Free Wildfire at Dawn by M. L. Buchman Page B

bits of dry grass at him in disdain of his own smaller Jeep.
    The first ten miles were winding their way off the high spot where Timberline Lodge perched well up Mount Hood’s southern flank. She pulled off on a paved narrow two-lane that looked deserted, maybe used by logging trucks. A mile in, she turned up a dirt lane completely overshadowed by trees. Another hundred yards.
    There sat the prettiest little log cabin he’d seen in a long time. It was built of well-chinked stout logs with a generous front porch beneath a deep eave. In all but the most slashing of northwest rains you’d be able to sit outside. A metal roof in a whimsical brass color rather than the more expected green topped off the picture. He won his own bet when he spotted the horse trailer parked alongside a tidy, steel-clad pole barn.
    They climbed down and met by the steps up to the cabin’s front door, but he wasn’t ready to go in just yet.
    “Mom used to guide from here, but when Dad got the job in town and she broke a hip in a bad fall, they gave it to me. We built the cabin with timber off this land,” she waved at the two-acre clearing. Some of it was a garden, but most of it was a horse paddock and the small barn.
    Akbar squatted down and scooped up a handful of the dark soil, soft and damp against his palm. Good stuff. He brushed it off on his jeans.
    “I winter the horses down here, summers up at the Lodge. We own twenty acres around. I’m buying a brood mare this fall if I can. Have to expand the barn next year.”
    Akbar was in love. There was a small creek nearby. He didn’t see it, but he could hear it. The trees were alive with bird life. The circular clearing was so perfect that it looked as if someone had taken a cookie cutter to the forest then planted the cabin in the middle. The cabin was at the very north end of the clearing, so it would get sun much of the day from having the clearing to the south, despite the tall stands of timber that isolated it from the world.
    The trees. He itched to get in here with a saw. Douglas fir always had a lot of dead lower branches that clung on for years, and Laura’s trees were no exception. To help protect the place from fire, he would start with clearing the deadwood off the trunks.
    “What? Are you just going to stand there?”
    “Yes! This place is amazing, Space Ace!” He could see she was pleased, but he wasn’t doing it for that reason. It was amazing. This was the kind of place you wanted to take a woman to charm the pants off them, and here he was at her place. Turnabout might be fair play, but he wasn’t so sure he was ready for it.
    She led him to the front porch, raised a few steps off the ground. He could imagine her sitting here beneath the long eave on rainy afternoons with a good book. She set the take-out containers on the low table in front of a pair of Adirondack chairs just like the Lodge’s.
    “I stole a couple of their old ones when they were replacing them last season.”
    “Still look good to me. Shall we try them out?”
    “I’ve got to shower first. Wash this day off me.”
    Akbar tried to read the situation, suddenly a bit uneasy. Not a single thing today was going by any of his usual patterns and he was adrift without them. Had Laura just extended an invitation? Or did she merely want to take a shower? He didn’t know how to read her. With the women he found in town, the messages and intentions were clear. With Laura—
    She took his hand and led him inside. Okay, he liked that message. Inside the cabin was as neat as outside. The front half of the interior was a comfortable living room to the left and a really serious kitchen to the right. His mom would like this kitchen, it was totally different from their one in Seattle, but it had a good feel and a serious collection of cool kitchen gadgets.
    Afternoon sunlight filtered in and lit the stout plank flooring and throw rugs. Two bedrooms toward the back with a bathroom between.
    He slowed her down. He