Manny Ortega, 53, retired wildland fire crew supervisor, had avoided Missoula’s annual fire department chili cookoff for four straight years. The only reason he showed up this time was his 78-year-old neighbor Marge, who threatened to stop leaving her famous sourdough loaves on his porch if he bailed. He showed up in scuffed work boots, a faded Lolo National Forest hoodie under a flannel, hat pulled low, planning to grab a bowl of chili, drop a donation, and bolt before anyone recognized him. The parking lot was packed with pickup trucks, the air thick with smoke from portable fire pits, tang of chili powder and cumin mixing with sharp pine drifting off the surrounding mountains. A three-piece county band played *Folsom Prison Blues* off the back of a flatbed trailer, kids chasing each other around hay bale seating.
He was halfway through a bowl of venison chili, standing off by the port-a-potties, when he saw her. Clara Bennett, 48, his old crew foreman’s ex-wife, leaning against a folding table covered in paper plates of peach cobbler, a smudge of flour on her left jaw, wearing a tooled leather belt and work boots caked in sawdust. Manny froze. He hadn’t spoken to her since the 2019 grievance hearing, when her then-husband had stood in front of the entire district and lied, saying Manny had ignored a red flag warning to let the crew finish a containment line, leading to a flashover that burned a 22-year-old rookie on his team. Manny took the fall, retired early, left the crew he’d worked with for 18 years, and avoided every local event tied to the fire service, convinced everyone in town thought he was reckless, a killer. Clara had sat in the back of the hearing room the whole time, didn’t say a word, just held his gaze for three seconds before he left, no judgment in her eyes. He’d replayed that look once a week for four years, much as he tried not to.