Some who weren't pushed or pulled from the train were isolated and ostracized, such as a shabbily dressed woman who held a toddler in an otherwise empty boxcar. When Kevin asked a man why she sat alone in a perfectly good car, he got a perfectly good answer.
"The child is sick," he said. "He has scarlet fever."
Kevin shook his head when he heard that. No matter how many people he tried to help, he wouldn't be able to help everyone. Some problems defied compassionate solutions.
When he saw the ranks of the pushers and pullers begin to thin, he walked toward the back of the train. If nothing else, he could make sure that everyone who wanted to get on the train got on the train. He picked up his step at the halfway point but stopped when he heard a familiar voice. It was the voice of his favorite student, a student in a flatcar.
"Hi, Mr. Johnson," Josie White said.
Kevin drew closer and saw that Josie was not alone. She sat between her sister and her mother in the back of the car. Her father, a boarding house manager named James White, stood a few feet away. He kept a close eye on a group of rough-looking men in the front.
"Hi, Josie. What are you doing in a flatcar? You should all be in a coach."
"You'd better ask my dad."
"They threw us off, Mr. Johnson. I offered to send them alone and the ruffians refused us all. I've never been so appalled in my life."
"I know what you mean. I got a taste of it back there. Are you sure you'll be all right? I can see if I can find you some blankets."
"I appreciate the offer, sir, but you won't find as much as a scrap for a baby tonight. The vultures are out. I feel ashamed to be riding a train with the likes of them."
"Don't be ashamed, Mr. White. You're doing the right thing. You have a responsibility to take care of your family and you're doing it. That's more than a lot of people out here."
Kevin took a moment to scan the length of the train and saw that most people had found an open car, even if it wasn't a car of their choice. He returned to the Whites just as Laura White, wife and mother, began to speak.
"Josie tells us you're coming back to the school next year. Is that true?"
Kevin sighed. He should have known he'd have to answer a question like this sooner or later. He thought of a creative reply but decided to go with the truth. He didn't want to lie to anyone anymore, much less a family like this.
"I'm afraid it's not true, ma'am."
Kevin watched Josie frown.
"Why is that?"
"I've decided to marry Sarah Thompson and return to my hometown in Oregon. That's why. I feel bad about leaving, but I think it's the right thing to do now."
"I understand. Congratulations on your engagement. I think very highly of Miss Thompson."
"I do too," Kevin said.
James and Laura White laughed.
"Will you be leaving soon?" Laura asked.
"Yes," Kevin said. "We may leave as soon as tomorrow, if we can ever get out of this town."
Josie stood up and walked slowly to the edge of the flatcar, where James White maintained a constant watch for rogues and ne'er-do-wells. She grabbed her father's hand and looked at Kevin thoughtfully.
"Mr. Johnson, will you write to us from your new home?" she asked.
Kevin smiled and laughed to himself. This was the price of inspiring a student. He didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep, but he was fairly sure he'd be able to keep this one."
"I'll tell you what, Josie. I'll do my best to write. I may not get to it until next year, but I'll try to put something in the mail."
"Thank you. I'd like that."
"I do have one condition though."
"What's that?"
"I insist that you stay in school and stay active in science. Even if you never go to college, stay active. Read as much as you can and apply all that you learn. You have a wonderful mind, Josie. Use it. Use it and you'll have a wonderful life. I promise."
"I will," she said with a sweet smile. "I will."
Kevin started to say goodbye but didn't get the chance. The engineer blew the whistle and released the brake, putting the relief train into motion and creating a commotion that no voice could overcome. He watched James White pull his daughter away from the unsupported edge and lead her to the safety of the back of the car.
Knowing that he wouldn't be able to even shout over the deafening noise, made worse by the sound of the wind and the crackling fires, Kevin instead waved to the family and gave Josie a big thumbs-up. He smiled when the president of the Shoshone County High School Science Club returned the gesture. It was the last time he ever saw the brightest student he would ever teach.
Kevin followed the train about fifty yards and then stopped as it neared a bend. He knew that some passengers would have a chilly ride to Wardner, Harrison, and even Spokane, but he knew they would be safe. When the train disappeared from sight, he turned to other things.
He thought of Sarah, of course, as he had done all night. He hadn't seen her on the train and, frankly, hadn't expected to. It was not her style to leave others in need, and he had little doubt that there were many in need at City Hospital.
The question was whether to seek her now or continue to help others. He found his answer when he assessed the rest of the town.
When he looked to the west, Kevin saw the bright lights of houses, businesses, and the hospital. The medical facility had not only withstood the threat of fire but had also retained its ability to function. He knew from a simple glance that the doctors, nurses, and volunteers would continue to work through the night helping the sick and the wounded get through the greatest calamity in the region's history.
When he looked to the south and the east, he saw other lights. The fires that had destroyed several downtown blocks now moved without mercy on what remained of the city's industrial core. Though Kevin knew that most of the damage had been done, he also knew that the flames weren't finished. Most fires did not go quickly and quietly. They lingered. They caused trouble until man or nature put them out with overwhelming force.
