Love on the Fireline

By Ashton M Stevenson

Join Kira Christopher as she adventures in the west. Take a day to walk in the boots of a wildland firefighter. Travel from Dunkirk, Ohio, to Pinedale, Wyoming, to the front lines of a wildfire. Attend fire school, engine rides, helicopter escapades, hot boys, and more. Eat, sleep, and breathe with your crew. Experience the food, exercise, smoke, hardships, brotherhood, and love on the fire line.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638740728

Book preview

cover.jpg

Love on the Fireline

Ashton M Stevenson

Copyright © 2021 by Ashton M Stevenson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

This is a fictional story with fictional characters based on real adventures.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

Dedicated to:

My Lord and Savior.

Mom, Dad, Patrick, Grandma Denny and my awesome family for supporting me in all my adventures.

My friends for supporting me in my weirdness.

Acknowledgements

There are so many people without whom this book would not have been possible; so many wonderful human beings that made me who I am today. Thank you to my mom and dad for sharing their adventurous spirit and supporting me in all my escapades. Thank you to the best big brother ever, Patrick. You have always been there for me and encouraged all of our visits to different movie worlds. Thanks Lindsey! Love you, girl! Thank you to my grandma Denny for always loving and supporting me. Thank you, grandma, for always giving me an escape and a good snack. Thank you to my amazing friends—Eden and Bethani. You guys bring me so much sunshine and smiles. I am who I am today because of ya’ll. Thank you to all my crazy family and friends for always shining bright and showering the world with love. Thank you to every teacher, librarian, and random people I have had in my life that has encouraged my love of reading and writing. Thank you to all of my church family and fellow believers for walking beside me. I am so blessed by every fireline brother, adventure pal, road-trip buddy, bunkhouse mate, school comrade, teammate, and everyone in my life who has made a difference.

Thank you to Lexi Wilch for editing. Thank you to Darlene Wilson and Roman Caraman for the great critiques, suggestions, and always being willing to share my passion for books. I just can’t imagine where my life would be without all the amazing people in my life; thank you. Lastly, thank you to the Lord, for all these amazing people, and every single amazing adventure life has taken me on. Here is to many more to come!

Preface

I stare up at the wall of flames in front of me. We are deep into the middle of the night. A few minutes ago, all you could see was the small path lit by my headlamp. My partner and I hiking as fast as we can to get to our ignition starting point. This is my first time working Night Ops. Most wildfires we would spend during the day going through the miles and miles of ash left behind. But not this time. This time, I get the rush. I get the adrenaline.

Just moments ago, I carefully lifted my lighter to the end of my drip torch where a small flame flickered. I watch the flame grow as I tip it ever so slightly, watching as the slow flaming drops hit the ground. From there, the dry twigs and needles beneath the trees slowly grow into a tiny finger of a flame. As I walk, I move my drip torch in a big sweeping figure-eight motion in front of me. The ground fire slowly spreads to the lower branches and shrubs. Before long, the flame spreads into a tall pine, and the tree catches fire. Soon, it is a burning torch, and other trees ignite while smoke fills the air. The land is engulfed in flames. I just lit my first backfire. Wicked!

Let’s go back a month to where it all began.

1

Sitting in my dorm room, I am forced to listen to my roommate jabber about her hookup last night with the latest Tinder guy. I swear she gets a different guy every night of the week. I might just be jealous that she can, but I always slightly judge her too. Maybe judge isn’t the right word. I don’t judge anyone, but think about it. If she hooks up with five guys a week on average, that is over two hundred and fifty guys a year. I haven’t even had a meaningful conversation with that many people, let alone men. Whatever happened to romance with that one special person, you know?

I look out the window to the sunny afternoon here in Morgantown. The West Virginia mountains roll in the backgrounds of all the little houses and apartments littering the landscape. It is late April, and school will be ending soon. I have just a couple of weeks left of the semester.

Unfortunately, I have been so stressed about exams and finding a summer job that I don’t have time to go out and party like Mary. She doesn’t have to worry about anything. Her parents pay for college, and she doesn’t give a crap about where life takes her after college. Me, however, well, let’s just say it is easier to get a degree and a job than a good Christian husband these days. I am focusing on a career. That being said, even if I did have time to date around, I probably would just be found reading or practicing for timbersports anyway.

Timbersports is always the highlight of my week. Sure, I grew up splitting wood with my dad, but for the most part, I was just a carrier. Carrying the wood from the splitter and stacking it over and over, feeling like a pack mule—it is the most monotonous job ever. I hated it, always loathing when I would have to go out in the cold to carry wood. The cold, yuck. I had never really used an ax before this year. That was the men’s part. I tried using a maul once, but I could hardly bring it up over my head, let alone cut the darn wood in half.

