder by Rachel Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

of the valley. Not too big yet, but a definite threat to the woods down there. A definite threat to Whisper Creek by way of the Edgerton Pass to the north, lower and well-enclosed by trees. Maybe a hundred acres were burning right now, and the valley stretched south of the flames like a smorgasbord.
    Sam reached for his radio. With nothing betweenhim and Whisper Creek, the connection was as clear as a bell.
    â€œWe’ve got a forest fire on the west side of Meacher Peak, about two miles north of Edgerton Pass.”
    â€œHow much involvement?”
    Sam looked again to double-check his earlier impression. “Maybe a hundred acres.”
    The dispatcher said he would take care of it. Sam stood there for a few minutes longer, looking at one of nature’s most ferocious beasts. And for some reason it made him think of his dad.
    Although “dad” seemed like too familiar a name for the man who had sired him. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when dad or daddy had seemed appropriate for Elijah. Sam’s tender years had been filled with terrors of the devil, nightmares about burning lakes and the endless screams of the damned. Countless nights, horrific visions of the end of the world had kept him from sleeping after he’d listened to his father preach.
    Elijah’s brand of religion was all about fear and punishment. For some people that was great and exactly what they needed. For Sam, however, it had driven a wedge between him and his father. To a young boy, Elijah had seemed the embodiment of threat and punitive love. A tall man, a very large man to a small boy, whose face twisted in rage when he spoke of sin, whose voice thundered judgmentover every peccadillo. For a sensitive child, it wasn’t the right brand of religion.
    Sam shook his head and tried to banish thoughts of his father as he drove back down to Whisper Creek. Maybe it was time to consider taking a job elsewhere, because there was no way in a town this size that he wasn’t going to run into Elijah around nearly every corner.
    He wasn’t sure he could deal with that; there was just too much bitterness.

5
    T he Whisper Creek airport, a small private landing strip, had become a beehive of activity. Fire-fighting planes lined the runway, loading the chemicals they would drop from the air. Smoke jumpers were beginning to arrive in their planes, as well.
    Up near Edgerton Pass, a command post had been established. Volunteer firefighters were being gathered there to truck into the valley below and cut firebreaks. Up north, at the far end of the valley, similar crews were gathering to try to prevent the fire from spreading in that direction toward the ski resort towns.
    The forest service had taken charge, but Sam was assigned as liaison with the local authorities. There were homes in the valley below, scattered miles apart, homes that would be threatened if the fire couldn’t be halted. It would be his job to ensure that any necessary evacuations were made.
    At the moment, though, the threat was small andmight be contained. Night was fast approaching, though, and the darkness would hinder their efforts.
    The first chemical-bearing planes flew overhead as he stood there, then seemed to vanish into the thickening haze of smoke. Lack of wind hampered visibility by allowing the pall to hang thickly, even as it prevented the fire from spreading too swiftly to contain.
    â€œThat won’t last,” Sam remarked as one of the foresters commented that the wind was with them.
    The guy—Sam remembered his name was George Griffin—smiled. “You some kind of pessimist?” George was a short, compact guy in his late forties or so, with steely hair and eyes that perpetually squinted.
    â€œI’m a realist. That sun goes behind that mountain over there, we’re going to see some stiffening breezes.”
    â€œYeah.” George knew it as well as he did. “We always do. But right now, conditions are