Rikki Held headed southeast into the badlands, eyes fixed on the billowing smoke as it reddened with sunset. Rutted tracks wound between scrubby hillsides that hid the wildfire. Brush raked the car.

She’d been home at the ranch in southeastern Montana when she saw the plume. The land was parched, a dull red gravel road, sun beaten grasses, clustered trees lining the river, all within a one-mile-wide strip of irrigated land surrounded by rolling badlands. There was a haze in the air, but nothing like the smoky skies of previous summers. 

Rikki called her father as soon as she saw the smudge on the horizon.

“Dad, did you see the smoke when you drove to town?” she asked.

“No, where’s it coming from?” he responded.

To find the answer, Rikki drove through the hills her family has ranched for five generations. This is where […]