Lonesome Land

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER VIII. THE PRAIRIE FIRE

  A calamity expected, feared, and guarded against by a whole community doessometimes occur, and with a suddenness which finds the victims unpreparedin spite of all their elaborate precautions. Compared with the importanceof saving the range from fire, it was but a trivial thing which took nearlyevery man who dwelt in Lonesome Land to town on a certain day when the windblew free from out the west. They were weary of watching for the fire whichdid not come licking through the prairie grass, and a special campaigntrain bearing a prospective President of our United States was expected topass through Hope that afternoon.

  Since all trains watered at the red tank by the creek, there would be afive-minute stop, during which the prospective President would stand uponthe rear platform and deliver a three-minute address--a few gracious wordsto tickle the self-esteem of his listeners--and would employ the other twominutes in shaking the hand of every man, woman, and child who could reachhim before the train pulled out. There would be a cheer or two given as hewas borne away--and there would be something to talk about afterward in thesaloons. Scarce a man of then had ever seen a President, and it was worthriding far to look upon a man who even hoped for so exalted a position.

  Manley went because he intended to vote for the man, and called it an actof loyalty to his party to greet the candidate; also because it took verylittle, now that haying was over and work did not press, to start him downthe trail in the direction of Hope.

  At the Blumenthall ranch no man save the cook remained at home, and he onlybecause he had a boil on his neck which sapped his interest in all thingselse. Polycarp Jenks was in town by nine o'clock, and only one man remainedat the Wishbone. That man was Kent, and he stayed because, according to hisoutraged companions, he was an ornery cuss, and his bump of patriotism wasa hollow in his skull. Kent had told them, one and all, that he wouldn'tride twenty-five miles to shake hands with the Deity Himself--which,however, is not a verbatim report of his statement. The prospectivePresident had not done anything so big, he said, that a man should want tobreak his neck getting to town just to watch him go by. He was dead surehe, for one, wasn't going to make a fool of himself over any swell-headedpolitician.

  Still, he saddled and rode with his fellows for a mile or two, and calledthem unseemly names in a facetious tone; and the men of the Wishboneanswered his taunts with shrill yells of derision when he swung out of thetrail and jogged away to the south, and finally passed out of sight in thehaze which still hung depressingly over the land.

  Oddly enough, while all the able-bodied men save Kent were waitinghilariously in Hope to greet, with enthusiasm, the brief presence of theman who would fain be their political chief, the train which bore himeastward scattered fiery destruction abroad as it sped across their range,four minutes late and straining to make up the time before the next stop.

  They had thought the railroad safe at last, what with the guards and thenumerous burned patches where the fire had jumped the plowed boundary andblackened the earth to the fence which marked the line of the right of way,and, in some places, had burned beyond. It took a flag-flying special trainof that bitter Presidential campaign to find a weak spot in the guard, andto send a spark straight into the thickest bunch of wiry sand grass, wherethe wind could fan it to a blaze and then seize it and bend the tall flametongues until they licked around the next tuft of grass, and the next,and the next--until the spark was grown to a long, leaping line of fire,sweeping eastward with the relentless rush of a tidal wave upon a low-lyingbeach.

  Arline Hawley was, perhaps, the only citizen of Hope who had deliberatelychosen to absent herself from the crowd standing, in perspiringexpectation, upon the depot platform. She had permitted Minnie, the "breed"girl, to go, and had even grudgingly consented to her using a box ofcornstarch as first aid to her complexion. Arline had not approved,however, of either the complexion or the occasion.

  "What you want to go and plaster your face up with starch for, gits me,"she had criticised frankly. "Seems to me you're homely enough withoutlookin' silly, into the bargain. Nobody's going to look at you, no matterwhat you do. They're out to rubber at a higher mark than you be. And whatthey expect to see so great, gits me. He ain't nothing but a man--and, landknows, men is common enough, and ornery enough, without runnin' like a bandof sheep to see one. I don't see as he's any better, jest because he'srunnin' for President; if he gits beat, he'll want to hide his head in ahole in the ground. Look at my Walt. _He_ was the biggest man in Hope, andso swell-headed he wouldn't so much as pack a bucket of water all fall, orchop up a tie for kindlin'--till the day after 'lection. And what was hethen but a frazzled-out back number, that everybody give the laugh--till heup and blowed his brains out! Any fool can _run_ for President--it's thefeller that gits there that counts.