Then one day back in September, the timbersport president came into one of my freshman orientation classes and said they needed team members badly, girls particularly. Well, I am a bit shy, so I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it. Honestly, I had been having my latest depression episode and hardly left my room at that point. Giving it some thought, I figured it would be good to leave the dorms every now and then, so I emailed the president. He was super stoked that I was even considering it, plus he was cute, so why not? A couple of days later, I went to my first practice.

I had stood very awkwardly outside my dorm building, which everyone referred to as Towers, where the email said I would be picked up. Suddenly, this little blue pickup truck came around the bend blasting Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue by Toby Keith. There were at least five boys in the back all laughing and having a good time. Or should I say men. I mean, these guys were all huge. Big burly guys with beards. Almost like younger versions of the Duck Dynasty characters. The truck came to a halt in front of the doors, and the passenger side window rolled down.

Are you Kira? a voice called.

I tried to mumble out a quick yes but ended up just nodding vigorously.

Well, get in, then, he said.

I quickly tried to not look like a goob as I clambered into the back. The boys made as much room as they could for me. Before long, our legs became a tangled mess as we bumped along the back roads to the practice center. When we arrive, I am surprised to see a farm. Cows and sheep litter the countryside. All the boys jump out and head off to various places, some to a shed, some over to a big blue metal stand, some farther off as they all get to work. That day, they shoved an ax in my hand, stood me up on a log, and said swing at those lines. From then on, I was hooked. That was months ago, and now, I had become a pretty decent lumberjill, if I must say so myself.

Decent, or pretty darn decent, where I come from is a huge compliment. Everyone here at WVU makes fun of me for it, but if I say something is pretty darn decent, it is absolutely hands down fantastic. There is no higher honor in a Midwest household than pretty darn decent.

My favorite event by far was the underhand. That is the event they had me doing the very first day. Swinging an ax at a log between your feet. What a thrill! You also get to wear the coolest gear for the underhand: chain mail. Basically, it’s a mixture between soccer shin guards, socks, and medieval battle armor. It sure makes you feel hard-core epic.

I also competed in chainsaw events, crosscut, ax throw, pole climb, and many others. Believe it or not, I actually got very competitive. I remember growing up, my poor parents would try and get me to care if I won or lost at sports. But really, I just always did my best and didn’t care about the outcome. Timbersports was a different story. There I had passion. I trained hard and chopped fast. I wanted to win. I wanted to win at it all. Every event, every competition, you name it. So, yes, I suppose one could call me competitive.

I consider myself a tomboy. I love being outdoors, I wear a ponytail every day, and you are more likely to find me in gym shorts and a t-shirt than a dress any day. I don’t recall the last time I washed my hands, makeup is a foreign word to me, and I can be found sleeping in my backyard under the stars more often than in my bed. That being said, I’ve never had much luck in the relationship areas. Sure, I have had huge crushes on guys, but I can never act on them. Besides, I want the guy to come to me anyway. I may be quite capable of taking care of myself, but I still believe that the man should take the lead. However, I am not an average girl. Either guys don’t find me approachable, they think I am not interested, or they are not interested. Of which was my reason for being forever single? I had no clue.

Not that I mind being single. Honestly, I am great at it. I am pitiful when it comes to texting and calling people, even my family. I would much rather spend my weekends hiking alone or doing whatever I want, rather than having to worry about hanging out with some guy. But sometimes it would be nice to not feel like such an alien. I mean I think I am the only twenty-year-old girl who has never actually kissed a guy, let alone anything else. I wouldn’t mind having a date for dances or going out to dinner. Heck, I would even take a guy just paying for my Wendy’s meal. It just hasn’t happened.

I am average in about every way when it comes to looks. I am average weight, average brown hair, am an astonishing five-foot-two, pale as can be, and have freckles all over. I do really like who I am, though. I mean, I may not be a model, but no model could do the stuff that I do, like dominate in timbersports and crush someone when it comes to backyard football.

Anyway, being a tomboy, I would really like a job outside. Doing what? I haven’t the slightest clue, but when the right offer comes along, I would know, right? My last job was working at a park district back home, and I did really enjoy that. However, much of the work was monotonous, and every day was about the same. It was typical maintenance and tours. I might be socially awkward in my private life, but I can lead a mean nature hike. I don’t really know why that is. I mean, I have no problems when it comes to getting in front of a crowd, but set me in front of a cute boy alone…yeah, it’s all stutters and blushes.

