by Kate Klimo
This is the worst I’ve seen, Butch said.
It’s the heat, said Daisy.
And the drought, said Maisy.
There’s been almost no rain at all, said Maybelle.
The fall brought no relief. The heat and the dryness were bad enough. But on some days, a powerful wind, like the bellows in a smithy, blew from off the prairie. On the street outside the fire station, stray papers and dried leaves rattled past.
It’s a devilish wind, said Butch. Who knows what it will blow our way?
What with our cold-weather coats coming in, we horses sweated and itched beneath our winter-weight fur.
Then, one hot, windy day, Sparky started barking and doing her Fire Dance. Everyone was hoping that, just this once, she was wrong.
But Sparky was never wrong. The bell went off.
I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Butch grumbled, just before his stall door slid open. He and the others stepped out and went through their paces with hooves dragging.
If only someone would slide open my door, I’d leap at the chance to join them. I was fresh and ready. But as always, they went off and left me in my stall. What a waste of horsepower!
I waited for their return. But they didn’t come back. I paced in a circle.
Fat Belle, the fire station ratter, leaped onto the ledge of Butch’s empty stall.
You’re as nervous as a big cat in a small cage, she said.
They’ve been gone for so long, they’ve missed my feeding.
I stopped pacing, and my ears swiveled forward as another alarm went off.
Uh-oh, said Belle. Two alarms. That’s not good.
Moments later, more wagons from other stations went clattering through the streets on their way to the fire.
I resumed my pacing only to pull up short as a third alarm sounded.
Not good at all, said the cat. At the rate this is going, half the crews in town will be called out.
When a second feeding time had passed, I fell into a doze to the sound of my stomach rumbling and gurgling.
Late the next morning, Sparky came dragging in, looking like someone had dunked her in a vat of tar.
It was a bad one, she said as she hacked up a puddle of black goo.
The others, boys and horses, followed. Blaze came limping in last.
I burned my paw pads. I tell you, I don’t know how much longer I can do this, she said. She sat down on the floor and started licking her wounded paws.
The boys unhitched the horses, hosed them down, and put them in their stalls with feed and hay.
“You missed a bad one, Cindy,” Michael told me when he came into my stall to give me my oats.
Sparky and Blaze, having bathed in the runoff from the hoses, shook themselves dry and went upstairs to find some chow.
Most of the boys soon followed. I heard them fall into their bunks like sacks of rocks, too worn out to eat or wash up.
Buckets banging, we ate our oats, then started in on our hay. Soon the others were fast asleep, snoring softly. But I was still awake.
I noticed that one horse remained outside. It was Butch, standing in the crossties. Sully was fussing over him.
I called out to Butch, Are you okay?
I hurt! Butch called back.
When Michael returned to top off my water, I trotted out of the stall, over to Sully, and parked my nose on his shoulder.
He turned to me. “Oh, hey there, Cindy.”
I snorted. I wasn’t there to be friendly. I wanted him to know that I had my eye on him. Butch had some serious burns on his back. I wanted to make sure Sully did the job properly.
Sparky had joined us. Poor old Butch, she said.
Butch’s hide twitched at Sully’s touch.
I nickered. Is this man hurting you? Say the word and I’ll run him off.
He’s not hurting me, Butch said. It’s the burns that hurt. You should have seen it. There was a whoosh, followed by this tremendous boom! Everybody spooked!
Sparky said, The roof of a warehouse collapsed in an explosion of embers. Some of them landed on Butch. He bucked and rolled, but they burned into his hide.
“I don’t know, Mike,” said Sully. “These burns are bad. I think we need to put Butch on the Sick List.”
“Sure, it’s the right thing to do,” said Michael, “even though that leaves us down one horse.”
“I guess we’ll just have to manage with what we’ve got,” said Sully, leading Butch back to his stall.
“All I can say,” said Michael, “is there had better not be any more fires in this town until he’s all healed up.”
Before Sully went upstairs, he walked me back to my stall and fiddled with my door. I knew what he was doing. He was rigging it to spring open the next time the bell rang.
It made my heart glad.
—
When Sparky barked and did her Fire Dance later that same day, I snapped to attention. The bell rang. Upstairs, I heard the boys groaning. Moments later, they came staggering down the stairs. Meanwhile, the stall doors slid open and the four of us trotted out. I was the first horse to be hitched up, taking Butch’s place in front of the hose cart.
“I’m glad somebody around here’s got some spunk,” said Sully as he clipped on my reins. “Come on, Cindy girl, let’s go put out a fire.”
“Where’s Michael?” someone shouted.
“He went out to dinner with some friends,” Joe shouted back.
“He hates missing a fire,” said Jack.
“Doubtless he’ll hear the bell wherever he is and come running like always,” said Joe.
How can I describe the thrill I felt as, wind whipping my mane, I cantered through the streets of Chicago pulling the hose cart with Sparky dashing at my side?
A man swept off his hat and called out to Sully, “I see you’ve got yourself a fine new dappled horse!”
Sully called back, “That I do! This is her first fire.”
“Good luck to the both of you!”
Behind us was the Little Giant, with Joe at the reins Michael usually held.
