Under the Desert Sky

by Sara Luck

  “Will, stay right here!” she yelled. “Don’t move! Play with your animals, do you understand?”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m going with July to find out, but promise me you won’t leave the porch unless someone comes for you.”

  When Phoebe found July, he was running out of the shed with an armload of gunnysacks.

  “Where is it? Where’s the fire?” She tried to match July’s stride.

  “Out by the south paddocks.” He started running down the dirt road that separated the pens for the ostriches.

  She looked south and saw a plume of black smoke that was widening at its base as it spread rapidly. She ran, following July until he reached the canal.

  “Get these wet for me,” July said. “And when Trinidad gets here, send him out with some more.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I sent him to cut the wires on the paddocks.”

  “But the ostriches—won’t they get out?”

  “Yes, Phoebe, but isn’t that what you want?”

  Phoebe thought of the alternative. Taking the pile of sacks, she waded into the canal and began dipping them as fast as she could and then threw them onto the bank.

  As she was working, she watched the smoke. The color was changing from black to brown and then to white as the area on fire was getting wider and wider.

  Trinidad came running up.

  “Take these”—she threw some sacks toward him—“but I’m coming, too.”

  All three using the wet gunnysacks began frantically beating at the advancing conflagration. The blaze, feeding on the late-season alfalfa, sent flames leaping into the air.

  Phoebe was exhausted, and she could hear the loud, anxious sounds coming from some ostriches—not the bass-octave, thrumming sounds that she was used to hearing, but sounds of panic.

  “They’re trapped.” She dropped her sack and ran toward the sound.

  “No, senora!” Trinidad shouted, grabbing her.

  “Don’t be foolish,” July said. “Think of Will.”

  “But my birds! They’re going to die.”

  “And so will you if you try to go after them.”

  They continued to beat at the flames, but it was a losing battle because the wind whipped the fire into whirling vortexes that threw out sparks and set even more fires.

  “We have to retreat,” July said. “Let’s try to head it off from the buildings.”

  “Phoebe!”

  She turned around to see Christian and Ina Claire running toward them. “Christian!” Phoebe’s voice broke as she ran to meet him. “I’m going to lose everything.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it. Ina Claire!” he yelled. “Get back to the Prinsens’. Have Andy bring the spring cart and as many men as he can muster.”

  “Ina Claire, wait!” Phoebe called. “Take Will with you! He doesn’t need to be here if . . .”

  “Understood!” Ina Claire called as she started toward the house in a run.

  Phoebe gave her wet sacks to Christian and ran back to the canal to get more. As she moved away from the roar and crackle of the flames, she tried to listen for the din of the ostriches, but the sounds were becoming more and more faint.

  She couldn’t concentrate on that right now. July had said they should try to save the buildings, and she ran to a part of the fire that was racing in that direction. As she ran across the blackened grass, some embers sparked her dress and the cloth began to ignite, Christian ran toward her, knocking her down when he reached her.

  “What?” Phoebe called out in alarm.

  Christian rolled her over and extinguished most of the flames, but to be certain, he finished it off by applying a wet sack to her.

  “Thanks.” She grinned sheepishly.

  Phoebe didn’t know how long they’d been fighting the fire when Andy arrived with a spring cart carrying a water tank, a dozen buckets, and several men. One man pulled a hose out in front of the cart while two others manned a pump as water began to spray toward the fire.

  At least a dozen people were running behind the cart, each with sacks to beat the flames. Phoebe saw that Gwen, Katie, Mrs. Woodson, and Ina Claire were among those coming to help.

  With more people, there were enough to spread across the path of the approaching fire, but even then, the flames were moving closer to the buildings.

  “We need to start a backfire,” Buck said. “Phoebe, do you have any kerosene?”

  “Yes, it’s in the lean-to.”

  “I’ll get it.” Trinidad took off in a run.

  While most of the men continued to fight the fire, Phoebe and the other women started a bucket brigade, wetting down a strip of ground from the canal all the way to the road.

