She watched the family share thick slabs of homemade sliced bread with hard-boiled eggs and chunks of cheese, then wash their food down with water, finishing off with oatcakes and pincherry jam. They sat in circular fashion on rough logs and short stacks of lumber. At last, George Sr. took a final drink of water, set his tin cup down, rose to his feet and strode off towards the outbuildings.
As Emily kept an eye on Geordie’s movements, she watched his mom and the girls clear away the meal, and the men disperse back to their work at the house. They skimmed past Emily as she stepped out of their way, except for Geordie. She’d lost sight of him. Soon afterwards, Emily could hear the pounding of hammers and the sound of lumber being moved about. She peeked inside and saw Jack and Duncan applying slats to the dividing room walls on the main floor. They were almost finished.
She caught a sudden dark movement out of the corner of her eye, causing her to turn around. Geordie drove past her in a small cart with two oxen, heading down a trail through the pasture. In a flash, Emily chased after him. At first he didn’t notice her, but it didn’t take her too long to catch up, as the oxen travelled so slowly.
“Wait,” she called out breathlessly, coming up beside him.
Startled, he jerked on the reins, but the oxen took some time to respond.
“You sure can scare a fellow,” he laughed as Emily caught up. “I guess you are paying me back for shocking you the other night.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she said. “But I need to tell you something important.”
He reached down and pulled her into the seat beside him.
“There’s a prairie fire coming. Your family needs to prepare for it.”
He chuckled and pointed across the landscape, as he flapped the reins to get the oxen moving again. “Look, lass, there’s nothing out there.”
All around them, the prairies stretched and rolled, with long bent grasses, yellowing and brittle from the heat of the sun, and dotted with small trees and bushes that had lost most of their leaves to the heat and the autumn cycle. Dust rose in whirling puffs behind the cart as they followed the dry dirt trail winding along the contours of the landscape.
“I know it doesn’t look like it right now,” she said, “but it could happen any time.”
“That’s always a danger,” he answered. “But I won’t be gone long and surely it can’t happen for quite some time.” Geordie peered up at the dazzling sky and wiped his forehead with his arm.
Emily was tempted to agree as she scoured the serene countryside. In the distance, she saw fields with ripening crops and small homestead sites where wooden shacks or sod shanties stood. Songbirds flitted overhead and startled gophers chattered. The rasping of the wheels on the hard ground almost lulled Emily into believing nothing was about to happen. She had to be right, though, and she needed to convince Geordie of their imminent danger.
As they plodded along, she found it hard to concentrate. Riding behind oxen was scorching hot, because their slow pace didn’t create any kind of air movement, and the cart seemed to hit every bump and clump of grass on the trail. Emily wrinkled her nose in distaste as they passed a stagnant slough. But the acute stench brought her thoughts into sharp focus.
“How long has it been since Sandy’s wedding?” she quizzed Geordie.
“Two days,” he answered.
She thought about it for a moment. “It’s going to happen today,” she said with certainty.
She saw that Geordie couldn’t decide whether to believe her or not.
“I read it in your homestead papers and in your mom’s diary.”
He looked uneasy. “You must be mistaken. There’s not even any wind.”
Emily persisted. “You must convince your family of the danger. And you have to do it right now!”
“But I need to go to the old place to get feed for the livestock,” he said.
“That can wait.”
Geordie explained patiently. “We ploughed a fireguard around the yard in the spring.”
“I don’t think that’s enough,” Emily said, recalling the grim words in her great-grandmother’s diary. “Your family needs to get better prepared.”
As her words died away, the wind rose and lifted Geordie’s hair. Spooked, he turned the oxen around and headed home. Somewhat relieved, Emily sat back quietly as they plodded back within sight of the Elliotts’ stone house.
Geordie spoke at last. “You have our homestead papers and my mom’s diary that she’s still writing in. You know more about our future than we do.”
“I don’t know everything, Geordie. But I’m sure about the fire.”
He pointed to the darkening sky to the west.
“A storm is brewing.” He anxiously flipped the reins along the oxen’s backs to spur them on. A sudden wind gust buffeted them.
