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Within minutes approximately fifteen kids piled into the room, an equal mixture of boys and girls. In a small town this size, Tessa recognized most of them, including Matt Morton. The boy’s mom was a widow who waited tables at Rocklin Diner on Main Street. The owner of the restaurant happened to be Megan Marshall, the FMO’s new wife. Tessa made a mental note to pay a visit to her good friend as soon as she got some time off from work.
The kids barely glanced at the adults stationed up front, laughing and talking as they found their seats. They slouched in their chairs like they didn’t have a care in the world. One student looked up and spotted Tessa. Nudging the boy next to him, he smiled wide.
“Hubba, hubba. This might be fun.”
A shrill wolf whistle followed his comment, but Tessa ignored it. She didn’t like public speaking, but this wasn’t her first rodeo. She had learned to take care of herself in a work environment filled with men. She decided that she could handle a bunch of hormonal adolescents.
Another bell rang and Mr. Garvey stood to give the introductions. Two law enforcement officers would go first, followed by the CPA and then a technology professor from the community college out of Reno. Sean and Tessa were dead last on the agenda.
Hmm. This might take longer than she expected.
Crossing her legs, Tessa put herself on cruise control and waited patiently. She enjoyed the respite, but inside she was quaking. Standing up to speak in front of a bunch of mouthy teenagers made her nervous, especially when she knew Sean would be watching her.
When it was his turn, Sean stood. Ignoring the podium, he walked to the front of the room in his hotshot swagger that said he was in control.
Tessa hid a slight smile.
“Good afternoon,” he began, his deep bass voice filling the room like rolling thunder. He sure didn’t need a microphone.
“My name is Sean Nash, and I’m the superintendent of the Minoa Interagency Hotshot crew.” He gestured toward Tessa, and she stood. “This is Tessa Carpenter, one of my crew members.”
A piercing whistle split the air and someone called out from across the room. “Ooo, Tessa. You are fine, lady. Can I work wi’ you?”
A round of snickers skittered across the crowd. Simultaneously, Mr. Garvey and Sean jerked their heads in that direction. Mr. Garvey glared and scanned the sea of faces as though trying to pinpoint who had spoken. The group of teenagers stared straight back, looking innocent as newborn babes. Tessa didn’t show any reaction whatsoever. But inside she was laughing. She’d been uneasy at first, but now she was in her element.
“Tommie Wheeler, you’ll have to ask your mommy about that,” Tessa shot back, her face void of expression.
Tommie’s gaze widened as though he was surprised that she knew it was him who had spoken. His face flushed red as a new fire engine, his eyes filled with embarrassment.
“Ah-hum! Remember these people are our guests and you will be polite,” Mr. Garvey said in a stern voice.
Dead silence fell over the throng. Tommie sat back, his eyes downcast.
Sean gave a scoffing laugh. “I don’t blame you for wanting to work with Tessa, but you will have to prove you can keep up with her first. To be a hotshot, you’re gonna have to be in prime physical condition.”
“I’m a hotshot. I’m prime.” A tall boy wearing a letterman jacket flexed the muscle of his arm.
Tessa didn’t know the youth, so she held her tongue.
Sean showed a tolerant smile. “Talk is cheap. If you want to be on my crew, you will have to prove yourself.” Always quick with a comeback, Sean didn’t miss a beat as he answered in a jovial tone, doing an admirable job of keeping things light. Rumbling laughter filled the room as several other boys jostled the athlete. It took several moments for the boys to settle down as Mr. Garvey cleared his throat loudly.
Sean continued his dialogue. “If you were to become a hotshot, some of the things we would train you in are first aid, compass usage, GPS coordinates, chain saws, fire suppression and tactical field work. But first you’ve got to make the team. I don’t accept any complaints or whining, so you better leave that at home with your momma. Attitude is everything in this profession. Members of my crew can hike three miles carrying forty-five pounds on their back in forty-five minutes or less. And you’ve got to be able to swing a hand tool. All. Day. Long. And sometimes all night, too.”
“Without sleep?” someone asked.
Sean nodded. “Without sleep.”
“Girls, too?” a female voice called.
