CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Getting
a fire started on dry grass isn’t all that hard, but it would have been easier
if I’d had one of my father’s old flintlock muskets – we could have gotten a
spark off of that, the way they did in the old days. But since there was
already a fire blazing, I sent Chester and some of Jackson’s men up with
branches and they brought them back burning.
Using those flames, I had the men
make a backfire, a fire along the inner edge of a blaze that consumes any fuel
and changes its direction. I’d seen backfires used once or twice to stop prairie
fires. I just hoped I’d gotten it right.
Howard's house and barn were between the backfire and the one he'd started, but I didn't much care what happened to his property at the moment. We set fires in patches, then beat out our side quickly, leaving a dead zone that Howard’s blaze couldn’t cross, for
lack of anything else to burn. What we ended up with wasn’t a proper backfire.
It was more of a scratch line. I just hoped it held. But the wind had me
doubting.
I ran along the backfire, keeping an eye on the flames and
watching as the wind made Howard’s blaze dance as it came for us. The
occasional shot still winged past our heads, and we fired back through the
flames at the men on the other side, but it was impossible to tell where the
shots were coming from. Lucky for us, that was true for Howard’s men, too. But
after awhile, as we lit fires then stamped them out, the shots stopped
completely. Howard’s men had vanished.
“I dunno, Mr. Dillon,” said Chester, reloading his rifle. “I
dunno if we’re winnin’ or losin’.”
“Well, if that backfire holds, then we’re winning,” I said.
“Otherwise…” I let my voice trail off. I had my coat in my hands, the one Doc
had given me. It was scorched and covered in ashes, but it’d protected my
hands.
“Couldn’ta been a worse time,” said Chester. “The prairie’s
dry as gunpowder.”
“Well, at least that herd’s safe,” I said. “They wouldn’t
leave that pond if the whole world caught fire.”
Pecos came running up. “Any orders for the boys, Mr. Dillon?”
“Yeah, just have ‘em keep working along the edge of the
backfire there, Pecos. Beat out any sparks that get across.”
Pecos saluted. I wondered what army he’d served in. “Right,
Marshal. I gotcha.”
Before he left, I grabbed his arm. “Have you seen anything of
the Howard gang?”
Pecos shook his head in the flickering light of the fire.
“Not a sign. I guess they figured they done all they could.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Chester looked up at the sky. “Mr. Dillon, I could swear a
storm’s about to break. I can halfway smell the rain.”
I looked up, and the sky was bright from the flames, but I
didn’t see anything that looked like rainclouds. “I don’t know about that,
Chester.” I looked down again at the fire Howard had set. “But it’s doing one
thing that won’t help us.”
Chester glanced at me. “Whaddya mean?”
I pointed. “Look. The wind’s shifting, it’s starting to drive
those flames across the backfire.”
It was true. Sparks were floating through the air, carried by
the wind, to the other side of our scratch line. Pecos’ men were trying to deal
with it, and for the moment they had things under control. But if that wind
kept up…
Chester was thinking the same thing. “Well, if it catches there
again, it’ll get clear away from us.”
“It sure will,” I said. “Come on, let’s grab some more of
Jackson’s boys and start working behind them.”
We turned to head back to the pond, then stopped, staring
into the barrel of a gun. Fenton stood there, his pistol in his hand. He had a
couple more of Howard’s boys with him.
“Don’t move, Dillon!” he shouted.
“Well, Fenton,” I said. “I figured you’d be halfway to the
Mexican border by now.”
“You figured wrong,” snarled Fenton. “You keep your hands
still, both a’ya! One move and it’s your last move!”
I had my coat balled up in my left hand. There was a pistol
in the pocket. If I could use it. “That’s about the way you planned anyway,
isn’t it? I figured you for a backshooting bushwacker.”
“Drop your gunbelts, both a’ya.”
“No,” I said. Chester stood a few feet away from me. He
didn’t drop his gun.
“Hold still, then,” said Fenton. “Rice, go fetch their guns.”
“Rice, if you try it, you’ll die first,” I told him.
