Someone was pouring water over my head. The water was cold. I shivered and fought to right myself. I was in the lake. All around me were people. They should have been milling and wailing, but they were not. There was a deathly silence.
Ahead of me I could see the three wagons. They all stood in water almost up to the wagon box, and at the head of each team someone stood holding the horses’ heads. They still snorted and tossed their heads, their frightened eyes reflecting the firelight behind us.
I could see our belongings still under the tarp, piled high on one of the wagons. Another was stacked with articles I could not make out through the smoke and darkness, and the third held silent people. Now and then someone would slip from the wagon to dip under the coolness of the water and then climb slowly back onto the wagon bed again. Nearby, people used cooking pots or pails to dip water and slosh it over themselves or one another.
It wasn’t until I wondered about this that I realized how hot it was. It was a strange sensation. The water was so cold—the air so burning. I dipped my head underwater again and reached up to squeeze some of the water from my tumbling hair.
Behind us was the roar and crackle of the flames. I didn’t want to turn and look at the village, but I couldn’t help myself. I turned slowly but a hand on my arm stopped me.
“Should not look,” said a familiar voice and I realized that Mr. LaMeche, the trader, was beside me.
I could not stop my backward glance.
The flames had claimed the whole village and were moving rapidly toward the stream. It was the only obstacle now between the fire and the lake. Already my face seemed to be blistering from the heat, and the fire was almost a half mile off.
I looked back to LaMeche.
“We be safe?” I asked him.
“Who can know,” he replied. “But if we are not, not be safe anywhere.”
The lake was our only hope. The water should keep us from severe burns, but would there still be air for us to breathe?
I dipped under again.
“Did we get everyone?” I asked LaMeche.
“I think so,” was his reply.
“Thank God!” I cried and the warm tears ran down my face to mix with the cold lake water.
Next to me a child was crying. I moved in the semidarkness. The mother was exhausted from holding the little one.
“Here,” I said, “let me hold him for you.”
She gave up the child and I took my hand and thoroughly soaked his hair and face. He squirmed his displeasure but I held him firmly.
“It is coming closer,” I heard a frightened little girl say, and I looked up at the flames.
I passed the child to LaMeche and reached out to help an elderly woman. For a moment she lost her footing after dipping into the lake, and she struggled in the chilling waters. She murmured as her balance was restored and I turned back to LaMeche.
“Will the stream stop it?” I asked, but in my heart I already knew the answer.
“No,” he answered. “The wind blows too hard, the stream is too dry. The fire will jump like it was not there.”
I began to pray again. There still was no rain, though I could not see the sky for the billowing smoke all around us.
I looked for Kip. In my concern for the people, I had forgotten him. He was near me, treading water, only his nose and eyes showing above the surface.
Then I noticed that Kip was not the only animal in the lake. Here and there were other dogs and woodland creatures who had been driven from their homes by the flames. A fox paddled not more than five feet away, and showing just beyond him were the horns of a buck. Rabbits, reluctant to take to the water, ran panicky along the shoreline.
I thought then of Wynn’s dog team. They were tethered on the little island! If the stream did not stop the raging flames, they would all be burned alive! I started to weep, and to get control of myself again, I ducked my head back under the water and held it there until I had to gasp for air.
The flames were almost on the banks of the stream when a strange thing happened. I think we all saw it, and yet none of us who watched could really believe our eyes.
One moment the fire was being driven directly toward us, the wind sending sparks and burning bits of charred branches sailing through the air, and then the next, the wind completely changed direction, and the flames were being driven back the other way, turning again to the area that had already been consumed.
We watched in unbelief. Could it possibly be so? Would it change again in another moment? Did we dare to hope? Did we dare?
Even as we watched, the fire lost some of its ferocity. There was nothing more to feed upon. Though the flames still sent up sparks from the burning trees and logs of the village homes, yet it burned more slowly now, and more importantly, the lethal fumes and the stifling air were blown away from us and the wind brought in fresh air for our bursting lungs.
It was then that I heard the barking of dogs. Wynn’s team was still alive! They complained about their lot, but they were still alive.
