The Mystery of the Moonlight Murder (7 page)

“Yes?” John whispered back, leaning over on one elbow too. “Do you think Summer will get to come back during the harvest?”

“I don't know,” said John. “We could ask Father and Mother. She did last year, remember?”

Elmer nodded but it was too dark for John to see.

“John?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think all of us will get to go to Langham later this week when Mother sells her butter?”

“I hope so,” said John, whispering.

“John, if they say River's Voice did you-know-what and he has to stay in jail for a long time, do you think Summer can always live with us?”

“He didn't do it,” said John quickly.

“I know that,” said Elmer. “I said what if they say he did?” he repeated.

“Probably not, Elmer. She still has family, you know.” As much as he loved the idea of Summer staying with them, John disliked the idea of someone getting blamed for something they didn't do.

“I don't want to think about that right now, Elmer,” John complained. “I've got a better idea. Why don't you try to help me figure out who really did it and then we won't even need to have this conversation?”

“You mean, like, solving it…like the police do?” he clarified.

“Yes,” said John. “Like the police.”

Elmer gave this some thought. “Summer would want to help, too,” he concluded.

Ed stirred and turned over in his bed, just as brilliant lightning briefly illuminated the walls in the small shack. For about

two seconds, John and Elmer could see each other propped up in their beds and Elmer quickly made a scary face with his eyes wide like saucers. John reached out and thumped his brother on the shoulder.

“Oww!” said Elmer, slightly above a whisper.

“If you wake Uncle Ed, he'll make you sleep outside,” said John. He delighted in the way he imagined his brother's face looking now. John wished more lightning would flash so he could see his expression. However, the storm must have been too far away because the homestead remained in darkness.

“Well, I'm tired anyway. Goodnight,” said Elmer, barely whispering.

John grinned in the dark. “Good night, Elmer.”

***

John returned to the scene of the murder in his dream. He was too late—again—and Hans Schneider lay dead, his head propped onto his wife Gertrude's lap. The same red blood began to spread across the man's clothes and John was terrified. Gertrude began to wail and John squeezed the sides of Skipper to prompt him to race home. As Skipper approached a fallen tree, the horse froze in fear, sending John flying through the air. John landed hard. He woke sweating in his bed and breathing heavily. He closed his eyes and tried to let go of the anxiety from his

dream. John thought of something peaceful as he tried to get back to sleep—a fishing trip he went on with his father. But where was his father?

The great bald eagle sat calmly on the banks of the mighty North Saskatchewan River. It didn't seem to realize that John was there, observing. Soon it was joined on the left by a buffalo that could walk on two legs who also observed the eagle's movements with contentment. On the eagle's right, many spotted horses galloped up to sit beside the eagle, their breath coming in gentle snorts.

The eagle was using its wings to scoop up the sand along the banks of the river and filter it between its feathers. John sensed that it was a hot day in the middle of summer. For as far as he could see, there was only blue sky punctured by groupings of trees to the north. As the eagle closed its eyes, a cool wind seemed to come from nowhere and ruffle its white head feathers.

Then, the eagle reached down and scooped water from the river in its cupped feathered wings. John began to understand the eagle was interacting with three of the four elements— earth, air, water. But where was fire?

Just then the bald eagle arranged large stones in a circle, creating a fire pit. The bird brought out a pointed flint stone and struck down on a small rectangular-shaped piece of steel over

some dry grass that he had placed inside the perimeter of stones, calmly lighting the fire in the traditional Indian way. There it is, thought John as he observed. Fire.

As the eagle sat there for a moment and tended its small fire, some of the flames leapt over the protective circle of rocks to the dry land. The eagle was startled.

It grasped the stray flames with its feathered wings and suddenly turned to John, holding the fire, staring at him in his dream as if all along it had known that John was there. John felt frightened as the eagle held onto the flames with its cupped, feathered wings and began to walk toward him.

“No, get away,” mumbled John, trying to shout. “It's fire… dangerous. Fire….It's fire!” he tried to scream at the top of his lungs, but it seemed as if he could hardly speak at all.

Chapter 8
Everything in its Path

“Get up! John! Get up!”

John opened his eyes to see his uncle and brother dressing quickly. They looked terrified, glancing nervously out the tiny shack's window. The small room was lit by a strange glow from the window, even though it was obviously still the middle of the night. Ed flung open the door and ran outside and as he did so the room was bathed in a warm, orange light. He shouted over his shoulder to Elmer and John as he ran toward the main house.

“You boys come to the house. Let's go!”

“What's going on?” asked John, scared and confused as he dressed quickly.

“You're the one who was shouting ‘fire' and woke us up!” exclaimed Elmer, stuffing his feet into his shoes. “The whole prairie is on fire, John!”

