Jason and Carrie were inseparable. Their relationship soon became common knowledge as they went everywhere together. Jason, who had been a recluse for two years, suddenly appeared at restaurants and theaters with Carrie on his arm. And there were no more incidents like the one at the auction formal. Jason’s confession seemed to defuse his anxiety about his life with Louise. Carrie realized, as his relief became apparent, that he had been more worried about her reaction to the truth than his ability to deal with it. When they ran into people who had known Louise he introduced Carrie and made small talk until they could get away. Louise’s name would sometimes come up and he would handle the discussion smoothly, often trying to introduce a new topic as soon as possible. But the severe reaction Carrie had always noticed before was gone. He was getting over it. He still had bad dreams, but they came less frequently as his future with Carrie became more important to him than his haunted past.
One night in late December about a week before Christmas, Jason and Carrie returned to the ranch from town. As they drove up to the house they saw a ruddy glow in the sky, and when Jason rolled down the window the air was filled with the pungent odor of smoke.
“Fire,” he said, gunning the motor, and that one word sent a sliver of ice sliding down Carrie’s spine. She sat forward, her heart pounding, and as they turned the corner near the house they could see that one of the horse barns was engulfed in flames.
The car screeched to a halt and Jason bolted out of the car. “Run to the house and call the fire department. Get Rose and Johnny out of there in case the fire spreads,” he shouted to her as he ran, full tilt, toward the barn. Carrie could see other figures running in the distance, ranch hands roused from poker games or sleep, some half-dressed, all dashing toward the burning building.
Carrie ran from the car and burst into the house, racing for the phone. Rose came rushing out of Johnny’s bedroom.
“Did you call?” Carrie asked her, and Rose shook her head.
“I was just about to when I heard you come in,” she replied breathlessly.
The emergency numbers were printed on the base of the phone, but Carrie’s hands were shaking so badly she punched the wrong numbers and had to do it again. Not another fire, she thought wildly as she stammered the address to the person at the other end of the line. Anything but that. Please God, help him cope with it.
Carrie finished the call and helped Rose hustle Johnny into his parka. The two women ushered him out as he hobbled onto the lawn.
One of the hands ran past as they paused on the driveway and Carrie flagged him down.
“What happened?” she asked. “How did it start?”
“We think somebody dropped a cigarette, ma’am,” he said, glancing anxiously over his shoulder at the blaze.
“Jason has strict rules about smoking in or near the barns,” Carrie said.
The man shrugged eloquently. Someone had broken the rules. She watched as he touched his forehead and then ran off to join the others who were engaged in battling the fire.
“Is Dad all right?” Johnny asked her worriedly. “I don’t see him.”
“He’ll be fine, John,” Carrie answered, for her own sake as well as his. She looked at Rose, who nodded approval.
The night was filled with the unmistakable scent of soot and ash as shooting flames licked toward the vault of the darkened sky. It was cold and the trio huddled together, their breath misting the air, as they watched the commotion from a distance. The men ran back and forth ceaselessly, training garden hoses on the inferno, but it was useless. The fire roared on, consuming the barn with amazing speed.
The horses were screaming, a horrible high pitched sound of terror that wrenched the soul. Johnny clutched Carrie’s hand, leaning on one of his crutches, and when she looked down at him she saw that he was crying. His animal friends were going to die. She squeezed his fingers tighter and searched the moving figures for Jason.
Suddenly she saw him, a head taller than the others, and he was unbolting the door of the burning barn. She started. Surely he didn’t mean to go in there. But he did. She watched in horror as he crossed his arms over his face and dashed into what appeared to be a wall of flame.
She shot a terrified glance at Rose but said nothing, careful not to alarm Johnny. But of course he had seen.
“Carrie, he went into the barn! He’s trying to save the horses!” the boy yelled, his voice quaking with fear. She knelt next to him on the frozen ground, unable to think of a comforting thing to say.
“But he’s afraid of fire,” Johnny added in his thin, little boy treble.
Carrie hugged him closer, her eyes on the door of the barn.
Seconds later Jason emerged, struggling to lead a bucking and whinnying animal that whirled in every direction. It bolted out of his control as soon as it saw that it was free. The paddock was fenced and Jason let it run, turning immediately to go back inside.
Several of the other men, shamed by his example, followed suit, and Carrie watched as each animal was led to safety.
“He is saving them, Miss Maxwell,” Johnny said, forgetting to call her Carrie in his excitement. “He is!”
Carrie nodded, not trusting her voice. She swallowed carefully and then said, “And we know how hard that is for him to do.”
“But where’s Sunbird?” Johnny asked, craning his neck to count the horses already released. “Is he still inside?”
Carrie didn’t see the prize Appaloosa either. She also didn’t see Jason. He had gone back in for another trip and hadn’t emerged. She met Rose’s gaze and both women looked away.
“My dad’s been gone a long time,” Johnny said, voicing the thought they all shared. They waited in breathless silence, united in hope.
