The Measure of Katie Calloway,: A Novel (20 page)

But Katie looked outside anyway—and saw the thing that was agitating Moon Song. It was a glowing reddish-orange line in the distance, a tiny, flickering light against the dark sky.

As she watched, the distant light grew a fraction larger.

Her breath stopped as it dawned on her what that light meant. She had seen it once before—as General Sherman had burned his way across Georgia. There was a forest fire, and unless she missed her guess, it was coming straight at them.

17

Where the flames in torrents flashing,

through the fields and forest ’round,

and the trees like thunder crashing

in great numbers on the ground.

“The McDonald Family”
—1800s shanty song

She ran straight for the Gabriel horn, flung open the door, and began to blow. The sound of that horn was loud enough to wake the dead—which was what all of them would be if she didn’t sound the alarm. She kept blowing the horn over and over.

Where could they go? What should they do? How could they get away?

The horn frightened the baby, and it set up a howl. The men stumbled out of the bunkhouse in various stages of undress, some barefoot and carrying axes, some carrying their boots, hopping about on one foot then the other, putting them on.

“What’s wrong?” Robert was the first to reach her. Thomas, big eyed, was at his father’s side, clinging to his belt.

She pointed to the horizon.

When he saw the ominous glow in the distance, he groaned as though someone had thrust a knife through him. “Wildfire!” he shouted to the men.

There was a clamor as they all scanned the western sky.

“What’s the plan, Foster?” Skypilot asked.

That’s what Katie wanted to know too.

“I’m taking the children, and I’m getting out of here.” Sarah’s voice shook as she stood on the fringes of the group, clutching a shawl around her shoulders. “I’m going back to Bay City where it’s safe. I can drive that wagon myself, if someone will help me get it hitched up.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Robert said. “If the fire comes this way, you won’t make it back.”

“Yes, I will.”

“A wildfire can travel faster than a horse can run, Sarah. Even if you made it to Saginaw or Bay City, they’re both built of wood and sawdust. If the fire reaches them, they’ll go up in flames.”

“What will we do?” Sarah grabbed him and started shaking him, her eyes wide with fear. “What will we do?”

The glow was getting bigger, and the one safe place, the waters of Lake Huron, upon which Bay City lay, was two days away over a bad road. They didn’t have two days.

“We could set a backfire,” Tinker said. “Burn everything between here and the fire.”

“We can’t stop a fire that size, no matter what we do,” Robert said. “Sam, Mose, let the horses and mules out of the barn to fend for themselves. We’ll head to that inland lake in the uncut section east of here.”

“That lake isn’t big enough,” Sam pointed out. “When those pines catch fire, they’ll fall right in on top of us.”

“Not if we’re in the middle,” Robert said.

“Do you happen to have a boat I don’t know about?” Jigger said. “One that’ll hold all of us? Tinker ain’t even started building the wannigan for the spring drive yet.”

“Bring your tools and head to the lake. If you have caulked boots, wear them.”

As the men rushed to the bunkhouse to get their axes and saws, Robert grabbed Katie by both arms and stared intently into her face. “That lake we went to last Sunday—do you remember how to get there?”

“Yes!”

“Grab as many blankets as you can carry and head there as fast as you can. Don’t change clothes. Don’t stop for anything.” He turned away from her. “Sarah!” he yelled. “Take Betsy and follow Katie!”

For the first time since she had seen the fire on the horizon, Katie realized that she was standing among the men, barefoot and wearing nothing but a nightgown.

“Go put your shoes on, woman!” Jigger shouted as he hurried past her. “And don’t you dare take the time to get dressed and flounced up. If we don’t get into that lake, and into it in a hurry, nothing else is gonna matter.”

“What about my chickens and the piglets?” she asked.

“If the fire comes, they won’t make it,” Jigger said. “And neither will you if you try to drag them along with you. Hurry, woman!”

Moon Song stood staring at the glowing horizon, her baby secure in the back sling, her moccasins on her feet.

Katie grabbed Ned’s hand, and together they ran into the cook shanty, where both donned their shoes and Katie grabbed an armload of blankets and stuffed them into an empty flour sack, wondering what Robert intended her to do with them. She also lit a lantern. They would need it to keep from stumbling over roots and rocks as they made their way to the lake.

“Do we have to leave our animals behind?” Ned asked.

“Yes, but we can open their cages and give them a chance. Come help me.”

As Katie and Ned shooed the chickens out and let the piglets run free, she could hardly believe that she was, once again, letting her livestock loose to fend for themselves. Would she ever have any peace?

The camp descended into sheer chaos. Frightened mules and horses ran through the camp. Loggers loaded with peaveys, saws, and axes rushed toward the inland lake. Sarah, hair streaming, with Betsy hanging onto her, was running in the opposite direction.

Skypilot, axe in hand, pulled Betsy away from Robert’s sister and hefted the child onto his broad shoulders. “Sarah,” he said. “This way!”

“I’m going to Bay City!” she screamed. “Where it’s safe!”

Skypilot calmly grabbed the woman and started leading her toward the woods. Katie saw Thomas still holding onto his father’s belt, sticking to him like a burr, as Robert shouted orders.

Tethered in the back of the cook shanty was Katie’s precious cow, and she could not make herself leave it behind. She jerked the stake out of the ground and with Ned close beside her began to hurry toward the lake as fast as the cow would go.

She had no idea what Robert’s plan was once they got there, but she knew that getting to the water was their only chance. Both she and Ned were adequate swimmers. Cows could swim if they had to. The Shorthorn might have a chance if it would just . . . walk . . . faster!

