Prairie Fire

by Kayt C Peck

  All three fire trucks stopped near the group. Firefighters got out of the trucks. At two of the trucks, firefighters worked some magic at the controls on the side. From one truck, a firefighter, holding a hose and nozzle, took a position in a metal cage in the bed of the truck. On the other, an odd nozzle on the front bumper began to move as though it had a mind of its own. Judy watched in fascination as each truck took a position at the rear of both flanks of the fire and moved slowly forward, spraying a fan of water on the flames, putting the entire fire out, moving from back to front.

  The third, smaller truck had a medical emblem on the side. It pulled close to the group of friends and neighbors. A man wearing a white helmet and a woman in a blue helmet exited the truck and pulled medical equipment from a compartment on the side.

  “Make room please,” the man said as he walked toward Harold.

  All but Martha moved aside. She stayed close, holding Harold’s relatively unburned hand. The man knelt beside Harold, looking closely at his burned back, not touching.

  “Harold Kenton, what the heck you been doing?” the man asked.

  Harold began to shiver uncontrollably. “Getting myself charcoaled. Can’t you tell?”

  “How do, Ted?” Martha said.

  “Better than your husband,” the man answered.

  Once Martha used his name, Judy knew who he was. Ted Rome had been Dulson fire chief for as long as she could remember.

  The woman in the blue helmet arrived, carrying two packs of medical equipment, one marked “Burn Kit” in large letters. She wore an orange vest that had a blue EMT emblem over the left front pocket and different gadgets filling almost every pocket. She donned surgical gloves and gently pulled away burned fragments of Harold’s shirt.

  “What you think, Sally?” the chief asked.

  “Call an air ambulance,” the EMT answered.

  Ted pulled a small electronic box that Judy didn’t recognize from off his belt, punching a button to turn it on. He then took the radio from another pouch on his belt. “This is Dulson One to Dispatch. Call air evac and tell them to put a bird in the air.”

  “Dispatch copies and will call now. What are the coordinates?” came the crackly answer over the radio.

  “Have them launch the bird toward Dulson and then standby for coordinates,” Ted responded. “Advise air medivac that we have a 50ish male with first, second, and possibly third degree burns to his back.”

  There was pause of a few moments as Ted stared anxiously at the mysterious electronic device. Judy realized it must be a Global Positioning System (GPS) unit.

  “Air ambulance has confirmed message and anticipates being airborne within five minutes,” the radio crackled.

  “Coordinates for Landing Zone are…” Ted responded, giving a series of numbers that meant nothing to the ranchers surrounding him.

  When dispatch repeated and confirmed the coordinates, Ted turned to the paramedic.

  “You got this, Sally?” he asked.

  “I got it, Chief,” she responded.

  Ted walked to the parked truck, driving it away to join the other two trucks as they sought out and drowned hot spots in the still smoldering field.

  Judy turned her attention from the chief to the paramedic, a woman she vaguely recognized as a teacher in town. She had no idea the woman was also in the fire department. As they all watched, the woman looked more closely at Harold’s back, and then gave him a quick examination from head to toe, identifying the knee injury as well as the burns. Then she carefully removed the burned material of Harold’s shirt from his back.

  “My name’s Sally,” she said. She looked at Martha. “Are you his wife?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  A whole series of questions followed, about Harold’s medical history and medications. As they talked, the woman used a spray bottle from the burn kit to wash his back as best she could in the dusty field, and then placed clean gauze atop the burns, securing the ends on unburned areas using cloth medical tape. Judy was astounded at the level of professionalism. At one point, the woman turned to Brad and described what compartment in the truck he would find a blanket to cover his shivering father. Then she instructed Martha to lie beside the shivering Harold on his relatively un-burned front.

  “We need to keep him warm,” the woman said.

  “Aren’t you a teacher at Dulson High?” Judy asked.

  “Yes,” Sally answered.

  Kathleen and Judy exchanged glances.

  “You mean you’re a volunteer firefighter?” Kathleen asked.