Kevin collected his jacket, which he had put on a post, and walked toward Seventh Street. When he reached the headquarters of the city's eastern defense, he looked for work and found it quickly. A fireman directed him to the courthouse, where officials and others chopped away burning windows and doorframes to keep the new building from going up.
He later sprayed buildings with hoses, carried fire equipment from place to place, and brought bottled beer to those who had fought the fires for two hours but had no access to safe drinking water. He did all that and more until midnight, when the flames finally subsided, the mayor declared martial law, and the city of Wallace got a much-needed reprieve.
At twelve thirty Kevin met up with other firefighters at Seventh and Pearl and helped them lead about thirty people to nearby hotels and boarding houses. Though he knew from Walking Walt that the Great Fire of 1910 had killed only two Wallace residents, he also knew that it had left hundreds homeless, including these late arrivals.
When he finished guiding the last of the refugees to shelter, Kevin rejoined the conscripts, whom he now called friends, and shook more than twenty hands. Several men invited him to join them for a beer at the Shooting Star, which had sustained only superficial damage and continued to operate well into the Sabbath.
Kevin politely refused the invitation. As much as he wanted to celebrate the saving of a town, or at least two thirds of it, he simply wasn't up for a drink – or anything but rest.
So he pondered his options, which boiled down to breaking into Maude's house and reclaiming his room, going to the hospital, or finding the first available bed. He quickly dismissed the first option and slowly dismissed the second. Figuring that Sarah was most likely fast asleep on a hospital cot, he decided to put off their reunion a few more hours.
Kevin took one last look at the dying fires to the east and then walked groggily to the five-story Samuels Hotel at Seventh and Cedar. Once inside, he proceeded to
the lobby and fell face first on a sofa. He had done his part for God and country. At one in the morning, it was time for sleep.
CHAPTER 74: KEVIN
Sunday, August 21, 1910
Kevin joined the living when an old woman poked him with her cane and asked him to get up. She apparently had little sympathy for a man who had stayed up half the night trying to save her town. She wanted a soft place to sit, and she wanted it now.
"OK. OK. Give me a minute."
Kevin sat upright, rubbed his eyes, and stared at the woman. She looked older than God and meaner than a rattlesnake but apparently had no interest in causing him trouble. When he slid over to one side of the sofa, she claimed the other and leaned her cane on a nearby table.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome. Do you know what time it is?" he asked.
"I believe it's nine."
Kevin looked at a clock near the hotel's front desk and saw that she was right. It was nine o'clock – or at least nine o'clock if you rounded up to the nearest minute.
"Do you know if the fires are out?"
"They are," she said.
"Are you all right?"
"I am."
"Do you need anything?"
"I don't."
Kevin smiled wearily and gazed at the woman, who wore her gray hair in a tightly stretched bun and stared blankly at a wall through thick granny glasses. He saw he wasn't going to have a meaningful conversation with this one.
"OK. I just thought I'd ask."
Kevin got up from the sofa, stretched his legs, and walked around the large lobby, mostly to get his bearings and remind himself that he was still alive. When his head and body seemed back in working order, he ran a hand through his hair, grabbed his jacket and his hat, and approached the desk, where a harried clerk checked off names on some kind of list.
"Can I help you?" the clerk asked.
"I just have a question. Do you know if the west side sustained any damage?"
"I'm not aware of anything significant."
"I'm particularly interested in City Hospital."
"It's still in one piece, as far as I know."
"That's good. Thanks for the information."
Kevin had been too tired to think about anything when he had collapsed on the sofa, but now he was as focused as ever on doing something he probably should have done last night. It was time to walk to the corner of Cedar, head six blocks west, and carry off the woman who would be his bride. He put his hat on his head and stepped out the door onto Seventh Street.
The scene outside blew him away. He saw the courthouse and a furniture store but little else. The east end of Wallace was a smoldering ruin.
He remembered from a brochure he had read that the fire had done its damage in less than two hours, destroying 150 homes and numerous businesses, including the iron works, a hardware store, a general mercantile, and a hotel between nine and eleven. Even from a distance, he could see that the brochure writer got it right. If anything, the devastation looked worse.
Kevin could also see a host of contradictions. A few brick buildings lay in fragments while many more vulnerable landmarks, such as trees, telephone poles, overhead wires, and even an oil tank, remained largely intact. When he reached the grounds of the courthouse, he saw a melted beer bottle sitting atop a barely tinged insurance policy.
If there was a silver lining to all of the property damage, it was that many property owners had managed to buy fire insurance while the buying was good. He knew from what he had read that residents would rebuild the town in just a few years.
Kevin returned to Seventh and Cedar and commenced the short walk to the hospital. As he moved past the hotel and a bank that shared the same block, he saw a sheet of paper blow across the street and stop at his feet. The flier advertised a play.
The flier triggered a flood of memories of an April night, a night he had gone to dinner and a show with Sarah, Andy, and Sadie. He remembered the joy on Sadie's face when she had shared her knowledge of British battleships and the joy on Sarah's face when he had kissed her for the first time under a comet-streaked sky.