John stumbled over to the doorway, a fragment of his strange dream about an eagle beginning to come back into his mind. He

then looked outside to see the darkness cut by a wide swath of brilliant orange fire in the distance, gorging on the dry grass that stood in its way. He felt his stomach knot in fear as he realized the sheer size of the great blaze. A grass fire—the thing homesteaders feared most.

John and Elmer raced across the dry ground, imagining their own homestead engulfed in flames. Ed's shack seemed to be further away and safe for the moment. And yet, it was possible that everything they owned—their home, their barns, their crop of wheat—would be lost under the torrent of fire racing across the land in the distance. As they ran, they watched the fire grow in intensity in the distance, a pulsing roar they could even smell as it gobbled up the countryside.

The thirsty land over the past couple of weeks had created the perfect conditions for the deadly lightening strikes overnight. John imagined that when they had gone to bed with lightning flashing in the distance, it must have struck a dry tree. The resulting strike would have splintered the tree, creating deadly sparks that would have fallen on the tinder-dry grasslands of the prairies. With nothing but wide open dry grasslands, the fire would have grown like a flash.

As they closed in on the main homestead, John and Elmer saw their father come running out with his shirt half on, almost colliding with Ed, who had been screaming his brother's name the whole way. The two of them now worked together, shout-

ing to each other about what was best to do. William saw Elmer and John running toward the house. He yelled for them to stay close to the home, just as Mary and Summer quickly made their own exit.

Mary gathered John, Elmer, and Summer together and tersely issued instructions. “Get towels and rags and wet them from the two water barrels. Then line the bottoms of the doorways.”

With anxious faces everyone did as they were told, knowing how precious water was but also understanding the threat.

John knew his father and uncle were about to do the only possible thing that might save them from the fire's path of destruction. They were going to hitch the horses to a plough and dig deep furrows in the land all around the property. Hopefully, when the fire reached the freshly dug black earth it would have no new dry grass to feast on and simply stop at that exact point where the grasses burned off.

The animals in their paddocks were restless, pacing around and smelling the burning air. William and Ed led Skipper and Blue out of the barn but the horses were afraid of the danger that they sensed. Both of them resisted and began to tug their massive heads backwards.

John stole glances at his father and uncle who were frantically trying to hitch up the horse team to the plough. He knew it made sense to use the horses, rather than the oxen, because horses could do the job more quickly and time meant every-

thing now. John wished he was helping them, rather than wetting rags. He felt he could assemble the team faster than them if given the chance.

“Dang it! Whooaa!” William bellowed, trying to get control of Skipper while Ed tried to do the same with Blue. “Father, let me help!” called out John. William glanced over at John and nodded.

John raced toward the team but slowed down as he got nearer to avoid scaring them further. He talked reassuringly but firmly to Skipper and Blue. John could hear Summer's horse, Prairie Dancer, in the barn obviously feeling the stress of the events taking place.

“That's it…good boy…good boy. Easy now,” soothed John. He then nodded to his father and uncle who were about to lean over and attach the pair of animals' gear to the plough.

John kept stroking the horses' necks and talking to them as he watched the spectacular fire rage in the distance, wondering how anything could be so beautiful to see and yet so destructive. John recalled his uncle telling him that prairie fires can move as fast as six hundred feet per minute and burn as hot as seven hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It was always supposed to be something to know, not experience.

While the thunder and the lightning were still cracking and illuminating the sky, there was no rain to depend on, although everyone was hoping the downpour would finally come. The

dull rumble of thunder along the vast, open space was ominous. With the team hitched up, Father began to plow as deeply into the dark earth as quickly as possible in order to save what little was theirs—the tiny house, barn, sheds and animals. As well, about forty loads of hay stood in a corner that would not last thirty seconds if fire touched it.

The horses responded like well-trained soldiers for William. Despite the threat of the wall of fire that marched steadily toward the homestead, they continued to haul their plough, turning over the rich soil in a wide furrow all around the haystack and buildings. Ed bolted over and yelled something to William, who nodded.

William then steered the horses over to a new area farther away from the buildings, skipping about fifty yards of ground from the ring he had just ploughed around the property. The team dug up a second parallel, wider ring of dirt around the homestead. By creating this other band of fresh soil, John realized they were hoping to create a buffer zone to stop the fire even further back. Elmer, Summer, and Mary looked up and watched as they continued with their own work.

After William finished ploughing the second ring and was safely inside the inner ring, Ed rushed over with a flaming torch he had lit and lowered it to set fire to the ring of grassland between the two ploughed circles. Some of the flame leapt back at him, catching him on his arm.

“Aghhh!” Ed yelled, clutching his bare skin.

“Uncle Ed!” John yelled, starting to go towards him until his mother pulled him back.