The courthouse tower bell tolled. Sully shook his head and said to Jack, “Wrong, wrong, wrong. The bell is wrong. It’s sending out the wrong signal. It’s sending crews to the wrong address,” Sully muttered darkly. “We’re off to a very poor start tonight.”
I didn’t like the way this sounded. I felt my first twinge of unease.
Don’t let it bother you, Sparky said. Men make mistakes.
As soon as we arrived on the scene, the heat of excitement in my blood turned to icy-cold fear. A barn and some sheds were ablaze. I had seen fires on the farm, but never anything this big. It was hot and bright and shockingly loud. For this, there had been no training.
Sparky said, Now you know that being a fire horse means more than looking lively at the sound of the bell. It also means staying calm in the face of fire. I learned to do it. And you’ll learn, too.
This was easier said than done. Fire was a living, breathing thing—an evil force that meant me harm. I jigged in place.
“Easy now, Cinders,” Sully said. He hopped out and unhitched me, leading me away from the heat.
“Keep an eye on the greenhorn, Sparky,” he said as he began to unravel the hose from the wagon.
I tossed my head and shifted my weight onto my hind legs, braced to run. Now was the time. But something stopped me. Somehow I knew that if I ran away now, I’d be something almost as hateful as Man-Killer. I’d be a failure!
Men dashed to and fro, bumping heads and tripping over each other’s hoses. They flailed about like a herd of horses without a leader.
What’s happening? I asked Sparky, panic seizing me in spurts that I constantly had to fight down.
They’re looking for fireplugs. They get water from the city’s mains through the fireplugs. The steam engine pumps it out and shoots it through the hoses. Sometimes, when a burn is big and there are lots of men and equipment, there aren’t enough plugs to go around.
> Is this a big burn? I asked.
It looks like it, said Sparky. Who knows? It might even be the Big Burn. The one Michael said was going to come sooner or later, because Chicago is built mostly out of wood, and fire loves wood.
Fire loves horses, too! my inner voice screamed. But I must not let it have me.
I was relieved to see Michael come running, still buttoning up his jacket and shouting. His fearlessness lent me some calm. He set to work, running a short hose from the plug to the Little Giant and then attaching one end of Sully’s hose to the steam engine. Soon the hose filled with water. It wriggled along the ground like a big fat snake.
Where did Sully go? I asked Sparky.
He’s down the alley at the other end of that hose. He’s getting closer to the fire, Sparky said.
Is there always this much confusion? I asked.
No, she said. Tonight’s different. Everything’s going wrong. The lads are tired, the equipment is dirty, and the alarms are wrong. The wind is the worst I’ve ever seen. You watch yourself, Cinders. If the wind blows an ember on you, shake it off or drop down and roll. You don’t want to wind up like poor Butch.
The very idea made me shiver all over.
That’s the idea, big girl, said Sparky. Listen, I’m spread thin tonight, what with Mum being on the Sick List. I need to check on the Thoroughbreds. Will you be all right by yourself, Cinders?
Please don’t go! I cried, but Sparky was already on her way over to check on the white mares.
My head craned this way and that as the wind whipped my mane. The fire seemed to be spreading fast. I hoped that Sparky would return soon, before it got me.
Suddenly, a giant of a man in a high peaked helmet came charging down the street.
“Let’s get ourselves organized, boys!” he shouted.
I sensed immediately that this was the leader of all the firemen. The giant started speaking through a shiny horn that made his voice louder than the roar of the fire. He clapped one hand on his helmet to keep the wind from snatching it off his head.
“Move that hose!” the giant shouted.
“Soak that sidewalk!” he ordered.
“Keep moving and don’t stop,” he cried.
“Get as close as you can, lads!” he hollered.
“Give it all you’ve got!” he urged.
To his every command, the firemen said, “Yes, sir, Chief Fire Marshal Williams.”
The boys went scurrying in all directions. Fires had broken out up and down the road. They flared and danced and crackled and roared something fierce, like nothing I had ever seen or heard before. I planted my hooves and held my ground. It took everything I had to keep from jumping out of my skin.
I looked over at the other horses. They tossed their manes and jogged in place. It was small comfort that they seemed as spooked as I was.
Suddenly, after the chief fire marshal barked an order at him, one of the firemen spun away from the fire and turned the spray on the row of buildings behind us. Sparky and the mares got soaked, too. They shook themselves off but seemed glad of it. Maybe the water kept them from bursting into flames. I didn’t much like water, but I wished someone would come along and spray me. My breath deepened to a breathy wheeze. Help me, someone!
Above the din, I heard Daisy call out to Sparky, This is getting bad!
Maisy said, The fire is coming closer to us!
What if the men are too busy to take care of us? said Maybelle.
If we have to, we’ll cut and run, said Daisy.
I cried out, Don’t leave without me!
Sparky called over to me, Nobody’s going anywhere! Everybody, stay calm! I’m going to take a look around and see what’s going on. Try to keep your heads while I’m gone.
I couldn’t believe she was leaving us. I called out to her, but the little dog disappeared into a wall of smoke and flames.
Come back soon! the other mares cried out.
