"Station fifty-one. Respond to a possible brushfire, 4-4-3-2 Korbel Canyon Road. Four, Four, Three, Two - Korbel Canyon. Nearest cross street, Miller Road. Time out: 13:34," LA dispatch announced.
The engine crew and paramedics scrambled into their vehicles and drove off to the call.
*****
The squad and engine arrived at the site of the fire in a cloud of dust. It was a small grassfire in the backyard of a two story century home.
"Chet, Marco - pull an inch-and-a-half. Wet down the yard and the back of the house while you’re at it - it’s dry as toast," Cap ordered. "Mike, we’ll have to use the tank," he added. "John, Roy - you two check to see if anyone’s been injured."
Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez waved a thumbs up in acknowledgment and went to do his bidding while Mike Stoker gave them the water to extinguish the flames.
*****
John Gage and Roy DeSoto knocked on the door of the old house. When they didn’t get an answer, they knocked again, louder this time. Johnny called out, "Fire department - anybody home?"
A petite elderly lady answered the door, smiling and obviously uninjured. "Oh my, I’m so glad you could get here so quickly," she said, wiping her hands on a kitchen dish towel.
Johnny put his arm lightly around her shoulders. "That’s what we’re here for, Miss…"
The elderly lady stiffened and withdrew from John. "That’s Mrs. to you, Sonny - Mrs. Grace Walker."
"Was anyone hurt in the fire, Mrs. Walker?" Roy inquired politely.
"No, no. Tabasco and I are just fine," she replied, breezily. "It’s just the two of us here since my dear Edgar passed on, ya know."
"Tabasco?" Johnny frowned, confused.
"Well, it’s really Toby for short. His full name’s Tabascoâ Brand Pepper Sauce. My late husband, Edgar, bless his soul - had a penchant for hot sauce and he named Toby there," she pointed to the porch swing where a huge red/orange cat lay sleeping, "after his favorite kind," she sighed.
"I’m glad to hear it, Mrs. Walker. Not about your husband, I mean…well…about you and Tabasco being okay," Johnny stammered.
*****
"Fire’s out, Cap," Chet informed his superior as he and Marco pulled the hose line back towards fifty-one’s engine.
"Thank you boys!" Mrs. Walker enthused. "I just don’t know how that fire got started. I was working in the garden and all of sudden - POOF - smoke and flames appeared in my compost pile."
"Certainly, Mrs. Walker. We’re having a real hot and dry season and it’s best to be extra careful with your compost. Make sure you give it a watering once or twice a week until we get some rain," the Captain explained.
"Your garden is okay, ma’am," Marco added. "We gave it a good watering, too."
"Thank you again, boys," Mrs. Walker waved to Chet and Marco.
"We’ll just gather our equipment and be heading back," Hank said as he turned to follow his crew.
"Wait, now - I’ll just run and get my purse," she called after the firemen.
"What?" Johnny asked, looking to his partner and Captain. "What’s she need her purse for?"
Mrs. Walker emerged from the house with her purse. "Oh my heavens, I hope this isn’t going to cost more than $150," she moaned and pulled out her checkbook.
"Ma’am," Cap explained, "you don’t owe us anything."
"Now listen here, young man," she chastised, waving an arthritic finger at him, "I’m not like these younger folks - I pay my debts."
"Yes, ma’am - I’m sure you’re very responsible," Cap placated, "but we can’t take your money."
"Responsible? Why of course, I’m responsible - tried to teach that to young’uns for thirty eight years, not that they paid any attention."
"Yes, ma’am," Cap agreed.
"How much?" she asked the fidgeting Captain. Hank felt like he was in Sister Theresa’s fourth grade class again.
"Well, your county taxes cover our services, Mrs. Walker," Hank began.
"My taxes! Oh dear me, are they due already? I guess I’m going to have to cash in a few more of my green stamps this month," she sighed, and dug deeper into her purse for a pen.
"No, Mrs.Walker, I mean…what I mean is when you paid your taxes at the beginning of the year…well, that included any L.A. County firefighting or paramedic services you might need," Cap was growing more uncomfortable by the second.
Mrs. Walker placed her hands on her hips and gave the crew her best teacher’s evil eye. "Nonsense, now how could you have known that I would need you?"
Behind the Captain, Johnny, Marco and Chet were doing there best to stifle their chuckles. Mike coughed and covered his mouth with a gloved hand.
Hank was about to throw up his hands in frustration when Roy jumped into the conversation. "What Captain Stanley is saying ma’am, is that your bill’s been paid already. Thank you very much," Roy’s husky voice answered.
"Well then, why didn’t you just say so?" she demanded and snapped her purse shut.
Note: My cat, Tabasco, was indeed named for my husband’s inhuman use of Tabasco sauce. He puts it on everything - eggs, steak, noodles, baked potatoes… And then there’s my other cat – Pepper. J
Editor's note: This story formerly appeared on Mary's Emergency site.
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