  When the strip was wet, Phoebe ran back to the men who were still battling the blaze. “We’ve got the water down,” she said, her breath coming in gasps.

  “Come on, men, let’s get the backfire started,” Buck called, and carrying their sacks with them, the men, their eyes red and their faces blackened with smoke, retreated about a hundred yards from the fire.

  “Everyone spread out,” Buck said. “In this wind, it’s going to be your jobs to keep this thing going in the right direction.”

  Buck poured out a line of kerosene between the wet ground and the approaching fire. Then Christian lit one end, sending a fire racing down the line as the men started fanning the flames, forcing them to burn back toward the main fire.

  All the firefighters lined up to beat any of the flames that started in the wrong direction until finally a blackened strip was about twenty feet wide. The backfire was moving toward the advancing flames, thereby robbing the fire of fuel. The two lines of fire joined and burned even more fiercely for a few minutes—until it died down and at last the flicker of flame was gone and only a few wisps of light gray smoke curled up from what was a great blackened field of at least fifty acres.

  Phoebe looked out across the field and saw several blackened lumps. She put her hand to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. “They didn’t have a chance.”

  “I’m sorry, senora,” Trinidad said. “I should’ve seen the fire sooner.”

  “It’s not your fault, Trinidad. We all did what we could.”

  Gwen came over to put her arm around Phoebe, and Ina Claire came to stand beside her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Gwen said.

  “What about Wapi?” Phoebe asked. “Did you happen to see if he was one of the birds who escaped?”

  “I don’t know,” Trinidad said. “When I cut the wires, I didn’t look at the birds.”

  “Poor Will. If he’s lost Wapi . . .” Phoebe shook her head as she looked toward Edwin’s gravesite, where the fence was gone.

  “Look at the bright side, Phoebe,” Buck said. “You’ve got over a hundred acres that weren’t burned, and thanks to Trinidad, some of your birds did escape, and the best thing of all: none of your buildings are gone.”

  “I know.” Phoebe looked down at her burned and blackened dress. “I don’t know how to thank you all.” Her lower lip began to quiver.

  “You don’t have to thank us,” Yhomas said. “Your fire could’ve just as easily become our fire. If it had gotten out of control, who knows how many acres would be gone. But we took care of it.”

  “I wonder how it started,” Christian said.

  “It’s hard to say. Sometimes a discarded bottle will start one of these things. The sun shining through the glass, the dry grass . . .” Buck shook his head.

  “Who’s that?” Andy looked toward a galloping horse.

  “It’s Hannah!” Gwen said. “What’s she doing over here?”

  “Mama! Mama!” Hannah was calling.

  She stopped the horse and Buck grabbed the halter, then helped his daughter down. “What is it, Hannah? What happened?”

  “It’s Will, Daddy.” Hannah fell against her father’s chest.

  “Will? Hannah, is he hurt?” Phoebe asked.

  “No, ma’am. He�
�s gone.”

  “Gone? Where is he?” Phoebe asked, her voice rising.

  “Some man came and took him. Will called him Uncle Frank. He cried and cried and said he didn’t want to go with that man, but he made him go. I tried to stop him, but he pushed me down and said he was taking his nephew and I couldn’t stop him.”

  “It’s all right, sweetheart.” Phoebe patted the girl on her shoulder. “Will’s uncle is a very persuasive man. I know you did all you could to stop him from taking Will, but don’t worry, I’ll go get him and bring him home.”

  “I’m going with you,” Christian said.

  • • •

  By the time Phoebe and Christian got cleaned up, it was nearly dark, and Christian drove Phoebe into town. They went to Frank’s house.

  Ostentatiously, every window in Frank’s house was glowing, his house being the only one on the block to be lit with electricity. Christian pushed a button that rang a bell within the house.

  When the door opened, a maid met them; she was not anyone Phoebe had seen before. “Are you expected guests?”

  “Probably,” Phoebe said. “Is Mr. Sloan here?”