I have had a few job offers, but I’m keeping them in the back pocket, just in case nothing better arises. Most of the offers come from local parks around WVU and back home in Ohio. But my adventurous spirit is calling, and I want to go somewhere new. Somewhere big that just has that feeling. You know the one I am talking about. The feeling of awe, of absolute brilliance. One that you can never replace. I grew up reading fantasy novels—Lord of the Rings, Wheel of Time, and so on. I am ready for a big quest, an adrenaline-filled adventure. It’s my turn to be the hero charging up Mount Doom, carrying Frodo and the ring. Yes, we all know Samwise was the true hero of those books.

Well, enough of just sitting. It is almost finals week, and golly be, I am not prepared at all. I gather up my sparkly bookbag. Yup, I said it, sparkly. It was my cheer backpack. I went out for the cheer squad one year. It mostly consisted of me yanking down the skirt from riding up and my cheer coach rolling it up so it would ride higher. I have no rhythm and was complete rubbish at the dances. Let’s just say it wasn’t my cup of tea.

I am a constant mixture of trying to be a girl and being one of the guys. Most of the time, the latter succeeds. I have been deemed such a guy that the timbersports boys don’t give a care in the world what they say around me, which sometimes is way too much information. They even let me in on their Saturdays are for the boys parties. That is okay with me, as really, they are my only friends here at WVU.

I shove my textbooks in my bag and a few candy bars and head off to the library. Candy bars are a must as they are really the biggest motivation to study, especially with all the classes right now. What do I care about Communications and Calculus? Absolutely nothing! This major was chosen because I thought I would get to learn about wildflowers and frogs, everything cool. Instead, I still have to take normal classes. How is that fair? Just let me go and play outside. The walk to the library is not bad from my dorm room, especially in the spring. I often see people slack-lining over by the trees, flowers along the walk, and even occasionally some couches being burned off in the distance. Okay, okay, the last one is mostly during the fall, but these yahoos are crazy, and if the baseball team wins, hey, it is still a win. Let’s go burn a couch. Ha-ha.

West Virginia University’s campus is very hilly in spots, and such as it is to get from my dorm to the library, every day is leg day here. I walk in and go over to the bistro. I, of course, must get my typical studying sweet tea. It is my reward to myself for actually coming over to the library. I am a bad influence on myself most days, and my need to avoid people wins over coming to the library. I sit down and open my books. Once I read two pages successfully, I reward myself with a bite of candy. This goes on for a whole six pages before I just devour the whole candy bar. I have been reading for less than ten minutes when in walks David.

What’s up, slacker? he shouts across the library. Heads turn his way and then look over my way as he waves animatedly. I hope no one knows that he is shouting at me. Goodness, these guys can be so embarrassing. I feel my face grow red and hot; I know I have my awkward face on. Now what is this face? I have never seen it myself, but I guess anytime I get embarrassed or nervous or just have feelings in general, my face shows it. Many people have referred to it being my super frown, awkward face, or lemon face.

He comes over and grabs a chair beside me as I see a few more of the guys walking in.

We were about to do a cram session for Dendro, want to help? he says.

I often get asked to help people study, mostly because I already have flash cards written and a study guide made out. Unlike these guys, I have a scholarship to maintain. It bugs me though that I always have to do the majority of the work. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people who, as soon as we get an assignment, I am getting it done. I hate having work just sit around. The guys know this and will heavily rely on the fact that I get hard-core anxiety should my work not be done ahead of schedule. Oh well, it helps me anyway. I don’t know, what is in it for me? I know I will end up studying with them, but I may as well see what I can get out of it.

However, they seem to know I will help too as Sam replies, How about a kiss and beers later tonight?

I feel my face grow red again. I can’t help it. They pick and tease because they know I am innocent. I haven’t ever so much as held a guy’s hand, let alone really get intimate with someone.

All right, all right, but you owe me some Gold Peak at the next party, I say. Goodness no, no way am I drinking beer. Beer is a big deal. Why? I have no idea. Why are there fancy IPAs and all the different types? I think it all just tastes bad. Why not drink something that makes your taste buds dance? Basically, if it doesn’t taste good, why should I eat or drink it? I know, I know, beer is an acquired taste. But why should I force myself to get used to an awful taste if I could just drink something I already like. Basically, I don’t drink. I mean, I would much rather drink tea or chocolate milk. Plus, what do I need to drink for? Partying is something I don’t really approve of. Sure, these guys are all great, and I love them to death, but I don’t really care to go party. Most of the time, I just decline; however, then I stay up all night worrying if someone will jump off the roof or try to drive. I just wish I could be surrounded by Christian friends all the time, but then where would God be in my life?