All at once the Appaloosa burst out of the barn, with Jason riding him bareback. He must have resisted the lead and in desperation Jason had climbed on him, forcing them both away from the danger. Sunbird was wild, prancing and circling, and Jason finally gave him his head, kicking his sides as the horse leaped the paddock fence and continued to run. He ran himself out, eventually pulling up by the gate. Jason jumped to the ground, patting the horse’s neck and handing him to one of the grooms, who slipped a halter on him and led him away. Carrie sighed with relief. She’d been afraid that the ride would kill Jason after he had survived the horse’s rescue.
At this point two fire trucks roared up the lane, sirens blaring, uniformed men clinging to the vehicles’ sides. The hands chased the freed horses and herded them to the other barn a safe distance away. With the arrival of the professionals Jason slumped against the fence, his whole body sagging. One of the firemen ran up to him and she could see their conversation; Jason nodded wearily as the other man gestured and talked. When he left to join his colleagues, Carrie could remain a spectator no longer. Telling Johnny to stay with Rose, she dashed across the clearing as the firemen streamed around her. The trucks were just turning their powerful hoses on the barn when she reached Jason.
He was bent over the top rail of the fence, visibly trembling. His eyes were streaming with tears, and he was shaken by repeated bouts of coughing as his body struggled to clear his congested lungs. Soot almost obscured his skin, making startling green pools of his eyes in his darkened face. When he looked up and saw her he turned away.
“Get back to the house,” he barked hoarsely, not meeting her eyes.
Carrie took off her scarf and handed it to him. After a moment’s hesitation he accepted it, wiping his face and throat. It was filthy after this treatment and rather than return it to her he left it hanging around his neck.
“Jason, what you did…” she began, but he cut her off.
“I told you to look after Johnny,” he said, coughing again.
Carrie started to reply when another of the firemen ran up to talk to Jason.
“It looks like we’re getting it under control, Mr. McClain,” he said breathlessly. “But it’s going to be a long night.”
“You think it will spread th
en?” Jason asked.
The man shook his head. “Don’t think so. You’re lucky there’s no wind to carry it. The house and the other buildings should be safe.”
Jason nodded, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.
The man looked at Carrie. “Ma’am, the men will be wanting coffee. Do you think you could fix us some?”
“Certainly. I’ll get right on it,” Carrie replied, noticing that Jason had seized the opportunity to walk away. She started to follow him when the fireman put his hand on her arm.
“One of the guys told me McClain there went into that barn to get the horses,” he said to her. “Is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true,” she answered quietly.
The man shook his head in wonderment. “That would be something for anybody to pull off, but isn’t he the guy whose wife died a couple of years ago in a car crash? I remember we were called to the scene to douse the car. He got his little boy out but the woman was killed.”
“That’s right. He’s the one.”
The fireman exhaled sharply. “All I can say is we could use him in the department. More guts than brains. After what he’s been through you’d think he’d run from something like this instead of taking it on almost single handed.”
“You’d think so,” Carrie agreed, watching Jason run his hands through his hair in that distracted gesture she knew so well.
“Well, got to get moving,” the man concluded. “We sure would appreciate the coffee when you get a chance.”
Carrie nodded as the fireman returned to the others, accepting that she would not be able to talk to Jason now. She went back to the house and joined Rose in making sandwiches for the crew, putting all three coffeepots to work at once. Johnny was sitting at the kitchen table watching them get the food together, and when Carrie glanced in his direction she noticed that his eyelids were slipping to half-mast. She nudged Rose and pointed in his direction. The older woman nodded toward the bedrooms.
“Time to get to bed, John,” Carrie announced, handing Rose her stack of paper napkins. “You’re falling out of that chair.”
“Oh, gee,” the boy protested. “Can’t I stay up to talk to Dad? I want to tell him I saw him rescuing the horses. It was just like in the movies.”
“It was very exciting,” Carrie agreed, taking his arm and steering him toward his room. “But you can see him in the morning and tell him all about it. He’ll be very angry with me if he comes back here and sees you passing out in the kitchen.”
“Okay,” Johnny said reluctantly, picking up one of his crutches and lurching along with it, using it like a pogo stick. “But you saw what he did. Wasn’t it brave?”
“It was very brave,” Carrie replied, following him into his room, where she helped him change into his pajama top. He was already wearing the bottoms; he’d been dressing for bed when the fire started.
“Can I have my water buffalo?” he asked as he climbed into bed.
“What?” Carrie answered, half laughing. His water buffalo?
“The stuffed animal, the pink one. You know, it has the fat stomach and the big head?”
“Oh, that,” Carrie said, retrieving it from the closet where she had put it during one of their ineffective drives to clean up his room. “I didn’t know what it was.”
“Dad won it for me at the Chamber of Commerce fair last year,” he said proudly. “He had to shoot down all the ducks and not miss one. It was the grand prize, the biggest one there.”
“That I can believe,” Carrie teased, tucking the toy in next to him. It loomed out of the semi-darkness like a misshapen gnome.
“My dad’s a real hero, isn’t he?” Johnny said drowsily, already succumbing to sleep.
“He certainly is,” Carrie said warmly, touched by his sudden return to childhood. Ordinarily he disdained toys, preferring games and science projects, but after a hard night he wanted the comforting presence of the cherished buffalo. He was, after all, only a little boy.