“I’ve never seen anything come up that quickly,” Emily commented. Then she noticed a band of dull red light in the distance.
Sudden fear gripped her. She touched Geordie on the shoulder. “It’s not a storm.”
The wind increased and the brightening crimson on the horizon spread and widened. The oxen sensed the changes. They moved faster now, but were harder to handle, twisting and jerking with each gust of wind. Suddenly, Geordie yanked the beasts to a stop. The oxen bellowed and jerked at their harness almost upsetting the buggy.
“Jump off,” Geordie yelled, as he leapt from the swaying buggy and went to the front of the yoked pair.
Emily vaulted out of the buggy and ran to help Geordie calm the oxen. But as she came up the other side of them, she drew back, uncertain what the huge beasts would do. Swiftly, Geordie unharnessed the oxen, then slapped them on their rumps.
“What are you doing?” Emily asked anxiously.
“Freeing them to find their own shelter. It’ll be faster if we run.” They watched the animals head over a nearby hill.
He grabbed Emily’s hand. “Come on. We have to warn the others.”
As Emily and Geordie pounded across the prairie back to the stone house, the wind increased and so did the height and width of the band of red on the horizon. Moments later, they were within shouting distance of the homestead. Emily could smell smoke now.
“Dad! Mum!” Geordie yelled as he ran. “Fire! Prairie fire!”
Emily felt herself falling further behind and Geordie sprinted faster. “You go on,” she yelled at Geordie. “I’ll catch up.”
Family members emerged from the house, outbuildings, and garden, gathering around Geordie. In a moment, Jack and Duncan raced to round up and harness the horses, while George Sr. ran to the plough to help hook it up. The girls grabbed feed buckets and pails from all over the yard and ran towards the well, their hair and dresses flying in the wind. Geordie’s mom raced to an outbuilding and came out with an armload of gunnysacks.
A thick front of smoke stretched from north to south as far as she could see. The older boys had harnessed the horses now. Jack drove one horse around the outskirts of the yard with the sixty-centimetre breaking plough, while Duncan with his horse hooked up to the disk harrows, went in the other direction. Both churned up the earth as fast as they could go, concentrating on the western side of the yard, before going around their whole farmyard, struggling to keep the frightened horses in line.
George Sr. loaded an empty water barrel onto the stoneboat, and he and Geordie dragged it to the well with all the strength they could muster. Bella and Beth soaked the gunnysacks in the water trough as fast as Geordie’s dad could pump more water into it. Then Geordie filled the water barrels in tandem with his dad for later use, while the girls ran the sopping sacks to the edge of their property. Kate and her mom ran about shutting the chickens in the henhouse and making sure the pigs were secure in their pen. Then they raced back to the well site to help some more. All at once, Geordie’s mom looked around herself in some urgency.
“Molly,” she called. “Where are you?”
She ran to the house. “Molly!” she screamed.
&nb
sp; The other girls dropped what they were doing and began to search for her. Geordie and his dad joined the fray. Kate tore towards the garden running through the rows of tall corn, while her mom and Beth ran through the house. Geordie and his dad checked all the outbuildings. Emily ran too, checking around all the bluffs and stands of trees in the yard. She couldn’t recall seeing Molly since she’d arrived. Everywhere she could hear people calling for Molly. George Sr. waved Duncan and Jack to continue breaking ground. There were already enough people searching for Molly, and the clouds of smoke were gaining ground.
Then as Emily rounded the caraganas, she came face to face with Geordie, sweating and breathing hard.
“We can’t find Molly! She’s always traipsing off by herself. I don’t know where the wee bairn could be.” His eyes filled with dread.
In a flash, it came to Emily.
“I do,” she said, and took off at a full-tilt run across the yard.
Geordie quickly caught up to her and they kept pace as they stumbled over the newly-tilled ground, and then ran flat out across the prairie to a stand of poplars. As they drew close, they could hear Molly talking to her doll, Jane, placidly playing tea. Emily skidded to a stop to catch her breath, so she didn’t frighten the little girl. She motioned to Geordie to do the same.
