Page 2 of The Fire Line

GUEST LODGE • TRAIL RIDES • WEDDINGS • PRIVATE EVENTS

Jay looked at the two signs as they passed: inherited land and modern tourism sharing the same posts. Almost offensively useful. He had learned to distrust anything that presented the argument of a film that neatly.

The ranch came into view beneath a stand of cottonwoods. A long timber lodge anchored the guest side, while barns and working sheds spread behind it as though each generation had added whatever the ranch needed next. Farther back, a low private house sat among mature trees. Fences crossed the grass until distance erased them. Nothing had been arranged for charm, yet charm had apparently happened anyway.

The lodge had a broad porch, timber columns, stone along the lower walls, and upstairs guest-room windows catching the afternoon light. Jay, Priya, and Eli would be staying in the east wing. The detached cabins were reserved for paying visitors and a wedding party due later in the week, which suited him. Separate cabins made film crews believe they were on vacation, and then suddenly someone was opening wine at four while claiming to review footage.

A little girl in pink rubber boots stood in the middle of the lane.

Jay hit the brakes.

She remained exactly where she was, holding a yellow plastic shovel and regarding the truck with the calm authority of a very small traffic officer. A woman came running from the lodge.

“Willa!”

She lifted the child against one hip as an identical girl in green boots appeared behind her.

“You cannot stand in front of cars to make them stop.”

“But it worked,” Willa said.

Jay lowered his window. “She has a point.”

The woman laughed, slightly breathless. “You must be the film people.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You have rental plates and a truck packed to the windows with black cases.”

Priya leaned across the console. “Priya Mehta. This is Jay Navarro. Eli is being slowly crushed by the equipment in the back.”

Eli raised one hand between the cases.

“Elise Shaw. You already met Willa.” She gestured to the girl peering out from behind her leg. “And this is June.”

June watched Jay from behind her mother’s leg without committing herself to an opinion. Reasonable. They had only just arrived.

A man came down the lodge steps carrying a cardboard box. Evan Shaw was younger than Jay had expected from months of scheduling calls: early thirties, sandy-haired, open-faced, and approaching them while visibly keeping track of at least six other problems.

“You found us.”

“Technically Priya found you,” Jay said as he climbed out. “I mostly followed the road and complained.”

“Against the odds, that’s how most people arrive.”

His handshake was brief, and Jay liked him immediately for not making their arrival ceremonial. They had already spent months discussing contracts, releases, filming boundaries, liability, children, livestock, private family areas, weather contingencies, and approximately eleven thousand other things required when a film crew wanted to point cameras at somebody else’s life.

“We’ve got you three upstairs in the east wing,” Evan said. “Assistants downstairs near the conference room. We cleared that for charging and equipment storage.”

Priya’s attention moved toward the lodge. “How many circuits?”

“Two. Electrician checked them yesterday. Wi-Fi reaches most of the building. Won’t impress you, but it exists.” He shifted the box against his side. “My mother, Della, runs the kitchen and has already decided none of you eat enough.”

“Has she met us?” Jay asked.

“No. She considers it a universal condition.”

A truck door slammed near the equipment shed. Evan glanced toward the sound, and Jay followed his attention.