by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER IX. KENT TO THE RESCUE
The fire had been burning a possible half-hour when Kent, jogging aimlesslytoward a log ridge with the lazy notion of riding to the top and takinga look at the country to the west before returning to the ranch, firstsmelled the stronger tang of burned grass and swung instinctively into thewind. He galloped to higher ground, and, trained by long watching of theprairie to detect the smoke of a nearer fire in the haze of those longdistant, saw at once what must have happened, and knew also the danger. Hishorse was fresh, and he raced him over the uneven prairie toward the blaze.
It was tearing straight across the high ground between Dry Creek and ColdSpring Coulee when he first saw it plainly, and he altered his coursea trifle. The roar of it came faintly on the wind, like the sound ofstorm-beaten surf pounding heavily upon a sand bar when the tide is out,except that this roar was continuous, and was full of sharp cracklings andsputterings; and there was also the red line of flame to visualize thesound.
When his eyes first swept the mile-long blaze, he felt his helplessness,and cursed aloud the man who had drawn all the fighting force from theprairie that day. They might at least have been able to harry it and hamperit and turn the savage sweep of it into barren ground upon some rock-boundcoulee's rim. If they could have caught it at the start, or even in thefirst mile of its burning--or, even now, if Blumenthall's outfit were onthe spot--or if Manley Fleetwood's fire guards held it back--He hoped someof them had stayed at home, so that they could help fight it.
In that brief glimpse before he rode down into a hollow and so lost sightof it, he knew that the fire they had fought and vanquished before had beena puny blaze compared with this one. The ground it had burned was not broadenough to do more than check this fire temporarily. It would simply burnaround the blackened area and rush on and on, until the bend of the riverturned it back to the north, where the river's first tributary stream wouldstop it for good and all. But before that happened it would have done itsworst--and its worst was enough to pale the face of every prairie dweller.
Once more he caught sight of the fire as he was riding swiftly acrossthe level land to the east of Cold Spring Coulee. He was going to see ifManley's fire guards were any good, and if anyone was there ready to fightit when it came up; they could set a back fire from the guards, he thought,even if the guards themselves were not wide enough to hold the main fire.
He pounded heavily down the long trail into the coulee, passed close by thehouse with a glance sidelong to see if anybody was in sight there, roundedthe corral to follow the trail which wound zigzag up the farther couleewall, and overtook Val, running bareheaded up the hill, dragging a wet sackafter her. She was panting already from the climb, and she had on thinslippers with high heels, he noticed, that impeded her progress andpromised a sprained ankle before she reached the top. Kent laughed grimlywhen he overtook her; he thought it was like a five-year-old child runningwith a cup of water to put out a burning house.
"Where do you think you're going with that sack?" he called out, by way ofgreeting.
She turned a pale, terrified face toward him, and reached up a handmechanically to push her fair hair out of her eyes. "So much smoke wasrolling into the coulee," she panted, "and I knew there must be a fire. AndI've never felt quite easy about our guards since Polycarp Jenks said--Doyou know where it is--the fire?"
"It's between here and the railroad. Give me that sack, and you go on backto the house. You can't do any good." And when she handed the sack up tohim and then kept on up the hill, he became autocratic in his tone. "Go onback to the house, I tell you!"
"I shall not do anything of the kind," she retorted indignantly, and Kentgave a snort of disapproval, kicked his horse into a lunging gallop, andleft her.
"You'll spoil your complexion," he cried over his shoulder, "and that'sabout all you will do. You better go back and get a parasol."
Val did not attempt to reply, but she refused to let his taunts turn herback, and kept stubbornly climbing, though tears of pure rage filled hereyes and even slipped over the lids to her cheeks. Before she had reachedthe top, he was charging down upon her again, and the pallor of his facetold her much.
"All hell couldn't stop that fire!" he cried, before he was near her, andthe words were barely distinguishable in the roar which was growing louderand more terrifying. _"Get back!_ You want to stand there till it comesdown on you?" Then, just as he was passing, he saw how white and tremblingshe was, and he pulled up, with Michael sliding his front feet in the loosesoil that he might stop on that steep slope.
"You don't want to go and faint," he remonstrated in a more kindly tone,vaguely conscious that he had perhaps seemed brutal. "Here, give me yourhand, and stick your toe in the stirrup. Ah, don't waste time trying tomake up your mind--up you come! Don't you want to save the house andcorrals--and the haystacks? We've got our work cut out, let me tell you, ifwe do it."