Kevin realized then just how important his time-traveling trips had been. They had been more than thrilling adventures that had given him a front-row seat to history. They had been life-changing experiences. Because of the things he had done here and the friendships he had formed, he had discovered his personal and professional potential. Better yet, he had found love.
Kevin thought about the life he'd had for twenty-two years, the life he'd had in Wallace in 1910, and the life he wanted to lead. He knew there would be challenges ahead, starting with how he would introduce his turn-of-the-last-century fiancée to his information-age family. He could just imagine the howls if and when he told them the truth.
He knew also that some of these challenges might last months or even years. He wasn't just bringing a girl home to Mother; he was bringing a human being into another century. On many occasions he had tried to imagine how Sarah would adjust to the constantly changing advances, norms, and expectations of the new millennium. Would she adapt quickly? He didn't know.
What he did know is that he could not imagine this life, or any life, without Sarah at his side. She had become the center of his universe, and at 9:30 a.m. on August 21, 1910, the center of that universe was just two blocks away.
CHAPTER 75: KEVIN
Kevin breathed a sigh of relief as he approached City Hospital. The place had not been touched. Neither had the grounds around it nor the trees behind it. Had the fire continued to race down Placer Creek, it would have destroyed the building and many of the people inside. Perhaps it had a conscience, after all.
That's not to say that the hospital didn't look different. It did. Discarded bandages, bottles, and other debris littered the walkway leading to the front door. They reminded visitors that even a facility that had avoided the flames had endured a difficult night.
Kevin walked through a nearly empty lobby, said hello to a man he knew, and continued to the reception desk. A nurse who didn't look a day over eighteen greeted him as he approached.
"Good morning. How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a woman who volunteered here last night," Kevin said. "She would have come in around six thirty or seven. Her name is Sarah Thompson."
"That name doesn't sound familiar, Mr. . . ."
"Johnson. Kevin Johnson. I'm Miss Thompson's fiancé. We parted company last night and agreed to meet here."
"I just started this morning and don't know many people," the nurse said. "Let me see if the other nurses know anything."
The nurse left her station and retreated down one of two hallways that provided access to the rest of the facility. She returned five minutes later with an older woman Kevin knew by face but not by name. The woman looked like she had seen a ghost.
"Are you Mr. Johnson?" the older nurse asked.
"I am. Like I told your colleague, I'm looking for Sarah Thompson. She volunteered here last night while I went out and chased fires. I'm supposed to meet her here."
Kevin feared something was wrong the second the older woman lowered her eyes. He knew something was wrong when he saw her try to hold back tears.
"Miss Thompson did volunteer here last night, but she's no longer a volunteer," the woman said. "She's a patient."
"She's a what?"
"She's a patient. She's being treated in Room 15."
Kevin had not panicked once in several hours of fighting fires and saving lives Saturday night, but he panicked now. He threw his hands on the desk and glanced around the reception area for any sign that might direct him to Room 15.
"She's down this hallway," the older nurse said. "I'll take you."
Kevin prayed hard as the nurse led him thirty feet to an open door. He didn't know whether the prayers would do any good, but he feared he would need them. Nurses didn't hold back tears over cuts and scrapes or even broken legs.
When he stepped into the room, he sa
w the scene he had feared. Sarah lay in a bed, eyes closed, as four people sat in chairs and maintained a vigil. They included the Marshalls, Marie Denton, and Dr. Carson Payne, who Kevin had met at Josh Miller's funeral. The women looked at Kevin with tear-filled eyes. The men simply looked away.
"What's going on here?" Kevin asked in a forceful, angry voice.
"You'd better take a seat," the doctor said.
Kevin ignored the others in the room and raced to an empty chair at Sarah's side. He saw her turn her head as he sat down.
"Kevin, is that you?"
"It's me, honey. I'm here."
He grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently but felt no response. He could sense weakness that he had never seen nor felt.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
Sarah shook her head feebly as she struggled to breathe. She opened her eyes slightly only after Kevin applied more pressure to her fingers.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
Kevin kissed her hand and then lowered it to the bed as he wrestled with several emotions, including fear, sadness, frustration, and rage. He yielded to the last two when he scanned the room and saw several people who owed him some answers.
"You stay with Sarah," he barked at Bertha Marshall. "I want the rest of you outside."
Payne opened the door and held it open as Kevin, Marie, and George Marshall walked through. He then closed the door and met the others in a nearby waiting area.
Kevin didn't wait a second before going on the offensive.
"When I left Sarah last night she was strong and healthy. She walked to this building to volunteer her time. Now she's in a bed gasping for air. What happened?"
"She tried to save us from the fire," George said as he struggled to maintain eye contact.
"She did what?"
"She ran into my house to save Bertha and me, but we had already escaped out the back door. I didn't even know she was in the house until I heard a scream. I pulled her out with the help of a neighbor."
The Fire (Northwest Passage Book 4) Page 34