Sean nodded. “Girls, too. A crew is only as strong as their weakest member. So the women have to be able to work just as hard as the men and carry their own weight. In addition to that, all crew members need to run one and a half miles in ten and a half minutes or less. You’ll do twenty-five push-ups in under one minute, forty sit-ups and at least seven chin-ups. And that’s just a few of the physical requirements. There’s much more that we’ll show you once you’re ready to try out for the crew.”
A stocky, medium-height boy with a peach fuzz beard gave a barking laugh. Wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt and sporting a skull tattoo on his right arm, he waved a hand in the air. “Ah, gimme something hard to do. That’s nothing.”
Tessa recognized the boy. His name was Gavin Smith, and she’d heard the stories circulating around town that he was a troublemaker. Drinking, drugs, fighting, painting graffiti and suspicion of theft were just a few of the complaints against the boy. He wasn’t good news.
Sean flashed a naughty-but-nice smile at the kid. Lifting his hands to rest on his lean hips, he arched one brow in a skeptical frown.
Oh, no. Tessa knew that look, and it didn’t bode well for her, or Gavin.
* * *
“What’s your name, son?” Sean asked the braggart boy.
“Gavin Smith. What’s it to you?” the youth replied with a challenging lift of his head.
Sean wasn’t riled by the belligerence in the boy’s eyes. He’d heard a few bad things about Gavin. Getting into altercations with the police for suspicion of drugs and vandalism. Arrogant and disrespectful. Sean had been the same way once. And he thought that maybe he could make a difference for the boy. Gavin sat next to Matt Morton, one of the kids from Sean’s scouting group, so maybe the two were friends.
“And you think you can do that many push-ups, sit-ups and chin-ups in under a minute each?” Sean asked.
A flicker of doubt flashed across the teenager’s face before he gave a hesitant nod. “Yes, I do.”
Ah, this was just what Sean was hoping for. He couldn’t have planned it better.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what. Let’s all head outside to that chin-up bar near the bleachers and have a friendly competition. Tessa and you. Let’s see who can do the most chin-ups.” Sean jutted his jaw toward the window where the exercise equipment sat waiting near the football field.
Out of his peripheral vision, Sean caught Mr. Garvey popping out of his seat, looking flushed and confused. Tessa shifted nervously by his side and Sean sensed that she didn’t like this idea, but she didn’t say a word.
Turning, Sean met her eyes. “Are you okay with that?”
She hadn’t come here to compete, after all. But he’d advised her that he might ask her to show the students a few exercises they could do to get themselves into pristine shape. She’d been warned. Kind of. But he also knew she might get beaten. Women didn’t have the upper body strength of men. A strong boy of sixteen or seventeen years might be able to do more chin-ups than she could. Tessa’s forte wasn’t in her muscular strength but rather in her pacing and endurance. And her determination. In fact, she was relentless.
With a resolute lift of her head, she gazed at the teenager with passive interest. But Sean wasn’t fooled. He knew her too well. A spark of fire flashed in her eyes that told him no way was she going to let this snot-nosed kid beat her. Not without putting up a fight. Her gaze didn’t waver. Just a lock-jawed resolve that told him the game was on.
“Yes, let’s do it.” She gave one nod, and that was that.
She didn’t say another word and Sean had to hand it to her. In spite of her personal feelings toward him, she was staying professional and aboveboard. And he’d never been prouder of her than at that moment.
“Come on.” He waved an arm at the kids and headed for the door.
A mad scramble followed him as he led the way out onto the field. The air smelled of freshly mowed grass. The sun beat down on them like a baking oven, but Sean and Tessa were used to that and more. The students gathered close as he reached into his pocket for his stopwatch.
“Stand back and give our competitors plenty of room,” he said.
The kids widened the circle.
Tessa and Gavin faced each other. Sean could see the teenage boy sizing her up. She was shorter by perhaps eight inches and at least forty pounds lighter. When Gavin flashed a confident smile, Sean knew the boy had seriously underestimated his opponent. And then Tessa did something that didn’t surprise Sean in the least. Locking gazes with Gavin, she showed a half-crooked smile that spoke volumes. That one expression said it all without saying a word.
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