“Do you think I’ll be brave when I grow up?” Johnny muttered, almost out.
“I’m sure of it. You’re already one tough cookie. Now go to sleep before I bop you.”
“G’night,” he whispered.
“Good night, John.” Carrie tiptoed to the door and slipped through it, closing it noiselessly behind her.
Rose was still occupied in the kitchen, making up trays and handing them through the back door to the men. Carrie helped her distribute the last of them and then put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder.
“Rose, go home. Your husband will think we’ve sold you into bondage. You have to get your kids off to school in the morning.”
Rose looked worriedly at the clock. “Are you sure? You’ll have to clean up after this crowd.”
“I can handle it alone. You’ve been a godsend, staying here and feeding all of them. I’m sure Jason appreciates it. Now take off, will you?”
Rose got her things and left, pausing to start up the dishwasher on her way out. Carrie kept busy for the next couple of hours, refilling coffee cups and straightening the kitchen. She never saw Jason, who remained outside.
The fire department finally left around 4:00 a.m. Carrie observed from the window that the barn was ashes but not a single horse had been lost. She could see the hands filing past the driveway to go back to their quarters, and Jason eventually staggered in at 4:30, the last to abandon the cleanup effort.
“Are you all right?” Carrie greeted him, putting aside the dishtowel in her hands.
He didn’t answer, just emptied the pot standing on the stove of its muddied coffee and downed it black. He looked exhausted, his bright hair extinguished by grime, his eyes bloodshot and swollen with fatigue.
“Johnny?” he said, dropping into a chair.
“He’s fine. He went to sleep several hours ago.” She paused. “He saw what you did.”
Jason rose suddenly and hurried out of the room. Carrie followed, alarmed, and arrived in time to find the bathroom door slammed in her face.
Retching noises followed and she deduced that Jason was losing the coffee he’d just drunk. She hesitated in the hall, undecided, and finally knocked. When he didn’t reply she tried the door. He hadn’t had time to lock it, and it swung inward.
Jason was on his knees, drained, his pallor obvious even through the layer of dirt covering his skin. When he saw her standing next to him he crashed his fist to the floor.
“Leave me alone!” he rasped gutturally, his voice strained. “You’re everywhere, like God. Can’t I puke up my guts in peace?”
Carrie ignored him, wetting a cloth in the basin and offering it to him. He threw it across the room.
Carrie turned on her heel and left, banging the door behind her. She took a seat in the kitchen and waited until Jason finally emerged from his hideout. He had washed, but hurriedly, and his appearance was still far from normal. The water had streaked the soot rather than removed it. He resembled a child who had been forced to clean up for dinner after an afternoon of making mud pies.
“I thought you were gone,” he said wearily when he observed her sitting patiently at the table.
“I wanted to see that you were okay,” she said simply.
“I am. You can go.”
“Jason, we have to talk.”
He slid into a chair and stretched his long legs in front of him. “About what?”
“About what you did tonight. That took a lot of courage.”
He snorted derisively. “I don’t think they award medals for getting sick from fear.”
“Of course you were afraid,” Carrie said defensively. “But you overcame it. That’s the important thing.”
“That’s nothing,” he said flatly.
“What do you mean? I know what it took for you to go into that fire and save those animals. It was magnificent.”
He shook his head as if she had lost her mind. “Who says so? You? What do you know? Do you know how I felt, do you know that I almost turned
and ran back a dozen times? Do you know that I actually considered letting those horses roast to death rather than do anything about it? I threw up twice in the barn and once in the house, for your information, and the scene you witnessed was the least dramatic of the three. So don’t talk to me about courage. I’m not a whole man and I never will be again.”
“Jason, that’s ridiculous.”
But he was in no mood to debate the issue. “Carrie, go home.”
“Everyone is afraid of something, darling, don’t you see?” She got up and moved to his side, but he wouldn’t look at her.
“I see that it’s not going to change. I will always be like this, maimed, crippled. Is that what you want to be saddled with for the rest of your life?” he demanded.
“I want to help you,” Carrie replied desperately.
He nodded sourly. “Yes, I know. That’s where we differ. I want you to love me.”
“I do!” she protested, amazed that he could doubt it.
“No, you don’t. You want to take me on, straighten me out, like Johnny. You want to bring me up like one of those snotnosed kids you teach. I’m a project, like UNICEF or Save the Whales. You’re a do-gooder, Carrie, and you want to do quite well with me. No, thank you very much.” He turned his back.
Carrie tried to keep calm. She knew what was happening. After the night of the storm when she had seen his vulnerability he had been embarrassed. He was feeling that way again now. He wanted her to think he was a rock, unshakable. He didn’t know that his triumph over his fears was real strength. He wanted to fight his battles alone, without onlookers, and he was trying to drive her away again.
“Jason, you don’t mean this. Tomorrow when you feel better we’ll talk again.”
“Tomorrow I will say the same thing,” he insisted. “Your car is outside. Take it and go home. I don’t want you here.”
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