Fire, The (43 page)

Concerned that ashes and dead animals had polluted a reservoir and a flume, the mayor had declared the city's drinking water unsafe. He had issued an order temporarily rescinding a law that prohibited the sale of alcohol on Sundays, clearing the way for Wallace's many saloons to stay open past midnight. Most saloon owners happily complied.

Though the mayor, Kevin remembered, would not declare martial law until midnight, he had already secured much of the town by ordering police, firemen, deputized volunteers, and units of the 25th Infantry to strategic locations around the city. Those closest to the fire lines often doubled as auxiliary firefighters. When the flames moved along Seventh Street, several soldiers traded their rifles for buckets and doused wooden window frames in buildings at greatest risk.

Kevin stood on the corner and pondered his next move. He had come here to help others and still
wanted
to help others, but now he wondered whether he could help anyone. He felt small and useless, like a riot cop watching order slowly slip away.

Once again, he considered running. With his handlers nowhere in sight, he had the chance to exit for good. He knew he could live with that decision. This wasn't his time. This wasn't his fight. He was an interloper in a human drama that had already played once. If anything, he had an obligation to let history run its course. He could leave this place with Sarah in tow and leave it in less than thirty minutes.

Then the moral compass that had brought him this far pointed north again – north toward the trains. When Kevin walked across Sixth Street, he saw two toddlers cry for their mother. No one came for the girls. No one seemed to care. For all practical purposes, they were alone in the world with no one to hear their cries but a time traveler who didn't belong.

Kevin hesitated for a moment and then acted. He scooped the girls in his arms and carried them a block to a policeman who said he knew their parents.

When he was certain the toddlers were safe, he glanced across the street and saw another crisis in the making. A frail woman struggled to manage three small children and a large suitcase as she slowly worked her way toward the depots.

Kevin grabbed the suitcase and the hand of one of the boys and accompanied the family to its destination. He knew there were a hundred better ways to spend a Saturday night but none came readily to mind. This was his calling on August 20, 1910, and maybe his calling in life. It was time to set aside his own interests, at least for a night, and do what he knew was right.

CHAPTER 73: KEVIN

The control in the "controlled chaos" ended where the road hit the rails. When many residents crossed the bridge and reached the tracks, they bolted for open railcars like they were the last available lifeboats on a sinking ship. The parallels to the
Titanic
tragedy, still twenty months off, were just beginning.

Kevin couldn't blame people for running. The blaze had gotten worse. The fire to the south had become the fire to the west, east, and north and now laid siege to a city that was running out of options and defensible real estate.

Flames from the east, in fact, had already jumped the river and started bringing down each of the Oregon Railroad and Navigation Company depots, forcing refugees out of the buildings and off of a flammable railway platform. Those wishing to board the train now had to do so from open, uneven ground fifty to a hundred yards away.

Kevin saw another problem as well: many of the passenger cars waiting to carry residents to safety were not passenger cars at all, but rather boxcars and flatcars. People all along the length of the train fought each other for limited coach space, with the strongest and meanest winning most of the time.

Some of the strongest and meanest included businessmen who had left their chivalry on the south side of the river and bullied their way into cars specifically designated for women, children, and the sick. When Kevin saw one man knock a pregnant woman to the ground in a race to reach a coach, he tackled him from behind and pushed his face into the dirt.

Driven by moral outrage, Kevin kicked the man in the side twice – once for the woman and once for her child – and then looked for someone else to hit. He
really
wanted to find Preston Pierce throwing babies off the train but instead found a few women behaving as badly as the men. He wondered what it was about trauma and tragedy that brought out the worst in people.

Some who weren't pushed or pulled from the train were isolated and ostracized, such as a shabbily dressed woman who held a toddler in an otherwise empty boxcar. When Kevin asked a man why she sat alone in a perfectly good car, he got a perfectly good answer.

"The child is sick," he said. "He has scarlet fever."

Kevin shook his head when he heard that. No matter how many people he tried to help, he wouldn't be able to help everyone. Some problems defied compassionate solutions.

When he saw the ranks of the pushers and pullers begin to thin, he walked toward the back of the train. If nothing else, he could make sure that everyone who wanted to get on the train got on the train. He picked up his step at the halfway point but stopped when he heard a familiar voice. It was the voice of his favorite student, a student in a flatcar.

"Hi, Mr. Johnson," Josie White said.

Kevin drew closer and saw that Josie was not alone. She sat between her sister and her mother in the back of the car. Her father, a boarding house manager named James White, stood a few feet away. He kept a close eye on a group of rough-looking men in the front.

"Hi, Josie. What are you doing in a flatcar? You should all be in a coach."

"You'd better ask my dad."

"They threw us off, Mr. Johnson. I offered to send them alone and the ruffians refused us all. I've never been so appalled in my life."

"I know what you mean. I got a taste of it back there. Are you sure you'll be all right? I can see if I can find you some blankets."

"I appreciate the offer, sir, but you won't find as much as a scrap for a baby tonight. The vultures are out. I feel ashamed to be riding a train with the likes of them."

"Don't be ashamed, Mr. White. You're doing the right thing. You have a responsibility to take care of your family and you're doing it. That's more than a lot of people out here."

Kevin took a moment to scan the length of the train and saw that most people had found an open car, even if it wasn't a car of their choice. He returned to the Whites just as Laura White, wife and mother, began to speak.

"Josie tells us you're coming back to the school next year. Is that true?"

Kevin sighed. He should have known he'd have to answer a question like this sooner or later. He thought of a creative reply but decided to go with the truth. He didn't want to lie to anyone anymore, much less a family like this.

"I'm afraid it's not true, ma'am."

Kevin watched Josie frown.

"Why is that?"