What do I look like? I buy liquor or beer. People see me buying sweet tea, and they will think I am a recovering alcoholic. I prefer to just stay an alcoholic, Sam replies.

I will get ya some, James says as he winks at me.

I feel myself blush again despite myself. I mouth my thanks over to him. I know I act like it is trouble, but really, I love these guys. And while sometimes I hate being picked on, I know they do it out of love. It took me a while to understand this, but now I just accept it gracefully. I move to slide over and accidentally step on David’s foot.

I am so sorry, I quickly say. That gets them laughing again.

"Ooooh! So sorry, David mocks in a fake Canadian accent. Don’t ask me where they get that from. I am constantly being mocked for being a Canadian." I think it is because I am from Ohio and have manners, but who knows? I certainly have no idea why. They are all from the South, so they just assume anyone in Ohio, Wisconsin, Minnesota, etc. are funny.

We end up studying for a few hours, which is good; it gave me a good refresher. I can identify the trees well, but I am garbage at spelling scientific names. I mean, shoot, I can barely spell in English, let alone Latin! They take turns grabbing my flash cards and quizzing each other, playfully punching each other here and there. Shouting every once in a while when someone gives a left-field answer or something. We get many looks from the librarian, but it’s no use trying to quiet them down. I suppose the school is just glad its athletes try to study every now and then. After that, the guys start leaving one by one, and I am free to put in a few more hours on my other classes. It’s late when I leave, but I feel myself smiling nonetheless. I always enjoyed a pick me up from the guys.

A few days later, I am sitting through the last lecture for my Park Design class when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I am never one to pull it out in class to take a phone call; that is way too embarrassing. However, I am a very curious person, so I can’t help but look. Hmm, a number I don’t know. I never answer phone calls I don’t know. If it is important, they will leave a voice mail. I slide it back in my pocket and resume taking notes.

After class, I look at my phone, and it has a voice mail. Now it takes me a bit longer to pull up a voice mail than most people nowadays. Why? Because I still have a flip phone, and yes, this is my choice. People rely way too much on phones and technology nowadays. They lose out on critical aspects of life. I am already a hardcore introvert. I don’t need more of an excuse to not talk to people. Plus, it’s nice to not be so connected to the world. Social media, news, politics—I leave it all out from within my pocket. It all just gets way too negative. I am more of a glass is completely full person, and I don’t need those bad vibes in my life. I quickly dial my voice mail, hoping that it is some sort of job-related thing and not the junk calls I often get. I pound in my code and wait.

You have one new voice message. First voice message sent today at 11:03 a.m. from 576-340-1221, duration fifty-eight seconds. The waiting always kills me; just play the message already!

Hi, Kira, this is Rob Jackson from the Bridger-Teton National Forest. We were wondering if you are still interested in the GS3 position on our engine crew out of Pinedale. Give me a call back at 576-340-1221. Have a great afternoon.

I am so excited! An engine! Like a real fire engine? I know absolutely nothing about fire, really. I have worked on prescribed burns before, but that is it. I always wanted to be a firefighter growing up. I only ever thought there were structure firefighters until I was recently applying to jobs on the federal website. I quickly call back. I’m so excited I might cry.

Hello, this is Kira Christopher. I am just calling back to say that I am interested in a position with you.

Fantastic news. I just have a few questions for you. He goes through some typical interview questions and other sorts. What are your strengths, weaknesses, yadda, yadda, yadda. I like interviews, I really do. I mean, it’s kind of just an easy thing. You just answer honestly, highlight yourself, and keep it light. Then he asks if I’m in shape. I quickly say yes as I don’t want to lose the job, just because I don’t go running. I could run, right? When we get to the end of the phone call, he says, And we would love to have you on our crew. I will send over your official hire letter in an email shortly. If you have any questions, feel free to email or call me.

I flip my phone shut, toss it on my bed, and do a little dance. I fling my arms out and spin in a circle. Is this cliché? Maybe, but I might die. I just got a position on a wildland fire engine! Golly, what do wildland firefighters do? I guess I should do a little bit of research. I quickly learned I would need to pass a pack test consisting of walking three miles with forty-five pounds in under forty-five minutes. I could do that, right? That sounds like a piece of cake. I mean, I can run a mile in about seven minutes, so that should be no problem. Well, to tell you later, it was a bit of a struggle. I would also have to pass