  Sally rocked back on her heels, pulling an automatic wrist blood pressure cuff from the medical bag. She laughed.

  “I’m a volunteer, yes, but I prefer to do the EMS work. Others prefer the fire fighting.”

  “But…but…” Brad stuttered, “You’re so professional.”

  Sally ignored him, instead focusing on taking Harold’s vital signs, writing the results on the surgical glove on her left hand. She pulled a small oxygen bottle from the bag, and fitted the mask on Harold, carefully removing his charred Stetson.

  “Looks to me like you should thank your hat for keeping your head safe,” Sally observed.

  “Nothing like a good Stetson,” Harold answered, his voice shaky.

  Sally glanced at Brad. “If you’re called to do this work, you have to train. Just because we’re not paid, it doesn’t mean it’s not important to do our job right,” Sally said.

  Judy looked at the middle-aged teacher in front of her, a woman whom she barely noticed before. She looked at her with a whole new eye now.

  With a motherly gesture, Sally brushed a piece of charred grass from Harold’s face. “When the paramedics get here, they’ll start an IV. That should help a lot. I’m afraid I’ve done all I can do.

  “You’ve…” Brad choked on his words, fighting tears. “You’ve done a lot.”

  There was nothing to do but wait. Judy looked around in the relative calm of the moment. She saw Curley, sitting on the tailgate of his pickup, his sweat-stained hat beside him and his head in his hands. His bald head, lacking the once abundant hair that gave him his nickname, was turning red in the sun. Judy walked to him and Kathleen followed.

  “You okay, Curley?”

  “God damn, I could have killed you all,” Curley answered.

  “What are you talking about?” Judy asked.

  Curley motioned to where the firefighters worked in teams to expose and then extinguish hotspots. “Did you see what they did? They started at the back of the fire and worked forward. If I’d left you all at the back of the fire instead taking you right to the head, Harold wouldn’t have got burned.”

  Judy sat on the tailgate beside him. “Curley, you just did what we’ve always done. We did the same thing on other fires around, and it worked. Maybe…maybe we just weren’t up to a fire like this.”

  Curley looked at Judy with watery eyes. “Harold’s burned because of me.”

  Kathleen stepped to the older man and hugged him hard. “Curley, don’t do this to yourself.”

  “She’s right, Curley. All any of us can do is our best. If you made a mistake, it’s one we all made,” Judy said.

  The distant sound of a helicopter diverted their attention to the sky. Ted Rome jumped into the smaller fire truck and drove back to where the group waited around Harold Kenton. The fire chief parked then exited the truck. They watched as he tightened the chinstrap on his helmet and checked to make sure none of his clothing or equipment was loose before stepping to an open, level area of the field. He checked the wind direction and then, with his back to the wind, walked to the center of the landing area and raised his arms in a V.

  “These folks know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t have made that mistake.” Curley suddenly focused on Judy’s face. “What happened to your eye?”

  “Just hazards of a hard day,” Judy answered. Some piece of her normally happy spirit whispered a silent giggle. She found herself wondering if she’d ever have the
chance to give Brad a hard time for blacking her eye.

  Chapter Two

  Trials and Tribulations

  There’s a joke in Amber, Texas. They say when the Second Coming is here, folks in Amber will have an extra hour because you can’t get to Heaven or Hell either one without going through Dallas first. Yes, if anyone wants a direct flight out of Amber, they better be going to Dallas because that’s the only choice.

  Folks from rural Dulson County, well, they’ll have yet another hour and a half to two hours because they have to drive to Amber first.

  For Harold Kenton, he found Hell lying in a burnt field just miles from the home that had always been his Heaven. At least he was saved the two-hour drive to Amber for his medical upgrade from Hell to Purgatory. The helicopter shortened that time to thirty-five minutes. Even in a pain-filled stupor, he managed to enjoy his first helicopter flight, especially with the morphine the flight nurse gave him. Within moments of the morphine injection to his IV, Harold began to hope that he actually might live. When he lay huddled, waiting for the fire to reach him, Harold prayed to live. For a time as the fire consumed him, Harold prayed to die. The burns were a pain he never imagined possible.

