Riding the Storm. Julie Miller
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time.”
Nate was wide awake now. “So what do you want to throw me into?”
“Mitch has a hurricane headed his way. He’s looking for medically-trained volunteers and supplies to man an emergency station for Corpus Christi residents being evacuated to Turning Point.”
Nate remembered seeing reports on the national news of the tropical storm forming out in the Atlantic and picking up strength as it headed into the warmer waters of the Gulf of Mexico. “Hurricane Damon, right? Don’t they have disaster procedures in place?”
“They do. But Mitch is in a tight spot. The town’s only doctor had a heart attack a couple of weeks ago and is recuperating at a hospital up in Houston. He had one licensed EMT, but she just got married and moved to North Dakota to be with her husband. All he has is a group of volunteers—some with basic medical and emergency training, some not. He’s got plenty of stubborn Texas horse sense, but even that won’t get him too far on his own.”
“He doesn’t have anyone he can call for backup?”
“He called me.”
That said a lot about the strength of Dan’s friendship with Mitch Kannon. As a result, Nate extended a degree of respect and loyalty to this man in Texas he’d never met.
Nate didn’t even have to be asked. He rose to his feet.
“When do you need me?”
CHAPTER ONE
A LONG, LOW SCREEN of pearl-gray clouds clung to the horizon over the Gulf of Mexico in the distance, refusing to surrender to the sunrise. Mist drizzled in the air, hanging like a translucent shroud and muffling the world outside.
Nate absently massaged the dull ache in his right knee and took note of his surroundings. Despite the jostling and jarring of the Chevy Suburban he rode in, the morning seemed unnaturally still. Way too still for his peace of mind.
The chatter from the five souls inside the official white vehicle provided the only signs of life in the middle of this vast stretch of flat scrub land. Where were the birds, winging to the sky, searching for the proverbial worm? Where were the tiny rodents, scurrying from cover to cover as the snakes and other nocturnal predators turned in for the day?
Wise enough to protect her own, Mother Nature wasn’t waking up this morning. She knew something Nate could only sense.
Turning Point, Texas, was a disaster waiting to happen.
Apparently, Nate, who’d taken the red-eye flight from California to Corpus Christi with the other three volunteers, wasn’t the only one to think so.
“All hell’s gonna break loose.” Turning Point’s Fire Chief, Mitch Kannon, a friendly, authoritative man, reminded Nate a lot of his own boss. Though Mitch had a bit of gray peppering what was left of his short brown hair, both he and Dan easily carried the weight of responsibility on broad, sturdy shoulders.
Mitch glanced across the Chevy’s cab and shook his head like a weary father trying to make sense of a recalcitrant child. He looked into the rearview mirror to include the three women who’d volunteered for this mission along with Nate. “I’ve been watching Hurricane Damon on the radar for a week now. Having Corpus Christi send their evacuees down to us is a mistake in so many ways—the scenario reads like a comic strip.”
Clearly, Mitch wasn’t amused. He had driven to Corpus Christi to pick up the California team and had been dismayed at the caravan of cars already heading south to Turning Point. As they left the main highway now, he turned his steely blue gaze back to the road that would eventually take them into town. “What am I going to do with a thousand extra people in my town?” he complained.
Nate braced his hand against the dashboard and watched the flat plains, just forty miles inland from the Texas Gulf Coast, zip past. Though the terrain was more brown than green, and trees stood at a premium in the sandy soil, he recognized good ranch land. Not unlike the quarter-horse ranch in Southern California where he’d grown up. Where he’d buried his parents before he was old enough to remember them. Where Grandpa Nate had raised him, and left a little bit of his wise old soul inside him. Where he and his older brother and sister, Kell and Jackie, had formed a bond that had seen them through hell and back.
Where he no longer had a home.
Nate shut down that disturbing train of thought and shifted in his seat, trying to alleviate the stiffness in his knee. The old injury had been acting up more than usual the past couple of days—probably due to fatigue. He felt uncharacteristically restless. But not about the job at hand. Never about the job. He’d always been able to shut off his emotions when it came to the business of saving lives. “You don’t have the facilities to handle that many evacuees?” he asked.
“I don’t have the facilities, the supplies or the manpower to handle Damon and whatever he decides to throw at us.” Mitch rubbed at his receding hairline. “Turning Point is a small, rural town. Times like this, it doesn’t seem as if it’s changed all that much from when the pioneers first settled here in the 1880s. Right about now I’d happily exchange our quaint and historical getaway reputation for a fully-staffed, state-of-the-art hospital and a couple of interstate highways to get people in or out of here as fast as we need to.”
“Well, we can’t build a new highway for you overnight.” Nate shrugged, trying to ease the older man’s concern. “But we’ll do whatever we can to help.”
“I appreciate it.” Mitch slowed the Suburban as he neared an intersection. “I wasn’t sure Dan could deliver when I called and asked for help. But he promised he was sending his best.”
The look Mitch slid Nate indicated he’d be holding them to that promise.
“Yes, sir.”
Mitch stopped at the intersection to let three cars pass. Though a skyline of low rise buildings indicated the town was in view several miles to the east, the older man gripped the wheel in both hands and stared down the road to the west. Nate turned his head to see what had captured his attention. But the black asphalt ribbon, long and empty, faded into the mist.
Nate glanced back, noting the lines of strain bracketing Mitch’s mouth. “Is there a problem?”
“No.” Mitch expelled a long, shaky breath, then turned and headed east. “My daughter lives out that way. On the Double J Ranch. Hopefully she’s got enough sense to stay home today.” Hopefully? Mitch didn’t sound convinced that sense and daughter belonged in the same paragraph. “I’ll call her from the station house. Make sure they’re okay.”
They. Son-in-law? Grandchildren?
Before Nate could ask another question, Mitch turned on the Suburban’s siren and lights. Resolutely burying any hint of concern about his daughter and her family, Mitch sped around the three cars and headed into town.
Always the careful observer, Nate shoved his blue fire department ball cap back on his head and peeked inside each vehicle as they drove past. Fleeing the on-coming storm, the cars were loaded down with suitcases, pet carriers, boxes, clothes, food—and a baby strapped into a car seat. Thank God the infant carrier was facing the proper direction in the back seat.
Nate took a deep, silent breath to ease the tightness that clenched his stomach. He couldn’t afford to go there right now. Forcing himself to stay in the moment, he studied the evacuees inside the cars. They wore every expression from dazed to determined to downright scared.
He’d never witnessed a hurricane before, but in his career he’d dealt with fires, earthquakes, mudslides, and way too many traffic accidents. He recognized the faces of trauma. These people had been uprooted from their homes, chased out by forces beyond their control.
Nate knew the feeling.
He reached into his pocket and rubbed the plain gold wedding band he’d inherited from his grandfather. Carrying the gift for all these years hadn’t exactly been a lucky charm for him, but it was a link to the past. A link to family