  “May I tell him who is calling?” The maid moved aside, allowing them to step into the entry hall.

  “Tell him it’s Mrs. Sloan.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When the woman left, Phoebe reached over to squeeze Christian’s hand. She felt a degree of confidence because he was with her.

  She was prepared to see Frank, but Myra came to meet them. “Phoebe. This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to get Will.”

  “Will? Why on earth do you think he’d be here?” Myra seemed genuinely surprised at the suggestion.

  “Because Frank took him.”

  “Phoebe, don’t be so dramatic. If Will is missing, you know Frank didn’t take him—not unless he found him wandering around somewhere.”

  “That’s not true, Myra. Frank took him.” Phoebe’s voice rose. “We had a fire out at the farm today. I’d sent Will to the Prinsens’ to be safe, and Frank came to their house and took him.”

  “Be reasonable, Phoebe. I know you and Frank have had your differences since Edwin died, but he loves that child.”

  “Is he here?”

  “You mean Will? Of course not.”

  “She means Frank,” Christian said.

  “Oh. He’s not here either. I expect he’s at the bank.”

  “We’ll go look for Will somewhere else,” Christian said, raising his voice. “Come on, Mama, let’s go.”

  “Phoebe, if Will is missing, I really am sorry.” Myra took Phoebe’s hand. “I know how distraught you must be, but I’ve not seen him or Frank. If Frank has the boy, he’s probably taken him back to your house by now. If I were you, I’d go on home.”

  “All I ask is that if Frank does bring him here, you see to it that he brings him home tonight, no matter the time.”

  Myra smiled sympathetically. “I promise. If I have to, I’ll bring him myself.”

  • • •

  “Do you think she was telling the truth?” Christian asked when he and Phoebe reached the buggy.

  “I think so. I picked up on your ruse when you raised your voice and called me ‘Mama.’ Had Will been within hearing distance, he would’ve come running.”

  If he wasn’t tied up somewhere, Christian thought. “Shall we go by the bank, just to make sure?”

  “He won’t be there. His father might be, but not Frank.”

  Christian drove by the bank anyway. A metal accordion gate was pulled across the door and all the lights were out.

  “Should we go by Mr. and Mrs. Sloan’s house?” Christian asked.

  “No. I’m hoping Myra is right and Frank’s taken him home.”

  They rode for some time before Christian broke the silence. “It doesn’t make sense. First of all, why would Frank take Will, and secondly, how did he know to go to the Prinsens’?”

  “He did it to teach me a lesson.”

  “Kidnapping is a pretty serious offense just to teach you some kind of lesson. What did you do to deserve this?”

  “He wanted something and I wouldn’t do it.”

  “That bastard.” Christian’s thoughts went immediately to the time Phoebe told him Frank had wanted her in his bed. Christian made up his mind that when Will was safely retuned, he’d settle this with Frank Sloan once and for all. That man would never bother her again.

  • • •

  When the buggy pulled up in front of Phoebe’s house, Ina Claire came out on the porch, closely followed by Andy.

  “Did you find Will?” Ina Claire asked.

  “No,” Phoebe said. “Frank didn’t bring him here?”

  “No.” Ina Claire shook her head.

  “What do you want to do, Phoebe?” Christian asked. “Should we go back to town and get the sheriff?”

  “Not yet. As ornery as Frank is, I don’t think he’ll hurt Will. At this point Will is the only grandchild W.F. has, and even though he doesn’t act like it, I think that’s important to the old man.”

  “You have more faith in Frank than I do,” Christian said. “I’d have the sheriff on his doorstep tonight.”

  “I’m hoping that when Frank gets there, Myra will make him bring Will home tonight.”

  “It’s your call, but you know how I feel,” Christian said.

  “I do, and I appreciate your being here with me, but I think I know Frank well enough to understand what he’s doing.”

  “Ina Claire made a bite to eat for you two,” Andy said. “We thought you’d be hungry.”

  “Thank you, I guess in all the excitement, I forgot to eat.”