  They let Martha fly shotgun up front with the pilot. Despite the flight nurse’s efforts to keep him firmly on his stomach to minimize pain to his burned back, Harold managed to roll partially on his side so he could see his wife.

  “Martha honey, ain’t this a fine adventure?” Harold said, speaking as loud as he could over the noise of the helicopter, his voice shaky, despite his efforts to hide his pain.

  Martha sat turned to face her husband, her hand resting on his right foot, which a thin thermal blanket covered. His clothes and boots had already been cut away and were now in a plastic bag behind the seat Martha occupied. The other foot was inaccessible, hampered by the leg-length splint the nurse used to protect his injured knee.

  Martha squeezed his foot gently. She’d watched, anxious but quiet, as the nurse treated her husband. It was such a relief to see his uncontrollable shivering stop and to hear the sigh she knew meant at least some relief from pain.

  “Harold Kenton, you just lie still and do what the nurse tells you,” Martha said.

  “What you seeing up there, Martha girl?” Harold asked.

  “What?” she responded.

  “Hell woman, we’ll be paying for this helicopter ride for the rest of our lives, and I can’t see nothing back here. Tell me what you see.”

  The nurse laughed and placed a gentle hand on Harold’s shoulder. “Mr. Kenton,” she said. “Patient attitude means a lot in the healing process. I predict you’re going to do well.”

  Martha chuckled, wiping away a tear of relief. “Harold Kenton, you are a handful.”

  “Why you married me, isn’t it?” Harold took a deep, rattily breath. The morphine numbed the pain, but nothing could eliminate it. Harold wondered how many thousands of nerve endings now throbbed from the burns.

  “Talk to me, woman. I want something else to think about,” he said.

  Martha shifted her position and looked out the window, talking louder because she was no longer facing her husband.

  “Well, look there,” she said. “We’re already over the Canadian River. It would take us an hour to get here driving. Guess the good spring rains helped the whole country. More water than usual in the river, and the pastures look darned green.”

  “Tell me more,” Harold said.

  Martha shifted her focus. “Up this high, I can already see the skyline of Amber.”

  “You mean all two skyscrapers?” Harold said.

  Martha gently thumped his foot. “You hush. One of the buildings I can see is University Hospital, and you better be darned glad it’s there.”

  “I am,” he said.

  The flight nurse shifted position and rearranged the IV bag and other equipment. She gently pushed Harold back onto his stomach. “We need to get ready to land,” the nurse said.

  In unison, Martha and Harold both whispered, “Thank God,” each hoping the other could not see nor hear the extent of their fear.

  aaAA

  When Judy and Kathleen arrived at the hospital, Brad and his mother were sitting in the ICU waiting room. Both the Kentons were covered in soot from fighting the fire, although they’d used the hospital restrooms to scrub most of the black off of face and hands. Judy pulled a small rolling suitcase. A petite blonde, looking a tad stunned and confused, walked behind her. When the blonde, Brad’s young wife, saw her husband, she rushed to him. Brad stood. They held each other for a long time, saying nothing.

  Judy blushed, feeling like a voyeur. She cleared her throat and took a seat beside Martha. Kathleen knelt in front of the older woman and held Martha’s hand.

  “How is he?” Kathleen asked.

  “Doctor said it could be worse,” Martha explained. “He said Harold was smart, curling in a ball like he did. Just some minor first degree burns to his arms and hands, and his hat, boots, and jeans kept him from anything but a small area of second degree burns on his buttocks. His thin shirt didn’t help all. They say there’s a mix of second and third degree burns on his back, about twenty percent of his body. He may need some skin grafts.”

  “They going to keep him here or send him on to the burn center in Lubbock?” Judy asked.

  Brad and Julie had finally separated, although she was wrapped around his right arm as they took seats across from the others.

  “For now, they’ll keep him here,” Brad said. “He’s stabilizing, and they just want to keep him hydrated and as comfortable as possible for the first twenty-four hours. Doctor said it’s not an immediate life threatening situation and that the additional travel would probably do more harm than good.”