"I've decided to marry Sarah Thompson and return to my hometown in Oregon. That's why. I feel bad about leaving, but I think it's the right thing to do now."

"I understand. Congratulations on your engagement. I think very highly of Miss Thompson."

"I do too," Kevin said.

James and Laura White laughed.

"Will you be leaving soon?" Laura asked.

"Yes," Kevin said. "We may leave as soon as tomorrow, if we can ever get out of this town."

Josie stood up and walked slowly to the edge of the flatcar, where James White maintained a constant watch for rogues and ne'er-do-wells. She grabbed her father's hand and looked at Kevin thoughtfully.

"Mr. Johnson, will you write to us from your new home?" she asked.

Kevin smiled and laughed to himself. This was the price of inspiring a student. He didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep, but he was fairly sure he'd be able to keep this one."

"I'll tell you what, Josie. I'll do my best to write. I may not get to it until next year, but I'll try to put something in the mail."

"Thank you. I'd like that."

"I do have one condition though."

"What's that?"

"I insist that you stay in school and stay active in science. Even if you never go to college, stay active. Read as much as you can and apply all that you learn. You have a wonderful mind, Josie. Use it. Use it and you'll have a wonderful life. I promise."

"I will," she said with a sweet smile. "I will."

Kevin started to say goodbye but didn't get the chance. The engineer blew the whistle and released the brake, putting the relief train into motion and creating a commotion that no voice could overcome. He watched James White pull his daughter away from the unsupported edge and lead her to the safety of the back of the car.

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to even shout over the deafening noise, made worse by the sound of the wind and the crackling fires, Kevin instead waved to the family and gave Josie a big thumbs-up. He smiled when the president of the Shoshone County High School Science Club returned the gesture. It was the last time he ever saw the brightest student he would ever teach.

Kevin followed the train about fifty yards and then stopped as it neared a bend. He knew that some passengers would have a chilly ride to Wardner, Harrison, and even Spokane, but he knew they would be safe. When the train disappeared from sight, he turned to other things.

He thought of Sarah, of course, as he had done all night. He hadn't seen her on the train and, frankly, hadn't expected to. It was not her style to leave others in need, and he had little doubt that there were many in need at City Hospital.

The question was whether to seek her now or continue to help others. He found his answer when he assessed the rest of the town.

When he looked to the west, Kevin saw the bright lights of houses, businesses, and the hospital. The medical facility had not only withstood the threat of fire but had also retained its ability to function. He knew from a simple glance that the doctors, nurses, and volunteers would continue to work through the night helping the sick and the wounded get through the greatest calamity in the region's history.

When he looked to the south and the east, he saw other lights. The fires that had destroyed several downtown blocks now moved without mercy on what remained of the city's industrial core. Though Kevin knew that most of the damage had been done, he also knew that the flames weren't finished. Most fires did not go quickly and quietly. They lingered. They caused trouble until man or nature put them out with overwhelming force.

Kevin collected his jacket, which he had put on a post, and walked toward Seventh Street. When he reached the headquarters of the city's eastern defense, he looked for work and found it quickly. A fireman directed him to the courthouse, where officials and others chopped away burning windows and doorframes to keep the new building from going up.

He later sprayed buildings with hoses, carried fire equipment from place to place, and brought bottled beer to those who had fought the fires for two hours but had no access to safe drinking water. He did all that and more until midnight, when the flames finally subsided, the mayor declared martial law, and the city of Wallace got a much-needed reprieve.

At twelve thirty Kevin met up with other firefighters at Seventh and Pearl and helped them lead about thirty people to nearby hotels and boarding houses. Though he knew from Walking Walt that the Great Fire of 1910 had killed only two Wallace residents, he also knew that it had left hundreds homeless, including these late arrivals.

When he finished guiding the last of the refugees to shelter, Kevin rejoined the conscripts, whom he now called friends, and shook more than twenty hands. Several men invited him to join them for a beer at the Shooting Star, which had sustained only superficial damage and continued to operate well into the Sabbath.

Kevin politely refused the invitation. As much as he wanted to celebrate the saving of a town, or at least two thirds of it, he simply wasn't up for a drink – or anything but rest.

So he pondered his options, which boiled down to breaking into Maude's house and reclaiming his room, going to the hospital, or finding the first available bed. He quickly dismissed the first option and slowly dismissed the second. Figuring that Sarah was most likely fast asleep on a hospital cot, he decided to put off their reunion a few more hours.

Kevin took one last look at the dying fires to the east and then walked groggily to the five-story Samuels Hotel at Seventh and Cedar. Once inside, he proceeded to the lobby and fell face first on a sofa. He had done his part for God and country. At one in the morning, it was time for sleep.

CHAPTER 74: KEVIN

Sunday, August 21, 1910

Kevin joined the living when an old woman poked him with her cane and asked him to get up. She apparently had little sympathy for a man who had stayed up half the night trying to save her town. She wanted a soft place to sit, and she wanted it now.

"OK. OK. Give me a minute."

Kevin sat upright, rubbed his eyes, and stared at the woman. She looked older than God and meaner than a rattlesnake but apparently had no interest in causing him trouble. When he slid over to one side of the sofa, she claimed the other and leaned her cane on a nearby table.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome. Do you know what time it is?" he asked.

"I believe it's nine."

Kevin looked at a clock near the hotel's front desk and saw that she was right. It was nine o'clock – or at least nine o'clock if you rounded up to the nearest minute.

"Do you know if the fires are out?"

"They are," she said.

"Are you all right?"

"I am."

"Do you need anything?"

"I don't."

Kevin smiled wearily and gazed at the woman, who wore her gray hair in a tightly stretched bun and stared blankly at a wall through thick granny glasses. He saw he wasn't going to have a meaningful conversation with this one.

"OK. I just thought I'd ask."