John stole glances at his father and uncle who were frantically trying to hitch up the horse team to the plough. He knew it made sense to use the horses, rather than the oxen, because horses could do the job more quickly and time meant everything now. John wished he was helping them, rather than wetting rags. He felt he could assemble the team faster than them if given the chance.
“Dang it! Whooaa!” William bellowed, trying to get control of Skipper while Ed tried to do the same with Blue. “Father, let me help!” called out John. William glanced over at John and nodded.
John raced toward the team but slowed down as he got nearer to avoid scaring them further. He talked reassuringly but firmly to Skipper and Blue. John could hear Summer’s horse, Prairie Dancer, in the barn obviously feeling the stress of the events taking place.
“That’s it…good boy…good boy. Easy now,” soothed John. He then nodded to his father and uncle who were about to lean over and attach the pair of animals’ gear to the plough.
John kept stroking the horses’ necks and talking to them as he watched the spectacular fire rage in the distance, wondering how anything could be so beautiful to see and yet so destructive. John recalled his uncle telling him that prairie fires can move as fast as six hundred feet per minute and burn as hot as seven hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It was always supposed to be something to know, not experience.
While the thunder and the lightning were still cracking and illuminating the sky, there was no rain to depend on, although everyone was hoping the downpour would finally come. The
dull rumble of thunder along the vast, open space was ominous. With the team hitched up, Father began to plow as deeply into the dark earth as quickly as possible in order to save what little was theirs—the tiny house, barn, sheds and animals. As well, about forty loads of hay stood in a corner that would not last thirty seconds if fire touched it.
The horses responded like well-trained soldiers for William. Despite the threat of the wall of fire that marched steadily toward the homestead, they continued to haul their plough, turning over the rich soil in a wide furrow all around the haystack and buildings. Ed bolted over and yelled something to William, who nodded.
William then steered the horses over to a new area farther away from the buildings, skipping about fifty yards of ground from the ring he had just ploughed around the property. The team dug up a second parallel, wider ring of dirt around the homestead. By creating this other band of fresh soil, John realized they were hoping to create a buffer zone to stop the fire even further back. Elmer, Summer, and Mary looked up and watched as they continued with their own work.
After William finished ploughing the second ring and was safely inside the inner ring, Ed rushed over with a flaming torch he had lit and lowered it to set fire to the ring of grassland between the two ploughed circles. Some of the flame leapt back at him, catching him on his arm.
“Aghhh!” Ed yelled, clutching his bare skin.
“Uncle Ed!” John yelled, starting to go towards him until his mother pulled him back.
“You stay put, boy,” said his mother, who was concerned but was not about to let John get hurt, too. Ed, having lit the ring of grass successfully, then jumped back into the inner ring with everyone else. Everyone backed up together.
Even though it was still dark—long before the rising sun— the skies were ablaze in jagged, orange light. The fire wall that had at one time seemed so distant now barreled towards the Diefenbakers’ property with ferocious speed while the smaller fire roared to meet it. Ed’s smaller ring of fire began to subside, leaving only the black, burnt grass stubble and charred ground. The larger fire roared toward them, only seconds away, eating all dry grass in its path.
“Father!” hollered John. “We have to help Mrs. Schneider. We have to plough around her farm, too!”
“There’s no time, John!” his father yelled back. “All we can do now is watch,” he said in a lower voice, his heart heavy with anxiety as he prayed for his neighbour’s safety.
William put his arm around Mary and the others stood close to one another in solidarity. When the fire reached the border of ploughed land before the Diefenbaker’s land it raged against its captivity. But there was nothing left for it to burn in this area. It then whooshed around the perimeter of the homestead and
began to race away to new destinations.
