“You might have to leave her behind,” Ernie said.
“I know,” Katie said. “I will if I have to.”
In his haste, Ned stumbled and fell directly in front of the upset cow. Ernie scooped him up and set him astride the Shorthorn, giving the cow a swat. “Sorry, old gal,” Ernie said. “But the fire’s gonna hurt a whole lot worse than a little spank if you don’t get into the lake and fast.”
The cow bawled and trotted faster, Ned clinging to her back.
“What do we do when we get there?” Katie asked. “Surely not everyone can swim.” She looked around at the shadowy crowd hurrying through the trees, a bobbing lantern here and there. In the darkness, she realized that she had lost track of Moon Song. She could only trust that the Indian girl was following the rest of them.
Ernie looked at the brightening sky. “I hope the lake is big enough.”
“It’s a big lake,” Katie said.
“So is the fire,” Skypilot said as he passed. “Can I leave Betsy with you?”
“Of course.”
“Time for a cow ride, little one.” He set Betsy in front of Ned. “Hold on to her, son. Katie, don’t stop for anything. If the cow can’t keep up, grab the children and run.”
It was a strange feeling to be striding through the hardwood forest in the middle of the night. She could just make out various woodsmen, all carrying their tools just like Robert had ordered. She couldn’t imagine what they could accomplish with these implements. There was nothing at the lake with which to build a boat. Was Robert simply trying to preserve the axes and saws from the fire?
There was movement in the brush beside her. She raised her lantern higher to see what it was and realized that there was a tide of small animals heading away from the forest fire. They were single-minded in their purpose and appeared to be oblivious to the small army of humans striding across their path.
Foxes and rabbits, skunks, even two black bears lumbered past—completely unafraid of the humans. They seemed to realize that there was a much greater threat coming.
When she broke through to the lake, she saw a strange sight. Several axe teams were in the process of felling trees by lantern light. Robert, his sleeves rolled up, stood opposite Mose as both took turns with their axes in a quick staccato rhythm as they dug steel blades into the base of the tree.
This made no sense to her. Why would they be cutting down timber when a fire was on the way?
She had never seen Robert wield an axe before. Even though he was the camp owner, she had no idea he even knew how. But Robert, to her surprise, was every bit as adept as the others. His face was grim, his muscles taut, and sweat poured off his face even though the night was quite cool.
“Timberrrr!” someone shouted from beyond where Mose and Robert worked. She heard a loud splash, and then the sound of furious sawing whipping through the air. She could see the dim forms of two men thrusting a crosscut saw back and forth across the fallen trunk while other men swarmed over the tree, lopping off limbs.
“Got one!” she heard a man cry. In the dim light, she could see two other men using peaveys to roll the log into the water.
“Timberrrr!” she heard Robert cry out. Another tree. Another log.
This frightened her. The loggers might have the skill to balance upon and ride a log into the lake, but she and the children did not. Nor did Sarah. Even Moon Song would not be able to save herself while carrying a baby. Logs rolled when they were in the water. It took much skill to balance upon one.
Robert had to know that this was not going to work. There was no way tiny Betsy could cling to one of those massive things. There was nothing to hold on to!
“Incendie!” Moon Song materialized beside her, jerking on her sleeve and pointing west. “Incendie!”
“She’s saying ‘fire.’” Henri hurried past with a crosscut saw bouncing upon his shoulder. “But you’ve probably figured that out by now.”
The sky was growing more ominous by the minute. Even though it was the dead of night, it was now so light the lanterns were no longer needed to see. The men continued to frantically roll each freed log into the water. Some who were wearing caulked boots discarded their axes and saws, grabbed peaveys, and climbed upon the logs, doing a sort of desperate dance as the logs whirled in the dark water beneath their boots.
Now she saw Robert upon one. He wasn’t as skilled as some of the others, but he could stay up. Thomas stood, abandoned, at the water’s edge. She could tell the little boy was getting more and more agitated.
“Father!” the child screamed. “I can’t swim!”