The streets were suddenly crammed with people and wagons. A gasp went up, and the crowd scattered. A horse with snapped reins came stampeding through, followed by two terrified goats, a donkey with a smoking tail, and a bunch of flapping ducks.
Run for your lives! the horse shrieked, its eyes wild.
I looked to the others. Should we go with them? I called out to them.
No. Stay calm and wait for Sparky! Daisy called back.
Sparky will take care of us when she returns, Maisy said.
Oh, please come soon, I muttered as I danced from foot to foot. Oh, how I itched to run! But where would I run? The fire was everywhere.
My heart leaped with gladness when, at last, I spied Sparky making her way back to us.
Then one of the mares cried, Look out behind you, Sparky!
A strange man swooped down and tied a rope to Sparky’s collar. He dragged her away with him.
We looked on helplessly as Sparky disappeared into the crowd. Where was that man taking her?
Without our fire dog, what would become of us?
I was just running over to join the mares when two strange firemen came and led them off. Where were they going? First Sparky and now the herd. I was all alone!
I waited for someone to come for me, but no one paid me any mind.
The wind gusted and drove a red blizzard of embers into my face. I shook my mane hard. This is it, Cinders, I told myself. It’s time to cut and run before you catch fire and burn down to real cinders.
Then a deep, raspy voice said, Don’t do it.
For a moment, I froze. Then I looked down.
At first I thought it was some lady’s mangy old fur coat that had been abandoned to the fire. Then, in the middle of the fur, I saw a pair of beady black eyes staring up at me.
Who are you? I asked.
I’m a dog, said the mangy ball of fur.
Really? Just knowing there was a dog somewhere in the middle of all that fur—no matter how odd he might sound or look—had a calming effect on me. I breathed out and licked my lips.
My name is Khan, also known as the Little Lion. You’re with the Maxwell Street outfit, aren’t you?
I nodded.
I used to work for the butcher across the street. Where are Blaze and Sparky? Khan asked.
Blaze is on the Sick List. A bad man just stole Sparky. Is your tongue always this black, or did the fire burn it?
I’m a chow chow, said Khan. Some of us have dark tongues.
Are you a fire dog? I asked hopefully.
I’m a volunteer fire dog, he said.
What does that mean? I asked.
I love going to fires. I live on the street and go where the fires are and help out where I can, said the chow chow.
Please help me! I begged. I’m terrified!
Of course you are, said the Little Lion. The first thing we need to do is move you out of harm’s way. Don’t look now….
I swung my head around and saw that the front wall of the building behind me was in flames and about to collapse on top of us.
Follow me! said Khan.
I ran after him down the block and around the corner. There, I saw the three Thoroughbreds pulling the Little Giant away.
I called out to them, Where are you going?
We’re needed elsewhere! they called back. Be of stout heart!
The next moment, Sully came trudging up the alley doing my job, dragging the hose cart behind him.
“There you are, Cinders!” he said. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”
While he was hitching me up, he noticed the strange dog.
“Is that you, Khan?”
Khan barked and wagged his tail.
“Well, what do you know? The Little Lion himself! I should have known you were the mystery chow chow dog that keeps showing up at fires. You always were a frustrated fire dog. Speaking of which…” He looked around. “Where’s Sparky?”
Someone stole her! Khan and I both said together.
Sully shrugged. “I guess Sparky can take care of herself. But Cinder
s here I’m not so sure about. Khan, I’m on orders to head over to St. Paul’s. If you come with us, maybe you can keep this mare from losing her head.”
Khan grinned and panted.
“Come on, gang, let’s get a move on!” said Sully.
Sully hopped up into the seat and grabbed the reins. “Walk on!”
Khan led us, zigzagging through streets roiling with people and animals. I’d hear the crackle and snap of burning wood, followed by a loud whooshing sound. I’d plant my hooves and see that a new fire had started somewhere just ahead. Where was the fire coming from? No matter how far away we got from that first burning barn, the fire somehow managed to leap ahead of us.
I looked up. The sky was filled with burning spears. Whatever they landed on burst into flame. It was as if, suddenly, the fire was everywhere at once.
“Hang in there, Cinders, old gal!” Sully called out to me. “The church is right down the street.”
The next moment, a building collapsed in flames into the road directly before me. I pawed the ground and tossed my mane. Even with the wagon attached to me, I was ready to spin around and make a run for it.
“Whoa, girl!” said Sully, tugging firmly on the reins.
Easy does it, horsey, Khan rasped in my ear.
Slowly and carefully, Sully and Khan talked me around the flaming mountain. If it weren’t for the two of them, I would have cut loose and run. We rounded the corner and I pulled up short and let out a shrill whinny. The spire of St. Paul’s crumpled, and the burning shingles of the church roof caved in.
The chief fire marshal came running from the ruins. “You’re too late here, but the match factory has just caught fire! The stable is next! The Long John’s over there, but her hoses have burned. We need to keep the fire from spreading to the lumberyard.”
We rounded another corner, where the steam engine Long John was parked near a burning building that stood next to a stable. My nostrils quivered at the stench of burning horsehair. Sully went to talk to the driver, while Khan scampered into the stable.