Everyone cheered and hugged each other, although Ed still favoured his burnt arm. Just as John expected, Mrs. Schneider’s field was next. As the flames bore down on her farm, the Diefenbaker group watched helplessly and wondered how much would be destroyed. Within a few minutes the sky opened up, answering with a powerful rain that came down in torrents. It gushed down thick, wet droplets, as the storm born of desperate humidity was finally released. The Diefenbakers and Summer had never been so happy to be caught outside in the rain. Soon the pounding deluge would overcome the fire’s appetite and ensure new fires wouldn’t begin tonight. Nature had taken so much in the last few minutes. Now, in balance, it was set to give back to replenish the scarred earth.
***
It was a busy morning cleaning up and organizing the farm after the close brush with disaster the night before. Gertrude Schneider lost more than a third of her wheat, William estimated, before the rain had quelled the flames. It was another blow to the poor woman, John thought, so soon after the loss of her husband.
“Will the government help Mrs. Schneider? She’ll need money to live on,” John queried his father.
“That would be nice but I’m afraid there’s no such thing,” he explained.
John didn’t think this was fair, given that it would be difficult for someone to carry on all alone. He was glad that his mother had gone over to Mrs. Schneider’s to check on her. Mary was worried about her and wanted to let her know that neighbours cared about her. Even with this latest catastrophe, John couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Mrs. Schneider could still not shake her belief that Summer’s father killed her husband. The boy had to admit that with River’s Voice arrested, why would she believe anything else? And now, there were only five days until River’s Voice would be transferred to Regina and likely convicted, unless new evidence was found. John felt the weight of time bear down. He needed to prove his innocence in four days to save him from being sent to trial.
The humidity that had enveloped the prairie for weeks had finally broken during the big storm, leaving dry warmth in its place. After their work was done, John, Elmer, and Summer took the horses for a scouting ride to report back on the damage to the north, where the fire had begun. Although they loved to ride along the once-familiar trails, the blackened ground and absence of vegetation was sad to see. It was as if wide bands of land were eaten alive by the fire, with no mercy shown to anything in its path. There were some swaths of land that somehow remained unaffected, their higher slopes a curious stripe of
patchy green, which the horses gratefully grazed on when they stopped for a break.
John turned his mind to the damaged wheat fields. He knew that his own family was fortunate, since their field was relatively unscathed, other than a small corner, thanks to his father and uncle’s swift efforts. Ed’s property was also saved since it was south of William’s and the rain had extinguished the flames before they reached it.
As John surveyed the land in front of him, his nose was repulsed because the usually sweet smell of the long grasses was now an overpowering burnt stench. John squeezed his nostrils shut for a moment’s break. He knew that fire could not completely destroy the prairie grasses because of their deep roots. But it would be some time before the lush green and golden hues in this area would return in fullness.
“Look,” said Summer, pointing in the direction of the Diefenbaker land, about three quarters of a mile behind them. From where they were standing on a slope, John and Elmer swivelled around to observe the patches of golden wheat waving in between deeply-charred fields.
“We sure were lucky,” said John quietly.
“Yes, lucky you woke us up, shouting ‘FIRE,’” said Elmer. “But it was sure weird how tired you acted after that.”
John described his dream for his brother and Summer. There were the horses and the buffalo and the great bald eagle that
had warned him of some danger by moving toward him carrying an open flame in its wings. Summer seemed very interested.
“John, this may be your animal totem,” she said simply.
“My animal totem? What do you mean?”
“The Cree believe everyone has at least one special animal to watch over them, to guide them when they are in trouble. Sometimes it takes many years to find. Sometimes there are more than one animal. Maybe yours is the eagle,” she said, noting the prominent role the eagle played in his dream.
John had never thought about having an animal association. He liked the idea—and liked the eagle, with its strength and powerful vision. There were many bald eagles in the forests of northern Saskatchewan, but they were rarer near the wheat fields. He also liked buffalo, although in real life they were almost gone now after years of overhunting. The spotted horses he dreamt about must symbolize that he had always liked horses.