I breathed another prayer of thankfulness and then looked about me.
“How much longer to stay here?” I asked LaMeche.
“Not safe yet,” he answered. “Soon maybe.”
I decided to wait for LaMeche to give the order to leave the lake. I had had enough of commanding to last me a lifetime.
It was the animals who left the water first. The things of the forest quietly slipped from the water and bounded off to find themselves new homes.
In the distance the fire still crackled, but the heat was not as intense now. I looked at the villagers in the water. I knew they were as anxious as I was to leave the cold water. My legs cramped and my body numb, I wondered if I would ever be warm again. Except for my face. It felt brittle from the heat. I was sure that my skin was parched and my lips cracked.
The village dogs left the water next. Several of them had been freed by thoughtful people as they fled before the fire. Those who had not would no longer be alive. I shuddered as I thought of them.
The horses began to snort and to plunge again and it was apparent that we needed to get them moved from the lake. LaMeche passed the child back to me.
“I will take out wagons now,” he said, and moved forward, the water coming up past his waist.
As soon as LaMeche started toward the wagons, the people took it as a signal to leave the water. They would be in the way if they stayed where they were.
With one accord we waded toward the shore. The night air felt warm compared to the coldness of the water. I shivered. We had no way of drying ourselves—and we were hungry. No one had eaten for many hours, but we likely did not even have a way to start a fire.
With that ironic thought I looked to where our village had been. Imagine, I thought, in the face of all that and I’m longing for a fire!
We gathered in soppy, shivering little clumps. Here and there a child cried or a dog on the loose decided to challenge another. The fights that broke out here and there did not even turn heads. We had far more serious things to think about.
In the eery light from the still-burning fire, people began to search out the belongings they had dropped by the lakeshore.
LaMeche came back from tethering the horses. The wagons were left standing on the sands of the lakeshore, the teams tied away from the company of people. They were still skitterish because of the heavy smell of smoke and the crackle of dying flames. They snorted and jumped and kicked, so LaMeche tied them securely in a nearby stand of poplars.
Someone produced some matches and got little fires burning here and there. Around them huddled wet women and children. A few blankets and furs were spread out and children were stripped of their wet clothing and put down to sleep. As many as could be covered huddled under each blanket.
Elderly men and those who were ill were also bedded. The rest of us sat around the fires, still too stunned to even talk.
I had no blanket and I was unable to get near enough to the fire. I was thinking that we needed more fires when a voice spoke to me through the darkness.
“You have no blanket?” LaMeche asked me.
I shook my head. “I dropped it by stream. I had everything wrapped in our blankets but it was very heavy.”
LaMeche nodded. “All blanket and furs from post cover old folk,” he said, and there was apology in his tone.
I smiled, though I’m afraid it was a wobbly one.
“I am all right,” I said. “I am warm now.”
LaMeche left me and soon many small fires were dotting the lakeshore. At each of the campfires Indian people huddled for warmth. Gradually they had lost their looks of terror and a few even talked together in quiet voices.
As the night wore on, we took turns, without discussion, adding sticks to the fire. Beyond the stream the forest fire died away. Only here and there flames still flickered and sparks periodically flew heavenward.
The wind slackened and the stars came out. Somewhere an owl hooted. I heard a splash in the lake behind me and guessed that a fish had jumped. Nature seemed to be striving to return to normal again.
I still shivered. My wet clothes did not help. I turned one side and then another to the fire and hoped I could dry out a bit.
Here and there people curled up on the sand beside the fires and attempted to get some sleep. I told myself that I should walk through the camp to see how everyone was faring. If Wynn were present, he would do that. I didn’t seem to be able to move. Totally exhausted, I shivered again and wished for morning.
From somewhere LaMeche produced a coffee pot and coffee. I will never be able to find the words to express what it was like to sit before the fire, smelling coffee brew on that horrible night. Somehow it seemed to be a promise that the world would one day be normal again. The trader had also found a couple of battered tin cups. I clutched the cup closely in chilled hands and drank of the dark, hot liquid. I knew that with the help of the coffee I would somehow make it through this nightmare until the morning came again.