  “Besides,” Martha added. “The knee’s pretty bad. Doc told us all the stuff tore loose, but I can’t remember the names. When he’s well enough from the burns, he’s looking at a knee replacement. There’s a fine surgeon here who specializes in knee replacements.”

  “Damn! Poor Harold,” Judy said.

  “Have you been in to see him?” Kathleen asked.

  “Every couple of hours they let two go in to see him in ICU,” Brad answered. “He’s mostly sleeping. Good drugs, I guess, and when he is awake he’s pretty loopy.”

  “I haven’t seen him this toasted since before you were born, son,” Martha said.

  Brad looked at his mother, slack-jawed. “Dad got drunk?”

  Martha chuckled, a soft look in her eye, a look of a fond memory. “When we were engaged and in college, one summer Harold decided he was going to be a rodeo bronc rider, but he was a country boy hanging with experienced rodeo circuit riders. Oh, he’d had a beer or two before, but it was his first introduction to whiskey. When they went up to Dalhart for the XIT Rodeo and Reunion, his buddy Carlton called me and said I better come get him. By the time I got there, Harold was stripped down to his jockey shorts, Stetson and boots, standing on the tailgate of a truck and singing San Antonio Rose at the top of his lungs. I told him he better get down and come home. He said that he was just fine. That was right before he passed out. Luckily, he fell toward Carlton and me. We kept him from going face first into the gravel.”

  Brad, Judy, and Kathleen all three stared at Martha with opened mouths, too shocked to speak. Julie struggled to stifle a giggle.

  “Like father like son,” she said softly.

  Brad blushed four shades of purple, and Julie’s giggle turned into a full-fledged laugh. Like a ripple, Judy joined her with Kathleen and Martha soon following. All the fear and pain of the day eased as they laughed. In the end, even Brad joined in the cacophony, all of them laughing until the tears flowed and Brad got a case of the hiccups.

  As she struggled to contain the dwindling giggles, Judy thought, it’s true. There is relief in comedy.

  “Now, none of you all can ever let Harold know I told you,” Martha said. “He was so embarrassed that he never competed in another rodeo. Took m
e two years to get him to even go to see a rodeo and that was only after he grew a mustache and changed his hat style, hoping no one would recognize him.”

  Brad let out the deep breath he’d been holding to stop the hiccups. “Everything okay at home?” he asked, looking toward Judy.

  “All the stock is fed at both our places, and Curley said he’d check on ‘em in the morning.” Judy pointed at the suitcase beside her. “We packed a few things for all three of you. This is for Harold. The bags for you two are out in your car.”

  “Before I forget, can I have my car keys back?” Kathleen asked Brad.

  After the helicopter left, Curley drove them to Judy and Kathleen’s place. The two women gave Brad every bit of cash they had, along with Kathleen’s car keys. They told him to go be with his parents at the hospital, and they would follow.

  “Harold’s not going to need many clothes here,” Martha said.

  “We packed a pair of sweat pants and a soft shirt for his trip home,” Julie said. “Didn’t figure he’d be up to wearing jeans for a while, but we remembered his razor and toothbrush and all that.”

  “Brought the knitting you were working on and some of the books on your nightstand, Martha,” Kathleen said.

  Martha smiled softly and touched the side of Kathleen’s face. “You know, for never giving birth to a daughter, I sure got three sweet ones,” she said, smiling at all three of the younger women.

  A nurse walked into the waiting room, a scowl on her face. “Everything all right in here? I heard a terrible row from the hallway.”

  Brad gave a giggle. Judy pointed a finger at him. “Now stop that before you get the hiccups again.”

  “We’re fine, honey. We just…well…I told a funny story,” Martha said

  The nurse’s scowl eased slightly. “Looks like you’ve had more family arrive.”

  “Yes.” Martha motioned toward Julie. “This is my daughter-in-law, and this,” She indicated Judy, “is my daughter of the heart and this,” Martha hesitated briefly, thinking, as she looked at Kathleen, “is my other daughter-in-law.”