“Do you have an animal, Summer?” John asked, curious. “Yes. Right here,” she said, smiling at Prairie Dancer. “Of course!” said John. It only made sense for Summer. “How come I don’t have an animal?” asked Elmer, interrupting the flow.
“You do. You have Lily,” teased John, naming the family’s cow. Elmer shoved him good-naturedly.
Summer explained. “For me, I always loved horses and I
grew up with her,” she said, stroking Prairie Dancer’s long nose. “She is a part of me. Even when I was only small, like this,” she said, holding her hand off the ground until it was about the height of a two year old, “I wanted to be near the horses.”
“They let you be near horses when you were that small?” Elmer asked in disbelief.
Summer’s face lit up with the happy memories. “It was safe. The horse is my totem, remember? Everyone could tell. That’s why my father got Prairie Dancer for me when I three. Getting her is my first memory,” she said, patting the majestic horse’s neck.
“I don’t remember everything, but my father told me he said, ‘Bless this horse and bless my daughter, Summer Storm, who will one day ride like the wind.’”
“You already do that,” said Elmer. “That’s for sure!” A clattering sound made everyone turn at the same time. As the three peered down the length of rough trail, they could make out the distinct shape of a carriage and horses, wobbling its way toward them.
John stared. “Is that who I think it is?” he asked.
***
At the Schneider homestead, Mary brought the coffee cup to her lips and tried to read all of the emotions that played about
Gertrude Schneider’s face. She had been through so much, beginning with losing her husband only three days ago. Now, a third of her crop was burned to the ground. If the Lord had a plan for this poor woman, thought Mary, she prayed it would soon be revealed.
“I want you to know that when the threshers come in a few weeks, we’ll make sure your crop gets done. You’re going to make it,” said Mary soothingly.
Gertrude’s eyes were dull but she nodded in appreciation. “Thank you, Mary. Your family is always so kind,” she replied with her heavy German accent. “But I don’t care about the crop any more.”
Mary tried to understand what she was hearing. “You’ll need your crop, Gertrude. This is how you’re going to survive. Everyone’s going to pitch in and help, you’ll see. I’ll have lots of canned goods by then and I know…”
Gertrude began shaking her head even before Mary had finished speaking.
“I will not stay here,” she said, looking around her small house. “I have a sister in Bavaria,” she said quietly, almost without emotion. She slowly raised her own coffee to her lips and slurped loudly.
“Bavaria? You mean Germany?” asked Mary astonished. “Gertrude, you have all this land. Hans would have wanted you to stay and…”
“Hans!” shouted Gertrude, setting her coffee down too hard as hot liquid splashed out on the table and on her hand. Her eyes instantly brimmed with tears. “Hans is not here to tell me what to do. Hans is not here to see me go!” She rubbed the warm liquid from her hand, her eyes locked with Mary’s. Mary remained quiet.
“I’m too old, Mary. Too old and alone,” Gertrude finished. Mary stood up slowly and reached for a cloth hanging in Gertrude’s kitchen area, calmly wiping up the spilled coffee. The older woman just stared out the small window at the promise of more sun. Then she spoke softly.
“I’ve already made arrangements to sell the farm. I have enough money to take a train from here, to get to a ship in Montreal. They will send me the farm money later. I don’t care.”
Mary wasn’t sure if she dared to offer advice, but she was going to try.
“Gertrude, it’s been such a short time. Are you sure you feel you’ve made the right decision?”
The widow nodded. “I made up my mind on the night he died. I will leave this place. Nothing will change that.”
***
Earl T. Wright brought his brilliant canary yellow wagon to a halt in front of John, Elmer, and Summer and peered down at
them, tipping his black hat and smiling.
“Well, hello there,” he said in his trademark drawl. “It sure is good to see you after this mess,” he said, glancing at the blackened fields. “How is everyone? How badly were you hit by the fire?”
“We were lucky, Mr. Wright. It barely touched us, thanks to Father and Uncle Ed plowing furrows in time. Except, Uncle Ed burnt his arm some and Mrs. Schneider lost more than a third of her crop,” said John dejectedly.