“Trust me,” Robert shouted as he fought to keep his balance. “Wait on the bank.”
Betsy, following her brother’s example, stretched her arms out and also began to scream for her father.
Sarah seemed paralyzed by the scope of the danger. She stood, eyes glazed, staring out at the lake, rigid with fear.
Katie scanned the banks. When the fire came, it would burn right up to the edge of the water. The giant trees that ringed it would catch fire and topple in. The lake didn’t look so large to her now. No place anywhere near the edge would be safe. The only hope was to get to the middle, away from where the flaming trees would plunge.
Even then, if the fire was hot enough—and Katie knew it would be unimaginably hot—they might not survive.
At least she and Ned knew how to swim well enough to stay afloat. They might stand a chance on their own, but she could never abandon the other children.
“Dear Father in heaven,” she prayed aloud as she watched the encroaching fire. “I don’t know what to do!”
“Papa!” Thomas ran back and forth along the bank. “Don’t leave me, Papa!”
Thomas ran up to her, sobbing in fear, and she drew the child to her for whatever comfort she could give for the short time they had left. Ned faithfully held onto Betsy and the cow. Sarah stood beside them, a gaunt woman with her hands clasped in front of her chest.
“What did Robert shout to Thomas?” Sarah asked. “I couldn’t hear.”
“He said to trust him.”
There was no light of hope in Sarah’s eyes. “Then I guess that’s all we can do.”
Katie put her arms around all three of the children and drew them to her.
Trust me, Robert had said.
Trust him?
If she had ever met a man she thought she could trust, it would be Robert Foster. The problem was, the fire was flying toward them so fast it was hard to even think, let alone trust. As she held the children, she closed her eyes and prayed for deliverance. It was hard to pray, because the crackling of flames was now so distracting, she couldn’t see any way, short of a miracle, that they could survive.
And then she opened her eyes and saw something so beautiful and brave, she could hardly believe what her eyes were telling her. Out in the lake the men who were most skilled at riding the logs were forcing them to come together, one by one.
Ernie rolled his log lengthwise flat against Cletus’s. Then he used his hooked peavey to latch onto the log upon which his brother was standing. Cletus reciprocated by digging his into Ernie’s. This made the two logs beneath them stabilize. Tinker rolled a third log over and secured it flat against Ernie’s. Klaas thunked his against Cletus’s and latched on. Then Henri brought his up against Klaas’s, and O’Neal followed suit.
The moment any two logs came together, the man upon it secured it to the one next to him by digging the curved spike of his peavey into his neighbor’s. Those woodsmen who were not as adept at riding the logs now climbed aboard and stitched the logs more firmly together by using only their sheer muscle and those amazing hooked tools.
A crude raft was materializing right before her eyes.
“An old trick.” Jigger came up beside her. “When the river drivers are riding the river, a couple of ’em will latch onto one another’s log when they get to a straight stretch and make a two-log raft to float down the river for a while. It gives ’em a rest
from balancing so they can better handle the rough patches later.”
“You knew this was what they were planning all along?”
“It’s been done before.” He spit, the ever-present wad of chaw tucked into his cheek, even in a crisis. “Forget the cow. She’ll either swim or run. Better get those kids on the raft, and quick.”
A gust of wind blew a leaf of ash against her face. “Come on.” She grabbed Betsy and Thomas and ran toward the lake with Ned and Moon Song right behind her.
Skypilot and Robert were frantically weaving lengths of rope between the logs, stitching them together the best they could. It was hard to accomplish because the logs were so huge. It involved both of them spending much time fumbling around beneath the raft, completely submerged in water, blindly searching for openings. As they worked, other shanty boys started tossing their peaveys onto the logs and climbed on. With their added strength, the raft became more stable.
“We can hold it, boss,” Sam said. “Leave the rope and let’s get out of here.”
“Let’s hope it will hold.” Robert tied a knot in the lengths of rope they had managed to secure. “Jigger—get the women and children down here.”