She jerked on the rope, and the cow followed at a leisurely pace. The bell around its neck tinkled with every lumbering step—the cheerful, homely sound unreal against the backdrop of danger. She put the rope over her shoulder and leaned into it, straining against it, willing the complacent cow to hurry.

Cletus ran by. As he passed her, he smacked the Shorthorn on the haunches. “Git!” he yelled.

The cow, surprised, bellowed and bolted forward. Katie ran a few steps to keep up with it.

“You might have to leave her behind,” Ernie said.

“I know,” Katie said. “I will if I have to.”

In his haste, Ned stumbled and fell directly in front of the upset cow. Ernie scooped him up and set him astride the Shorthorn, giving the cow a swat. “Sorry, old gal,” Ernie said. “But the fire’s gonna hurt a whole lot worse than a little spank if you don’t get into the lake and fast.”

The cow bawled and trotted faster, Ned clinging to her back.

“What do we do when we get there?” Katie asked. “Surely not everyone can swim.” She looked around at the shadowy crowd hurrying through the trees, a bobbing lantern here and there. In the darkness, she realized that she had lost track of Moon Song. She could only trust that the Indian girl was following the rest of them.

Ernie looked at the brightening sky. “I hope the lake is big enough.”

“It’s a big lake,” Katie said.

“So is the fire,” Skypilot said as he passed. “Can I leave Betsy with you?”

“Of course.”

“Time for a cow ride, little one.” He set Betsy in front of Ned. “Hold on to her, son. Katie, don’t stop for anything. If the cow can’t keep up, grab the children and run.”

It was a strange feeling to be striding through the hardwood forest in the middle of the night. She could just make out various woodsmen, all carrying their tools just like Robert had ordered. She couldn’t imagine what they could accomplish with these implements. There was nothing at the lake with which to build a boat. Was Robert simply trying to preserve the axes and saws from the fire?

There was movement in the brush beside her. She raised her lantern higher to see what it was and realized that there was a tide of small animals heading away from the forest fire. They were single-minded in their purpose and appeared to be oblivious to the small army of humans striding across their path.

Foxes and rabbits, skunks, even two black bears lumbered past—completely unafraid of the humans. They seemed to realize that there was a much greater threat coming.

When she broke through to the lake, she saw a strange sight. Several axe teams were in the process of felling trees by lantern light. Robert, his sleeves rolled up, stood opposite Mose as both took turns with their axes in a quick staccato rhythm as they dug steel blades into the base of the tree.

This made no sense to her. Why would they be cutting down timber when a fire was on the way?

She had never seen Robert wield an axe before. Even though he was the camp owner, she had no idea he even knew how. But Robert, to her surprise, was every bit as adept as the others. His face was grim, his muscles taut, and sweat poured off his face even though the night was quite cool.

“Timberrrr!” someone shouted from beyond where Mose and Robert worked. She heard a loud splash, and then the sound of furious sawing whipping through the air. She could see the dim forms of two men thrusting a crosscut saw back and forth across the fallen trunk while other men swarmed over the tree, lopping off limbs.

“Got one!” she heard a man cry. In the dim light, she could see two other men using peaveys to roll the log into the water.

“Timberrrr!” she heard Robert cry out. Another tree. Another log.

This frightened her. The loggers might have the skill to balance upon and ride a log into the lake, but she and the children did not. Nor did Sarah. Even Moon Song would not be able to save herself while carrying a baby. Logs rolled when they were in the water. It took much skill to balance upon one.

Robert had to know that this was not going to work. There was no way tiny Betsy could cling to one of those massive things. There was nothing to hold on to!

“Incendie!”
Moon Song materialized beside her, jerking on her sleeve and pointing west.
“Incendie!”

“She’s saying ‘fire.’” Henri hurried past with a crosscut saw bouncing upon his shoulder. “But you’ve probably figured that out by now.”

The sky was growing more ominous by the minute. Even though it was the dead of night, it was now so light the lanterns were no longer needed to see. The men continued to frantically roll each freed log into the water. Some who were wearing caulked boots discarded their axes and saws, grabbed peaveys, and climbed upon the logs, doing a sort of desperate dance as the logs whirled in the dark water beneath their boots.

Now she saw Robert upon one. He wasn’t as skilled as some of the others, but he could stay up. Thomas stood, abandoned, at the water’s edge. She could tell the little boy was getting more and more agitated.

“Father!” the child screamed. “I can’t swim!”

“Trust me,” Robert shouted as he fought to keep his balance. “Wait on the bank.”

Betsy, following her brother’s example, stretched her arms out and also began to scream for her father.

Sarah seemed paralyzed by the scope of the danger. She stood, eyes glazed, staring out at the lake, rigid with fear.

Katie scanned the banks. When the fire came, it would burn right up to the edge of the water. The giant trees that ringed it would catch fire and topple in. The lake didn’t look so large to her now. No place anywhere near the edge would be safe. The only hope was to get to the middle, away from where the flaming trees would plunge.

Even then, if the fire was hot enough—and Katie knew it would be unimaginably hot—they might not survive.

At least she and Ned knew how to swim well enough to stay afloat. They might stand a chance on their own, but she could never abandon the other children.

“Dear Father in heaven,” she prayed aloud as she watched the encroaching fire. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Papa!” Thomas ran back and forth along the bank. “Don’t leave me, Papa!”

Thomas ran up to her, sobbing in fear, and she drew the child to her for whatever comfort she could give for the short time they had left. Ned faithfully held onto Betsy and the cow. Sarah stood beside them, a gaunt woman with her hands clasped in front of her chest.