“Well now, that’s good news for your family as far as your crop goes. I’m sorry to hear about your uncle’s arm. I should stop in and see if he needs a good old fashioned Rawleigh’s Man remedy. But what a shame Gertrude was hit so hard. And so soon after her husband’s death. Too many fine folks were hit hard from what I’ve seen.”
Elmer had moved a bit closer to the wagon. “What’s that, Mr. Wright?” he asked, pointing to a collection of items half covered by a sheet. Now all three looked at the space behind Earl and saw a collection of tools, a basket filled with something they couldn’t see and a few books.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” said Earl, quickly covering it completely with the sheet. “Just some blankets I like to keep. I do so much travelling so they’re nice to have. Sometimes I have to sleep in the carriage you know.”
John, Elmer, and Summer just nodded but no one said anything. Earl cleared his throat.
“Well now, I best be off. You three take care, hear?” And with that, the canary yellow wagon carrying the Rawleigh’s Man departed down the uneven trail.
Chapter 9
Chief Five Hawks
Summer Storm was a born rider. It was hard to tell where she ended and Prairie Dancer began, John thought to himself, as she entertained the boys with trick riding during the five-mile ride to her reservation the next morning.
Although they were trying to have fun along the way to the Cree reservation, the truth of their mission was more serious. Ed’s burn from the prairie fire seemed deeper than they first thought and Mary was worried her home plaster remedy was not working. Summer had volunteered to pick up an ointment her grandparents had on the reservation. It was something that had been passed down for generations by the Cree and Summer felt that it was a way she could make another contribution to the Diefenbakers for letting her stay.
As she resumed her trick riding, she lay on her back, sideways, while her Pinto kept on trotting. The boys laughed and trotted along more calmly beside them as she then stood on the horse’s back, perfectly balanced, while Prairie Dancer stayed
the course. Its lithe body was in tune with Summer’s subtle movements. Only once, when the horse had to turn slightly to avoid a protruding bush in the other
wise flat field, did Summer falter, but as she fell she grabbed her horse’s neck. The strong Pinto held fast while it ran until Summer pulled herself around, only this time not as gracefully. She was laughing so hard at her own mishap that the boys realized it was alright to join in.
John and Elmer had asked their parents for permission to go for the trip to the reservation, too. It would give them a chance to get out with Skipper, Blue, and Prairie Dancer for a good long ride. Yesterday’s ride of only a few farms’ distance was depressing, since the youths witnessed the fire damage to their neighbours’ properties.
Today’s ride was more enjoyable.
“We’re getting close,” said John, pointing into the distance. John then turned his thoughts inward. Elmer knew his brother was thinking because he got very quiet and his forehead became furrowed. It was like he forgot he was with other people, even though Elmer and Summer were talking. Elmer was used to this although, as the younger brother, he felt like it was his solemn duty to try and find out what was going on inside his brother’s head—usually before his brother was ready.
“John, what are you thinking about?” Elmer asked, after some minutes had passed.
John paused before he spoke. “Just what we were talking
about yesterday evening, you know, seeing Mr. Wright.”
“Yes, that was strange,” Elmer said, recalling his own memory. “What do you think all of that stuff was inside Mr. Wright’s wagon?”
“Well, we saw a basket with something in it, some tools and some books. There was nothing that looked really suspicious,” John answered.
“Then why did he hide those things?” asked Summer. John nodded. “That’s just it. Why would he lie about it just being blankets, when we clearly saw other things underneath? I still don’t understand what he was concealing. What was he really worried about?”
The others fell silent, lost in their own thoughts of the strange encounter with Earl T. Wright. Prairie Dancer seemed to know she was closer to home, as she was making gentle noises while she walked. Skipper and Blue were just happy to be on an adventure, especially through an area that had been untouched by the destructive hand of the prairie fire.
The Mystery of the Moonlight Murder Page 7