The logs were wet and rough and nearly impossible to climb upon. The raft bobbed crazily with the shifting weight. Robert and Skypilot stood in waist-deep icy water, ready to help anyone who couldn’t get on by themselves.
Betsy, terrified, clung to her father as he lifted her up.
“Not now, sweetheart.” He forcibly pulled her away from him and shoved her into the arms of Blackie, who stood above to help lift the children to safety. “Come here, Thomas. I told you I was coming for you. Be a brave boy, now.”
Ned and the sack of blankets were handed up next. Ned crouched, holding onto the bundle.
“I shall never forgive you for this, Robert,” Sarah said as she struggled onto the raft with her brother’s help.
“If we don’t get out to the middle quick,” he said, glancing up at the sky, which was now as bright as the sunniest day, “you might not need to.”
Skypilot helped Moon Song up, the baby still securely tied to his mother’s back.
Robert grabbed Katie around the waist and lifted her onto the bobbing raft without bothering to ask permission. She had not realized how strong he was until the moment she felt herself deposited upon a slippery log. Jigger complained that he could climb up on his own, but Skypilot lifted the old man in his arms like an infant and deposited him on the raft as well.
Then Robert leaped up, grabbed a peavey, and helped anchor a log that Sam was straining to control. As those loggers already on the raft helped hold it together, the rest of the men pushed it out into the water. When it became too deep, the powerful men began to thrash their legs, struggling mightily to shove the ungainly thing into the middle of the lake. Finally, they were able to climb on and add their strength to holding the logs together.
Katie hunkered down on a giant log, her knees drawn up beneath her soaked flannel nightgown, clutching Ned to her side. On the other side of her, Jigger was starting to shiver.
“Are you all right?” she asked him.
Jigger shook his head, his body trembling from the cold. She scooted closer to him and wrapped both arms around the sodden old man. She was shocked at how thin he felt in her arms. She realized that, in spite of his bluster and boasts, he was more frail than she had ever realized.
“Ned,” she said, “give me a blanket.”
The little boy pulled one out, and she wrapped it around the old man.
“Get on the other side of Jigger, Ned, and help me keep him warm.”
Ned obediently wrapped his arms around Jigger, and together, the three of them held on to one another while the cold, wet logs moved and swayed.
As the fire roared toward them, she could hear trees crashing in the distance. Sarah clutched Thomas and Betsy, her eyes wide with fear. Moon Song sat nearby, her baby in her lap, ignoring its cries as she fashioned a sling she apparently planned to tie high on her back, preparing to attempt to try to swim without drowning the child.
Above Jigger and the women and children, the stalwart woodsmen stood like grim statues, peaveys crisscrossed, straining to keep the heavy logs from drifting apart. Robert’s muscles were set like stone as he stood above Sarah and his children, forcing the logs to stay together.
“Take the other blankets and get them wet, Katie,” he demanded. “Then throw them over you and the others. This is going to be bad.”
Jigger wasn’t shivering quite as hard now. With much difficulty, Katie crawled over the rough logs, bruising and skinning her knees and legs along the way, until she could dip the rest of the blankets in the water. Gathering Moon Song, Sarah, and the children all together around Jigger, she covered everyone with the drenched blankets.
It was a desperate situation. No one said a word. It was as though everyone on the raft was holding their breath as they waited to see if they would live or die.
Katie marveled at the fact that the men were putting their own lives at stake in order to rescue her and the others. She knew that the loggers would be safer in the water, half-submerged, clinging to a log, their heads barely above the water. Instead, they held fast. She had never seen such courage.
There was Henri of the fiddle and merry spirit—now grim-faced and trying to hold on to his end of a log, even though the raft was constantly shifting beneath everyone’s weight. Somehow, even in the midst of the chaos, he had managed to tie his red sash crookedly about his middle. Inkslinger held on to a peavey—his face as solemn as ever. Klaas, his blond hair glinting in the unnaturally bright light, his sturdy legs set far apart, reminded her of a picture of a Viking she had once seen.