He had leaned and lifted her up bodily, helped her to put her foot in thestirrup from which he had drawn his own, and he held her beside him whilehe sent Michael down the trail as fast as he dared. It was a good deal ofa nuisance, having to look after her when seconds were so precious, buthe couldn't go on and leave her, though she might easily have reached thebottom as soon as he if she had not been so frightened. He was afraid totrust her; she looked, to him, as if she were going to faint in his arms.
"You don't want to get scared," he said, as calmly as he could. "It's backtwo or three miles on the bench yet, and I guess we can easy stop it fromburning anything but the grass. It's this wind, you see. Manley went totown, I suppose?"
"Yes," she answered weakly. "He went yesterday, and stayed over. I'm allalone, and I didn't know what to do, only to go up and try--"
"No use, up there."
They were at the corral gate then, and he set her down carefully, thendismounted and turned Michael into the corral and shut the gate.
"If we can't step it, and I ain't close by, I wish you'd let Michael out,"he said hurriedly, his eyes taking in the immediate surroundings andmeasuring the danger which lurked in weeds, grass, and scattered hay. "Ahorse don't have much show when he's shut up, and--Out there where that dryditch runs, we'll back-fire. You take this sack and come and watch out myfire don't jump the ditch. We'll carry it around the house, just the otherside the trail." He was pulling a handful of grass for a torch, and whilehe was twisting it and feeling in his pocket for a match, he looked at herkeenly. "You aren't going to get hysterics and leave me to fight it alone,are you?" he challenged.
"I hope I'm not quite such a silly," she answered stiffly, and he smiled tohimself as he ran along the far side of the ditch with his blazing tuftof grass, setting fire to the tangled, brown mat which covered the couleebottom.
Val followed slowly behind him, watching that the blaze did not blow backacross the ditch, and beating it out when it seemed likely to do so. Nowthat she could actually do something, she was no more excited than he, ifone could judge by her manner. She did look sulky, however, at his way oftreating her.
To back-fire on short notice, with no fresh-turned furrow of moist earth,but only a shallow little dry ditch with the grass almost meeting over itstop in places, is ticklish business at best. Kent went slowly, stamping outincipient blazes that seemed likely to turn unruly, and not trustingVal any more than he was compelled to do. She was a woman, and Kent'sexperience with women of her particular type had not been extensive enoughto breed confidence in an emergency like this.
He had no more than finished stringing his line of fire in the irregularhalf circle which enclosed house, corral, stables, and haystacks, and hadfor its eastern half the muddy depression which, in seasons less dry, wasa fair-sized creek fed by the spring, when a jagged line of fire with anupper wall of tumbling, brown smoke, leaped into view at the top of thebluff.
One thing was in his favor: The grass upon the hillside was scantierthan on the level upland, and here and there were patches of yellow soilabsolutely bare of vegetation, where a fire
would be compelled to halt andcreep slowly around. Also, fire usually burns slower down a hill than overa level. On the other hand, the long, seamlike depressions which ran to thetop were filled with dry brush, and even the coulee bottom had clumps ofrosebushes and wild currant, where the flames would revel briefly.
But already the black, smoking line which curved around the haystacks tothe north, and around the house toward the south, was widening with everypassing second.
Val had a tub half filled with water at the house, and that helpedamazingly by making it possible to keep the sacks wet, so that every blowcounted as they beat out the ragged tongues of flame which, in that wind,would jump here and there the ditch and the road, and go creeping backtoward the stacks and the buildings. For it was a long line they wereguarding, and there was a good deal of running up and down in theirendeavor to be in two places at once.
Then Val, in turning to strike a new-born flame behind her, swept herskirt across a tuft of smoldering grass and set herself afire. With theexcitement of watching all points at once, and with the smoke and smell offire all about her, she did not see what had happened, and must have paid afrightful penalty if Kent had not, at that moment, been running past her toreach a point where a blaze had jumped the ditch.
He swerved, and swung a newly wet sack around her with a force which wouldhave knocked her down if he had not at the same time caught and held her.Val screamed, and struggled in his arms, and Kent knew that it was ofhim she was afraid. As soon as he dared, he released her and backed awaysullenly.
"Sorry I didn't have time to say please--you were just ready to go up insmoke," he flung savagely over his shoulder. But he found himself shakingand weak, so that when he reached the blaze he must beat out, the sack washeavy as lead. "Afraid of _me_--women sure do beat hell!" he told himself,when he was a bit steadier. He glanced back at her resentfully. Val wasstooping, inspecting the damage done to her dress. She stood up, lookedat him, and he saw that her face was white again, as it had been upon thehillside.
