Chapter 33 #2
Dozens of people swarmed the road in front of the saloon.
Men in lines passed water-filled buckets both into the saloon and over to the blacksmith shop next door in an attempt to keep the blaze from spreading.
She spotted James at the front of one of the bucket lines, a blue bandanna pulled up over his mouth and nose.
Once he had a full bucket in his hands, he ran inside the burning building, doused something, then exited with the empty bucket.
He took a moment to catch his breath while a second man took a turn running inside, then reclaimed his place at the head of the line, accepting the next bucket and dashing back inside.
He’d not be able to keep that up for long before the smoke overcame him.
Noreen glanced around, trying to figure out how best to help without interrupting the rhythm of the bucket lines. Picking her way to the source, the water pump and trough at the side of the carpentry shop across the street, Noreen called out to Mr. Freeman, the blacksmith who manned the pump.
“How can I help?”
He didn’t even bother to look at her, just jerked his head toward the front of the carpentry shop, where a group of women huddled together, watching the goings on. “Stay out of the way.”
He stopped pumping long enough to fill two buckets at the trough and heave them up to the start of the line. A young boy ran up with four empty pails clanging in his hands. He dropped them at the trough, then ran back out to join the other school-age boys in charge of retrieving the empties.
“Freeman!” Connor Reed, soot streaking his face, ran down the line, not stopping until he stood before the blacksmith. “I got word from Paxton. Fire’s spreadin’ to the back side. If sparks catch the field behind the saloon, we might not be able to contain it. We need to wet down the rear.”
Mr. Freeman swiped his forearm over his brow as he scrutinized the line in front of him. “Take a few of the boys. Give ’em wet blankets and put ’em on ember snuffing duty. I can’t spare any of the men.”
“But you have plenty of able-bodied women,” Noreen said, chin jutting forward as she stepped around the back of the trough. “There’s a cistern behind the hotel. I can form a line of women to bring water to the rear of the saloon from there.”
Mr. Freeman glared at her, but Noreen held his gaze without flinching.
“Fine. But stay well away from the building. I don’t want any injured women on my conscience.” He waved at Connor. “Go with her, Reed.” He shot another glare at Noreen as he started working the pump again. “He’s in charge. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Now was not the time to argue about a woman’s capability. If having a man at least five years her junior taking charge allowed her to help James and the rest of the town, she’d accept those terms.
Spotting Mrs. Winslow among the women spectating in front of the carpentry shop, Noreen hurried over to her.
“We’re going to bring water from the hotel cistern to protect the rear of the saloon.
Connor and a few of the boys will help with wet blankets, but if we can dampen the back of the building, we can keep the fire from spreading. ”
Mrs. Winslow gave a sharp nod. “I’ll get some of the maids to help and pull extra ice buckets from the pantry. They’re a little smaller and will be easier to carry.”
Martha came up alongside Noreen and held up the bucket and empty coal scuttle she carried. “I’ve got a couple vessels we can use as well.”
“Wonderful.” Noreen smiled at Martha, then turned to the other ladies relegated to the role of spectator. “Anyone who wishes to help will be welcome. Those who wish to stay here can spread the word to others who come later.”
Noreen didn’t wait to count volunteers, she just headed off to the hotel, dropped her bucket by the cistern, and started working the hand pump.
“Here.” Connor Reed shooed her away from the pump. “I’ll fill the buckets, you set up the line.”
“I don’t know that we’ll have enough to stretch all the way to the saloon from here.” She met Connor’s gaze. He looked about as confident as she felt, which was not at all, but somehow it helped having an ally.
“Just space ’em out at first,” he said, “then when more people come, they’ll fill in the gaps.” He shrugged. “That’s what Mr. Freeman did, at least.”
As sound a plan as any, she supposed. Noreen surrendered the pump to Connor’s greater strength and turned to survey her troops. More than she’d expected. At least fifteen women stood nearby awaiting instructions. And Mrs. Winslow would bring more from the hotel.
“All right, ladies. Leave your buckets here at the cistern, then follow me to form a line to the saloon. We’ll likely have to cart the water between each checkpoint, but we’ll get it there. That’s what matters.”
“Ain’t no differ’nt than totin’ water on wash day,” one woman called from the back.
“Or carryin’ a mop bucket from room to room.”
Noreen’s chest expanded. “Exactly right. We’re more than capable of stopping that fire in its tracks.” She turned to Martha. “Will you oversee things on this end while I take a group down toward the saloon?”
Martha nodded. “Of course.”
Purpose vibrated in Noreen’s veins as she waved to her crew. “Let’s get to work, ladies!”
They had the line in place in mere minutes and buckets passing soon after.
Connor left his position at the pump to take charge of the water toss at the end of the line, insisting Noreen stay a good ten feet away from the saloon’s back door.
A pile of crates filled with liquor bottles, a handful of chairs, two framed pieces of questionable art, and a lockbox of some kind sat in a heap at the edge of the field.
No doubt Mr. Taggert had attempted to salvage what he could of his inventory and belongings before help arrived.
The two teen boys they’d recruited darted through the field, squelching small fires and stomping on embers before they had the chance to ignite. They’d not be able to stay ahead for long if the fire spread to the exterior or the roof.
“We have to keep the blaze contained,” she shouted to Connor over the snapping and crackling that filled the air. “We should focus the water on the building, not the field. At least for now. Do you agree?”
He nodded, and his first bucketful splashed over the doorframe of the rear exit.
They worked in tandem without words after that.
She fed him bucket after bucket, trading empty for full until her arms ached from the strain.
Connor grew braver with each toss, venturing up to the open doorway and tossing the water inside.
Flames drew back with a steamy hiss, but like a relentless army, they returned to encroach from another side.
Noreen pulled her handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dunked it in her bucket before striding forward to meet Connor. “Here,” she said. “Tie this around your face. It will help with the smoke.”
“Thanks.” He knotted the corners behind his neck, then pulled the fabric up over his nose. He reached for the bucket.
She relinquished it but placed her hand on his arm. “Don’t go too far inside, Connor. It’s dangerous.”
His face took on a mulish cast that didn’t bode well. “I can hear the others when I’m in the storeroom, ma’am. On the other side of the wall. We’re close to puttin’ this monster down. The dogie’s in the chute, and I ain’t gonna let him squeeze past me.”
He pulled away and headed back into the fight. Knowing she couldn’t stop him, Noreen did the only thing she could to help—hurried back to the line to collect the next bucket.
Before she made it back to her designated handoff point, though, the deep groan of weakening lumber echoed through the night.
Her gaze locked onto the doorway, but she saw no evidence of Connor. Her stomach spasmed.
Come on. No time to be a hero.
A loud crack exploded, shaking the building.
“Connor!” Noreen sprinted forward, water sloshing down the front of her dress. Had the roof collapsed? “Connor!”
Before she reached the door, Connor emerged, bent in half and coughing but alive.
Thank you, Lord!
She moved to his side just as a second man burst from the door.
Instinct more than conscious thought dictated her reaction.
Or maybe a divine hand set her arms in motion before her brain registered the flames.
Either way, a wave of water arced out of her bucket onto the back of the man rushing past her. The man whose coat was on fire.
The instant the water hit him, he fell to his knees and clawed the coat from his body. He tossed it to the ground, then stretched a shaking hand down to the muddy earth to steady himself.
Noreen crept forward. “Are you all right?”
“Thanks,” he said at the same time, then craned his neck around. The gratitude softening his gaze hardened to spiked iron the moment his eyes met hers. “You!”
Noreen flinched. She’d just saved Milton Taggert’s life, and he looked ready to end hers.