Protection and Preservation Book 04Chapter 35
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A few days later, the winds increased in force. The wind's voice changed and rose to a high-pitched whining, irritating the ears of women and beasts alike.
The movement of the tall grasses went from a gentle oscillation, to a violent whipping, much like confused ocean waves during a storm.
Added to the high winds were faint smells, nothing identifiable but ... something. All the animals and birds that the women saw were moving in the same direction as their little wagon train.
After several days of ever-strengthening winds, the women's ears ached and the smells became stronger. This caused the still skittish mules' behavior to grow to the point of being unruly.
Even the usually unflappable Maeve was getting edgy. She pulled her wagon into a one hundred and eighty degree turn, and stopped, facing the way that they had come.
This maneuver caused the mules to stamp and fidget even more than before. Once the wagon was stopped and the brake set, Maeve stood up on the seat and shielded her eyes against the morning sun with her hand. There were large black clouds all across the horizon. Strange ... those clouds and the sun together like that.
Then she smelled it! Those weren't weather clouds! They were SMOKE clouds! There was a FIRE behind them, and it was heading their way!
Maeve turned the wagon back onto the trail and looked ahead. With a sickening feeling in her stomach she saw that there was no shelter to run to on the flat prairie plain.
"What's the matter?" called Shaylee.
Maeve didn't answer, her mind was working furiously, searching for a way out of their deadly predicament. If the fire caught them here on the open range they were dead!
Because of the look she saw on her sister's face, Shaylee called again, more urgently this time,
Maeve just held up a hand, in the universal symbol for stop.
Now Shaylee was really frightened!
Looking in all directions brought no relief. There simply was no place to take shelter.
"Ok ... we can't outrun the fire ... and there's no shelter anywhere near us ... what to do? Ok! Ok! What does a fire need? Ok ... it needs fuel ... and air ... and a spark or some sort of flame. Ok ... what do we need? A place that is missing one of those things ... but what? Well we both need air but ... Ooooo! Ooooo! Another fire! One in front of us! If the wind holds, we can cause a burn that will move away from us and consume all the fuel ... then the fire in back of us will not have anything to burn. If we then move into the burned out area we just might survive this mess."
Mave motioned for Shaylee to come to her.
"Look, girl, we're in deep trouble! There's a big fire behind us, and there's no place to hide, so we have to make our own place. If we burn enough of the grasses off in front of us, we can move the wagons into the middle of that space and just maybe we'll survive this," said Maeve as she jumped from the wagon.
With eyes as big as moons, Shaylee locked her wagon's brake, jumped down and ran to join Maeve. She met her sister struggling with one of the big cans of kerosene.
"I'll get this, you unhitch two of the mules and saddle them," said Maeve.
The younger woman ran to do her sister's bidding. Shaylee found that it was no mean feat to unhitch and then saddle the skittish, unruly mules.
Maeve gathered two big bundles of grass and then soaked them with the kerosene to make drag torches. Long ropes that were tied to the saddle horns were attached to the bundles. Soon the two women were mounted. Galloping in opposite directions, they now had flaming bundles dragging along behind them. The bundles kindled a large grass fire that grew and moved away from them, driven by the wind.
The two women and all that they possessed were now standing between two huge roaring fires, each with pillars of smoke of biblical proportions. They re-hitched the team to the wagon again, and then wrapped the hooves of the four animals in pieces of thick rawhide that had been soaked in water. The ground would be hot after the fire and might cripple the animals if they weren't protected. As soon as they were able, they moved into the burned out area. After about half a mile Maeve called a halt and got down to check the mules' feet. She then went and filled a bucket with water and wet the animals down, paying special attention to their wrapped feet. Shaylee did the same to her team and then the two women wet their clothes. Finally they covered the mules' eyes—this calmed the animals a bit, but not much, after all they could still smell the fire. Next the women stationed themselves at the animals' heads with buckets at the ready and hands locked onto the harnesses.
The sky filled with smoke, sparks and ash. The stench of the fire choked the women and animals alike. Though the wind carried large sparks, there was no fuel to set alight. Nothing except the canvas on the wagons, that is. Maeve held and comforted the animals while Shaylee dowsed whatever caught fire.
By nightfall, the fire had passed the wagons by. They were alive but not yet safe. They had expended almost all of their water fighting the fire.
That night, soot covered and with holes burned into their clothes and the wagons' canvases, the two exhausted women slid down the front wheel of Shaylee's wagon and just sat there. They spent the night coughing up soot filled mucus and wiping soot filled snot from their noses. It was a very long cold, uncomfortable night. The mules fared no better and stood with hanging heads and labored breathing and black mucous streaming from their muzzles.