A moment later he was near her again.
"Mr. Burnett, I'm--ashamed--but I didn't know, and you--you startled me,"she stopped him long enough to confess, though she did not meet his eyes."You saved--"
"You'll be startled worse, if you let the fire hang there in that bunch ofgrass," he interrupted coolly. "Behind you, there."
She turned obediently, and swung her sack down several times upon asmoldering spot, and the incident was closed.
Speedily it was forgotten, also. For with the meeting of the fires, whichthey stood still to watch, a patch of wild rosebushes was caught fairlyupon both sides, and flared high, with a great snapping and crackling.The wind seized upon the blaze, flung it toward them like a great, yellowbanner, and swept cinders and burning twigs far out over the blackenedpath of the back fire. Kent watched it and hardly breathed, but Val wasshielding her face from the searing heat with her arms, and so did notsee what happened then. A burning branch like a long, flaming dagger flewstraight with the wind and lighted true as if flung by the hand of anenemy. A long, neatly tapered stack received it fairly, and Kent's crybrought Val's arms down, and her scared eyes staring at him.
"That settles the hay," he exclaimed, and raced for the stacks knowing allthe while that he could do nothing, and yet panting in his hurry to reachthe spot.
Michael, trampling uneasily in the corral, lifted his head and neighedshrilly as Kent passed him on the run. Michael had watched fearfully thefire sweeping down upon him, and his fear had troubled Val not a little.When she saw Kent pass the gate, she hurried up and threw it open,wondering a little that Kent should forget his horse. He had told her tosee that he was turned loose if the fire could not be stopped--and now heseemed to have forgotten it.
Michael, with a snort and an upward toss of his head to throw the draggingreins away from his feet, left the corral with one jump, and clatteredaway, past the house and up the hill, on the trail which led toward home.Val stood for a moment watching him. Could he out-run the fire? He washolding his head turned to one side now, so that the reins dangled awayfrom his pounding feet; once he stumbled to his knees, but he was up in aflash, and running faster than ever. He passed out of sight over the hill,and Val, with eyes smarting and cheeks burning from the heat, drew a longbreath and started after Kent.
Kent was backing, step by step, away from the heat of the burning stacks.The roar, and the crackle, and the heat were terrific; it was as if thewhole world was burning around them, and they only were left. A brand flewlow over Val's head as she ran staggeringly, with a bewildered sense thatshe must hurry somewhere and do something immediately, to save somethingwhich positively must be saved. A spark from the brand fell upon her hand,and she looked up stupidly. The heat and the smoke were choking her so thatshe could scarcely breathe.
A new crackle was added to the uproar of flames. Kent, still backing fromthe furnace of blazing hay, turned, and saw that the stable, with its roofof musty hay, was afire. And, just beyond, Val, her face covered with hersooty hands, was staggering drunkenly. He reached her as she fell to herknees.
"I--can't--fight--any more," she whispered faintly.
He picked her up in his arms and hesitated, his face toward the house; thenran straight away from it, stumbled across the dry ditch and out across theblackened strip which their own back fire had swept clean of grass. The hotearth burned his feet through the soles of his riding boots, but the windcarried the heat and the smoke away, behind them. Clumps of bushes werestill burning at the roots, but he avoided them and kept on to the far sidehill, where a barren, yellow patch, with jutting sandstone rocks, offereda resting place. He set Val down upon a rock, placed himself beside her sothat she was leaning against him, and began fanning her vigorously with hishat.
"Thank the Lord, we're behind that smoke, anyhow," he observed, when hecould get his breath. He felt that silence was not good for the womanbeside him, though he doubted much whether she was in a condition tounderstand him. She was gasping irregularly, and her body was a dead weightagainst him. "It was sure fierce, there, for a few minutes."
He looked out across the coulee at the burning stables, and waited for thehouse to catch. He could not hope that it would escape, but he did notmention the probability of its burning.
"Keep your eyes shut," he said. "That'll help some, and soon as we canwe'll go to the spring and give our faces and hands a good bath." He untiedhis silk neckerchief, shook out the cinders, and pressed it against herclosed eyes. "Keep that over 'em," he commanded, "till we can do better. Myeyes are more used to smoke than yours, I guess. Working around brandingfires toughens 'em some."