  “Well, I didn’t forget.” Christian moved up the steps. “What did you make?”

  “She made a pot of soup, and is it ever good!” Andy said.

  “Does it have any mangel-wurzels?” Christian asked.

  “It does, and they’re not dried-up little nubs,” Ina Claire said.

  “Do you have a clue what they’re talking about?” Andy asked.

  “Beets,” Christian said. “Ina Claire and I had lots of soup with wizened carrots and dried-up beets but very little else.” He got two bowls and ladled a healthy serving into each one. “Come, Phoebe, sit down with me.”

  “Now that you’re here, we’re going to go on home,” Ina Claire said. “I know everyone’s anxious to find out about Will, especially Hannah. She feels so bad about what happened.”

  “I know she does, but it wasn’t her fault,” Phoebe said. “I can’t thank both of you enough for staying here. By the way, where are July and Trinidad?”

  “Trinidad is out making sure there aren’t any hot spots that could flare up again, and July is trying to round up any stray ostriches. He thinks they can outrun any predator that might chase them, but if they fall into a ravine or even step into a hole in the ground, a bird can break its leg, and—well, we’ll just say he’d want to put it out of its misery.”

  “My poor birds. They didn’t deserve this.”

  “Neither did you, Phoebe.” Ina Claire embraced her warmly.

  “Thank you, Ina Claire. You’ve been a big help today, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  • • •

  Phoebe could barely eat. Her stomach was churning as she thought about Will. She had to keep telling herself that Frank wouldn’t do anything to harm Will, or she’d lose her sanity.

  Christian looked up from his meal. “Why don’t you go to bed? I know you have to be tired after today. I’ll take care of everything here.” He took the bowls to the dishpan.

  “I am tired.” She began to rub her neck.

  Christian stepped behind her and began kneading her muscles. “You have to hurt—all the beating and the buckets of water. I’m very proud of you.” He leaned down and encircled her chest and gave her a hug.

  “Why, Christian, why?”

  “I don’t know, but tomorrow we’re
going to find out.”

  • • •

  Phoebe went to sleep immediately upon putting her head on the pillow, but it wasn’t a restful sleep and she awakened after about an hour. She lay there willing herself to sleep, but it wouldn’t come.

  “Frank, why would you do such a thing? Do you hate me so much that you’d take Will away from me?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and willed the tears to stop and the knot in her throat to go away. Thinking through it all, Phoebe realized Frank’s motivation.

  He knew she’d never give in for money, but he’d hit her in her most vulnerable spot. Will. And he’d nearly succeeded. She’d almost signed to secure Will’s inheritance, but she couldn’t stand to sign away her possibility of a future with Christian. Now Frank was pitting Will against Christian. Whom did she love more?

  She loved them both, but if it came down to the safety of her son or marriage to Christian, she’d choose her son. And Frank knew that. He’d won.

  She couldn’t stay in bed any longer. Part of her wanted to go upstairs and climb into bed with Christian, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t—she had to say good-bye to him.

  She put on her robe and stepped out onto the porch. As she stood there, the acrid smell of burned vegetation and feathers assailed her nose.

  “Can’t sleep, huh?”

  Phoebe jumped at Christian’s voice. “You startled me. I didn’t expect to find you out here.”

  “I can’t sleep either. All I can think about is Will. There’s something fishy about this, and I can’t figure out why Frank did this.”

  Phoebe moved to sit beside him and shivered in the night air.

  “Are you cold?” Christian put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

  It seemed like the most natural thing in the world, and Phoebe put her head on his shoulder. “Poor Will, I wish he was here with us. I know he has to be so scared right now. Do you think he thinks I’ve abandoned him?”

  Christian’s first inclination was to say no, that Will knew Phoebe would come for him, but in that instant Christian saw two men dragging him away from his own mother. He had been just about Will’s age at the time, and he never saw his mother again.

  “Which one is a balloon?” Phoebe asked, breaking the silence.