  "Say, that red-white-'n'-blue ribbon sure looks fierce on that greendress--but I reckon blood will tell, even if it's Injun blood. G'wan, oryou'll be late and have your trouble for your pay. But hurry back soon'sthe agony's over; the bread'll be ready to mix out."

  Even after the girl was gone, her finery a-flutter in the sweeping westwind, Arline muttered aloud her opinion of men, and particularly ofpoliticians who rode about in special trains and expected the homage oftheir fellows.

  She was in the back yard, taking her "white clothes" off the line, when thespecial came puffing slowly into town. To emphasize her disapproval of thewhole system of politics, she turned her back square toward it, and laidviolent hold of a sheet. There was a smudge of cinders upon its whitesurface, and it crushed crisply under her thumb with the unmistakable feelof burned grass.

  "Now, what in time--" began Arline aloud, after the manner of women whosetongues must keep pace with their thoughts. "That there feels freshand"--with a sniff at the spot--"_smells_ fresh."

  With the wisdom of much experience she faced the hot wind and sniffedagain, while her eyes searched keenly the sky line, which was the raggedtop of the bluff marking the northern boundary of the great prairie land. Atrifle darker it was there, and there was a certain sullen glow discernibleonly to eyes trained to read the sky for warning signals of snow, fire, andflood.

  "That's a fire, and it's this side of the river. And if it is, then therailroad set it, and there ain't a livin' thing to stop it. An' the wind'sjest right--" A curdled roll of smoke showed plainly for a moment in thehaze. She crammed her armful of sheets into the battered willow basket,threw two clothespins hastily toward the same receptacle, and ran.

  The special had just come to a stop at the depot. The cattlemen, cowboys,and townspeople were packed close around the rear of the train, their backsto the wind and the disaster sweeping down upon them, their browned facesupturned to the sleek, carefully groomed man in the light-gray suit, with aflaunting, prairie sunflower ostentatiously displayed in his buttonhole andwith his campaign smile upon his lips and dull boredom looking out of hiseyes.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," he was saying, as he smiled, "you favoured oneswhose happy lot it is to live in the most glorious State of our gloriousunion, I greet you, and I envy you--"

  Arline, with her soiled kitchen apron, her ragged coil of dust-brown hair,her work-drawn face and faded eyes which blazed with excitement, pushedunceremoniously through the crowd and confronted him undazzled.

  "Mister Candidate, you better move on and give these men a chancet to savetheir prope'ty," she cried shrilly. "They got something to do besides standaround here and listen at you throwin' campaign loads. The hull country'safire back of us, and the wind bringin' it down on a long lope."

  She turned from the astounded candidate and glared at the startled crowd,every one of whom she knew personally.

  "I must say I got my opinion of a bunch that'll stand here swallowin' a lotof hot air, while their coat tails is most ready to ketch afire!" Her voicewas rasping, and it carried to the farthest of them. "You make me _tired!_Political slush, all of it--and the hull darned country a-blazin' behindyou!"

  The crowd moved uneasily, then scattere
d away from the shelter of the depotto where they could snuff inquiringly the wind, like dogs in the leash.

  "That's right," yelled Blumenthall, of the Double Diamond. "There's a fire,sure as hell!" He started to run.

  The man behind him hesitated but a second, then gripped his hat against thepush of the wind, and began running. Presently men, women, and childrenwere running, all in one direction.

  The prospective President stood agape upon the platform of hisbunting-draped car, his chosen allies grouped foolishly around him. Itwas the first time men had turned from his presence with his gracious,flatteringly noncommittal speech unuttered, his hand unshaken, his smiling,bowing departure unmarked by cheers growing fainter as he receded. OnlyArline tarried, her thin fingers gripping the arm of her "breed girl," lestshe catch the panic and run with the others.

  Arline tilted back her head upon her scrawny shoulders and eyed theprospective President with antagonism unconcealed.