Still she did not attempt to speak, and she did not seem to have energyenough left to keep the silk over her eyes. The wind blew it off withouther stirring a finger to prevent, and Kent caught it just in time to saveit from sailing away toward the fire. After that he held it in placehimself, and he did not try to keep talking. He sat quietly, with his armaround her, as impersonal in the embrace as if he were holding a strangepartner in a dance, and watched the stacks burn, and the stables. He sawthe corral take fire, rail by rail, until it was all ablaze. He saw hensand roosters running heavily, with wings dragging, until the heat toppledthem over. He saw a cat, with white spots upon its sides, leave the bushesdown by the creek and go bounding in terror to the house.
And still the house stood there, the curtains flapping in and out throughthe open windows, the kitchen door banging open and shut as the gusts ofwind caught it. The fire licked as close as burned ground and rocky creekbed would let it, and the flames which had stayed behind to eat thespare gleanings died, while the main line raged on up the hillside anddisappeared in a huge, curling wave of smoke. The stacks burned downto blackened, smoldering butts. The willows next the spring, and thechokecherries and wild currants withered in the heat and waved charred,naked arms impotently in the wind. The stable crumpled up, flared, andbecame a heap of embers. The corral was but a ragged line of smoking,half-burned sticks and ashes.
Spirals of smoke, like dying camp fires, blewthin ribbons out over the desolation.
Kent drew a long breath and glanced down at the limp figure in his arms.She lay so very still that in spite of a quivering breath now and then hehad a swift, unreasoning fear she might be dead. Her hair was a tangledmass of gold upon her head, and spilled over his arm. He carefully picked aflake or two of charred grass from the locks on her temples, and discoveredhow fine and soft was the hair. He lifted the grimy neckerchief from hereyes and looked down at her face, smoke-soiled and reddened from the heat.Her lips were drooped pitifully, like a hurt child. Her lashes, he noticedfor the first time, were at least four shades darker than her hair. Hisgaze traveled on down her slim figure to her ringed fingers lying looselyin her lap, a long, dry-looking blister upon one hand near the thumb; downto her slippers, showing beneath her scorched skirt. And he drew anotherlong breath. He did not know why, but he had a strange, fleeting sense ofpossession, and it startled him into action.
"You gone to sleep?" he called gently, and gave her a little shake. "We canget to the spring now, if you feel like walking that far; if you don't, Ireckon I'll have to carry you--for I sure do want a drink!"
She half lifted her lashes and let them drop again, as if life were notworth the effort of living. Kent hesitated, set his lips tightly together,and lifted her up straighter. His eyes were intent and stern, as thoughsome great issue was at stake, and he must rouse her at once, in spite ofeverything.
"Here, this won't do at all," he said--but he was speaking to himself andhis quivering nerves, more than to her.
She sighed, made a conscious effort, and half opened her eyes again. Butshe seemed not to share his anxiety for action, and her mental and physicalapathy were not to be mistaken. The girl was utterly exhausted withfire-fighting and nervous strain.
"You seem to be all in," he observed, his voice softly complaining. "Well,I packed you over here, and I reckon I better pack you back again--if you_won't_ try to walk."
She muttered something, of which Kent only distinguished "a minute." Butshe was still limp, and absolutely without interest in anything, and so,after a moment of hesitation, he gathered her up in his arms and carriedher back to the house, kicked the door savagely open, took her in throughthe kitchen, and laid her down upon the couch, with a sigh of relief thathe was rid of her.
The couch was gay with a bright, silk spread of "crazy" patchwork, andpiled generously with dainty cushions, too evidently made for ornamentalpurposes than for use. But Kent piled the cushions recklessly around her,tucked her smudgy skirts close, went and got a towel, which he immersedrecklessly in the water pail, and bathed her face and hands with clumsygentleness, and pushed back her tangled hair. The burn upon her hand showedan angry red around the white of the blister, and he laid the wet towelcarefully upon it. She did not move.
He was a man, and he had lived all his life among men. He could fightanything that was fightable. He could save her life, but after this slightattention to her comfort he had reached the limitations set by his purelymasculine training. He lowered the shades so that the room was dusky and ascool as any other place in that fire-tortured land, and felt that he couldno do more for her.
He stood for a moment looking down at the inert, grimy little figurestretched out straight, like a corpse, upon the bright-hued couch, her eyesclosed and sunken, with blue shadows beneath, her lips pale and still withthat tired, pitiful droop. He stooped and rearranged the wet towel on herburned hand, held his face close above hers for a second, sighed, frowned,and tiptoed out into the kitchen, closing the door carefully behind him.