“Hello, Molly,” Emily tried to keep the quaver out of her voice, as she pushed aside the branches.
She looked up in surprise. “Emily,” she said. “And Geordie. Have you come for tea?”
“Not this time, Molly,” Emily said gently. “We’ve come to take you home.”
Molly frowned, “But I like it here.”
“Come on, lassie,” Geordie said. “Mum’s looking for you. She wants to make sure you’re safe.”
Molly stared ahead, unseeing, as if listening to something inside her mind. She shook her head. “We cannae go home.”
Geordie scooped her up.
“I can’t leave Jane,” she yelled.
Emily grabbed her doll and Molly pulled it close as they pushed out of the bush. They came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the trees, watching the flames race across the dry prairie faster than a galloping horse, straight towards them. The towering wall of fire, at least a kilometre wide, burned everything in its path, igniting small bushes, and chasing small frenzied creatures as it rolled over the dry grass. In the distance, someone’s shack burst into flames in the rising wind.
Within moments, the air around them filled with the smell of burning grass and bushes. Flocks of birds rose to the skies, squawking. Flames shot into the air from an overpowering cloud of bluish black smoke between them and the stone house.
“What are we going to do?” Emily screamed.
“We’ll never make it to the house!” Geordie yelled above the crackling of the fire. He swung Molly onto his shoulders. “We have to find someplace the fire can’t reach us! A ploughed field or some water.”
Emily watched the sheets of flame roll towards them, following the contours of the land, skirting a larger grove of trees that moments later ignited. Fear gripped her as fire leapt over the dirt trail about two kilometres or so behind them. She scouted around for a nearby field or one of the stinky sloughs they’d passed earlier, but couldn’t see anything. The horrendous roar grew louder.
“Come on!” Geordie grabbed her hand. “We’ll make a run for it!”
“Wait!”
Emily snatched off her backpack, suddenly remembering what was in it.
“Leave it! There’s no time for anything,” Geordie shouted.
“I have water,” she yelled back.
He nodded and pulled a cloth handkerchief out of his pocket. As Emily fumbled to open the bottle of water, Geordie shoved Molly’s doll into the backpack. Together they wet the handkerchief, and Geordie handed it to Molly, instructing her to keep it over her face. Molly nodded, her eyes big and round with fright. Then he ripped off a portion of his shirt, tore it in two, and soaked the pieces for Emily and himself. Emily threw the bottle back into her pack and in a moment they were running hard, Geordie struggling to keep Molly secure on his back.
As they ran, the wind drove into their backs. Bits of ash and other debris swirled around them. Their eyes stung and their throats burned, even with the moist cloths protecting their mouths and noses. Rabbits, coyotes, and birds crossed their path, trying to outrun the fire. They joined a rutted trail and watched as a burning clump of tumbling mustard swept past them and started a fire on the other side. How were they ever going to escape?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Emily was stunned by the power and speed of the fire. Looking back, she saw long tongues of flame shoot six to nine metres ahead of the main wall of flame. Clumps of “prairie wool” took to the air and came down as torches to the grass, starting new fires.
All at once, they caught sight of the oxen, plunging forward at a speed Emily had never seen them reach before. Their heaving bodies bulldozed across the pastureland, trampling small bushes, and they bawled loudly as the wave of flames crackled and roared behind them. Prairie chickens and other ground fowl wailed to one another in distress, skirring and flying in bewilderment before the dazzling flames.
Suddenly, Geordie shouted, “Follow the oxen!”
Emily hesitated momentarily. When she glanced back, she saw the fire had already engulfed the clump of bushes they’d just passed.
“They’ll find water!” Geordie shifted Molly’s weight and pulled Emily on.
They sprinted up a hill and lurched over the crest, heading into a small gully. When they rounded a thicket of willows, they saw the oxen aiming for a small slough just beyond. Emily and Geordie, with Molly bouncing on his back, pelted behind them as fast as they could go. Sparks flew around them and they slapped at those landing on their clothes. Emily kept behind Geordie to make sure Molly was safe. The vigorous wind whipped the soaring flames even higher and the sky was dark with smoke.