  "I got something to say to you before you go," she announced, in herrasping voice, with its querulous note. "I want to tell you that thechances are a hundred to one you set that fire yourself, with your enginethat's haulin' you around over the country, so you can jolly men intovotin' for you. Your train's the only one over the road since noon, andthat fire started from the railroad. The hull town's liable to burn, unlessit can be stopped the other side the creek, to say nothing of the range,that feeds our stock, and the hay, and maybe houses--and maybe _people!_"

  She caught her breath, and almost shrieked the last three words, as adreadful probability flashed into her mind.

  "I know a woman--just a girl--and she's back there twenty mile--_alone_,and her man's here to look at you go by! I hope you git beat, just forthat!

  "If this town ketches afire and burns up, I hope you run into the ditchbefore you git ten mile! If you was a man, and them fellers with you wasmen, you'd hold up your train and help save the town. Every feller counts,when it comes to fightin' fire."

  She stopped and eyed the group keenly. "But you won't. I don't reckon youever done anything with them hands in your life that would grind a littlehonest dirt into your knuckles and under them shiny nails!"

  The prospective President turned red to his ears, and hastily removed hisimmaculate hands from where they had been resting upon the railing. And hedid not hold up the train while he and his allies stopped to help save thetown. The whistle gave a warning toot, the bell jangled, and the train slidaway toward the next town, leaving Arline staring, tight-lipped, after it.

  "The darned chump--he'd 'a' made votes hand over fist if he'd called mybluff; but, I knew he wouldn't, soon as I seen his face. He ain't manenough."

  "He's real good-lookin'," sighed Minnie, feebly attempting to release herarm from the grasp of her mistress. "And did you notice the fellow with thebig yellow mustache? He kept eyin' me--"

  "Well, I don't wonder--but it ain't anything to your credit," snappedArline, facing her toward the hotel, "You do look like sin a-flyin', inthat green dress, and with all that starch on your face. You git along tothe house and mix that bread, first thing you do, and start a fire. And ifI ain't back by that time, you go ahead with the supper; you know what togit. We're liable to have all the tables full, so you set all of 'em."

  She was hurrying away, when the girl called to her.

  "Did you mean Mis' Fleetwood, when you said that about the woman burning?And do you s'pose she's really in the fire?"

  "You shut up and go along!" cried Arline roughly, under the stress of herown fears. "How in time's anybody going to tell, that's twenty miles away?"

  She left the street and went hurrying through back yards and across vacantlots, crawled through a wire fence, and so reached, without any roundaboutmethod, the trail which led to the top of the bluff, where the whole townwas breathlessly assembling. Her flat-chested, un-corseted figure mergedinto the haze as she half trotted up the steep road, swinging her arms likea man, her skirts flapping in the wind. As she went, she kept muttering toherself:

  "If she really is caught by the fire--and her alone--and Man more'n halfdrunk--" She whirled, and stood waiting for the horseman who was gallopingup the trail behind her. "You going home, Man? You don't think it couldgit to your place, do you?" She shouted the questions at him as he poundedpast.

  Manley, sallow white with terror, shook his head vaguely and swung hisheavy quirt down upon the flanks of his horse. Arline lowered her headagainst the dust kicked into her face as he went tearing past her, andkept doggedly on. Some one came rattling up behind her with empty barrelsdancing erratically in a wagon, and she left the trail to make room. Thehostler from their own stable it was who drove, and at the creek ahead ofthem he stopped to fill the barrels. Arline passed him by and kept on.

  At the brow of the hill the women and children were gathered in awhimpering group. Arline joined them and gazed out over the prairie, wherethe smoke was rolling toward them, and, lifting here and there, let a flareof yellow through.

  "It'll show up fine at dark," a fat woman in a buggy remarked. "There'snothing grander to look at than a prairie fire at night. I do hope," sheadded weakly, "it don't do no great damage!"

  "Oh, it won't," Arline cut in, with savage sarcasm, panting from her climb."It's bound to sweep the hull country slick an' clean, and maybe burn usall out--but that won't matter, so long as it looks purty after dark!"

  "They say it's a good ten mile away yet," another woman volunteeredencouragingly. "They'll git it stopped, all right. There's lots of men hereto fight it, thank goodness!"

