Naomi swallowedher fear and dread, willed herself to seem calm. “Here we are, kids. Remember to hold hands with your travel buddy. No one is to go wandering anywhere by themselves or leave the group with any other adult.”
She waited till the bus came to a stop, then walked down the center aisle. She’d spent most of the drive talking to counselors, trying to calm them down and focus them on the job at hand. They had thirty-nine confused and frightened children who needed them. They had no time for their own personal fear or pain.
That’s what she’d told them. But inside, some part of her wanted to cry, to curse, to scream. The man she loved was missing, maybe dead. He’d sent her away to save her and the baby. He’d been willing to sacrifice his life for theirs, and now she didn’t know if she would see him again.
Chaska.
“Let me just find out where they want us to go.” She stepped out of the bus, her big belly making her motions awkward, and glanced around at what seemed like chaos.
Soldiers from the Colorado National Guard directed traffic as cars, trucks, and horse trailers from Scarlet Springs poured into the fairgrounds. In the shade of a pavilion, two of the guys from Timberline Mudbugs played guitar while a few people danced.
A young woman in uniform spoke with a man hauling a small horse trailer. “Horse trailers that way.”
Naomi approached her. “I’m from Camp Mato Sapa. I’ve got forty children and a dozen or so adults who have nowhere to stay for the next few days. They’re thirsty and hungry, and I have nothing to give them.”
“Can their parents pick them up?” the soldier asked.
“No, they can’t. They’re all from South Dakota. The fire burned through the camp. We left everything—clothes, food, first aid supplies. We almost didn’t make it.” She couldn’t keep the quaver out of her voice, tears threatening to break through. “I have nowhere to take them between now and when they head home in four days.”
The soldier called someone on her radio, explained their situation. “The captain says to send you to the Exhibit Building. That’s the squarish building just over there. That’s where we’re putting people who’ve lost their homes. You let the kids off and then park the bus over here.”
“Thanks.” Naomi got back on the bus and told the driver where to go.
It was a short drive, but it gave Naomi’s fear for Chaska and the others time to rush back, despair rising like bile in the back of her throat. She drew in a few deep breaths, fought back her emotions.
These kids needed her. There would be time to fall apart later.
The bus pulled to a stop in front of the Exhibit Building, its front and back doors opening with a hiss.
“Hold hands, kids, and follow your counselors.” Naomi thanked the bus driver, then gathered the children and counselors together and walked inside.
The Exhibit Building was essentially a big box with a high ceiling and—thank God!—air conditioning. Uniformed Guard soldiers were busy carrying in cases of bottled water and other supplies, folded cots sitting in neat rows.
A man in olive drab walked up to her. “You’re the woman from the kids’ camp.”
“Yes.” Naomi held out a hand. “Naomi Belcourt.”
“Captain Peter Langeland.” He gestured around the room. “I thought you might be able to set up here. You’d have your own space, with a kitchen, bathrooms, a shower, and better security. If I had forty kids in a situation like this, I’d want a door I could lock.”
Naomi hadn’t even thought about that. “Thanks. This is perfect.”
“We’ll have cots or sleeping bags for them by tonight. In the meantime, there’s bottled water out in the main room. Do any of you need medical attention?”
“No. Thank you.” Naomi had to ask. “Do you know what’s going on up there? My husband, his grandfather, and several others stayed behind at the camp so that we could escape. There wasn’t room in the vehicles. The fire burned through, and I don’t know if they found a way out or whether...”
Captain Langeland’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t have any contact with the Incident Command in Scarlet Springs.”
Naomi’s gaze fell to the concrete floor, her heart with it. “I understand.”
A hand came to rest on her arm. “If you’d like, I can pass this up the chain of command and see whether our Incident Command here can get in touch with the IC up at Scarlet Springs.”
Naomi’s head snapped up. “You could do that?”
“I can try.” He stepped back, glanced at his watch. “You just rest now and take care of yourself and these kids, and let us worry about the rest of it.”
His kindness broke through the wall she’d tried to build around her emotions, tears blurring her vision. “Thank you.”
“That’s what I’m here for. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.” He reached for his hand mic, turned and walked away. “No, I said no llamas in the horse barns. They spook the horses. Zero llamas in the horse barns. Zero is that number that comes before one. There shouldn’t be a single llama in the horse barns.”