Blackie seemed almost cheerful as he added the strength of a blacksmith to the human chain. “Come on, boys—this ain’t nothing,” he shouted, but he was not a young man, and Katie could see the cords of his muscles straining with the effort to hold the raft steady.
Cletus was grinning with childlike wonder at the glowing horizon. His brother Ernie was standing near, watching his brother with concern.
“That’s pretty.” Cletus pointed at the encroaching horizon. “Don’t you think that’s pretty, Ernie?”
“Yes, Cletus,” Ernie said gently. “It’s real pretty.”
Katie saw that there were tears streaming down Ernie’s face.
And yet the man held firm.
These men, these rough, uncouth, tobacco-spitting, lip-smacking, cursing, stinking men—some of whom she had been half-afraid—grew to hero stature in her eyes as they stood their ground against the danger, holding the strange raft together. She wondered how long these men could endure. If they lost their grip, or their courage, she and the others would tumble into the lake with nothing to save themselves with except the spinning logs.
“Don’t you worry none, missus.” Mose was crouched nearby with the spike of a peavey dug into a log. “Anything goes wrong, you and the boy grab aholt of ol’ Mose here. I can hang on to one of these big old logs for a long, long time.”
A lump rose in her throat; she could barely speak. “Thank you, Mose,” she choked out.
The fire sounded like a million howling wolves as it came toward them. Smoke swirled over the water while everyone watched for the fire to appear. Animals began to swim out into the lake. Fearful of being capsized, Skypilot had to shove away a wild-eyed, antlered deer that was trying to climb onto the raft. The deer gave up and swam to shore, where it disappeared into the woods opposite the fire.
And then flames burst out upon the shore. It was a terrifying sight—the giant trees suddenly engulfed in towering, swirling flames.
Katie had heard of forest fires so intense that houses spontaneously combusted from the sheer heat long before the actual flames reached them. She and the others were not safe here. Not by a long shot. Not even in the middle of the lake.
“Father, please,” Katie whispered, gripping Jigger and Ned tighter.
�
�Sweet Jesus!” Skypilot faced the fire, raised his hand in the air, and shouted, “Have mercy upon these innocent children!”
“Lord of mercy!” Sarah cried. “Save us!”
Henri made the sign of the cross with one hand while gripping the peavey with the other. Hardened shanty boys, men whom Katie would have bet money had never seen the inside of a church, mumbled prayers. Surprisingly enough, so did Jigger.
She glanced at Robert. His eyes were closed, but his lips moved in silent supplication.
Her precious Shorthorn stood at the river’s edge, bawling with fear, but she could do nothing for it. She doubted it would survive. She doubted that any of them would survive.
The heat was blistering against her face now. She could feel it drying out the sodden blanket she had draped around her. No one was cold now. It felt as though a giant, fire-breathing dragon crouched on the edge of the lake, blowing fire at them, licking their faces with its flames. Still the woodsmen stood firm, closing their eyes against the inevitable.
As the heat of the fire began to wash over them, she realized there was no hope unless they all went into the water. She also knew that the loggers would never jump in to save themselves as long as the women and children were still on the raft.
In her opinion, drowning was preferable to being burned alive. She began to crawl toward the edge of the raft, pulling Jigger and Ned with her, planning to plunge beneath the water before the fire could engulf them.
And then she felt the strangest thing.
A welcome coolness caressed her damp nightgown.
She opened her eyes and looked about her. There was a wind—a wind that held the hint of rain—blowing against the fire.
Could it be? The loggers were all staring at the sky, a glimmer of hope in their faces. A thunderclap ripped through the air and lightning shattered the darkness behind them.
Then she felt a drop of rain.
The heavens opened. A downpour drenched the raft. Never in her life had water felt so welcome. Katie could see a visible line of rain as it raced across the lake, blown by the wind, into the trees on the other side—the trees she had watched ignite. She lifted her face to the life-giving rain and drank it in.
Measure of Katie Calloway, The: A Novel Page 18