“You stay put, boy,” said his mother, who was concerned but was not about to let John get hurt, too. Ed, having lit the ring of grass successfully, then jumped back into the inner ring with everyone else. Everyone backed up together.

Even though it was still dark—long before the rising sun— the skies were ablaze in jagged, orange light. The fire wall that had at one time seemed so distant now barreled towards the Diefenbakers' property with ferocious speed while the smaller fire roared to meet it. Ed's smaller ring of fire began to subside, leaving only the black, burnt grass stubble and charred ground. The larger fire roared toward them, only seconds away, eating all dry grass in its path.

“Father!” hollered John. “We have to help Mrs. Schneider. We have to plough around her farm, too!”

“There's no time, John!” his father yelled back. “All we can do now is watch,” he said in a lower voice, his heart heavy with anxiety as he prayed for his neighbour's safety.

William put his arm around Mary and the others stood close to one another in solidarity. When the fire reached the border of ploughed land before the Diefenbaker's land it raged against its captivity. But there was nothing left for it to burn in this area. It then whooshed around the perimeter of the homestead and

began to race away to new destinations.

Everyone cheered and hugged each other, although Ed still favoured his burnt arm. Just as John expected, Mrs. Schneider's field was next. As the flames bore down on her farm, the Diefenbaker group watched helplessly and wondered how much would be destroyed. Within a few minutes the sky opened up, answering with a powerful rain that came down in torrents. It gushed down thick, wet droplets, as the storm born of desperate humidity was finally released. The Diefenbakers and Summer had never been so happy to be caught outside in the rain. Soon the pounding deluge would overcome the fire's appetite and ensure new fires wouldn't begin tonight. Nature had taken so much in the last few minutes. Now, in balance, it was set to give back to replenish the scarred earth.

***

It was a busy morning cleaning up and organizing the farm after the close brush with disaster the night before. Gertrude Schneider lost more than a third of her wheat, William estimated, before the rain had quelled the flames. It was another blow to the poor woman, John thought, so soon after the loss of her husband.

“Will the government help Mrs. Schneider? She'll need money to live on,” John queried his father.

“That would be nice but I'm afraid there's no such thing,” he explained.

John didn't think this was fair, given that it would be difficult for someone to carry on all alone. He was glad that his mother had gone over to Mrs. Schneider's to check on her. Mary was worried about her and wanted to let her know that neighbours cared about her. Even with this latest catastrophe, John couldn't help but feel frustrated. Mrs. Schneider could still not shake her belief that Summer's father killed her husband. The boy had to admit that with River's Voice arrested, why would she believe anything else? And now, there were only five days until River's Voice would be transferred to Regina and likely convicted, unless new evidence was found. John felt the weight of time bear down. He needed to prove his innocence in four days to save him from being sent to trial.

The humidity that had enveloped the prairie for weeks had finally broken during the big storm, leaving dry warmth in its place. After their work was done, John, Elmer, and Summer took the horses for a scouting ride to report back on the damage to the north, where the fire had begun. Although they loved to ride along the once-familiar trails, the blackened ground and absence of vegetation was sad to see. It was as if wide bands of land were eaten alive by the fire, with no mercy shown to anything in its path. There were some swaths of land that somehow remained unaffected, their higher slopes a curious stripe of

patchy green, which the horses gratefully grazed on when they stopped for a break.

John turned his mind to the damaged wheat fields. He knew that his own family was fortunate, since their field was relatively unscathed, other than a small corner, thanks to his father and uncle's swift efforts. Ed's property was also saved since it was south of William's and the rain had extinguished the flames before they reached it.

As John surveyed the land in front of him, his nose was repulsed because the usually sweet smell of the long grasses was now an overpowering burnt stench. John squeezed his nostrils shut for a moment's break. He knew that fire could not completely destroy the prairie grasses because of their deep roots. But it would be some time before the lush green and golden hues in this area would return in fullness.

“Look,” said Summer, pointing in the direction of the Diefenbaker land, about three quarters of a mile behind them. From where they were standing on a slope, John and Elmer swivelled around to observe the patches of golden wheat waving in between deeply-charred fields.

“We sure were lucky,” said John quietly.

“Yes, lucky you woke us up, shouting ‘FIRE,'” said Elmer. “But it was sure weird how tired you acted after that.”

John described his dream for his brother and Summer. There were the horses and the buffalo and the great bald eagle that

had warned him of some danger by moving toward him carrying an open flame in its wings. Summer seemed very interested.

“John, this may be your animal totem,” she said simply.

“My animal totem? What do you mean?”

“The Cree believe everyone has at least one special animal to watch over them, to guide them when they are in trouble. Sometimes it takes many years to find. Sometimes there are more than one animal. Maybe yours is the eagle,” she said, noting the prominent role the eagle played in his dream.