Prairie Fire (34 page)

Jimmy’s voice came to him through the pall. “Cornwall, Cornwall!”

“Where are you?” Jack cried. “Where are you, O’Toole?”

Silence overwhelmed him as he stumbled onto the unburned patch. He could see nothing. Heat stung his skin. The crackle and snap of burning brush swirled around his ears.

“Jimmy O’Toole!”

A low cough caught his attention, and Jack fell to his knees beside the crumpled man. Lungs crying out in agony, he lifted the Irishman onto his shoulders. His leg might give out, Jack knew, but his arms were strong. With Jimmy’s limp body sprawled over his back, Jack struggled to stand.
God, help me. Help me!

Inching upward, he straightened. Which way? Which way out? He coughed, sure he would choke on the acrid smoke that filled his chest.

I am the way. Follow me.

Jack thought he heard the words, but he could see nothing. He staggered forward.

Follow me. Follow me.

Stumbling, aware of flames that caught the hems of his trousers and wreathed his ankles, Jack followed. Night cloaked him like a heavy, black blanket. His shoulders ached. His legs cramped. His lungs clamped down, strangling him.

Follow me.

Seth’s face suddenly appeared and blessed arms gathered Jack in. The weight lifted from his shoulders. He drifted upward, sure he was floating.
Out of hell and into heaven,
he thought.

Follow me.

Caitrin heaved the dripping bucket out of the creek and turned toward the fire. Across the moonlit prairie she spotted a cluster of men moving toward her like wraiths. Flames flickered behind them, smoke billowed above them. Whips of white lightning cracked through the air.

“Jack!” Caitrin knew immediately he was one of the men they carried among them. “Oh no, ’tis Jack!”

She dropped the heavy bucket, grabbed her skirts, and started running.

“Here is two manners,” Rolf said, leaving the group and trotting toward the women. “Is Cornwall and O’Toole both.”

“What about the fire?”

“Is stop.”

“To my soddy then!” Caitrin cried. “Follow me!”

Unable to hold back her tears, she led the men through the night toward the low mound that formed the roof of her small house. They stepped over the boards of the broken door and carried their two comrades inside. Caitrin lit lamps as the men laid Jimmy and Jack side by side on the bed.

“They’re neither one breathing!” Seth said. “One time a fellow in the army fell out of a tree, and the captain of our troop breathed the breath of life right back into him. You reckon we oughta try it, Miss Murphy?”

“Show me,” she said, swiping the back of her hand across her damp cheek.

Seth leaned over Jimmy, clamped two fingers on the man’s nose, and breathed deeply into the Irishman’s mouth. Caitrin placed her lips over Jack’s mouth, held his nose tightly, and forced a breath down into his lungs. She saw his chest rise. As it fell, the cloying scent of smoke escaped his lungs.

“I love you, Jack Cornwall,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Sure, you’re not a perfect man, but I love you all the same. No matter the consequences, I want to be your wife. Now breathe, Jack. Please, breathe!”

She bent over the man again and forced air down into his lungs.

Seth lifted away from Jimmy. “It worked on that soldier,” he said. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Miss Murphy.”

She drank in another deep breath. When she leaned toward Jack’s mouth, his arms slipped around her, drawing her close. “Caitrin,” he mumbled.

“Thank God!” Letting out the breath, she sank onto Jack’s shoulder and sobbed. His hands moved up her back, his fingers slid into her hair, and he heaved a deep sigh. Beside him, Jimmy began coughing, shaking the whole bed, as Rolf and the other men gathered around with words of encouragement.

“Jimmy? Jimmy?” Sheena cried as she appeared in the doorway. Behind her were Rosie, Lucy, Felicity Cornwall, and the other women and children. At the sight of her husband sitting up and wiping the soot from his eyes, Sheena stopped. “Oh, Jimmy, are you alive?”

“Aye, but barely.” Jimmy stretched out his arms. “Come here to me, Sheena, my love. I need a hug.”

Bursting into tears, Sheena elbowed her way to the bed and threw her arms around her husband. Caitrin held Jack so tightly she was afraid she might suffocate him all over again. But she couldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

“Caitrin?” Jack’s voice was husky. “Say the words again.”

“I love you,” she said softly, knowing what he needed to hear. “’Tis those three words that will bond us forever. You are precious to the Father, and with his love I love you. But you are precious to me, too, Jack Cornwall, and with my whole heart I love you.”