Fenton shook his head like a bull does when something’s in
its eyes. “You wiped us out, Dillon!” he shouted. “That backfire a’yours took
the ranchhouse and the barns. There’s nothin’ fer us to do now but drift! Only
first I’m gonna kill you –”
Lightning struck a mile or so away, and the roll of thunder
that followed it was loud. Fenton’s eyes flickered, thinking it was a gunshot
behind him. I shoved Chester with my left hand while I darted right. “Hit the
dirt, Chester!” I fired the gun in the coat with my left hand. Rice dropped to
the ground. At the same time Chester rolled and came up with the rifle at his
shoulder. He fired once, then dropped the rifle and rolled again, drawing his
pistol. Fenton’s other man screamed as his face exploded. “Damn,” I heard
Chester mutter.
“Hold it, Chester!” I threw the coat aside and let my hand
hover over my holster. “Fenton! Drop the gun, you’re under arrest!”
Fenton’s gun was low by his side, aimed at the dirt. His face
was red with rage. “I’m droppin’ you first!”
He started to lift the gun and I jerked. My left hand went to
the hammer and I fanned it twice. Fenton bucked like a wild steer, then fell to
his knees.
“Dillon, I –“
He fell on his back, still trying to lift his gun. Then he
let it go and lay there, limp.
Chester brushed himself off and retrieved his rifle. “Well,
you warned ‘im, Mr. Dillon.”
I turned around. “It doesn’t matter much now. Look, Chester.”
The wind had taken the sparks of Howard’s fire and blown it
over our little patch of dead earth. “Yessir!” cried Chester. “It’s jumped the
backfire! With that wind drivin’ it, it’ll burn the whole prairie from here
clear to the river!”
“And Dodge City along with it,” I said. My voice was choked,
but not from the smoke. “Not a way in the world of stopping it, either.”
Jackson came running up. “I heard the shots, Dillon! Are you
alright?”
I stared at the fire. “I’m sick at my stomach, that’s all.
Dodge City’s gonna burn, Jackson, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Jackson stopped in his tracks and watched the blaze grow. “I
sure didn’t figure on this,” he said. “I’d let him have the herd, gladly!”
“No,” I said. “It’s my fault. I should’ve jumped him first.”
“A man does what he has to, Marshal,” said Jackson. “I don’t
think that’s your way.”
“Maybe my way’s the wrong way,” I said sourly. My face felt
hot and wet at the same time. “The burning of ten thousand acres of prairie and
a whole town, there must be something wrong –“ I turned away.
Then I stopped thinking of the city, and began to think of the people. One
person in particular. “Where are the horses? Maybe I can beat it back –“
Chester grabbed my sleeve, holding me back. “Wait, Mr.
Dillon!”
“Let me go, Chester!”
“I told you!” he shouted. He sounded perversely happy. “I
told you! I could smell it!”
“Smell what? What the devil’re you -?”
Then I felt it. There was a slight pattering against the top
of my hat, and the wind brought a few drops under the brim. They landed on my
face, and in my open mouth. “Rain!” I shouted.
“Yessir!” said Chester in delight.
I looked up at the sky, but it was hidden by the smoke. I
turned to Chester and Jackson. “By Heaven,” I said, “it’s starting to rain!”
Jackson grinned and took off his hat. “By Heaven might be the
right expression!”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The laughter just welled up
inside me and came burbling out like water from a spring. “Well, I don’t know
about that, but I do know that it’s about the only thing that can save Dodge!”
I took off my hat, too, and lifted my face to the water that was coming faster
and faster. I shouted with all the voice I had. “Well come on, rain! Faster!
Let loose and rain, willya!”
I was answered by a low, long rumble of thunder.
Chester had his hat off, too, and he was skipping around with
a huge grin on his face. “It’s doin’ it, Mr. Dillon, look at it! Beatin’ down
on that fire!”
“Rain!” We were all laughing now. The rain gave me another
reason to be grateful, now, as I was crying like a lost little boy. But they
were tears of wonder, not fear. I took in a long breath. “You know, Chester –
out here, at times like this, it makes you wonder if, maybe –“ Chester and
Jackson were both looking at me, grinning. “Well, I don’t know,” I said. “Come
on, Chester. Let’s find our horses.”