At last they reached the safety of the slough, plunging into the stagnant water, splashing to make themselves as wet as possible. If there was an odour, Emily could no longer smell it. The inside of her nose felt raw from breathing smoke. They waded as deep and as far into the centre as they could, right next to where the oxen stood. Everywhere, fearful eyes stared at them from other creatures in the pond. Geordie let Molly slide down and get herself fully wet, then he picked her up again and held her in his arms. Tears streaked down her smoke-blackened face, but she didn’t whimper or say a word, just clung to Geordie panda bear-style.
All at once, thick smoke enveloped them, and the tall slough grass caught fire, zooming fifteen metres into the air. Terrified, Emily took a deep breath and sank below the water, feeling Geordie do the same beside her, as he instructed Molly to take a deep breath and plunge below the surface. Emily struggled underwater, holding her breath and keeping the green slime from entering her mouth.
Each time she raised her head to gasp a breath of air, her lungs filled with smoke. She splashed wildly, trying to keep the flames away from herself. A terrible panic engulfed her as she thrashed about to keep herself low enough in the water, without getting her feet stuck in the mud at the bottom of the pond.
“I’m feart,” Molly said, clinging to Geordie.
“We’re all scared, little hen,” he answered, hugging her tighter.
Emily willed herself to be brave and help Geordie keep Molly safe. She scooped water up and over the child, making sure her hair and back stayed wet.
Although it seemed like hours, only minutes had passed when Geordie signalled that it was safe to get out of the water. Debris and white ashes fluttered around them. Emily could hardly speak or breathe. She continued to hold the damp cloth to her mouth, which seemed to ease the pain. She took Molly from Geordie to give him a break.
Emily looked at Geordie. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face blackened by fire and smoke. His eyebrows were missing and his clothes were sopping wet, torn, and caked with mud and green slime. The oxen still bellowed and rema
ined in the middle of the slough, bedraggled with soot and mud. Geordie made no move to retrieve them. He seemed to know that budging them would be like trying to move a stone wall.
The sky was still dark, and the grassland in the fire’s wake was charred black, and desolate. All the ground covering was gone – from the grasses and weeds to the buffalo scrub, silver sage, and autumn flowers – everything was gone in one twist of natural fate. The wind howled around them and they could hear the crackling of the fire sweeping beyond them. The odour of burned grain filled the air.
Emily tried to stop her teeth from chattering. Geordie put his arm around her shoulder and held her close. Molly snuggled into her too, shivering. They held each other tight, trying to warm themselves up.
“We must get you both home,” Geordie said. He trembled too.
“Where are we?” Emily inquired, her voice rasping.
“Not far,” Geordie said. “Can you walk?”
She nodded. “I’ll carry Molly for a bit.”
“I can walk,” Molly insisted, sliding to the ground and holding their hands tightly.
They headed to the east, around the other side of the bluff and the slough. This kept them at right angles to the fire. Molly quickly tired, and Geordie carried her in his arms. Soon, they came to the ridge of a hill. Emily could just make out the roof of the stone house in the distance. She smiled with relief and was about to say something to Molly, when she realized the child had fallen asleep.
All at once, the wind shifted. Geordie quickened his pace. The fire had changed direction – straight towards the Elliotts’ home again, only on the other side. They began to run. Emily lagged behind, coughing and struggling for breath, while Geordie pummelled the ground in long frantic strides towards his family.
Emily came to a stop when a coughing fit wouldn’t subside and signalled Geordie to continue without her. She retrieved her bottle of water and took huge gulps before soaking the handkerchief again and wiping at her eyes. Her heart thumped wildly as the fire exploded towards the farm. Her view suddenly became obscured. She could no longer see Geordie and Molly, or the stone house, beyond the wall of smoke. Securing her backpack once again, she hurried after them as fast as she could, but had to slow down when sudden pain stabbed her ankle. She must have twisted it, though she couldn’t remember how or when. Every muscle in her body ached, and she had a pain in her side from running. She blotted at her eyes with the damp cloth and pressed onwards, watching the scene before her, helpless to do anything.
The Secret of the Stone House Page 12