  Arline moved on to where a plow was being hurriedly unloaded from a wagon,the horses hitched to it, and a man already grasping the handles in anaggressive manner. As she came up he went off, yelling his opinions andturning a shallow, uneven furrow for a back fire. Within five minutesanother plow was tearing up the sod in an opposite direction.

  "If it jumps here, or they can't turn it, the creek'll help a lot," someone was yelling.

  The plowed furrows lengthened, the horses sweating and throwing their headsup and down with the discomfort of the pace they must keep. Whiplasheswhistled and the drivers urged them on with much shouting. Blumenthall, cutoff, with his men, from reaching his own ranch, was directing a groupabout to set a back fire. His voice boomed as if he were shouting across amilling herd. A roll of his eye brought his attention momentarily from thework, and he ran toward a horseman who was gesticulating wildly and seemedon the point of riding straight toward the fire.

  "Hi! Fleetwood, we need you here!" he yelled. "You can't get home now, andyou know it. The fire's past your place already; you'd have to ride throughit, you fool! Hey? Your wife home alone--_alone!_"

  He stood absolutely still and stared out to the southwest, where the smokecloud was rolling closer with every breath. He drew his fingers across hisforehead and glanced at the men around him, also stunned into inactivity bythe tragedy behind the words.

  "Well--get to work, men. We've got to save the town. Fine time to burnguards--when a fire's loping up on you! But that's the way it goes,generally. This ought to've been done a month ago. Put it off and put itoff--while they haggle over bids--Brinberg, you and I'll string the fire.The rest of you watch it don't jump back. And, say!" he shouted to thegroup around Manley. "Don't let that crazy fool start off now. Put him towork. Best thing for him. But--my God, that's awful!" He did not shout thelast sentence. He spoke so that only the nearest man heard him--heard, andnodded dumb assent.

  Manley raged, sitting helpless there upon his horse. They would not let himride out toward that sweeping wave of fire. He could not have gone fivemiles toward home before he met the flames. He stood in the stirrupsand shook his fists impotently. He strained his eyes to see what it wasimpossible for him to see--his ranch and Val, and how they had fared. Hepictured mentally the guard he had burned beyond the coulee to protect themfrom just this danger, and his heart squeezed tight at the realization ofhis own shiftlessness. That guard! A twelve-foot strip of half-burned sod,with tufts of grass l
eft standing here and there--and he had meant to burnit wider, and had put it off from day to day, until now. _Now!_

  His clenched fist dropped upon the saddle horn, and he stared dully at therushing, rolling smoke and fire. It was not _that_ he saw--it was Val, withcinder-blackened ruffles, grimy face, and yellow hair falling in looselocks upon her cheeks--locks which she must stop to push out of her eyes,so that she could see where to swing the sodden sack while she helpedhim--him, Manley, who had permitted her to do work it for none but a man'shard muscles, so that he might finish the sooner and ride to town upon someflimsy pretext. And he could not even reach her now--or the place where shehad been!

  The group had thinned around him, for there was something to do besidesgive sympathy to a man bereaved. Unless they bestirred themselves, theymight all be in need of sympathy before the day was done. Manley took hiseyes from the coming fire and glanced around him, saw that he was alone,and, with a despairing oath, wheeled his horse and raced back down the hillto town, as if fiends rode behind the saddle.

  At the saloon opposite the Hawley Hotel he drew up; rather, his horsestopped there of his own accord, as if he were quite at home at thatparticular hitching pole. Manley dismounted heavily and lurched inside. Theplace was deserted save for Jim, who was paid to watch the wares of hisemployer, and was now standing upon a chair at the window, that he mightsee over the top of Hawley's coal shed and glimpse the hilltop beyond. Jimstepped down and came toward him.

  "How's the fire?" he demanded anxiously. "Think she'll swing over thisway?"

  But Manley had sunk into a chair and buried his face in his arms, foldedupon a whisky-spotted card table.

  "Val--my Val!" he wailed, "Back there alone--get me a drink," he addedthickly, "or I'll go crazy!"

  Jim hastily poured a full glass, and stood over him anxiously.

  "Here it is. Drink 'er down, and brace up. What you mean? Is your wife--"

  Manley lifted his head long enough to gulp the whisky, then dropped itagain upon his arms and groaned.