He let out a rattling breath and drew her closer.

“Pretty words and a happy scene,” Bill Hermann said as he appeared at the door of the soddy and attempted to push through the crowd, “but I ain’t got time for sweetness. Jack, let’s go.”

“You’ll not take this man anywhere!” Caitrin cried, looking daggers at the rascal. “Sure, he’s a
donsie
thing, barely alive, and you want to cart him off to Missouri? You’ll do no such thing!”

“I got a subpoena.”

“I don’t care if you’ve a letter from the president himself. Get out of my house!” She jumped to her feet and shook a finger in the man’s face. “Out, villain! Out!”

“Listen, ma’am,” the deputy said over Hermann’s shoulder. “This ain’t exactly somethin’ I enjoy, but I’ve got my duty. This here subpoena means Jack Cornwall has to go back to Missouri to testify about that lynchin’.”

“I wasn’t there,” Jack said.

“He’s telling the truth,” Lucy whispered. “My brother was in Sedalia with … with me the night of that lynchin’.”

All eyes turned to the frail young woman. “Ma’am, you may be tellin’ the truth, but a sister’s word ain’t gonna be worth nothin’ in a court of law.”

“It’s okay, Lucy,” Jack said, elbowing himself up. He coughed and then spoke in a raspy voice. “Listen, Deputy, I’ve got a blacksmithing business to run here. Can’t you just take a sworn testimony that I wasn’t at the Easton cabin that night?”

“Nope. Says right here, you got to testify in person.”

“He wasn’t there,” Lucy repeated softly. “Jack was … he was in town. He was with me. We were … we were—”

“That’s enough, Lucy!” Felicity Cornwall said. “We don’t tell our family business in public.”

“Mama, please …”

“It’s okay, Lucy.” Jack studied his blackened hands. “Bill Hermann, you know if I lie for you, I’m going to land in jail myself. If I tell a court of law that I was at the Easton cabin, I’m implicating myself in the crime. You expect me to do that for the bunch?”

“Don’t you care about us no more, Jack?” Bill Hermann asked.

“We was your family there toward the end of the war. We gave you a place to stay, food to eat, a cause to fight for. We loved you, Jack.”

Jack lifted his head and eyed his former comrade. “You don’t know the meaning of love, my friend,” he said. He looked at Caitrin. “But I do. I understand love. It’s more than just words. It’s stepping out on a limb for someone, even if they don’t deserve it—the way Christ laid down his life for me, bad as I’ve been.”

Turning back to Bill Hermann, Jack squared his shoulders. “So I’ll go to Missouri with you.”

“No!” Caitrin cried.

“Come on then,” Bill said, reaching for Jack. “We’ll get a wagon and—”

“He was with me!” Lucy elbowed her way around the bed toward the deputy. “Jack was with me. I can prove it.”

“Don’t do this, Lucy,” Jack said. “Don’t—”

“I know about love, too, Jack,” Lucy said softly, her gray eyes huge and luminous. “I can … I can walk on limbs as good as the next person.” She drew a locket from around her neck, pried it open, and pulled out a small piece of folded paper. “Here, Deputy. I carry this with me everywhere.”

“Oh, Lucy, how could you!” Felicity cried and fled the soddy.

The deputy took the paper and opened it. “This here paper is signed by Mr. Cornwall, Miss Cornwall, and by a Sedalia lawyer, too. It looks like a document turnin’ over a baby for adoption.”

Caitrin slipped her arm around Lucy’s shoulders as she spoke in a voice barely audible. “The Yankee soldiers,” Lucy said. “They came to our farm and … robbed and … and burned … and …”

“Lucy,” Jack said, reaching for his sister.

“After they … they hurt me … I was carrying a baby. Mama didn’t want the shame. The shame …”

“Aw, Luce, you don’t have to do this.”

“I loved my baby,” Lucy continued in the hush of the room. “But Mama said … said it was a good family … and Jack took me to Sedalia to sign the paper. It has the date and time stamped on it.” With a trembling finger, she pointed to the document in the deputy’s hand.

The man scratched his head. “Yep, that’s the day of the Easton lynching, and the time is six in the evenin’. That Easton feller was swingin’ by a rope at six o’clock that night.”