In the morning the women took a bucket and some rags and used a bit of the remaining water to wash the muzzles of the suffering animals. The mules smelled the water in the bucket and tried to drink the fouled stuff.
Maeve took pity on the suffering creatures and gave each animal a small drink of clean water from the dwindling supply.
Shaylee looked around at the ash filled scene and asked, "Are we still in trouble?"
"Yep," said her sister, laconically.
Shaylee moved to her sister's side and said very softly, "Maeve? Thank you for saving me."
Maeve looked at her sister in surprise and said, "Hell, girl, we saved each other! That was a doozie of a fire!"
Shaylee lowered her head and said, almost in a whisper, " No! I don't mean here. I mean back at home. I don't think that I could have taken being raped by all those men. It would have done me in, in my head, ya know?"
Maeve reached over and took her sister's hand and held it as tightly as she could. She couldn't speak, as there was a lump in her throat the size of the Rock of Gibraltar. Along with that lump went a steel band around her heart and lungs. The pressure was so great that the older woman was near to swooning. Filled with emotions but still unable to speak, Maeve began to shake her sister's hand up and down then she pulled the younger woman into a tight embrace.
The two stood that way for a long time, as Maeve tried to clear her throat and get her lungs back into their normal rhythm.
Finally, able to speak again, she said, "I love you, sister. I couldn't take it if I lost you, too. Now girl ... We need to find water, and soon!"
Shaylee nodded understanding, broke the embrace and said, "Remember a ways back there were bushes in that little gully? I bet if we went back and dug there, we'd find some water."
"No I don't. You think that there's anything left of the bushes to find?"
Shaylee shrugged, "Ya got any other ideas?"
"Nope."
"Well, let's try for it, then."
"Ok, if you think you can find the place."
Great clouds of soot and ash lifted into the air with each step that the mules took. If it were not for the ever-present wind, the six would soon have succumbed to suffocation on the fine black powder. It soon became evident that the women could not ride in the wagons because of the clouds of ash kicked up by the animals. Even with the ever-present winds the women were now driving back into, the winds carried the ash right into their faces. Thus the women had to walk at the heads of the mules, leading them by hand.
Strangely that fact worked to their advantage. Since they were walking they found the tiny burned stubs that remained of the bushes. They would have ridden right by if seated high up in the wagons, so small were the stumps.
It was Maeve that found the spot. She let out such a whoop that her mules reared up. After calming the animals, the chagrinned Maeve pulled two shovels from her wagon and the women commenced to digging.
Several feet down the earth began to ooze like loose batter in a bowl. With renewed vigor the exhausted women dug deeper, their effort was soon rewarded when the hole filled with sweet, fresh water.
The animals smelled the water and strained against the wagon brakes to get at the life giving liquid.
Shaylee took pity on the poor mules, and filled a bucket. She watered each animal in turn.
They stayed at the new pool for the rest of the day and refilled the water barrels along with any containers that had tight covers—they were unsure as to when or where they would find water again. They also washed themselves, their clothes and the animals.
With re-energized spirits they set off again the next morning.
As the weeks passed Jake stopped grieving for his wife and began a slow burn of anger against the Irish 'invaders that caused all of this trouble.' The anger drove him to work hard at getting out of bed and walking again. Each day he forced himself to stand and flex the muscles that remained.
In the middle of the forth week after he'd learned of the destruction of the town, Jake gave out a cowboy yell so loud that it startled the cook. With a scream of surprise she dropped a whole pot of stew on the floor—there were bits and pieces of meat and vegetables all over the kitchen AND Cookie. She was not well pleased!
With stew dripping from her hair and garments, she walked into Jake's room and screamed, "Ya stupid, bitter ol' man! There ain't gonna be a dinner tonight 'cause o' ya shenanigans! Ya can just clean up that mess ya self. I AIN'T GONNA DO IT!"
She then turned on her heel and went back to the kitchen and out the back door to the well, muttering all the while how nasty it was to work for such a bunch of unruly, disrespectful men.
Once at the well she stood and caught her breath and let some of her pique drain away. She drew two buckets of water for a bath and headed back to the house. No one asked to assist her. After she put the water on the stove to heat, she returned to the back porch where she struggled to take down the bathtub that hung on a big nail.
She managed to unhook the ungainly thing. It was one of those things with a high backrest at one end, and it was quite heavy. It crashed to the floor with metallic sounds similar to an out of tune bell, Cookie managed to dodge the large piece of metal and then drag it to her room, again no one offered help to the old woman, though many were watching her struggles.
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