One arm still around Lucy, Caitrin gripped Jack’s hand. Confused, hopeful, and terrified all at once, she waited for the man’s response.

The deputy looked down at the paper in his hands. “This lawyer a feller I can find in Sedalia?”

“Yes,” Lucy whispered.

“You reckon he’d swear he signed this document?”

“Yes, sir.”

The deputy folded the document and stuffed it into his own shirt pocket. “I’m hungry,” he said. “I’m hungry, and I missed my supper fightin’ that confounded prairie fire out here in the middle of nowhere. And now I find out this subpoena can’t hold no more water than a leaky bucket. Bill Hermann, you better wangle up another witness, ’cause Jack Cornwall just got himself an alibi.”

“You’re not taking Jack back to Missouri?” Caitrin asked, scarcely able to form the words.

“I’m not haulin’ any of you folks nowhere. I’m goin’ home to my wife and my supper.”

As the deputy exited and Bill Hermann stomped out of the soddy behind him, Caitrin clapped her hands over her mouth. A whoop of joy went up around the room. Rosie grabbed Lucy’s hands and started dancing around in circles.

“Will wonders never cease?” Sheena said over the racket. Standing, she crossed her arms and surveyed the scene. As the group quieted, she lifted her chin. “An Irishman in bed with a Cornishman? And the pair of you as black as midnight and smelling like chimneys. Well, isn’t this as cozy as two lumps of sugar in a teacup?”

“Aye,” Jimmy said. With a grunt, he sat up. “And ’tis a cup of tea as sweet as any ever tasted. When I saw Jack Cornwall comin’ through the flames, Sheena, he was no Cornishman to me. He was an angel of God himself. This man carried me out of that fire on his own two shoulders, and he saved my life. I’m an Irishman, tough as the sod and unforgiving as a winter wind, but my own sin is standing right before my eyes, and I’ll not ignore it any longer.”

Jimmy turned to the man beside him. “Forgive me, Jack Cornwall.”

“And me,” Sheena whispered. “Thank you for saving my Jimmy’s life.”

“Done,” Jack said, shaking the Irishman’s hand.

“Well,” Felicity Cornwall said, stepping back into the soddy. “This is quite a sight. My son abed with an Irishman and in love with an Irishwoman. My daughter’s shame spread into the open air for everyone to see. My husband dead … dead and buried, unable to … to defend his family …”

“Mrs. Cornwall,” Sheena said, “there’s naught to defend, for there’s no longer an enemy.”

Felicity set her hands on her hips and studied the faces around the room. “I don’t understand this,” she said. “I don’t understand it.”

“It’s love, Mama,” Jack said. “Accept it.”

“Well,” Felicity said. “Well, I never.”

“I never either, Mama, but it’s about time we did.”

“You are precious to the Father, Mrs. Cornwall,” Caitrin murmured, taking Felicity’s hand. “And I love you.”

“Well,” Felicity said again. She swallowed hard. “Thank you, Miss Murphy. And, Mrs. O’Toole … thank you for … I’m sorry for …”

“La, Mrs. Cornwall,” Sheena said, wrapping the older woman in a hug, “all’s forgiven.”

“Time for another vote!” Seth called out. “How many in favor of letting the Cornwall family stay in Hope?”

A roar of response filled the soddy as every hand in the room shot toward the ceiling. “Welcome to Hope, Mrs. Cornwall, Jack, Lucy,” Seth said. “Now let’s go check on that fire, men!”

His words were followed by a crack of lightning, a boom of thunder, and a wall of rain that raced over the soddy’s roof like a bag of spilled marbles. Laughter filled the air at the knowledge that the town called Hope had been spared, that the creek would run high again, and that crops would flourish. Fathers lifted their sons onto their backs and headed into the downpour. Mothers took their daughters’ hands and skipped outside to dance in the puddles.

Seth tugged a quilt around Rosie, grabbed Chipper, and headed for home, Stubby barking at their heels. Felicity took Lucy’s hand and hurried her toward their camp to unroll canvases and cover the half-filled wagons. Jimmy hobbled out of bed, gave Jack a friendly squeeze on the shoulder, gathered his wife and his
brablins
, and made for the bridge.

Jack stood slowly, his arm around Caitrin’s shoulders for support. Together they stepped out of the soddy into the night and let the cool water pour over them, washing away pain and fear along with the soot.